Face of Death

Zoe was not thinking at all. The decision had already been made. It was the obvious one to make. “Everybody get back,” she said. “Way back. I am going to open the door.”

“We should wait for the specialists,” one of the troopers said.

“I am not waiting anymore,” Zoe insisted. “Her life hangs in the balance. I outrank you. Go.”

The troopers scuttled away without a further word of argument. They must have seen the determination in her face, and known that she would not take no for an answer.

“You, too,” Zoe added, turning to Shelley. “Get behind cover. Just in case it does blow.”

“I’m not leaving you. We started this together.”

“You have a daughter.” Zoe tried to keep her voice firm and level, but she was running out of patience. “Shelley, I need to open this door now. Go back with the others.”

Shelley bit her lip and ducked her head. If there was light shining in her eyes when she looked up, it surely must have been a trick of the depot’s overhead strips, and not gathering tears. “I’ll stand here,” she said. “Back you up.”

Much as the troopers had been forced to cede under Zoe’s determination, Zoe now found herself faced with Shelley’s unwavering will. She could have argued, but the clock was ticking. “Stay by the side of the door. You will be protected from some of the blast. Be ready to move as soon as I come out.”

Zoe took a steadying breath and waited for the sound of footsteps to recede into the distance. Then, raising her eyes to the ceiling in silent supplication to a God she was not sure existed, she set her hand on the door handle and twisted.

It came open easily, the electronic locks turned off with the train itself dormant. The sibilant hiss of gas leaking out into the air became apparent as soon as she stepped inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom beyond the square of light afforded by the door.

Then she saw her.

Zoe leapt forward and touched her hands to Aisha Spark’s neck, feeling a faint pulse beating under her fingertips with relief. In the far corner by the door the gas canister stood, marked with angry red symbols that told Zoe it would be better for her to get out as quickly as she could. It was big, enough that she could calculate a very dense concentration of it in the air of the car by the time it was emptied.

She approached it, searching for a valve or something that could be switched off. Her fingers encountered a small hole on the side of the tank, and the sound of the gas stopped as she pressed over it. A temporary solution at best. Casting around for something that would stick over it, Zoe felt herself already becoming a little light-headed and abandoned it. The gas tank could be dealt with by the professionals. She did not have the tools to plug the gap, and with that small of an opening, it would not yet have even emptied half out.

Zoe noted the presence of ropes at Aisha’s ankles and wrists as she moved to lift the teenager into her arms. The girl weighed only one hundred and three pounds with her clothes, and was completely out cold, not even stirring as Zoe picked her up from the ground and stood.

She stepped outside, awkwardly maneuvering her load to swing the door shut with an elbow and contain the gas for now. Then she called out, her voice echoing across the lofty ceilings of the depot. “I have her! Where is that ambulance?”

EPILOGUE

Zoe took in gray skies and cool weather, not at all a surprise as they arrived home. The plane touched down with a rattle of the wheels, the passengers giving that little collective gasp of surprise and then relief that it bounced down onto the runway safely. Zoe left off looking out the window and started to gather her things, grabbing a notebook out of the pocket on the chair in front.

“Wait a moment,” Shelley said beside her, stilling her with a gesture. She reached out and grasped one of Zoe’s hands, facing her bodily. “I just wanted to say something.”

Zoe tensed momentarily, but then relaxed. With anyone else, she would have been waiting for the speech: the one about how they weren’t going to work as partners after this and should go their separate ways. But not from Shelley.

Zoe had long since stopped thinking of Shelley as a temporary inconvenience who would go away any day now. She had proven that she was in it for the long haul. Zoe had a feeling that their partnership was going to go very well indeed.

“No one is going to find out about your abilities, not from me,” Shelley continued, squeezing Zoe’s hand. “Not until you’re ready, if that ever even happens. I’ll keep your secret.”

“Thank you,” Zoe said, plain and simple. She might have faltered from time to time in polite conversation, but she knew the facts of this. She was grateful, deeply and sincerely. Shelley needed to know that. That was all that mattered.

And, for the first time, as she walked away from her partner at the airport, Zoe found herself actually looking forward to working with her again.

***