“Not unless you have powers of teleportation and can get us to a hospital.”
“Sorry,” he says, “my tricks are just tricks.”
That’s when Connor runs up.
“I heard about the accident. Is everyone okay?”
Risa shakes her head. “One kid we can take care of, but the other”—again a shiver of memory—“has to go to a hospital.”
Connor’s lips go thin, and his legs start to shake like they did back when he was in the safe houses. He stops his fear response by pounding his fist into his hand, and he nods. “Okay,” he says, “okay, we’ll do what has to be done.” Only then does he seem to notice that Starkey’s there. “Is Starkey helping you?”
“Not really,” says Risa. Then, just to get rid of him, she says, “He can help fix the flat on the ambulance.”
Starkey looks insulted for a moment, then smiles. “Right, no problem.” And he trots off.
The ambulance is a seatless minivan, jury-rigged with medical equipment. Dylan is rushed down the stairs and loaded inside. One of the other medics will drive, and Kiana will tend to Dylan in the back. The boy calls for Risa, but she can’t get in with him. Once more she silently curses her wheels.
Starkey still lingers. He turns to Connor. “You mean you’re not going?” Starkey asks.
“The Admiral never left the Graveyard until he was carried out,” Connor tells him. “I lead by his example.”
Starkey shrugs. “It makes you look like a coward.”
Connor throws a quick glare at him.
“Hey, I’m just saying.”
“I don’t care what it looks like,” Connor says forcefully. “I do what I have to keep this place alive.”
“Sorry, I mean no disrespect, I guess I just have a lot to learn about being in charge.”
Starkey nods respectfully to Risa and leaves, but what he said sticks in her mind like gum on her shoe—or at least how it used to get on her shoe when her feet actually touched the ground. Connor is right, of course. If he went to the hospital, it would be a foolhardy show of bravado—the sign of an arrogant leader, not a responsible one. But Risa, on the other hand, has nothing holding her back but her wheelchair. And when has she ever let that stop her?
“I’m going this time,” she tells Connor.
Connor throws up his hands. “Risa, no one expects you to go. No one is going to think you’re a coward if you don’t.” He looks over at the minivan. “And getting you there, it’s too much—”
“Too much of a burden?” Risa finishes.
“I was going to say too much effort when every second counts for this kid.”
But her mind is set. “After what happened the other times,” she tells him, “I have to go.”
“It won’t change the outcome either way,” Connor points out.
“I know,” she tells him, even though she’s not entirely sure he’s right. He backs away as two of the medics lift her chair into the van.
“Even if they catch me, they can’t unwind me,” she reminds him. “I’m seventeen. And besides, the disabled can’t be unwound.”
“What if they recognize you?”
“Oh, please,” Risa says. “It’s our names that people know, much more than our faces. I’ll be fine.” Then she offers him a slim but sincere smile, and he reluctantly returns it. It doesn’t bridge the gap between them, but at least it marks the spot where the bridge might be built. She closes the van’s back door without saying good-bye, because they share a secret superstition, never saying good-bye to each other. Risa will soon regret that she didn’t.
- - -
It’s a bumpy ride out of the Graveyard with no paved roads, just the hardpan desert flattened by the wheels of jets. There’s more than a mile to the gate. In the back, Dylan moans with every bump. As they approach, the guards on duty, notified of the emergency, quickly open the gate.
Once they’re on paved roads, the ride is easier, and Dylan quiets down. Risa comforts him and monitors his vital signs.