He tried to stand, but the ceiling was too low. Everything had a mysterious cast to it because of the red glow. The acrid smell of sulfur burned his nose. A deafening roar—it came from outside, not from within his head. He felt his body all over: the sore places, the innumerable scrapes and bruises. There was dull pain at the touch, but no more. Moving did not present a problem. He was caked with sweat and brick powder. He was afraid to take a step, not wanting to cut his feet on the broken glass that was everywhere. The floor had risen, in defiance of the horizontal, and somewhere in the darkness it met with the ceiling. The operating room looked as if a giant had knocked it over for a joke and then stepped on it, crushing one of the walls.
Soon it became light enough for Gavein to see the flooring and avoid the glass. It was warmer now, perhaps because of his exertion. He climbed the slope of the floor toward a dark opening, a door visible at the top. Unfortunately, it led only to the dressing room. At least he found some clothes. He beat the dust from them, wiped his face with some rag or towel, and put on a hospital outfit; the uniform of the DS staff. The hospital slippers were rather light, but he could find nothing better. Through them his feet unpleasantly felt the larger fragments. The second door was blocked, so he returned to the operating room.
The roar had increased. He approached the gaping air beyond the collapsed wall. The sun was coming up, and the roar now intensified in waves. He would have to find another exit. The vibration in the floor alarmed him. This damaged building could crumble at any moment.
He noticed a hand jutting from the rubble. It took him a moment or two to uncover some of Nylund’s body. The nurse had had no luck: her head was flattened by a section of wall.
Gavein had been more fortunate. The operating table and the overturned gurney together had shielded him from the falling wall, and then all that slid onto him were stones and bricks.
He groped his way around the room, looking for an exit. The floor began to sway. He needed to leave this precarious ruin immediately.
55
Through the pulsing roar, which at times was like a series of explosions, he heard a voice. In the rubble he could make out the shoulders and head of Saalstein.
“Are you all right?”
“My left arm, it hurts, hurts badly. I can’t move,” Saalstein answered, cogent.
“Lie still. You may have broken bones,” said Gavein and set to work. He removed pieces of sheetrock. He was afraid the man’s spine might be injured.
“That was a quake and a half,” said Saalstein. “It began the moment Barth gave you the third injection. Everything went head over heels.”
“I thought it was my brain doing somersaults.” Gavein finished his digging. “Try to get up on your own, Saalstein. I don’t want to make you a paraplegic if your back is broken.”
The biologist moved an arm, a leg, then awkwardly began to scrabble out.
“Not so terrible,” he said. “The pain in my left arm goes right through me, but I think my back is all right. Help me up, Throzz.”
Gavein lifted him.
“We better get out of here,” Saalstein said. “A sling would be good. My arm is killing me.”
“I don’t know if I can find anything for you here. Maybe in another room. Let’s try the hall. Careful, there’s a lot of broken glass in that direction.”
The floor shook again.
“We really should hurry.”
Gavein moved aside some rubble. Saalstein stood, trying not to faint. His left arm didn’t seem to be broken, but it was seriously crushed. Some rubble slid away, and Gavein uncovered Siskin, who was cold, sliced by glass. Death had overtaken him as he fled from the room. Pulling the corpse out by its legs made it possible to open one of the swinging doors a little. The rest of the glass fell from the metal frame. The shaking increased in strength. The noise outside was like rolling thunder.
“What’s out there may be worse than an earthquake,” Gavein said.
Saalstein would have shrugged if he hadn’t had an injured collarbone. “We can bitch to our hearts’ content after we make it to a safe place,” he said.
They followed the rising, rubble-filled hallway. Here and there the ceiling and floor had been torn open, and they could see through to the levels above and below. They came upon bodies and stopped to see if any were alive, but none were. The survivors had got out long ago. In a puddle of water that had collected around a broken appliance, Gavein washed his hands and face. When Saalstein urged him to hurry, Gavein muttered that maybe it would be better if David Death didn’t live.
“It’s not that simple,” said Saalstein, kicking a piece of brick and groaning because of his arm.
The staircase was a ruin—the outside wall had fallen away—but they went down the shaking steps, half of which hung over empty space. Plaster sifted from above.
Gavein leaned out and looked at the courtyard. “Look,” he cried. “Look at those boulders!”
The ground was covered with rocks of every size, and more were coming down, an intermittent hail of stone.
“Watch it, or you’ll fall.”
They managed to descend two levels. Below that, the stairs broke off. They were on the fourth floor, the administrative offices. The shaking subsided. The sun was now establishing itself in the sky. The abandoned building had a dismal air about it. The ceilings here were intact, but one of the wings had collapsed all the way to its foundation. There were splits in the partitioning walls, and some had been knocked over. Glass crunched underfoot.
“Saalstein, on which side of the crack are we?”
“What are you getting at?” He limped along, clutching his painful arm.
“On the ocean side or the Davabel side?”
“There should be a bridge.”
“There is none now.”
In one of the offices they found a tablecloth, spoons, forks, and knives. Saalstein paid with a few gasps for the application of a sling, but he perked up afterward, when his arm felt better. His color improved, though his hair was still plastered down with sweat. He tried to find a door to one of the fire escapes.
He stopped.
“Throzz, come with me. Let’s check something out.”
He ran down the hallway. Gavein had trouble keeping up with the wounded man. On this floor there were no bodies. The door they wanted was locked, but the partitions on either side of it had been reduced to mounds of fragmented plasterboard. The floor of a nearby cubicle was covered with banknotes. Gavein sighed. Saalstein knelt clumsily. With his free hand he filled his pockets.
“You can be executed, if they catch you.”
“Maybe in Lavath. Here, rescue workers do this all the time. Take as much as you want, go ahead. It’ll help pay for your Magdalena’s operation.”
Gavein couldn’t deny this last argument. He too began gathering bills. At first he tried arranging them in bundles, but then the rumble of another explosion reached him, hurried him. Imitating Saalstein, he undid the zipper of his hospital coverall and stuffed the money in his chest. Having the use of both hands, he could stuff more than Saalstein. Soon the coverall was filled up. It wasn’t easy closing the zipper. Since he had no underwear, the bills slipped lower.
“The first time in my life that banknotes tickle my balls.”
“You can also wipe your ass with them. That’ll be a first time too,” the biologist grunted, struggling with his uniform.
“Actually, not a bad idea.” Gavein undid his coverall again and stuffed bills in the rear, where there was room for many more.
“You prefer to be big-assed than have breasts and a beer belly?” Saalstein asked.
“One breast only, in the center.” Gavein patted the bills in front. He helped Saalstein button up his suit. Without question, it was time to leave. Powerful shocks came, one after another.