Page 311 of The Black Trilogy

And at Black’s behest, the old cellar got turned into a bunker fitted out with emergency supplies and an air filtration system. Back when the plans were drawn up, I’d doubted it would ever be used. Today, I hoped it had.

Nick and I edged towards the hatch in the corner of the main room, the ceiling making ominous creaking noises above us. Jagged shards of plaster hung amongst the remains of the light fittings and sprinkler system. All it needed was for that lot to fall down and this disaster of a day would be complete.

My sense of smell dulled as I poked through the rubble, and I knew that just like after Black’s death, the hideous aroma would stay with me for days. But I couldn’t stop, not when I’d been the one to stir up this hornets’ nest. I stepped over a broken chair and continued with the search.

Half buried under a collapsed table, I found... Well, I didn’t know who it was. He was so badly burned, it was difficult to tell. His limbs were drawn up in the pugilistic position typical of fire victims, his hands clutching desperately at nothing. Breathe, Emmy. Just breathe. I gritted my teeth, motioned at Nick to step around the side of the body, and carried on. We were still missing one man.

Nick helped me to heave a battered filing cabinet off the hatch, then he bent and lifted it back. Inky blackness gaped up at us. I shone my torch into the hole, and the light revealed a crumpled form lying motionless on its side at the bottom of the ladder. Uh oh, this didn’t look good. Nick lit the way as I shinned down. Whoever it was wasn’t moving, and before I got halfway, I could make out the blackened, blistered skin stretched over his torso.

“Is he breathing?” Nick called.

“Hang on.”

I knelt next to the body and put my cheek under his nostrils. A faint trickle of air whispered over me, accompanied by a groan.

“Yes, he is, but shallow. He needs medical attention yesterday.”

Now I was closer, I recognised Seth, which meant it was Mick whose life had been stolen.

Son of a bee sting.

Sometimes, I wondered what my purpose in life was, but that night I knew. I was the angel of death who would send Blanco to the underworld, and I’d have a smile on my face while I did it.

But that plan had to wait. Instead, I got on the radio. “Mack, we need an ambulance. What’s the situation at the house?”

“Still ongoing. The fire’s out, and I’ve shut the sprinklers off.”

“Get the ambulance on its way and tell them to hang back until we confirm it’s safe. Same with the police, because undoubtedly they’re going to turn up at some point.”

“Calling them now.”

“Is there anyone free who could run down here with a first aid kit, an extraction pack, and a spinal board?”

“Evan’s on his way. How are they?”

“Mick’s dead, and Seth’s going to be if he doesn’t get to a hospital fast. We could do with some extra manpower too.”

“Oh my gosh.” She paused to compose herself. “Mick was a good guy. There’s one left alive up here, and Alex is dealing with him. I’ll send who I can.”

I blocked whatever Alex might be doing from my mind and returned to the problem in front of me. Alex was well capable of looking after himself.

From their positions, it looked as if Seth and Mick had been trying to get into the bunker when the blast happened. When Seth got halfway in, the grenade came and he got blown the seven feet to the bottom of the ladder as the hatch flipped shut behind him. Unfortunately, Mick hadn’t been so lucky, if you could call Seth’s state lucky.

“Hurry up, Evan,” I whispered as Seth groaned again.

There wasn’t much I could do until help arrived except talk to him, hoping my voice registered. Hearing was always the last sense to go when a person slipped into unconsciousness. Maybe my words would make it through?

Nick stayed up top, checking the rest of the building. “Ceiling’s not looking good.”

Tell me something I don’t know.

Evan must have sprinted because the first aid kit arrived in my hands sooner than I expected. Our first aid kits weren’t the type of thing you’d buy in the local pharmacy. We kept half a hospital on hand, good for everything up to minor surgery.

I may not have been a doctor, but along with Nick and everyone else on Blackwood’s core team, I’d undergone extensive training in how to deal with trauma. Sad to say, I’d had a reasonable amount of practical experience over the years too. While we waited for the professionals to arrive, we gave Seth oxygen, fluids, and pain relief then manoeuvred him onto the spinal board.

“How’s he doing?” a voice asked from over my shoulder. Nate had arrived with Logan in tow.

“Not good. We need to get him outside.”

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