Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [160]
He let his mind wander as the music washed through the temple, like waves against a pebbled shore. He caught Selene’s eye and shifted into another tune, one that he knew both she and Rosette loved—a melodic slip jig. Selene brightened, beaming him a smile. He felt his chest swell as he took quick breaths between phrases. It was the first look of appreciation she had ever offered him as a musician. His eyes smiled back.
EARTH—TIME: FORWARD
CHAPTER 35
Everett stared at the woman lying on the ground. She lay face up, drained of colour, her limbs motionless. For a fraction of a second he knew who she was. It was a memory from long ago—his last year as an intern. Then the memory was gone and an impenetrable wall replaced comprehension. He knelt beside her, automatically checking her pulse and heart rate. It was weak, irregular and thready. He reached into his pocket and hit his recall pager. An ambulance would be here within minutes. He needed to get her on a monitor, fast. Lucky I was passing by.
As he checked her for wounds, a siren wailed in the distance, and security troops closed in, their boots circling the body as he knelt on the ground. Where did they come from?
‘You found her,’ the captain said, out of breath. ‘Medics are behind us.’
‘I only just paged.’ It didn’t make sense, but his reflexes took over. He had a patient in crisis. ‘Back up. Let them through.’
Had the troops been tracking her? Had he? Or was it coincidence that he’d stumbled upon this scene? Whenever he tried to recall how he got here, he ran into a wall—thick and impervious.
‘Is she all right, doctor?’ The captain crouched beside him, being careful not to touch her as Everett rolled her onto her side. His voice was more concerned than aggressive. Perhaps she was a missing person and not a criminal.
He hoped so, for her sake. ‘She needs oxygen, cardiac stimulants.’ He checked her stats.
The captain went to the ambulance as it arrived. Everett listened for breath sounds. There were none, and the woman’s lips were turning blue. He laid her flat, tilted her head back and pinched her nose, filling her lungs with his own air. Her chest rose and fell, the cloth of her dress wafting open in the breeze.
Chills raced over him, like tiny ants up his spine. He stifled a gasp and covered her with his jacket. He gave her more breaths and her pulse increased, though her eyes did not open, nor did they focus when he pushed back the lids. He shivered. There was no such thing as déjà vu—he refused to consider it—but the undeniable feeling was that this had all happened before. He shook his head, trying to revive the memory.
Not this, but something like this. He didn’t know the image, the winged lion over her heart, but he knew without searching the archives that it was called a tattoo. The idea worried the edges of his memory, pushing the wall barricading his recollection. He almost caught hold of it before it slipped out of reach. He’d had a patient like this once, long ago. ‘Oxygen!’ he called.
A medic approached with a small cylinder.
‘Mask her, wide open.’ Everett stepped aside as the medics took over, strapping her to a board. They loaded her onto the ambulance and signalled him, but he caught himself staring out into the parkland. He located a rocky outcropping in the distance. He wanted to look for something, but what?
‘We’re ready, doctor.’
He jumped in, and the ambulance took off, the sound of the siren ringing in his ears.
‘Straight to Trauma?’ the driver asked through the com.
‘Side entrance,’ he said, checking her pulse again, bracing as the vehicle rounded a bend.
The medic ran a hand-held scanner over her wrist and frowned. He scanned the nape of her neck. ‘Where is it?’ He leaned over her, scanning