Faded Scars
By Camilla Sandman
Chapter Two
And I lost my breath
Which side are you on
Life or death~
Glancing around her, she immediately noticed the wrecked car and her ex. Hanging out of the car by his seatbelt, Jonathon seemed lifeless. She crawled over to him, groaning as her knee scraped against a piece of cut metal.
He wasn't breathing, and had no pulse. Panic rose in her, as she fiddled with the seatbelt, gently guiding him onto the grass. She trained not to move him too much, fearing he may have other injuries.
“Come on, Jonathon!” she breathed, beginning CPR. 15 compressions and two breaths. Or was it three breaths? No, two. No, weren't you supposed to start with five? Her hands shook as she began. “Come on, damnit!”
He didn't respond. She wasn't sure how long she kept at it, but at one point her efforts died away and became a hopeless pounding on his chest.
“Damn you!”
He was dead, and there was nothing she could do.
He was dead – the man she had loved once, who she had shared the miracle of David with. He was dead.
Tears began to form in her eyes, as desperation arose. What the hell was happening? Leaning against his chest, she clung to him. And all around her, similar scenes were being played out.
Hell was breaking loose in Sydney.
******
The bridge fell. And with it, thousands of pieces of debris, showering over the water.
The Harpy was struck.
Everything happened at once. A huge twisted iron bar fell on the boat, throwing them all off the boat as the front of the boat was plunged under water. A huge wave washed over them as the biggest piece of the bridge hit the water.
Kicking wildly, Tommy tried to push upwards and reach the surface, his lungs screaming for air. His left leg throbbed with pain as he finally broke the surface. Coughing, he managed to draw a breath of air before going under again.
The water was pulling him downwards, almost like a small maelstrom but desperately kicking, he managed to reach the surface again.
All around him in the water pieces of metal were slowly sinking while parts of the train were floating. And bodies. So many, many bodies. For a moment that felt like eternity, he had no idea what to do. His mind froze.
Then he saw Emma, floating face down a few metres away. Even before his mind urged him to react, his body had already sprung to action and brought him next to her in a few strokes. Blood was pouring from her abdomen, and as he turned her, he saw the metal bar embedded in her stomach.
“God, Emma!”
As careful as he could, he leaned her body against his one arm, using the other to push forward in the water. He could barely hold on to her, but desperation gave him extra strength.
Debris was everywhere, and he could just make out what remained of the Harpy floating several metres away.
There were no signs of Gavin.
“Gavin!”
Looking around widely, Tommy felt a cold panic flood through his body, melting with shock as he saw that the waters had turned red with all the blood. He had to get Emma to shore, but…
“GAVIN!”
The sea didn't answer.
******
The Nemesis rocked violently, and Mick was thrown against Alex, both tumbling onto the deck. The sound of the water was overwhelming, drowning out everything else.
“Ommpppp..” Alex complained as the wind was knocked right out of her, Mick's body squeezed against hers. The boat thrashed as wave after wave came at it. A wave washed over the deck, soaking both Alex and Mick as they struggled to get up
And suddenly the waters were calm. Too calm, as if all the energy had disappeared. The Nemesis was still afloat, luckily.
Slipping on the wet floor, Mick managed to get up on his knees, glancing over the side of the boat to Harbour Bridge – no, to where Harbour Bridge had been.
His mouth fell open.
“Oh my God,” Alex said quietly beside him, tears brimming in her eyes, but she didn't allow herself to cry. Her body shook – not because the wind was cold, but because something in her mind had frozen. She wanted to look away, but it was impossible. Her eyes were glued to the scene on the water.
Faint cries could be heard, cries of the damned.
“We.. We have to..” Alex muttered, the words not quite forming in her mind. Mick seemed to understand though.
“Matt! Go to the bridge!” Mick called out, wincing even as he said it. There was no more bridge, well, not anything resembling a bridge left anymore.
There was an ominous silence.
“Matt?” Even before turning, Mick knew there could only be one reason why there was no reply. There was no one else but them on the boat. He was ready to dive into the water to look for his mate, when a huge metal bar struck the waters next to the boat.
“Shit!” he exclaimed.
Gunfire made both Mick and Alex look to the Opera House, where people were running and several screams could be heard. Before they could even take it all in, hands took hold of the side of the boat and a man tried pulling himself onboard.
Springing into action, Mick helped the man up, but couldn't help a surprised gasp when he saw who it was.
US President George W. Bush. He'd obviously dived into the water and swum from the Opera House, where gunshots still could be heard.
“Terrorists,” the president gasped, out of breath. “Must.. Not be..” He swallowed hard, his eyes bulging as he stared where all the military boats had been circling and where the Harbour Bridge once had been.
Mick climbed up to the controls, but immediately noticed the sparks flying from the side. Glancing down, he saw that pieces of debris must have hit. He tried not to think about how powerful the blast must have been to propel metal that far.
Glancing down, he saw no signs of Matt in the water either, but there was blood. Lots of blood.
“MATT!” he called, staring out over the sea. Debris was floating everywhere, it would be dangerous to dive.
The engine didn't reply as he tried starting it up. He kicked the side, frustrated, but that didn't do much good either.
“We're dead in the water!” he reported.
“Nooo,” whimpered the president, leaning heavier on Alex. Even as he opened his mouth to complain even more, the sound of a speedboat coming closer made him look up.
Alex turned too, and fear gripped her spine and lungs so hard it was a miracle she was breathing.
Terrorists. And the machine guns they were holding were pointed towards the Nemesis. She heard Mick come down to stand beside her, neither trying to take out their guns. It wouldn't do much good, except get them killed.
But even so, the chances of surviving seemed quite slim.
******
Jeff tried to concentrate on what he should do, but his mind felt rather slow to respond. It was busy trying to understand just what had happened. The Harbour Bridge was a symbol of Sydney. How could Sydney be Sydney without the Harbour Bridge?
Then his mind registered that there had been a train on there.
And his people - *his* people had been close by.
He tried working his mouth to express his horror, but he only got out some unintelligible sounds. Next to him, George was having similar problems.
Breathless, Donna came running in. Neither turned to look at her.
“On the radio… They said.. The Opera House..”
She nearly tripped, large sobs escaping her. But it was her reaction that finally woke the two men up from their shocked haze.
“Janevski, get on the radio. Find out what the hell is going on. Try reaching the Harpy and the Nemesis. NOW!” Jeff snapped, and she turned and ran. He immediately felt bad about snapping at her, but shit.. He couldn't think about that now.
“George, get the rest of the Station. Find Jack. This is an emergency. We will probably be called in to assist on rescue missions.”
“Yes, sir,” George replied, beginning to walk out. In the doorway, he turned, hesitant. “Do you think there are survivors?”
“There have to be,” Jeff said confidently, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.
There had to be. There just had to be.
******
Jack wasn't sure what tipped him off something was wrong. He had exited the mechanic's workshop and walked onto the street to get a bloody taxi, when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
There were no cars on the road. There was just a dreadful silence, as if the world had stopped while he was inside and not started up again. Glancing around, he couldn't see anyone on the streets anywhere.
An eerie feeling that he had just missed something very important came over him. He lifted his glance to the skyline of Sydney, over the Opera House (big commotion, had to be the presidential visit), the water, Harbour Bridge (didn't seem to be there), Luna Park..
Very, very slowly he lifted his glance back to where the Harbour Bridge.. Well, wasn't.
'I must be dreaming,' he thought desperately. 'The bridge just can't vanish.'
He closed his eyes and opened them again.
Harbour Bridge still wasn't there. He could see the sun glimmer of metal in the water, and he realised the bridge must have fallen down. But how? How could that monster of a bridge possibly fall?
And now he realised all wasn't well by the Opera House either. Black, black smoke was drifting over the white roof. Straining, he tried to see what was happening, but he was simply too far away.
He nearly had a heart attack when his cell phone began ringing. Fumbling, he tried to extract it from his jacket and nearly lost it in the process.
“Christey,” he replied, surprised to hear his voice shaking. “Yes, George. I know.”
******
They were roughly searched and disarmed, forced into the small boat and brought ashore. All around them, gunfire could he heard. And screams.
The terrorists were armed, and Alex tried not to look too hard at them. They were masked anyway, but she had read somewhere you were more likely to survive if you didn't know your captors. Mick on the other hand, was staring at them quite thoroughly, and she wanted to punch him.
'Don't you dare die!' she thought, as they were hounded up with some other people and pushed inside the Harbour Bridge. God, how she wanted him to wrap his arms around her just now. Screw being a strong, independent woman right now.
Where were all the military and the police anyway? She caught a glimpse of bodies, before a man grabbed hold of her hair and dragged her inside. She let out a surprised cry of pain, trying to twist away.
“Hey!” she heard Mick call out, as she was forced down the stairs and into a large room.
There had to be a hundred people in there, most of them looked they were just normal people. But she could see John Howard in a corner, being watched carefully, and the US President was being forced over there too.
Hostages. God. They were all gonna die.
'Get a grip, Alex!' she thought forcefully, and managed to calm her breathing.
And that was her last thought as something slammed into the side of her head.
Mick saw the terrorist slam the gun into Alex's head, and white-hot anger washed over him. Without thinking, he tried to reach her.
“Alex!”
“You stay away!” a man ordered, leaning over Alex and muttering something about damn cops in a very American accent.
“No!” Mick snapped, pushing against the guy holding him off.
There was a blur of moments. Next thing Mick registered was that he was on the floor and a boot came down heavily on his throat. He tried to struggle, but his head was screaming out desperately for air. Only pain came.
“Stop it!” a strong voice called out, and to his astonishment, Mick felt the boot being lifted. He took a deep breath, the sweetest breath he had ever taken and coughed. Scrambling to his feet, he saw that the terrorist had stepped away and Alex was lying on the ground. Blood dripped from her cheek.
The terrorist who had hit her was getting an earful from what seemed to be the boss about waiting with that stuff 'til later', but Mick didn't really listen or care.
He managed to stumble over to Alex, lifting her body off the floor and leaning it against his.
She was breathing.
And for a second, that was all it took to make him happy.
******
Rachel wasn't quite sure when she stopped shaking, but at some point a strange calmness came over her and the tears dried away. The worst had happened. All she could do now was get through it. Then she could break down.
And out there somewhere were Frank and David. They were alive. They were alive, because if they were dead, so was she. She couldn't live without them.
There had been a time when she had thought she couldn't live without Jonathon too. It felt like a lifetime ago. The last few years there had been more resentment between them than anything else. But as she looked at him, all her resentment washed away and she only felt sadness.
She had loved him once. And he had given her David, the light of her existence.
She kissed Jonathon gently on the forehead, and pushed herself up. Smashed cars and pieces of metal were scattered all around the intersection. A pool of blood had coloured some of the grass and pavement sickening red.
Sirens could be heard, coming closer. Taking in the situation, she assessed that here were at least five badly injured. Two or three were dead. And dozens of people seemed to have minor injuries.
She didn't even feel the nasty bruise on her forehead, despite the blood running down her cheek. There was simply too much emotional pain to feel the physical.
The ambulance pulled up, sirens blazing. She waved at it, and ran over as the driver jumped out. He looked pale, but composed, years of training to deal with emergency situations clearly paying off.
“We have five badly injured who need immediate medical assistance,” she informed him, kneeling down to an old man, who seemed to only have minor injuries.
The ambulance worker was already moving forward, checking the first victim in his path.
“The hospitals are already beginning to crowd,” he said hoarsely, “There's so many..”
His eyes flickered to the remains of the Harbour Bridge, and for a second he seemed to stagger with the effort of standing upright. Then he seemed to seize control of his emotions again.
“I'm Russell,” he said, as he moved onto the next victim, his two colleagues already moving around the wrecked cars.
“I'm Rachel,” she replied, but even as she spoke, her attention had shifted to the water again.
'Where are you Frank?' she thought. 'Please take care of my baby and yourself. Please..'
******
Groaning, Alex felt something warm roll down her face, and a few seconds later, gentle fingers brushing it off. She took a few seconds to find out how the rest of her body was doing. Her body ached, her head felt like someone had tried ripping her hair off.
And she was sitting on a very cold floor, her knees tucked in under her. Her upper body was leaning against something soft, and as she opened her eyes she found it to be Mick, gently wiping away blood from her cheek.
“Damn,” she muttered, as the daze lifted from her brain and the previous events came flooding back. Pulling back a bit, she took in their surroundings.
They were still in the Opera House basement, and she could see the armed terrorists at the door. A cold wind seemed to drift through and grab hold of her spine. It hadn't been a terrible nightmare. It was all too real.
They were hostages.
All around her, people were huddled together, some having whispered conversations, some simply sitting and staring ahead.
Her gaze wandered back to Mick, who was looking at her intently. He had a nasty red bruise on his neck, as if someone had planted a foot on his throat. It was already starting to turn purple at the edges. Without thinking, she reached out to touch it and he winced.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Tried to protect your ass.”
“Oh, bugger off, Mick!” she muttered angrily, suddenly feeling an urge to deck him. Well, not really him, just.. Someone.
“Kinda hard in this situation,” he replied. She stared wildly at him for a second, then fell against his chest, her body shaking.
For a second he thought she was crying, then he realised she was shaking with the effort of not laughing. He had to suppress a chuckle of his own, resting his head against hers. But the laughter soon died in his throat, and he just held her, glancing up at the armed terrorists.
It didn't seem that funny anymore.
******
Jeff looked over the grim faces of the few remaining water police officers and felt a surge of pride through all the pain and grief. They were holding together. The worst had happened, and they were holding together.
Even Donna, though her eyes were red with cried and uncried tears.
“Sydney is under attack by terrorists,” he began, uttering words he'd never thought he would hear except in movies. “Three or four bombs were placed on Harbour Bridge, and one on board the passing train. We don't know how they did it yet, but we do know the bridge was just a distraction.”
A few angry hisses could be heard. He didn't really blame them. Blowing up Harbour Bridge as a distraction.. Mind-boggling.
“The real target was Sydney Opera House and the prime minister and US president. The Opera House is now under control of the terrorists, and it is assumed they have hostages.”
He paused again, taking a deep breath. Now came the hard part, and no matter how much he swallowed, his mouth was as dry as a desert.
“A rescue operation has been launched. We will act as a communication central and give whatever assistance we can. The train..”
He took a deep breath.
“The train is thought to have contained about fifteen hundred passengers.”
No one said anything, but quite a few bit into their bottom lip so hard all blood drained from it.
“At the present time, we have no idea about the number of survivors, but we do know there are some. There are some.”
Donna let out a small squeak but bottled it up fairly quick. George took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, even if he felt like running screaming out and throwing up himself.
“We can not establish contact with the Nemesis and the Harpy,” Jeff continued. “The Harpy was caught under the falling debris. The Nemesis.. We don't know. Military forces have shut off the area around the Opera House. And.. Matt was found dead in the water.”
The faces around him hardened even more, if it was possible.
“What about Mick and Alex?” Lance asked quietly.
“We don't know. They could be hostages inside the Opera House.” The 'They could also be dead' wasn't spoken, but it hung in the air.
“Jack is in the Balmain area,” George threw in, “The roads have been cut off, and without the Nemesis and the Harpy, he can't reach us.”
“Tell him to stay put,” Jeff ordered. “We don't need any more missing. Tommy and Emma.. Tommy managed to reach shore and is at the Sydney hospital. He's fine. Emma..”
Exhaling, he tried not to stagger.
“Emma is in critical condition.”
Donna couldn't withhold the tears anymore, but they were silent, running down her face unhindered.
“We don't know about Gavin, Tayler and Helen.” He tried not to think too hard about that. “Rachel seems to be helping some ambulance workers. We don't know about Frank.”
So many 'we don't know.' So many possible losses. He had to stop to regain his breath, because his throat seemed to holding it back.
“Information is chaotic and scarce at this point. Our job will be to make sure that correct information is given to the boats out there. We will act as a rescue point. Our first priority is to save as many as we can. I know this will be asking a lot of you..”
He looked over the small gathering, wishing like hell he had Helen by his side. He'd never really thought about how much he depended on her. She was always there, a few steps behind or to the side, backing him up or fighting with him, but always there. The top could be lonely, he'd always felt that, but now without Helen.. He hadn't known lonely before now.
“I know you can do it,” he said with as much confidence he could muster. They could do it. They were a wonderful bunch of people.
Question was, could he do it?
******
It went from completely black to completely white in a matter of seconds. Blinking, Helen tried to focus her vision. It was so white it was hard to look.
She was moving. It took a while to figure out that much because the ceiling was too white to focus on. It was almost comfortable, like a baby in a cradle being rocked back and forth. For a while she was content just to lie there, feeling the movements and watching the ceiling.
But her body felt strangely distant, and she had a nagging feeling there was something she was supposed to remember.
She could remember floating, feeling as light as air. Then something had pulled out.. Arms? Strong arms? Someone had breathed into her, and she had felt compelled to leave the floating even if she didn't really want to.
And then there had been overwhelming pain for a while, before she had shifted back into a silent darkness.
There had been water, she suddenly realised, and then it all came rushing back with seconds.
She jerked upwards, and nearly lost her breath as pain shot through her body. Her eyes felt like they would pop out.
The train. The bridge. The fall.
“Lie down,” a gentle voice urged her, and a face came into view. It had to be medical personnel of some kind; she could see the tag that read “Jenny.”
“Lie down,” Jenny urged again.
“The redhead I was with, is she.. Is she..?” Helen muttered desperately, her mind suddenly filled with images of Tayler falling forwards as the train had plunged into the water.
“I don't know. Lie down, please.”
Letting herself be guided back onto the stretcher, Helen tried to focus on her breathing and not think. If her mind had been too hazy before, it was too clear now, reliving every scene.
She saw the fall, heard the terrible, terrible screams and felt the impact of the water. She remembered waking up briefly, trying to swim through the water.
The water had been red.
And the shudders that went through her body had nothing to do with being cold.
******
“Where can we go then?!” Russell was trying not to yell into the radio. “Concord is full, St Vincent is getting too many already..” He trailed off, exchanging a look with Rachel. They both tried not to think off how many people who were in hospital.
And how many who weren't.
“Balmain,” came the static answer from the radio, and Russell didn't waste any time getting the ambulance going. If they waited too long, Balmain might be full too.
Rachel glanced behind her, where Jason and Erica, the two other ambulance personal were desperately trying to revive an old lady, who had suffered a heart attack at the sight of the bridge falling.
So much death.
At least keeping herself useful and occupied kept her from worrying too much. Just barely. Frank and David were haunting most of her mind, but luckily, not the part that kept her going.
She couldn't help them now. Too much chaos, and she didn't even know where the hell they were. Off sailing somewhere, hopefully far, far away from the bridge.. from where the bridge had been.
It pained her to keep correcting herself. The Harbour Bridge was no more, and yet, it was hard to believe it was gone even when looking at the remains. It simply didn't seem possible that it could be gone like that, dragging people with it to its death.
“They said there were fifteen hundred people on the train,” Russell said in a low voice. “My sister.. She takes that train every morning.”
Rachel met his eyes, and saw the terrible, terrible worry and knew it was echoed in her own. She could offer him nothing for comfort. Logically, she knew a fall like that would be devastating. Still, there had to be survivors.. Because fifteen hundred people dead were unimaginable.
The ambulance sped away with howling sirens, just as Erica and Jason realised the old lady was dead and there was nothing more thy could do.
Just one of many, many to come.
******
Tommy tried not to pound his head against the wall in an effort not to go mad. Everywhere he looked, there was someone in pain, someone who screamed, and even a few dead. The staff simply didn't have time to remove the dead. There were too many who might be saved to focus on.
And Emma was still alive. That, at least was something. He had no idea where she was, but she had been breathing when they had entered the hospital, and he clung to that like a drowning man to a floatation device.
And he tried to not think about Gavin.
Many other hospitals were taking in survivors, so Gavin could be somewhere else. He could be just fine.
He could also be dead.
“I can't see!” a young boy screamed as he was wheeled in, and Tommy suddenly had to lean against the wall not to fall. The boy had been maybe three years old. Three years old!
“God..” he muttered. Who the hell would do something like that?
Three years old..
And then his eyes fell on the small bundle on one stretcher and he realised it had to be a baby. A dead baby. Fifteen hundred dead was one thing, but a baby.. A baby!
He wasn't sure how long he stared at it, but in the corner of his eye he suddenly noticed the doctor that had taken Emma and he ran down the hallway, half scared, half hopeful.
'Please, please, please, please..' his mind muttered.
“Doctor!”
The doctor barely glanced up, examining a man who had a metal bar pierced through his foot.
“Yes?”
“The blonde I came in with.. She..”
“She's stable after surgery, that's all I can tell you.”
The doctor finally looked up and met Tommy's eyes. There was strain in them, the kind of strain you get when you are surrounded by too much death and the lives that are saved depend on you, because you are the doctor, and yet you can never save them all. No matter how much you want to.
“She was lucky. Most weren't.”
Tommy didn't know what to reply, so he just walked away slowly, staring down the halls. Everywhere, more and more people. Screaming, cursing, dying. How many were there? How much was fifteen hundred people?
Glancing down the hall, Tommy realised it was a lot. When you passed that may people on the street, it didn't seem that many, but dying..
Fifteen hundred people were a small billion.
He looked up to see another stretcher being left in the hallway, another dead. At first his mind refused to recognise who it was. Maybe he had seen so much death already and his mind was trying to protect him.
That's why he stared at the dead body for several minutes before he realised it was Gavin.
It wasn't that it was hard to see, it was just the fact that the part of his mind that realised the body was Gavin didn't connect with the part of his mind that was actually thinking.
Suddenly the two parts came together, and Tommy felt his eyes water.
It was Gavin. There was no blood on his body, but his face had the look of terror on it, as if he had been killed the moment the bridge had fallen on them. Maybe he had, Tommy didn't know.
He just knew that his heart seemed to stop too, and it hurt to breathe.
He had saved Emma, and Gavin was dead.
Finally he couldn't stand upright anymore, so Tommy slid down against the wall until he was sitting down. His mind had already contacted his guilt, and the two were having a party, throwing accusation at him.
Emma was alive and Gavin was not.
Emma was alive.
Gavin was not.
Which was more important? He tried desperately to convince himself that he had done enough, that he had saved Emma and that was all that mattered. Focus on life.
But in a hallway of death, that was hard.
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All Dead All Dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I don't believe
You're dead~
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