Telepath Page 11

  He quickly dropped to one knee. “The cracks go along here,” he said, using the chisel to scrape back and forth along some of the cracks that tracked up from the significant defects he could sense deeper in the concrete. The scraping connected a lot of little cracks into one scratched line, while at the same time essentially covering the tiny cracks he was connecting so the other men wouldn’t be able to see how inconsequential they’d looked.

  Standing back up, he quickly drove the chisel through the line he’d marked and into several of the most prominent defects beneath it. He’d outlined an area substantially bigger than the child-sized defect the man had outlined earlier. Even though the section he’d marked looked like it’d be harder work because of its size, it didn’t once he’d punched the chisel into it at several locations.

  He kept driving the chisel in, then hammering it sideways to break it loose, consistently fracturing out chunks. Tarc kept this up until he was a little beyond tired, then offered the hammer and chisel up to the next person in the rotation. He’d been a little worried they wouldn’t see the benefits of chiseling into the weakened concrete and would try to go back to the small area the other man had outlined, but it wasn’t a problem. The next man immediately started working on sections between the big holes Tarc had punched. The concrete wasn’t quite as weak between the holes he’d made and Tarc worried the men would be suspicious because of this.

  Instead, they started ragging each other for making less progress than “the kid” had.

  ~~~

  Though progress was faster, it still took another couple of hours to get a hole large enough for the ten-year-old to climb through on a rope. Once the boy was inside, the men handed him a lamp and lowered him down to the mound of dirt.

  Tarc’s ghost followed the boy as he made his way down to the toddler. The boy squatted down next to the child. The little one immediately started screaming. A moment later the boy was scrambling back up the slope, shouting, “She’s hurt. She’s hurt bad.”

  They pulled the boy out, but he couldn’t tell them what was wrong. He said he’d only touched her and she’d started screaming. He hadn’t investigated farther having decided she was hurt too badly for him to do anything.

  It was back to chiseling. The original opening Tarc had marked out was big enough for a small man to crawl through, they’d just stopped when the hole was barely wide enough for the ten-year-old’s shoulders. They set to widening it further.

  ~~~

  An hour later—having the narrowest shoulders of the men who’d been chiseling—Tarc squeezed through the opening. Once inside, he held onto the rope for a moment in order to stay by the opening until they could hand him a lit lamp. Then he climbed down the knotted rope using just his feet and one hand.

  He made his way down the slope to the little girl. She was sleeping, so he knelt beside her, investigating solely with his ghost. To his relief, he didn’t find any collections of blood in her head, along her spine, or in her abdomen or chest. When he sent his ghost through her arms and legs, he found her left thighbone was broken, but only millimeters out of place. This was good because he knew mildly deformed bones in children usually healed quickly, then straightened themselves out while they were growing. But how do we keep it from getting moved further out of place while I’m trying to pass her out through that hole?

  He climbed back up the mound of dirt. Stopping just below the hole, he called up to the men outside, “It’s her left leg that’s hurt. I think it might be broken. We need something to carry her in. Are there any baskets she’d fit into up there?”

  Tarc knew there were. He’d seen several strewn around the site, evidently having been used to lift the dirt out of the pit they’d dug next to the wall. A couple of minutes later, one just small enough to fit through the hole popped through and fell down to him. He asked them for some cloth to pad the basket and soon received the men’s shirts.

  Tarc returned to the little girl. Before he moved her, he located the large nerves in the front and back of the hip and used his talent to cool them. She only moaned a little when he picked her up and laid her on top of two of the folded shirts. He wadded two more shirts and packed them in alongside the girl’s thighs. Finally, he laid open the shirt that had the best buttons, set the basket on top of it, and buttoned it up over the child to hold her somewhat restrained in the basket.

  Carrying her up to the top of the mound, he had them pass down another rope. He looped it in a crisscross fashion around the basket. As they slowly pulled the girl up, he climbed the original knotted rope using his legs and one arm while the other arm steadied the basket. Fortunately, the mound was tall enough that he only had to climb a meter. Reaching the top, he carefully lifted and guided the basket into and then through the hole.

  He heard a great deal of cheering as the basket slid out into the sunlight.

  Someone called through the hole to him, “Pass out the lamp.”

  Probably the owner of the lamp, Tarc thought. He said,” Just a minute, I’ve got to use it to find the other lamp. The one the little boy dropped.”

  As he climbed back down the mound he panned the light around, looking for evidence of ancient technology, knowing how upset Henry’d be if they’d spent all this time out here for nothing. Well, nothing but the child’s rescue.

  He found the other lamp and placed it where he could easily find it when he was ready to leave. Then he walked around the huge room, wondering at its large dimensions, especially its height. He thought it was close to nine by nine meters, with a five-meter ceiling (30x30x16.5 feet). Why would they need such a big underground room? he wondered.

  The ridges he’d sensed on the walls were shelves, but much of what they had on them had deteriorated to unrecognizable crumbles over the years. Tarc grabbed some metal tools small enough to go in his pockets. Partially and completely buried under the big mound of dirt, his ghost found a bunch of objects constructed out of piping. Several of them reminded him of narrow beds. He didn’t know what they were, but if they’d survived this long they were probably made out of some of the metals that didn’t corrode. If they were made out of stainless steel, they could be quite valuable. Unfortunately, they were too large to be passed out through the hole. Daussie could cut them up! he thought, wondering whether they could come out here at night and get more stuff. Or maybe Roper can negotiate salvage rights?

  He directed his lamp at one that was only partially covered with dirt. It looked something like a chair but had big wheels on each side. The wheels were skinny spoked affairs like the ones on a wagon Could it be a small wagon? he wondered, trying to visualize it in a different orientation where it might have objects loaded onto it and be towed somewhere.

  He picked up the second lamp. As he climbed the mound to make his exit, he suddenly wondered how the ancients got in and out of the room. He hadn’t seen any doors and the ancients wouldn’t have been coming through the hole over his head. He sent his ghost into the big mound of dirt. He found a large door buried off to one side. Beyond the door was a long skinny room, also made out of concrete. Or a hallway, he thought excitedly. Pushing further out with his ghost, he faintly sensed another large room on the other side of the hall. There’s stuff in there too! He thought, This place could be a salvager’s dream. Who knows how far it goes on?

  Tarc was wondering whether there was anything else he should do before he climbed out when he heard Henry’s voice. “Tarc, your friend Farlin’s here. He says they want you back at the caravan as soon as you can get there.”

  My friend? Tarc wondered, thinking the guy who’d held a knife to his sister was hardly a friend. “I’m just climbing out. Has someone in my family been hurt?” he asked, grabbing the handles of the two lamps, then reaching up as high as he could to grab one of the knots on the rope. He pulled up, got his legs tightly twisted around the rope, then reached up for another knot.

  Henry called back down, “He says your family’s okay.”

  What’s the rush then? Tarc
wondered. In a minute, he was handing the lamps out the hole, then trying to pull himself out through the tight opening. This proved to be much more difficult than he’d expected, working against gravity and trying to get through such a tight fit. Finally, he had to ask Henry to pull on his arm to help him out.

  Once out, he tried to dust himself off and check some of the spots where his skin had gotten scraped, but Farlin was shifting from foot to foot. He said, “They really wanted you to hurry. I brought Bayby for you.”

  “Okay, okay,” Tarc said, feeling a little exasperated and wondering what could be so urgent. He got on Bayby, while Henry helped Farlin onto Brownie. As he set off at a fast canter that left Farlin far behind, he wondered why they’d sent Farlin, even though he couldn’t ride very fast with his broken arm. Oh, right, he remembered, Farlin’s the only one who knows where this place is.

  ~~~

  When Tarc rode up to the wagon, Nylin came running out, silky black hair flying. Keeping her eyes down, she took Bayby’s reins, saying, “They’re waiting for you in the back of the booth.”

  Assuming this meant the rush was sufficient that he shouldn’t take time to unsaddle Bayby, Tarc jumped down, said, “Thanks,” and trotted off toward the booth.

  Arriving in the rear section of the booth, Tarc immediately saw the mother of the little girl with the congenital abnormality of her heart. Not angry now, he thought. In fact, she looked terrified. He looked at the little girl and saw she was straining to breathe. Kazy sat by her head, gently stroking her hair. As he approached he sent in his ghost. The girl’s lungs had more fluid in them. He looked up at Eva, sitting on Susie’s right.

  Eva’s countenance, as always in such situations, looked calm. She said, “Little Susie’s begun having a lot more trouble breathing. I think she’s got even more fluid in her lungs than she did yesterday.” She gave Tarc a meaningful look, “Can you think of any way we might be able to stop that abnormal flow that’s causing the increased pressure in her lungs?”

  Tarc stepped over close to Susie, sending in his ghost to put back pressure on the flow in the patent ductus. He started to reach out to touch Susie, with the thought that he needed to lay on hands in order to provide some explanation for how he might be making her better. Unfortunately, Susie’s mother broke in, “You’re asking this boy how to stop the flow that’s hurting Susie?!”

  Instead of touching the little girl, Tarc sat down beside her and gave her an encouraging smile—expecting it to be difficult to do so in the face of the desperate look in the girl’s eyes. Susie did look worried, but not as upset as Tarc would have expected, considering how hard she seemed to be struggling to breathe. He leaned down to place his head close enough to her chest that it wasn’t difficult to stop the flow in her patent ductus arteriosus (PDA).

  Behind him, he heard Eva say, “My son often has surprisingly good ideas for the treatment of unusual conditions. I’ve learned to ask him if he has an idea when I encounter a problem I don’t have a solution for.” From the change in her tone of voice, Tarc surmised that she’d turned to face him when she said, “Tarc, do you think there’s a place you might be able to apply some pressure that would help? Perhaps to the sternum?”

  Tarc was about to agree when he realized he was supposed to come up with a better idea. He said, “I’m going to try a little gentle pressure just behind the collarbone first.” He reached out slowly and, speaking to Susie, said, “I don’t want to hurt you, so if this pressure bothers you, be sure to let me know.”

  He gently lay a finger in the hollow behind her collarbone. He didn’t actually apply any pressure for fear it might produce some pain and she might ask him to stop. Meanwhile, he slowly moved his head even closer to her chest in order to conserve his energy. After a moment he had an inspiration for more rapidly diminishing the pressure in her lungs. He said, “Perhaps Daussie could massage the xiphoid in order to move some blood from the right to the left ventricle. That should help decrease the pressure in the lung as well, right?”

  Eva spoke slowly and sounded a little doubtful, “Let’s try it, but remember, blood that bypasses the lungs won’t be getting oxygen.”

  She got up and after a moment, Daussie sat down on the other side of the little girl. She also leaned close. She placed her hand gently on the xiphoid process at the bottom end of Susie’s sternum. Tarc immediately felt blood begin disappearing from the right ventricle and reappearing in the left one. Daussie was moving blood much faster than Tarc had thought she’d be able to. Fast enough that the pressure almost immediately dropped in the little girl’s lungs.

  Whispering, “Slow down!” Tarc leaned back to look at Susie and be sure all the unoxygenated blood moving into her main system wasn’t turning her blue. He thought perhaps the girl did look slightly bluish, but that passed quickly after Daussie reduced the amount of blood she was teleporting past the lungs.

  Tarc took time to send his ghost into the girl’s lungs. There was less pressure in the blood vessels which should decrease the fluid seeping into the alveoli, but he couldn’t sense a decrease in seepage itself. This’s working, he thought, but I can’t sit here holding back the flow in the PDA for the rest of the girl’s life.

  Then, with horror, he realized that he actually could, because she’d surely die shortly after he stopped doing it.

  Daussie interrupted his dismayed thoughts by saying, “I think the pressure in her pulmonary vessels is down close to normal, even without me pumping. Can I go get the stuff to fix the problem for good?”

  “Sure,” Tarc said, not voicing his astonishment that she thought there was a way to fix this problem. If she thought she could fix it, she should have just done it instead of sending for me!

  Daussie got up and left. Eva sat down in her place. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Tarc knew she had to be sending in her ghost to evaluate the situation. She said, “I think your back-pressure made a big difference Tarc.” She turned her eyes to the little girl. “Susie, I don’t think he’s been doing it long enough to make you feel much better yet, but can you tell any difference?”

  Susie shrugged but didn’t say anything, perhaps because breathing was hard enough without talking.

  Tarc thought she was breathing a little easier though. He didn’t think that could be from a decrease of fluid in her lungs’ alveoli because not much of the fluid had been reabsorbed yet. However, his ghost could tell her lung tissue had gotten more flexible without the high pressure distending the blood vessels. Maybe that’s making a difference?

  Daussie ran back in, a small bottle of Daum’s moonshine in her left hand and a little cloth bundle in her right. She opened the bottle and splashed a little moonshine onto the bundle. Then she lifted Susie’s shirt and laid the bundle on the girl’s chest—just to the left of the sternum—right over her heart.

  This reminded Tarc of how they used to hold a cup with a moonshine-soaked rag over parts of Mrs. Gates. The idea back then had been to make Gates think that the cup and moonshine were the active treatment, thus distracting her from what Tarc was doing with his ghost. He didn’t think this was necessary for little Susie, then realized some distraction might be necessary for Susie’s mother. Rather than turning to look for the mother, he simply checked quickly with his ghost and saw the woman standing a little way behind them.

  He glanced up at his sister then crooked a finger at her to get her to lean down closer. “Okay,” he whispered, “now what’re you actually going to do?”

  She gave him a puzzled look but matched his hushed tone, “You’re going to pull the suture down around the PDA and ligate it.”

  Tarc blinked, “What suture?”

  “The one in the bundle… on the needle,” Daussie whispered emphatically. Tarc was pretty sure that the word “dummy” had almost been inserted into the little pause in her sentence.

  He sent his ghost into the bundle, immediately finding a very short needle. It was harder to tell there was a suture already threaded onto it because his ghost co
uldn’t easily differentiate that thread from the surrounding cloth.

  Eva had leaned over them. She whispered suspiciously, “Where’d you get that short needle?”

  Daussie said, “I cut the shortest one you had to make it even shorter.”

  In a dismayed tone, Eva hissed, “Daussie! Needles are really hard to get!”

  Sounding completely unfazed, Daussie responded, “We’re going to need more short ones, not more long ones. Besides, if you’ll get me some stainless steel, I can make a lot more. I’ll just teleport needle shapes out of the steel and drill little eyeholes in them.”

  “Oh,” Eva said, sounding awed by the idea. After a tiny pause, she asked, “Why’re we going to need more short needles?”

  “So Tarc can guide them through the body, making turns around important structures. Making turns would be a lot harder with a long needle. Besides, you only really need a long needle so you can hold the back end with a needle grabber and stick the front end far enough through some tissue to grab it with the needle grabber on the other side. If he’s going to use telekinesis to move them, the shorter the needle, the better.”