Chapter 751: Rovan Decision

Rovan waited until she had her balance before moving the bed again.

At the next row, a patient caught the nurse’s sleeve and stopped her.

"Are you leaving?"

The woman couldn’t turn her upper body. Her eyes moved between the nurse and the empty place where Beatrice’s father’s bed had been.

The nurse crouched beside her. "We’re getting people ready."

"But you’re taking him now."

Beatrice looked toward the other occupied beds.

They had come here to find her father. She had found him, and Rovan was already struggling to move one bed with his injured shoulder.

The thought of adding anyone else made the distance to the exit seem much longer.

Beatrice looked away from the woman, ashamed of how quickly she had counted her as another burden.

Another impact shook the shelter.

This time, a crack opened along the ceiling near the entrance. Dust fell onto the nearest empty bed.

The nurse stood.

"We have to move."

A patient who had been sitting against the wall pushed himself upright. "Where? The streets are worse."

"The ceiling’s breaking," Rovan said.

"The formations should hold it."

Rovan looked at the line of light running across the stone. Part of it flickered and went dark as the crack widened.

"The light is going out. Look at it."

He pointed with his good hand, then pressed it against his bleeding shoulder.

The man moved away from the wall.

Beatrice pointed toward the beds. "Anyone who can walk helps someone who can’t. We can’t leave them lying here."

Her father turned his head toward her.

She braced herself for him to insist that they take the others first. Instead, he tucked his arms beneath the blanket and stayed still.

Rovan saw the nurse trying to move the other woman’s bed alone. He glanced toward the service corridor, then at Beatrice.

For a moment, she thought he would tell her there were too many.

He pushed her father’s bed close to the wall, where it wouldn’t block the aisle.

"Stay here with him," he said. "I’ll get that one turned."

He went back to the nurse.

They pulled the second bed out together. Rovan used his good arm and his body to turn it, keeping the injured shoulder away from the frame.

The patient who had argued about the formations approached the foot of the bed.

"Which end?" he asked.

Rovan nodded toward the part the nurse was holding. "There. Help her."

Beatrice took a breath and looked down the row.

The nurse called to the remaining staff while the patients who could stand cleared space in the aisle.

A woman gathered the open supplies into a bag. Another helped the man with the injured arm finish securing his cloth before guiding him toward the corridor.

Beatrice counted the occupied beds moving into the aisle, then looked behind them to make sure no patient had been left at the back.

She kept one hand on her father’s bed while using the staff with the other.

He watched her as she moved.

"Does it hurt badly?"

"Yes."

She didn’t try to hide it this time.

His hand moved toward hers, then stopped. He kept it beneath the blanket, letting her use both hands to stay upright.

Rovan came around behind the bed and took hold of the frame.

"Ready?"

Beatrice nodded.

They entered the service corridor behind the first patients. The ramp was wide enough for the beds and rose gently enough for people who couldn’t manage the stairs.

Beatrice was grateful that the ramp had been designed to work without strong cultivation.

Her qi still moved unevenly whenever she tried to guide it. Rovan had the same problem. They couldn’t fly the patients out, and trying to carry them up the ramp would only make their own injuries worse.

The wheels, at least, still worked. They kept moving.

A blast struck somewhere above the administrative hall.

The corridor shook. Rovan braced the bed before it rolled backward, and Beatrice pressed her shoulder against the wall to keep from falling.

Her father gripped the blanket.

"Keep going," the nurse called from ahead.

Rovan’s face had gone pale. He shifted his hand on the frame and pushed again.

Beatrice kept pace beside him. Blood spread through the cloth over his shoulder, but his good hand stayed on the frame.

At the top of the ramp, two of the walking patients held the exit open. Smoke drifted in around them.

Beyond lay the rear service yard of the administrative hall. Broken glass covered part of the ground, but there was space to bring the beds out beneath the shelter of the outer wall.

The first group moved aside as Rovan pushed Beatrice’s father into the open air.

Beatrice looked up.

Human Empire warships hung above the city. Light flashed beneath one of them, followed by an impact that shook the ground beneath her feet.

They had come in response to the disaster. From here, she couldn’t tell who they were firing at or which streets were safe.

The nurse stood beside her, staring at the ships.

"Will they send anyone for us?"

Beatrice looked back toward the ramp. More patients were still coming out. Rovan had already gone to help the next bed across the threshold.

"We can’t wait here to find out."

Her father turned his face toward her voice.

She rested a hand beside his on the blanket, just long enough to feel his fingers close around hers again.

Another blast lit the road beyond the yard. She let go of his hand and pointed along the rear wall, away from it.

"We move this way. Keep the beds together."

Rovan brought the next patient clear and returned to her father’s side.

He was breathing hard. His shoulder was bleeding, and there were still people behind them who would need help.

He took the frame in his good hand. One of the patients who had held the exit open came to the other side.

"I can push," the man said.

"I’ve got it." Rovan tried to move the bed, but its wheel caught in a crack and pain tightened his face again.

The man kept his hands on the frame. "Then we’ll both push."

Rovan looked down at his own hand, white around the metal, and shifted over to give him room. Together they rolled the bed clear of the crack.

He looked back at Beatrice.

"Show me."