Trapped (The Condemned Series #1) - Alison Aimes Page 0,2

her siblings’ gaunt, hopeful faces slammed through her mind. They were depending on her.

A scream strangled in her throat. To her left, Steve Meyers’ sightless eyes stared back at her through his visor, a trickle of dried blood tracking from his nose.

She scrambled free of her restraints, tripped over a mangled piece of steel two inches from her boots, and lurched across the aisle, her hands landing on warm thighs.

A palm closed around her wrist.

“Cadet Davies?” she screamed over the shrill alarms. “Davies? Can you hear me?”

“West?” The word was a moan, but it sent Bella’s heart soaring.

“The ship crashed. We need to get out.” She was already feeling her way along her colleague’s straps for the release. “Are you hurt?”

“I–I don’t know….My head hurts. My leg, too.”

“We’ll take a look once we’re out.” Bella’s hand slipped from the restraint. To Davies’ right, Terrence stared back without blinking, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. The poor man. He’d never moon over Davies again.

“They were right. I–I shouldn’t have come.” The woman’s voice was oddly monotone, her arms hanging limply by her sides as if she didn’t care if Bella found the release or not. “I–I was wishing for death, and now look what I’ve done.”

Bella’s head snapped up. “This isn’t your fault. There was an accident.”

Knocked off-kilter, Bella forced herself to concentrate on finding her colleague’s release latch. Under normal circumstances, she’d have pushed the woman to explain. Davies was a part of the privileged Council elite, after all. Death should have been the furthest thing from the woman’s mind.

But now wasn’t the time to probe.

The rough nylon sliced the pads of Bella’s fingertips as she worked to find that damn release.

Finally, a click. Davies was free.

“I’m going to put my arm around you,” Bella instructed. “Lean on me—and try and stay low.”

She gave a small silent thank you when the woman’s arm circled her waist and they were able to stagger together into something between a squat and a stand. Bella’s shoulder screamed as Davies’ weight pressed against her, but she pushed the pain aside.

“Bella?” A hand shot from the smoke to grab her arm.

She jerked to a halt. “Dr. Winthrop?” She didn’t use his first name despite the fact that he’d used hers. Command Council protocol was very clear on that point.

“I’m…I’m hurt.” Winthrop’s voice shook. Not a good sign.

“We’ll help.” She tried to keep the alarm from her voice. “We need to get outside. Fast.”

“You should go.” Shock left Winthrop’s voice oddly matter of fact. He jerked off his helmet with trembling hands. “The fire’s getting worse.”

“You’re coming, too.” She swiveled toward Davies. Her colleague had removed her helmet to reveal a nasty bump on her forehead and one of her legs was definitely not working right, but her eyes looked infinitely clearer than they had a second ago. “Davies, can you make it to the back exit without me?”

“Let me help.” The woman’s sincerity was easy to hear. As was her pain.

“Get to the exit,” insisted Bella. “That’s the help I need. We’ll be right behind.”

The woman grabbed her shoulder, her voice low. “Let me try. It shouldn’t be you who dies in here.”

“No one else is dying.” Bella gave the woman a soft push, surprised and touched that someone like her would even make such an offer. “Go.” When Davies still refused to move, Bella grew less gentle. “You’re only slowing us down. Go!”

She’d deal with whatever repercussions came from addressing a Council member in such a fashion later…if they all survived.

Davies’ lips flat-lined, but she didn’t argue. Or grow all haughty. Mouthing one more don’t die warning, she simply hobbled away, her awkward hopping gait instantly swallowed by the thickening smoke.

Bella swiveled back to Winthrop. “Can you get up?” Her fingers flew over Winthrop’s restraint straps, tugging, wrestling, searching for that damn opener. It gave way with a beautiful click.

Her arms came around Winthrop’s waist, her left side instantly wet. Blood. Enough to soak her clothes. She forced a smile and heaved. “You need to help me.”

His head lolled, his chin cracking into her temple. He was nearly dead weight in her arms. They’d never make it.

“Dr. Winthrop? Please?” Her voice splintered. There’d been too much death already. “You need to focus. You need to stand up. Now.”

No response.

“Help.” Faint at first, the plea from a few paces ahead grew louder and louder with each panicked bark.

Propping Winthrop back into his seat, she scrambled forward, waving away the thick smoke, deliberately avoiding looking