The Mountains of Mourning

Book 2 - The Halls of Mourning - Chapter 2 - Giselle

"Quickly! Wake up now!"

A sharp sting to her face, then another one.

"Get up, come on!"

Sharp darts of light pierced her eyes. Giselle wanted to shield her face with her hands, but something held them down.

"Slap her again!"

"Stay back, kid. It's too dangerous. Ma'am, you must come out now. It's not safe."

She knew she had heard those voices before. She knew them. Knew one of them intimately. Child. Her child. One of the two.

Her eyes flew open, and she shot upright, feeling the gel around her give way reluctantly, trying to cling to her as long as it could.

"Petal! Where's Xandra? Where are—"

The light was blinding, even as it trickled down from between the leaves, but it was... different.

There was something wrong with her. Sitting up didn't feel right. The light wasn't right either. Her head felt heavy, too heavy.

"Careful now. Don't let go all at once. I'll try to catch you."

She had heard that voice before. A woman.

A flash of panic, bright light, rushing people, blinding terror.

Ah, she had met her in the hallway. What was her name? Willow.

What did she mean, catch?

More of the gel gave up its grip on her body, and she dropped a few inches.

Dropped!

Realization struck as hands gripped her upper arms from below her. She hung upside down from that transport pod, with only part of her legs still encased, and slipping further and further down.

"I've got you," Willow said, pulling at her arms until the last of the grip gave way and gravity took firm hold of her, sending her tumbling down, taking the other woman with her.

They landed in a heap; the impact driving the breath from her lungs. Disoriented and dazed, she lay there, looking up at the scorched, battered oblong that hung above her. Last she had seen it, it had been impeccably shining silver. Now it was a mess. It was blackened all-over, one side looking half-melted, deep gashes scoring the other. Sparks fizzed from some of those cracks.
The transparent cover was gone. By the look of the thing, it was torn off the pod at one time or another.

Willow grunted in pain, then moved from beneath her.

"Come on," she said.

"We really shouldn't stay underneath that thing. It's unhealthy."

"W-why is that? Radiation or something?"

"The last ten of them blew up. It's just my medical opinion, mind you. Feel free to stay in the blast-zone if you must—No, scrap that, I didn't go through all this trouble to let you get fried. Come on."

When Giselle didn't react, Willow took her hand, dragged her to her feet and pulled her with her as she scrambled away.

"I don't... I don't understand... What do you mean, blow up? Cars don't blow up after a crash, that's just in the movies—"

"That's not a car."

Her head hurt. It was so hard to think. Her thoughts rolled around in a messy tangle, and it felt as if half her brain was on fire, the other half sparking as much as that transport pod had done. Images kept flashing before her eyes. Half-remembered memories and things she had forgotten, popping up faster and faster, like someone was rifling through a stack of photographs. With every image there came emotions, flitting from one into the other, furious rage one second, glorious joy the other.