I couldn’t look, I couldn’t, but I had to. I had to look. My eyes opened and I stared, pursed-lipped and breathing shallowly. The medics checked her pulse, checked for breathing, and shared a look when they didn’t find either. They picked her up and strapped her onto the stretcher. She was rolled to the ambulance and the doors closed, shutting her and the medics from my sight. I took a breath, another, and stood up. Looking up at the building, the fire almost gone, I turned around and ran. I ran, barefoot over rock and broken bottles. Until the sounds of the sirens and shouting were far beyond earshot, I ran. My lungs were on fire, my legs burned, my skin was frozen, but still I ran. I ran until I reached an abandoned warehouse. The kids who had torched the orphanage had gone there to get drunk and party. It was a large brick building, the doors and windows boarded up. Graffiti was everywhere. Gang names, symbols, pictures of clowns and all kinds of horrible things were painted all. Her daily offensive on the invisible boundary was never better than futile. Sheila detected no sign of weakness in it whatsoever. Then again, the exercise did allow her to vent some of her rage and frustration and perhaps by doing so she might alert the attention of a passer-by. This seemed unlikely, however. In the whole time Sheila was detained the only person who'd directly addressed her was Captain Kerensky and the only person she saw passing by, and this from quite a distance, was a woman in a strangely diaphanous dress who looked very much like Beatrice, the wife of the Godwinian Paul Morris. This was peculiar because Paul's villa was in the next outermost level and there was no good reason that Sheila could think of for the bimbo from Ecstasy to be wandering about on this level.And then one day, when Sheila had more or less abandoned all hope of success, when she ran directly at the invisible boundary on this occasion it offered no resistance whatsoever. She'd run a full twenty.
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