Reversed Forecast by Nicola Barker Page A

my car, but you’ll have to tell me where it is.’
    The girl he held was trembling and wheezing. Her face was purple. He felt a wave of dizzyness at the prospect of carrying this sick creature, this sick thing, in his arms. She felt so light.
    Brera completely lost control. She stood stiffly, blinking, saying nothing, clenching and unclenching her fists.
    ‘Come on, let’s go! Get a coat, or come as you are. I need you to give me directions.’
    He turned and carried Sylvia towards the door. Brera ran after him. ‘If we pass the ambulance on the way we can stop it.’
    They reached the door and then all hell broke loose. Sylvia’s body, previously slack and pliant, exploded out of Steven’s arms like a firecracker.
    ‘Let go of me!’
    Steven tried to grab hold of her. Sylvia wasn’t strong enough to resist, but she angled her body on the floor, against the two walls and the door, in such a way as to make moving her virtually impossible. When he tried to lunge at her, she kicked out at him, used her elbows and her nails.
    He drew back. ‘What’s wrong with her? What is this?’
    Brera ignored him, threw herself at Sylvia and landed on top of her, using all the force of her weight to subdue her. Steven looked on in amazement. He thought it possible that Brera might crush the girl completely, might certainly break a bone or a rib. He said, ‘Don’t hurt her … don’t …’
    Brera’s weight curtailed Sylvia’s thrashing. Her head collapsed to one side. Steven noticed, when this happened, that her nose was bleeding. The blood was dark. The sight of it appalled him.
    Brera could hear noises on the stairs. Seconds later, two ambulancemen arrived carrying a stretcher. One of them had a bag and a syringe. Brera lifted herself. ‘She’s having an asthma attack but she won’t leave the building. She’s …’
    No words for it. What was she?
    The ambulanceman with the syringe said, ‘Take her in and lay her down on a sofa.’
    Brera scrambled up and grabbed hold of Sylvia’s arms. Steven held her legs, and between them they carried her back to the sofa and dropped her on to it. Her body felt heavy, a dead weight. Her face was still purple, her lips were white and her teeth were chattering.
    The ambulanceman filled his syringe, pulled up her sleeve, stuck it into her arm and emptied it. He then refilled the syringe and did the same thing again. ‘What set this off? Some kind of allergy?’
    Brera nodded.
    ‘She should be hospitalized but I don’t want to risk upsetting her any further,’ he said.
    ‘Maybe you could sedate her?’
    ‘Too risky on top of the stuff I’ve just given her.’
    Sylvia was moving her head from side to side. ‘Just … bloody … leave me.’
    He laughed. ‘She can talk, but she can’t breathe.’ He peered into her face. ‘How do you feel? Better yet?’
    She didn’t respond.
    ‘How about we take you to hospital now? You’ll be fine there.’
    Sylvia’s body, which had begun to relax, stiffened up again.
    He opened his bag and took out an inhaler. He showed it to Brera. ‘How much of this stuff has she had?’
    ‘I don’t know. A lot. But it didn’t seem like she was breathing it in.’
    ‘This close environment’s setting her off. The weather especially. We have a nebulizer in the ambulance. It’ll have to do her for the time being.’
    Brera nodded. ‘She had one before. If I keep her still for a few days and make her stay quiet …’
    She leaned over the back of the sofa and spoke to Sylvia directly. ‘You’ll do as I say or I’ll drag you to the hospital myself.’
    Sylvia ignored her. The ambulanceman had refilled his syringe. He showed it to her. ‘How are you feeling? Better? Do you want any more of this?’
    She scowled up at him. Her face was still pale but less blotchy. Brera moved towards him, keen to help, feeling woefully inadequate for her earlier lack of competence. ‘Can I do anything?’
    ‘Make yourself a cup of tea.’
    She nodded,