The last thing Jed remembered was that symbol. The intricate "B" cast in wrought iron all around the building, but this time it was carved into the back of a bare head.
The next thing he was aware of was dust. His mouth was filled with it, his face completely covered. His clothes were caked and crusted with the stuff. An ashen cloud formed in the air when he coughed, carving out a single layer of it from his lungs. He rubbed his eyes, but all it did was move the dust around.
When he dared to open his eyes, the sky was blue. Bluer than he'd ever seen it at Bedlam, with birds singing cheerfully and swooping about from tree to tree. His head lay on the plush emerald grass, one leg on top of a pile of rubble and one trapped under it. A quick tug sent pain shooting through him, starting in his thigh, deep in his bone. When he tried to speak, nothing came out but more dust and the kind of deep, guttural cough that would get one locked up in a quarantine ward.
Every ragged breath he took was more aching than the last, and his heart gradually caught on that he was alive, pumping more feeling into his body with each heavy thud. Voices were calling out to him through the ringing in his ears. A girl popped up above him. He could hear her speaking, but the words she was using were absolutely lost on him. Her dark hair bounced over him while her hands searched his body. It dawned on Jed that she actually seemed to know what she was doing. Her voice faded into the foreground.
"An ambulance, Keira," she ordered sharply. "He's hurt!" There was something in her face clawing at his memory. The familiar color of her eyes, the slope of her nose, and the freckles mapping out important landmarks on her skin.
It hit him like a building collapse.
"Eve," he croaked barely audible, though he was still not sure why he remembered that name. "You're Eve."