Chapter 3: When Acting As A Particle

There was a hole where until a moment Melanie had been. The wires which bound her to the tower hung uselessly like the arms of a corpse. Russell said, and did nothing. His legs felt like they were melted into place; and his face registered no emotion but blank shock, like a statue whose relative had suddenly passed away. Melanie, his only daughter, had just vanished in front of him, leaving nothing but the faintest of dusts still hanging melancholy in the air, tainting the atmosphere. His eyes searched to the left and right, taking in nothing – the only thing he was searching for wasn't there and he didn't care one iota for anything else. When he blinked, his eyes rolled back into his head and he felt weak; he'd just been punched in the stomach and felt sick. All of a sudden he felt a presence to his right; a warm body up against his. His heart jolted and he looked sideways, half-expecting to see his daughter.

It was Lester. Behind him stood his procession, who had evidently managed to climb the tower.

He looked as shocked as Russell. His eyes searched around the accident, and his nostrils flared as he took in the acrid smell.
“She's disappeared.” he said, simply. “She's gone.”
Russell sank to his knees, his chest heaving and twisting like a cloth being squeezed dry. “Dont say that,” he murmured, his eyes on the ground. “Don't say that.”
His chest felt empty, like his insides had dribbled out of his mouth with his words. The smell burnt his nostrils. He thought momentarily that he might move position, out of fear of getting uncomfortable, then realised what a prick he must be for thinking of his goddamned knees at a time like this, and smacked his fist into the cold metal platform to punish himself. It reverberated the air and his legs. He was very aware of himself all of a sudden, like he could feel the skin laying on top of his own arms and the muscles twisting and pulling as he retracted his fist, and felt nerve endings twitch up his arm to tell his brain that he'd form a bruise over his knuckles soon.

“What happened?” he asked, numbly.
“I...” Lester looked intensely awkward, and looked down, evidently as engrossed as Russell was in the platform and his own feet.
“I don't quite know how to tell you.”
Russell slammed his fist into the ground again. “You killed my daughter. The least you can-”
“No,” Lester interrupted. “You killed your own daughter.”
Russell flinched around and laid another fist towards Lester, but this time Lester was ready. He grabbed Russells fist and pushed it back, till the knuckles became useless wrists.
“I'm sorry,” Lester spat, a vein popping in his neck as he pushed Russell down, “But your daughter was perfectly safe until you started ripping out wires of the bottom of the tower. You heard me telling Dresden yourself how crucial and dangerous this was, and you messed around in business that wasn't your own anyway – and it killed your daughter.”
Russell brain felt doughy and useless. He couldn't process the possibility that he killed his own daughter!
“I'm sorry for your loss, really I am,” Lester continued, “But it was due to your own damned negligence and your damned meddling in matters that weren't your own, and now look what's happened to her. She's disappeared. She's dea-”
“Maybe,” whispered Russell, using all the energy he could pump through the loaf of his mind. “Maybe she's not dead.”

Surprised, Lester let Russell go. “What do you mean, 'maybe she's not dead'? Didn't you see her disappear?”
“Yes!” said Russell, emboldened now, “Yes I saw her disappear, but none of us saw her die!”
Behind Lester, Sebastian's eyes lit up. “Maybe you're right! Hey, Lester, maybe-”
Lester looked at the ground, and bit his lip. He looked like he was chewing his words carefully before he spat them out. When he did speak, it was in very carefully measured tones.
“Those wires, you ripped out. Its not like they were for show. This is a dangerous machine. It does things. It sent your daughter into the atmosphere; she's with the Ironbeaks now.”
Sebastien sunk back onto his feet, deflated. A ripple of sadness flowed through the assembly. Dresden peered up, fearfully. Russell felt utterly defeated.

There was a rumble in the distance, over the iron hills and far away at first but coming closer; with every popped rivet and steaming vent, a rumble tumbled through the island. Everyone turned their heads towards the source of the commotion and it was possible to make out, over the steam rising over the rusting banks, a glow exactly the same as what had surrounded Melanie before she faded like the ashen remains of a kiss on a cold cheek. It was clear that everyone was thinking the same thing, but before anyone could express a feeling of hope Lester crushed it.
“Its impossible. Even if something is there, the atmosphere would have taken her life. All that's left would be a corpse..”
Russell stood.
“I don't believe you. I think she's alive over there. There has to be a chance!” He looked from one solemn face to the next, his hope flickering out once more like a plucked chord.
“Please!” he whispered, as much to himself as to anyone else. “She might be alive! And...” and here he turned away, tears clouding his vision, “and even if she's not. I'd like to-” but he couldn't finish. What would have been the end of his sentence gurgled in his throat and died unsaid and unwanted. “She has to be alive.” His eyes crinkled as he gazed at them. “Please help me find her!”

“No.”

Russell glared at Lester with a hate he almost couldn't comprehend. “What do you mean, 'no'?” he whispered. “I said no!” Lester replied hotly, stepping forwards with his hands raised. “We all know its your own damned fault the girls dead in some iron ditch over on Port-side, why the hell do we need to mount an expedition over there?” Russell stepped towards him, but Lester had clearly had enough and drew forth a long, silver knife he had concealed in his boot. “This is enough. Go and fetch your corpse if you want, but I won't risk my men.”

Hate bubbled in Russell like molten metal, hot and uncomfortable sliding round his stomach and burning him up. He bit his lip and clenched his fists – anger swelled in him and he felt that if he didn't let it out somehow he would explode from the pressure. Lips trembling with suppressed rage, he managed to spit a coherent sentence. “If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be in this mess.”

Lester stepped forward so he was nose-to-nose with Russell. Their feet stumbled about each other trying to find a more masculine footing. Lester sneered before speaking “If you hadn't followed your daughter. If you hadn't broken the machine. If you'd let us do what we had to do your Melanie could be asleep back under her quilt by now.” he flung a trembling finger at Russell. “You shouldn't have gotten caught up in this. This is much bigger than you can imagine, and now thanks to your goddamned meddling we've been set back, and by how much I don't know. It might even be impossible to save this place thanks to you.” He turned away.

“Hopefully, we can still save this island, and your daughters death won't have been in vain. Be thankful for that and go home whilst at least you still have your health.”

And with that, he hopped down onto the ladder leading down to the riveted ground. One by one his team followed him. Sebastien stopped a second before looking back at Russell. His eyes screamed apology, remorse, sorrow – they were entirely different eyes to the ones he had met staring into the vortex. Sebastien bit his lip, and turned away.

Russell was entirely alone.