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       "I hear gunfire:" said Butterfly as the last sobbing pensioner disappeared into the shadows
of the service floor: "we will not get to the life support anymore."
       "Never mind:" I said looking at the ugly: but not dangerous wound on the girl's neck:   "we
will hijack the Hydron - go look for a medicine cabinet - it would be good to bandage it for her."
       Surprised Robert's face spread into a mischievous smile    - he scratched his lips and chin
and disappeared into the doorway.
       "You are very brave: what is your name?" I asked the girl and helped her to her feet: "come
on: we have to get out."
       "Blanca:" she replied in a low whisper.
       "You're green: aren't you?"
       She nodded.
       The elevator closed and left.
       I sat her on the floor under the wall lamp.
       "I'll have to clean it with my mouth:" I said: when I saw: that Robert was returning empty-
handed: "I'm Alia." 
       "Butterfly: nice to meet you" said my scarred and disheveled comrade: handing me his shirt:
"at your service lady."
       Halfway through his gallant bow:  intermittent shooting rang out: followed immediately by a
massive thunderous explosion.
       The lights went out completely for a moment.
       The darkness vibrated ringingly.
       "We can do that Aloo:" said Robert impatiently as the lights came back on:          "up the
emergency staircase - straight into the old dock sector - we can stop for coffee at the Academy."
       "Yes:"   I said through my teeth as I tightened the small knot at the end of my provisional
bandage: "Let's go."
       The staircase was exactly as dark and dirty as I remembered it from the studies:   the same
metallic smell: the same echo: the same dusty railing.
       "People still come here to smoke:"    said Butterfly   and pointed at the full soup bowl of
butts. 
       Gunshots and rumblings sounded below us again.
       My head was a little dizzy and my stomach turned. I became aware of the wound on my forearm
and touched it through the sleeve - it wasn't particularly wet.
       "I don't know Robert: I feel like we're falling:"      I said to Butterfly: when my strange
feeling didn't go away: "we should increase our pace. Lyra is going down."
       "Don't exaggerate:" he said in nervous voice: but sped up - Blanca: who we held between us:
looked at him imploringly.
       Above us: someone loudly slammed the door.
       We hid Blanca behind our backs and Robert pulled the gun from behind his belt.
       "Don't shoot:" I whispered to him and clutched handle of the knife in my pocket.
       A big young man ran past us like the wind - tripped  - some meters flew like a gray boulder
in somersaults: then hit the wall noisily - and before he silently stood up - and disappeared in a
turn - two other athletes rushed around.
       Behind the last footstep and the long window - trees: dolphins and people floated - between
the huge chunks of Lyra's body.