Authors: Amber Garr
“No, I told you to increase production.” The general spoke on the phone, completely ignoring us. “No.
Now.” After a pause, he continued. “I don’t care what he said, do it.” He slammed the phone down and I jumped.
“Sit,” he said without looking at us.
We complied. I sat down on the largest leather chair I’d ever seen. My body sank into the folds like it belonged. The general kept his back to us.
“I hear you got ambushed.” His voice carried the authority of someone who’s been in power a long time.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“And
you lost a truck?”
“Yes
, sir.” All of a sudden, I was military proper.
He turned and bore his dark eyes into both of us. I wanted to crawl under the big
leather chair. “Hmmm,” he said, gaze flickering from one and then the other.
“First time out?”
We nodded.
“T
hat’s what I thought. You look like scrubs.” He ran his hand over his chin and tapped his finger. “I told them not to send the untrained,” he mumbled to himself. Then, pressing a button on the phone, he yelled into the receiver. “Get Doucenné down here, now.”
He waved his hand at us and walked to his fish tank.
“Babysitting for a month.”
“Sir?”
I asked.
“That’s your punishment. I’m not blaming you completely for your lack of training. But don’t think you’re getting off easy.” He sprinkled some food into the tank. “The duds don’t supply as much excitement as the deserters.”
Could it really be this easy? Less than five minutes with general and we get what we came for? Our lives have never worked out that way.
“Where are you from?” The general asked without facing us.
Here we go.
“Region
5, sir,” I say and Jackson added, “Region 2.”
“Really?”
He lifts his head to stare at me.
I swallow hard and nod.
“Yes, sir.” Why I picked Region 5, I didn’t know.
“That’s my
home. Or, well, where I used to live. You related to the Barto’s from the west quarter?”
“No
, sir.” I couldn’t breathe, and I hoped I didn’t just out myself.
“That’s good,” he said, but didn’t elaborate. Instead
, he refocused on his fish tank, tapping the glass like a child. “You’re dismissed. I’ll see you in a month for your follow-up.”
Jackson and I looked at each other with matched expressions. We needed to get out of here while we had a chance.
“Thank you, sir,” we said in unison and hustled to the door.
The librarian lady waved at us as we walked past, her
hungry eyes paying close attention to Jackson. Maybe he could work his way up to the Plaza elite, whatever that was.
As we
trekked up the stairs, we passed Captain Doucenné who looked scared to death. I wanted to say something along the lines of “Screw you”, but thought better of it. Instead Weller waited for us in the alley and when we told him our punishment he let out an uncharacteristic laugh.
“That figures.”
I didn’t care what he meant, so I didn’t ask. We got babysitting duty like we wanted and I had a feeling that everything from this point forward would change the way we saw this place.
EIGHTEEN
Vivienne
With only two hours left in my shift, and no sign of Riley, I began to panic. I needed to see him and I needed to find out where they’d take the injured deserters. For a moment, I couldn’t believe I was actively seeking out a mercenary. I hated them. All of them. But I needed Riley and for some reason, that particular mercenary treated me well.
Almost finished with the last rack of bottles, I realized time was running out
and the situation called for some improvisation. If Riley wouldn’t come to me, I’d get to him. Looking around the room, I saw the deserters completing the same boring tasks. Heads down, thoughts elsewhere, no one cared what each other was doing. If they were like me, their mind drifted to a better place the moment they stepped off the elevator.
Gritting my teeth together
, I prepared to make my move. Right hand or left hand? Left…the right one was my sword hand. I had a brief moment of nostalgia remembering the feel of a steel blade in my grip. There was just something about that power that was so intoxicating to me. Perhaps someday soon I’d feel that way again.
I pulled one of the smaller glass bottles off the rack and sucked in a breath. I’d have one shot at this. In one quick motion, I tossed the bottle as hard as I could into the sink and sighed in relief when it shattered. I heard the guard jump to attention, but I didn’t dare look. Instead, I focused on a large glass shard lying in the bottom of the sink.
Grabbing my new weapon, I hastily sliced the sharpest edge along the inside of my left palm. I felt my skin slice open a few seconds before the pain settled in. The burning sensation continued as I cut across my entire hand. I didn’t need to fake the tears.
“What did you do?” the guard asked.
Panicked, I turned to face him, liquid seeping through the fingers on my other hand as I tried to control the bleeding. Did he see me cut myself?
“I…I dropped the bottle.” I lowered my gaze and feigned disgust at the sight of blood. “It’s bleeding,” I whined.
“Here,” he said and grabbed my hand. Quickly wrapping it with a towel, he called into his radio for assistance. “Just hang on, I’ll get someone to take you to medical.”
I stumbled like I was about to faint and watched the guard become human. “Why don’t you sit down over here?” He directed me to his perch, a stool on a raised floor against the far wall.
Where he had a full view of all the workers.
“Thank you,” I whispered, trying to ignore the pain while flexing my hand to make sure I didn’t cut too deep. All of my fingers still moved, so that was a good sign.
“Sure. No problem,” the guard stammered.
I looked up at him, a young guy around my age, and smiled. He blushed and I had a second to be satisfied with my effect on him. If it got me what I needed in this situation, then I would use every advantage I had. This one just so happened to like my chest area.
The door crashed open and Riley barreled through. My guard jumped up and stood at attention. Riley ignored him and kneeled down in front of me.
“Are you okay?” He only had eyes for my hand and the red stained towel wrapped around it like a distorted boxing glove.
“Yeah, but I think I need stitches,” I cooed. Couldn’t let him know my plan just yet.
“I’ll take her,” Riley said to the guard.
“But sir-”
“I said I’m taking her. Thank you for your assistance.”
The guard nodded and walked away, yelling at the others to get back to work. I tried to stand on my own, but Riley quickly slid his arm around my waist. My muscles tensed reflexively, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Come on. Let’s go get that looked at.”
Mission accomplished. Now I just needed some time out of earshot. Instead of going to the elevator, we walked in the opposite direction, down a hallway I’d never noticed before. Then again, my tours had been limited.
“Does it hurt?” Riley asked. Either he was uncomfortable with the silence or really bad with the small talk.
I huffed. “Of course it hurts. I almost sliced my hand off.” A bit of an exaggeration, but I was entitled to that every once and a while.
He smiled at me and squeezed tighter. He hadn’t removed his arm
from my waist yet. “Sorry. Dumb question.”
I refused to make eye contact with him. No reason to encourage him too much. “Are we going to medical?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s the next building over, but they’re all connected by these underground passageways.
Good to know.
After taking two more left turns through a maze of fluorescent lamps and grey walls, we came to another elevator. Just one floor up and we stepped out into a whole new world. Bright white walls, tall ceilings, and windows letting in natural sunlight made up the receiving area of the medical center.
Unlike the emergency rooms I
remember, this area was clean. No one on the verge of death waited in orange plastic chairs and as soon as we walked inside, someone greeted us with a smile.
“Oh no, did we have an accident?” A tiny, bubbly blonde girl in a pink nursing uniform rushed up to us and spoke to me like a baby.
“Looks like someone’s going to need stitches.” She hadn’t even looked at my hand, but then again, there was a lot of blood.
“Is Dr.
Zohan here?” Riley asked.
The girl, who looked ridiculous in her stupid hat and skirt uniform, glared up at Riley with a look that could only be described as disgust.
“No,” she said curtly.
“When will he be here?”
She played with her chart for a few seconds before answering. “He’s due in at six.” Turning on her softly cushioned heels, she called back to us, “Follow me.”
We both hustled behind her to a set of stainless steel swinging doors. Just after we pushed through, she turned to Riley. “You can wait outside.”
The venom in her voice completely unexpected for this situation.
“I’m going with her.” The nurse raised her eyebrows and something passed between them. “I’m responsible for this deserter’
s safety,” Riley finally spoke.
The nurse snorted and said “Sure you are,” before turning away and walking down the corridor in the center of the
massive room.
“Do I want to know what that was all about?” I asked before realizing how inappropriate it was.
He shook his head. “No.”
So I didn’t say anything else. We made our way past a series of glass-walled rooms on the right and empty cots on the left. It wasn’t until we’d reached the center of the large chamber did my nurse stop and
hook the clip board to the side of the bed.
“Sit here.” Suddenly, she didn’t have any of that bubbly personality left. I blamed Riley. “Someone will see you shortly.” She gave Riley one more death glare before retreating back to the reception area.
Riley sighed. “Let me see who I can find.” He started to walk away, but I grabbed his arm. He looked surprised, but stopped immediately.
“Can I ask you something?” I whispered.
He nodded and smiled. “Of course.”
“Is this the place they bring all of the injured deserters?”
My question must not have been too weird because he didn’t react. “Here and other parts of the building. Why?”
I swallowed and then turned on the charm. “I think a friend of mine was brought here when we were captured.” My voice quivered but Riley didn’t seem to notice. “He was unconscious.”
“Then they probably took him to the east wing. That’s where they do the surgeries and have the ICU.”
Surgeries.
Yeah, right. Riley started to walk away again.
“Wait!” I called out. Pushing myself off the table, I winced when my injured hand hit the side of the bed.
Riley jumped back to me and reached out to stop a potential fall. “What are you doing?”
I yanked my arm back away from him. “You like me, right?”
He looked alarmed, but then his face softened and a slight dimple appeared with his smirk. “Maybe.”
Not exactly what I meant.
“Why did you run away?”
The question must have caught him by surprise because he crinkled up his face and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter why.”
“Yes, it does.” I grabbed his arm with my good hand and squeezed. “Is it because of the blood harvesting?”
He looked around in a panic then pushed me back against the tab
le. “What are you talking about?” he whispered, eyes still searching for anyone nearby.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“The blood!
Am I going to get hooked up to a machine that sucks the life out of me? Is that what’s happened to Max?”
“Who’s Max?”
“My friend!” I looked at his face, perfectly schooled and giving away nothing. But I could see something in his eyes. “It’s true isn’t it?” I jumped off the table again.
“Where are you going?” This time Riley grabbed me hard by the shoulders and stopped my movement.
I whirled around to yell at him and froze. He was laughing. “What’s so funny?” I snapped.
“Who told you?” His grin stretched across his face. I was tempted to slap it away.
“Who told me what?”
“The blood tale.”
He raised his eyebrows and motioned for me to get on the table again. I didn’t move. “It’s like an old horror story passed on around here. Especially with the new recruits.”
Recruits?
I’d come back to that another time. “What are you talking about?”
“Let me guess, someone told you we harvest blood here.
But not from everyone, just the deserters. Right?”
I didn’t respond.
“It’s a silly tale. Kind of like the Headless Horseman or Bloody Mary.” He shook his head. “Well, maybe not the best examples. Point is, it’s just a scary story.”
I crossed my arms and cocked my hip. Somehow I doubted that.
“No one here told me about the blood,” I lied.
“Then where did you hear it? Out in the wilderness with the other deserters who think coming to this place means the end of their existence?”
Damn him.
I nodded.
“And you believed them?” He chuckled and I narrowed my eyes. This wasn’t funny. “Haven’t you seen how life really is here? You pay your dues and then you’re free to go. But like I told you before, most choose to stay.”
Something about the look in his eyes bothered me, like his argument seemed rehearsed.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
He raised his arms and gestured all around him. “Food, water, medical care….clean clothes. You don’t have to struggle to survive. Not when you can stay here.”
I didn’t miss the idea that he was speaking directly to me. I certainly had no plans of staying. “Where would they take Max?”
“Your injured friend?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “I already told you. Although he may be working already.”
I seriously doubted that too.
Riley seemed way too trusting of this place and the people in it. Then again, this was his home.
“There you are,” a deep female voice interrupted. At first I thought she was speaking to Riley, but when she walked by him without
so much as a greeting, I knew she was here for me. I wondered what Riley had done to piss off so many people. “I’m Dr. Quinn.” She looked up at me from underneath her dark bangs. “No jokes about being a medicine woman.”
I didn’t understand the reference.
“Let me see your hand.” She reached forward and I instinctively pulled away. Letting out a sigh, she looked at me. “Either you let me stitch that up or you bleed to death. And it’d certainly be a shame to let that happen.”
I didn’t know if she meant me dying or me wasting all of that blood. The worst scenario darted through my mind. Especially when I swear I saw her face light up as she focused on my bloody towel-glove.
I suddenly felt a needle stick into my left hand. She’d stabbed me when I’d been captivated by her blood-thirsty eyes. In just a few seconds, I couldn’t feel anything in from my wrist down. With quick precision, Dr. Quinn cleaned my wound, added twenty stitches, and took four vials of blood.
“What are those for?” I asked.
Her stocky frame blocked the chart she scribbled on, so I couldn’t see what kind of notes she was taking. “Samples.”
“Samples for what?”
“How long have you been here?” She asked without looking up from the clipboard.
I leaned backward to try and see her writing. She shifted slightly to the side. “A few days.”
“Have you had a physical yet?”
“No.”
“Then
, that’s why we need the blood samples. Just to see if you’re a candidate.”
“A what?”
“Healthy.” She kept writing but her shoulders stiffened.