“Shit,” I gasp as my finger catches on a metal burr and stick my finger in my mouth to catch the blood. Serves me right for working while distracted. I pull my finger from my mouth to decide what level of first aid it warrants. Nope, not deep enough for a band-aid. Plus, I really don’t want to bother filling out the form. The red tape involved in medical supplies is so not worth the trouble. I head into Jose’s office for a piece of duct tape instead.
“Hey, boss, mind if I grab some tape?” I peek at Jose around the doorframe, but he doesn’t even bother looking up from his desk. He waves his hand at me, face buried in his paperwork. “What are you up to?” I ask him, curious about what has him so enthralled.
He grunts. “Just going over the list of supplies they want to requisition,” he says with a sneer. He catches himself, and looks up, aghast. “I didn’t mean to imply that I disagree with any of the decisions made.” His voice catches. “Every choice made is for the overall benefit of the community.” Jose gulps.
“Hey,” I say soothingly. “Relax, boss. I’m not going to report you. You know that I would never do that to you.”
Jose hesitates, then nods. Deep down he does know that, but some days it’s hard to remember who you can trust. “Sorry, I’m just under a lot of pressure right now. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to give them all the building supplies they’ve asked for without neglecting the rest of the citizens,” he groans, gesturing to the list in his hand. “The cots are rusted and wobbly, the tables in the cafeteria need a new coat of rustoleum too. Pipes are leaking, ceilings are sagging, tiles are lifting. Do you want me to keep going?”
“No, please don’t.” A sick feeling has started in my stomach. “I had no idea things were so bad.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t. Your mother was one of the elite, one of the first members of the community. Her family has been kept safe from the everyday struggles of living underground. So far.” Gee, that’s not ominous at all…
I think back to what Kenzo told me last year. Your mother is the reason your family is here in the facility in the first place. Her scientific and agricultural knowledge have been integral to sustaining our community. I wish I could just be proud of her contribution, without the sick dread that comes with it.
“Your mother. When she… well, when she dies… you won’t have her protection anymore.” Jose looks at me apologetically. “You’ll have to live life like the rest of us.”
A flare of anger surges forward. “I never asked for any privileges.”
“No, of course not. I didn’t mean to—”
“Save it,” I bite, holding up a hand to stop him. “I can’t talk about it right now, not about my mother’s death and the fresh horrors that it will bring.”
I turn from the office, duct tape long forgotten, and head for the door. But before I can properly storm out, I hear the radio crackle to life behind me. “Alpha-one, this is Omega, do you copy?” My heart stutters for a beat.
Jose jumps up from his desk, a whole new set of concerns taking center stage on his face. He fumbles with the handset, gasping out, “This is Alpha-one, go ahead.”
“Hey, Jose. It’s Trey,” he says unnecessarily. He’s the leader of Omega team, and would be the only person calling in. Unless something happened to him, of course. I’m already smiling, relieved to know he’s all right. “We need a med team ready, ETA 5 minutes.”
Med team. That means someone was hurt. Jose looks up to me, and before he can respond, I’m running. Jose will call ahead to Dr. Kimura once he’s off the radio, but I’ll get a head start and help bring supplies.
Down the halls, boots squeaking on the floors as I skid around the corners. I completely forget about the blocked hallway, closed for disinfecting. No time to stop; better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission, that’s what my dad always says.
I blast past the guard, lazily leaning against the wall. He shouts at me to stop, but it’s too late. I’m long gone.
I’m running down the hall towards the dormitories, my future living quarters as soon as Mom dies. On the way down the hall, I take a peek through the open door, and barely register the blood on the way past. Shit.
2
Lori
My legs lead the way, but I’m barely aware of where I’m headed until I careen into the hospital. And just like that, I’m back online. “What the hell is going on, Kenzo?” I demand, storming into the hospital. Kenzo and a young girl I recognize as his apprentice Eleanor are scrambling back and forth, throwing seemingly random medical supplies in a black leather satchel.
Kenzo raises an eyebrow and shoves rolls of bandages at me. I juggle them into my arms. “Isn’t it obvious? Jose called about the crew coming back with an injury. He couldn’t be more specific, so we have to go broad.” He loads me up with bags of saline next. “Lucky you, you're here just in time to help us carry supplies. Get a move on, they could be here any minute.”
I groan in frustration. “I don't mean the injury, I came to help. I mean the…” How am I supposed to ask him about the room smeared with blood? The soldiers were guarding the hallway, so clearly someone knows more than I do. Kenzo, being the doctor, should know something about any accidents in the dorms, but now that I'm face to face with him, I can't seem to form the words. My throat is like a dam, and the words are building up behind it.
I’m still trying to gather my thoughts while Kenzo and Eleanor are already halfway out the door with a stretcher folded flat and wedged under their arms. I follow them at a brisk pace, shuffling under my awkward armload of medical gear, and suddenly it's like the pressure in my chest is too great and the dam springs a leak. I blurt out, “Why don't we take the shortcut by the dorms? Whoever spilled all that blood seems to be gone now, so it's not like we'll be intruding.”
Kenzo falters in his steps, nearly tripping himself. He glances quickly over his shoulder at me, just long enough for me to see a flash of something in his eyes. Remorse, maybe. Guilt?
“Shortcut. Right. Good idea.” He nods his head to me, and I fall into step beside him. “Later, okay?” He flicks his eyes over to Eleanor, and I catch his meaning. You never know who you can trust. Even Eleanor — all blonde curls, blue eyes, and cherubic face — could be trying to find the right leverage.
I get a scowl from the guard as we rush down the hall, but he doesn’t dare say a thing now that I’m with Dr. Kimura. Technically he’s a colonel, but nobody calls him that. He’s pretty high up in the military rank, I guess, but he never would have moved up the ranks so quickly in the old world, before things went to shit. But since he’s the only doctor we’ve got, and the higher-ups want to keep him happy, the advancement works almost like a Christmas bonus. Besides, there isn’t exactly a lot of competition for the promotions.
His showy military title hasn’t exactly made him popular with the grunts. They’re putting in maximum effort for minimal gain, while he’s just being handed all the privileges on a silver platter. I can’t really blame them for being grumpy about it, but at the same time, I don’t hesitate to hide under Kenzo’s rank blanket from time to time.
As we head down that fateful hallway, my feet slip across the wet floor. They truly have been disinfecting as they first claimed, and when we run past the doorway to the dorm, I can’t stop myself from taking a peek. I see Kenzo do the same. His shoulders sag in relief when we pass the newly hosed-down room. I have to admit I’m a little disappointed. With all evidence washed down the drain, I start second-guessing what I could have possibly seen.
I’m sure there was no body, but most definitely blood. I think a fair bit of it… How much can a human lose before they die? Was it dripped or splattered? Still ruby red, or starting to dry brown around the edges?
Kenzo and Eleanor are already rounding the corner into the garage, and I pick up my pace. Jose is just rolling up the door for the incoming trucks. Perfect timing. It’s so bright that I have to shade my eyes, even though it’s not even direct sunlight. The entrance is a long cover
ed ramp to keep solar exposure risk to a minimum.
The trucks are more like tanks, with windows covered in angled panels to shade against the scorching sun and thick metal plates… to protect against everything else, I guess. I think back to Jose’s warning from this morning, but he’s so full of shit. They’re just stories. Probably.
Dr. Kimura’s got his stretcher laid out flat, gloves and mask donned, gear at the ready. He has me unload all the bandages and saline along a counter, ready for use at a moment’s notice. The first truck skids to a quick halt. Trey is already up and out of the driver’s seat and around at the side door before the second truck has even pulled through the main door. Even though I knew ahead of time that he wasn’t injured, it’s a relief to see that he’s still in one piece. Is it cruel of me to say that I’m not really attached to the rest of his team? Soldiers tend to come and go — usually go — and it’s always best if we don’t get too emotionally connected to any of them. I catch sight of the injured soldier when Trey swings the door open. His name might be Rob? Todd? Something like that. He seemed like an alright guy.
Jose takes care of closing everything up while the scavengers all swarm around the first vehicle. Dr. Kimura runs up, leaving Eleanor scrambling after him. She seems too delicate for this kind of work. She certainly won’t be able to help haul a 200-pound man out of the back of a truck.
Uhhh… please tell me I’m not supposed to help with that? Nah, I’m sure those guys can handle it. I’ll just watch from back here in my front-row seat.
I feel like a real ass when they pull the guy out of the truck. Also, I’ve lost my appetite. I’m never eating again. I was expecting burns, which is the most common injury we see on the scavengers. The sun’s damn hot, so it only makes sense that they get a little singed from time to time. But this… this is something new.
First off, there’s blood — as if I haven’t seen enough of that for one day. Burns don’t usually bleed so much as melt. The blood is soaked into his clothes, through the makeshift bandages wrapped around his torso, and dripping across the floor of the garage. Makes me glad we have a floor drain, since I’m fairly sure my afternoon chores will include hosing it down. Gross.
There’s also the smell. I was prepared for the usual stench of burned flesh, which I have to admit is pretty damn awful. Instead, I’m hit with something almost sickly sweet, like a bottle of my mom’s black-market perfume poured over sweaty socks.
While I’m puzzling over the guy’s bizarre injury, the guys are wrestling the large man onto the stretcher. Eleanor keeps trying to help, but she repeatedly gets squeezed out between the shoulders of the larger men. In the end, she grabs one of the victim’s feet to help move him. She glances over at me watching and blushes.
The guy has clearly been dosed, which is probably for the best. Between the blood and the smell, I can just imagine what kind of injury he has under those bandages. He would probably be feeling less than stellar without some serious sedatives. The guy’s so big they probably needed to use an elephant tranquilizer.
Dr. Kimura lifts up the bandages to look at the injury. I can tell he’s trying to school his features, doing his best not to show what… panic? Dread? Maybe he doesn’t want to tell the guys that their teammate isn’t going to make it. But then he looks up at Trey and gives a nod. After a long moment of silence, stretched out to feel like an hour, Trey turns to his men and starts barking orders. “Harker, Telly, wheel Dan over to 7A.” Dan! That’s his name! “The rest of you go get cleaned up. We head out again first thing in the morning.” That’s it? What about all the medical gear we hauled down here? I busted my ass to bring that saline, the least Dr. Kimura can do is start an IV. And what the hell is 7A? That’s not the hospital. I cross my arms and give Kenzo a sulky glare, which he doesn’t even have the decency to notice.
“You go with them, Eleanor,” Dr. Kimura says to his student, without taking his eyes off the patient. “Tell them… tell them to secure the patient and wait for me. I’ll be there shortly.” He peeks at me, perhaps gauging my reaction to the whole event. Women have been known to swoon at the sight of blood, I think to myself with an epic eye roll.
Once the stretcher is wheeled out amid a stampede of stomping boots, the tension in the garage immediately lightens. Dr. Kimura and Trey speak in muted whispers, and I’m thrown for a bit of a loop at how they seem to be on the same page. I’ve never seen them like this before. In fact, I’ve only ever seen them at odds with each other. They’ve been borderline hostile, and the only thing that has stopped Trey from pummeling Dr. Kimura into the ground is Kenzo’s military rank. Even still, as our number-one scavenger, Trey could probably get away with it with only a slap on the wrist.
I watch them huddled up, trying to read their lips — My grandmother wears red boots? Yeah, I’m sure that’s what they said — until Jose comes over and gives me a nudge. “Hmm?” I respond, my attention still divided.
After he gives a second nudge, I finally look at him. Without a word, he hands me a coiled hose. “Seriously?” Not like I didn’t know this was coming, but maybe I can whine my way out of it.
“Yes, seriously. If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got work to do.” He gestures over to the trucks that had come in with the scavengers. He’s right, I hadn’t noticed. They are seriously beat up. I meander over for a closer inspection and observe some questionable damage. The front of the lead truck looks like it ran over a bear. Bits of blood and tissue, and what look like flakes of metal are stuck in the grill, and the whole front fender is pushed in. The second truck has a series of tears down the side. I’ve never seen this kind of damage to our vehicles before.
What the hell happened out there?
“Ahem.” The most polite cough ever comes from behind me.
I turn to find Dr. Kimura a few steps away, his gloves now discarded but the hems of his sleeves still tainted with blood. “What can I do for you, Dr. Kimura?”
He gives a small sigh. “Didn’t we just go over this? Please call me Kenzo.”
“You came over here to ask me to call you by your first name?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“Obviously not,” he says, but whatever he has to say is making him blush and avert his eyes. Ah. I see where this is going. Please tell me he’s not about to declare his undying devotion with my boyfriend just 20 feet away.
Part of me kind of enjoys watching him get all flustered, his cheeks burning, but I can’t help feeling a little guilty. It’s not that he isn’t a good guy. I mean, he is literally the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Ummm, I guess that’s not really saying a whole lot since there’s a pretty limited gene pool to compare against, but I imagine it would’ve been the same before the end of the world outside. And he’s attractive in a nerdy way, it’s just… My eyes fall on Trey walking this way across the garage. Kenzo isn’t Trey. Trey is strong and broad, confident and bold. My body responds to his, like we’re on the same frequency.
Kenzo follows my sightline, and I watch his face fall. Whatever he was about to say, he has officially lost his opportunity.
Trey drapes an arm across my shoulders, pulling me flush against him. He’s so tall that I fit neatly under the crook of his shoulder. Kenzo barely conceals an exasperated sigh, and Trey lets out a low chuckle. It’s like a fucking game to him! This is the animosity that I’ve come to expect from them. Trey takes it a step further and leans in to kiss my neck directly behind my ear. He only gets possessive and grabby when another man comes sniffing around. Trey is essentially marking his territory; I guess I should be grateful he isn’t pissing on me, and neither of them is whipping anything out of their pants to compare size. Granted, I wouldn’t necessarily mind the latter. With that thought, I give Kenzo another head-to-toe appraisal.
Hmmm.
“Do you need anything else, doc?” Trey asks. He’s supposed to be addressing Kenzo as ‘sir’, and using the nickname is blatant disrespect. His very posture, half wrapped around my body, isn’t exactly standing at attention either. Right now,
he’s just trying to see how many buttons he can push, toeing the line. I give him a slight bump with my hip, trying to convey my displeasure.
Trey, of course, doesn’t get the hint. He thinks it’s an invitation to get physical, so he leans over me to take an earlobe into his mouth. I try my best to ignore the tingle it sets in motion through my body.
Kenzo must see my frown, because he seems slightly mollified. “It’s fine, I’ve got work to do. You go get some rest. The morning will be here soon enough.” He says this last part with a heavier emphasis. No doubt he’ll be happy to see Trey head out yet again.
Luckily, Trey misses that snide comment as well. He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but you can use any tool as a hammer if you hit the nail hard enough; he gets the job done.
Trey draws me toward the door, but even before we leave the garage, he pulls back. Now that Kenzo is no longer posing a threat to him, his posturing isn’t necessary. “Hey, babe. How ‘bout you bring me some dinner later. Risking my life for the sake of the community is hungry work.” Trey smacks me on the ass and saunters out of the room without waiting for my response. Part of me feels like I should be offended, but he’s not wrong. He’s been outside, putting his beautiful face on the line, while the rest of us pretty much sit on our asses and reap the rewards. I don’t mind bringing him a bite to eat for his trouble. Really, I don’t. Even though he’s an adult and perfectly capable of feeding himself. His legs aren’t broken. Just sayin’.
I watch the rest of Trey’s crew follow after him. A couple of them give me a wink, or a leer, but the sad truth of the matter is that I’m not even on the same level as the dust on the soles of their boots. These guys are like the gods of men. Me, I’m just a lowly ant. A sarcastic ant, but an ant nonetheless. I’m just flattered that someone of Trey’s status notices me at all.
The scavengers head down the hall towards the dorms. They’ll have their pick of the best foods, high protein ‘to combat the high-caloric expenditure’, or so my dad says. It’s basically an excuse to leave most of the compound citizens borderline starving. Dr. Kimura — Kenzo — is headed in the opposite direction. I think back to his words about the patient… victim… Dan. What did he mean ‘secure the patient’? Kenzo hardly seems in a rush now, even though the guy was bleeding all over the floor. Does that mean that he was too far gone to bother trying to save him? Or maybe that it wasn’t as severe as it looked, and Eleanor could handle it?
Prey (The Shade Chronicles Book 1) Page 2