The Complete Makanza Series: Books 0-4

by Krista Street

  But Sergeant Rose appeared to be in the group that didn’t like to talk about dead loved ones. It might still be too raw, even though it had been six years. I’d heard once that losing a child was a pain one never got over. It was simply a pain one was forced to endure.

  “I think I’ll get a cup of coffee.” I slipped off my stool. “Would you like another?”

  He glanced at his cup, as if surprised it was empty. “No, I’m okay. One cup’s enough.”

  As quietly as I could, I slipped out of the room.

  VANILLA COFFEE BREWED in the breakroom. I poured myself a large cup and added an extra dollop of cream. That would add at least fifty calories. I also grabbed some food from the vending machine. As I pushed the button, the food whirled around inside. An egg salad sandwich would do.

  Unlike beverages, food wasn’t allowed out of designated eating locations so I sat at the table and ate the entire sandwich. When finished, I procrastinated on leaving. Part of me dreaded returning to the watch room, wondering if Sergeant Rose would still be feeling the painful memory of loss, the loss that I provoked, but I wanted to see if Davin would be more talkative today. It was getting close to six so he’d be up soon.

  Luckily, when I returned, Sergeant Rose seemed back to normal. “You were gone awhile.” His friendly smile was back in place.

  “I had breakfast. I keep forgetting to eat at home.”

  “Best not to get too thin. Winter’s coming.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I sat on the stool. The digital clock on the control panel stated 05:49. “Do you think he’ll be up by six?”

  “Always is.”

  “Is he . . . um, like that? A routine kind of person?” I fiddled with the stool height.

  “He is now, but when he first arrived, he wasn’t.”

  “You’ve known him since he came here?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been working here since the Compound opened.” He moved his empty coffee cup to the side.

  My mouth went dry. Here it was, the perfect way to precede a real conversation about Davin. Sergeant Rose had to know him better than anyone else here. “What was he like when he first arrived?”

  He chuckled, although there wasn’t much humor in it. “In a nutshell: he was angry.”

  “Right away?”

  “Yeah, before anything was even done to him. Just the fact that he was here made him mad.”

  “Do you know why he felt that way?” For some asinine reason, I assumed everyone would be happy to be here, at least initially. If they weren’t, they’d be dead, having died of Makanza.

  He paused, looking thoughtful. “I wondered about that, when he first arrived. He’d just lost all of his siblings. That couldn’t have been easy. When his mother’s letters arrived, up until a few months ago, they wrote weekly,” he explained, “he’d seem a bit better, at least for a couple of days. I don’t know what she said to him, but whatever it was, it seemed to help.”

  “So he’s close to his mother?”

  “Yes. That’s one thing I’m certain of.”

  “Was he close to his siblings?”

  He shrugged. “I really have no idea. He’s never spoken of them, to anyone.”

  “But he did . . . in the letters?” I knew a social worker had dictated correspondence for Davin. Although from what Sergeant Rose just said, I gathered that only Davin had seen the letters from his mother.

  “When he first came here, yes, he did talk about his brothers and sisters to his mom, or at least I think he did. I guess I don’t actually know because whenever he spoke of people, he’d only use an initial, never directly saying who it was. After years of corresponding with his mother, they practically spoke in code. It was like they spoke another language to one another. It didn’t make sense to any of us.”

  That made me pause. “Is that why Dr. Roberts put an end to it?”

  He sighed and scratched his chin. “I’d like to think that was the reason, but just between you and me,” he lowered his voice, “I think he stopped it because those letters made Davin happy.”

  My jaw clenched. That’s why he stopped it? Of all the reasons to stop something, killing someone’s happiness should not be the primary one. I tried to stop the anger that rose within me.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Do you know what her name is?” I still needed to compile a more rounded background on Davin. Knowing the names of his family was a good place to start.

  He cocked his head. “Karen . . . no, Sharon, I think. Yeah, that’s it. Sharon Kinder. Same last name as Davin.”

  Davin’s light turned on.

  I snapped my head up so fast I pulled a muscle in my neck. He was shirtless again. A long tanned arm was visible as he’d reached for the lamp by his bed. He swung his feet over the side, his back to us. The sheets fell to his waist.

  My breath stopped.

  It was like déjà vu from yesterday.

  “When will his breakfast arrive?” I squeaked.

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  Davin didn’t glance our way. Once again, we were invisible. I wondered if that was a coping mechanism. If he pretends hard enough, does it feel like he’s alone? That his every move isn’t scrutinized?

  I averted my gaze when he went to the bathroom, even though I couldn’t see anything.

  “He won’t shower today. He only takes one every other day.” Sergeant Rose adjusted a few controls on the panel. “Right now, he’ll just take a piss.” He cleared his throat after he said that. “Uh, I mean, use the restroom.”

  I bit back a smile.

  “Then he’ll brush his teeth. After that, he’ll probably do a set of push-ups and then wait at his desk until his breakfast arrives.”

  Just as Sergeant Rose predicted, Davin picked up his toothbrush after he finished in the bathroom.

  I watched, amazed. “He really does follow a strict routine.”

  “Now he does. When he first arrived, he had no structure to his day. He spent a lot of time pacing.”

  “Do you think he has the routine now as a way to deal with the monotony of the same day, day in and day out?”

  “Maybe.”

  Sure enough, after Davin brushed his teeth, he returned to the center of the cell and got down on his hands and knees. Kicking his feet back, he balanced on the balls of his toes and started doing push-ups. I counted at first, but with each one, he went faster and faster and faster. He was up to fifty when his movements turned to a blur.

  “Wow . . .”

  Sergeant Rose grinned. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  It went on for a few minutes. When Davin finished, there was only the slightest sheen of sweat on his skin.

  “Any idea how many he did?”

  Sergeant Rose grinned. “Around two thousand.”

  “You could count that?”

  He chuckled. “No, of course not, but we’ve set up a camera a few times to record him and then watched it back in slow motion. Each time his push-up routine averages around two thousand, give or take a hundred.”

  I was so stunned I couldn’t speak.

  Davin next sat at his desk. He glanced toward the watch room almost as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. When his blazing blue eyes met mine, he stopped cold.

  I hastily leaned over, almost falling off my stool in the process, and spoke into the microphone. “Good morning, Davin. Did you sleep well?”

  His only response was a narrowing of his eyes.

  I sighed internally. I knew it was too much to ask for him to be happy to see me. I was about to say something else when Davin turned his chair so his back was to me.

  Directly to me.

  Taking the hint, I murmured, “I think I’ll wait until he’s done with breakfast.”

  Sergeant Rose tried to smile, but try as he might, I still caught the appeasing sympathy in his gaze. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll go better then.”

  Davin’s breakfast arrived a few minutes later. He stood, retrieved his tray, and somehow managed to keep his back to me the enti
re time.

  I cleared my throat when he sat back at his desk and told myself it wouldn’t be that bad once I started talking. I just needed to be consistent and patient. I could do that even if it meant waking up at four in the morning for the rest of my life.

  Or rather, for the rest of the month.

  15 – VISITOR

  During the next week, my spirits fell more and more each day. Davin didn’t talk to me. At all. Every day it was the same. Cold stares, icy indifference, and looks of contempt. Granted it was only week one, but I’d made zero progress.

  The only thing I’d accomplished was that Davin seemed to expect me in the mornings. Consequently, he made a point to keep his back to the watch room the entire time I was there.

  In other words, my grand almighty plan was, in reality, a complete and total disaster.

  It was well past nine in the evening on Friday night as I walked to my car. I was alone since Amy had left, complaining of too many late nights and needing a break. Charlie and Mitch had cleared out too. But not me.

  I couldn’t leave the lab when everyone else did, not even when my stomach cramped in pain from lack of food or my eyelids hung heavy. The Kazzies were still imprisoned and experimented on. That needed to stop, and the only way that would happen was if we discovered a vaccine.

  And I’d made a promise to myself. The only reason I’d continued my position at the Compound was to vigorously work toward achieving that goal. Without that anchor grounding me in my purpose, I was merely a complacent bystander—supporting the atrocities that were committed in these walls.

  That wasn’t a position I was willing to support.

  ON SATURDAY MORNING, I woke early and spread the dozens and dozens of articles I’d accumulated on PTSD on my living room floor and got back to work. I needed to learn more. If I was going to break through to Davin, I needed to better learn how to communicate and heal victims of traumatic events. It was my only hope.

  Jeremy made an appearance mid-morning. As always, his presence eased my anxiety and allowed me to continue working despite the fear of failure looming. When he left, I felt more grounded. More sure of myself.

  I can do this!

  A heavy psychology text was propped against my knees as I leaned against the couch when a knock sounded on my door. At first, I kept working, thinking I’d imagined it, but then the knock came again.

  Pushing to a stand, I cautiously padded to the door. While crime was low, there was still the rare story about someone being assaulted during a home robbery. Usually, it was teenagers in a tiff with each other or someone looking for alcohol. Still, it was enough for me to pause at the door and peer through the peephole.

  Amy’s distorted image stared back.

  I pulled the door open. A rush of air flowed across my cheeks. “Amy?”

  She waved. “Hi.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  She stepped into my cramped entryway and placed her hands on her hips. “Yes, sorry, it’s nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Um . . . sure. Come in.”

  Amy didn’t make any move to further enter my apartment. Instead, she studied me, a curious gleam in her eyes.

  Since that look made me want to squirm, I looked anywhere but her face. Tall leather boots covered her lower legs. I cleared my throat. “Nice boots.”

  She bent her leg so I could get a better view of them. “I know, right? I got ‘em two years ago when the state released that double quantity of footwear. They’re real leather. When do you ever find that these days?”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “They look comfortable . . . and stylish.”

  I cringed after I said that last part. What do I know about style?

  Fashion trends these days were non-existent. Nobody really cared about that anymore, except for the odd few who probably would have been fashion designers before Makanza. For the rest of us, clothes and footwear were viewed more practically. Is it warm? Will it last? How much does it cost? Those were the only questions I ever asked when I bought something.

  Amy ignored my stumbling words and grabbed my coat. She held it out to me. “Can I take you out for lunch?”

  “Lunch?”

  Amy tapped her watch. “Yep. It’s what people usually do around this time, you know, eat something?”

  My cheeks heated as my stomach grumbled at the mention of food. I’d missed breakfast. I’d been too consumed with work. “You don’t have to do that. It would cost a fortune.”

  Amy waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take you back to Sean’s. He serves reasonably priced food if you’re willing to go back there?”

  I hadn’t been to Sean’s Pub since my disastrous first encounter with alcohol. My trepidation must have shown because Amy added, “Don’t worry. He also serves non-alcoholic beverages.”

  “Um . . . okay, just give me a minute while I change.”

  TEN MINUTES LATER, we were in Amy’s car driving to the pub. The sky was gray and overcast. She turned the heater on as soon as the motor started.

  We were both quiet. The only sound in the car was the air flowing through the dash.

  I tried not to fidget, but it was hard not to. Amy said she wanted to talk to me. That couldn’t be good.

  “Meghan, can I ask you something?” She turned onto a residential street.

  I threaded a hand through my hair. “Uh . . . sure.”

  “Have you gone into Davin’s cell at all this week?”

  My stomach jumped into my throat.

  “I asked his guard.” Amy’s green eyes met mine when she paused at a four-way stop. “He said you’ve tried talking to Davin through the microphone, but you haven’t entered his cell.”

  I took a deep breath. So that’s why she wanted to talk to me. “Um, no, I haven’t gone it.” I wrung my hands. “Does Dr. Roberts know?”

  She shook her head and drove forward. “Not as far as I’m aware. Believe me, he’d confront you, so I think you’re safe in that aspect.”

  I sighed. “Good.”

  “Are you scared to go in his cell? Is that why you haven’t? Are you afraid you’ll catch Makanza?”

  I shook my head which caused my long, brown hair to fall over my shoulders. “No, it’s nothing like that. I mean, of course, I’m a little scared, and I’d definitely take all of the precautions, but that’s not the reason—”

  “Then why haven’t you gone in? You could be in a lot of trouble if Dr. Roberts or Dr. Sadowsky found out.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why?”

  She pulled up to the street outside Sean’s and cut the motor but made no move to step out. The silence in the car as she waited for my answer was deafening.

  I shrugged. “I’m trying to respect Davin’s wishes. The whole objective of this new experiment, in which we enter the cells while following Compound 10 and 11’s policies, won’t work if we do it against a Kazzie’s wishes. Right now, Davin doesn’t want me in his cell, so I’m not going in.”

  Amy smiled. Her smile then turned into a grin.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I just like what I’m seeing.” She opened her door. A rush of cool air entered.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that comment as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

  We strolled up the cracked concrete walkway, neither of us speaking. The stairs creaked again when we climbed them. Judging from the muffled noise coming through the front door, I wasn’t surprised what we encountered when we stepped inside.

  The pub’s atmosphere was the exact opposite of my first visit. For one, it was almost full. Dozens of people filled the rooms. Laughter and conversations flowed through the air.

  I stopped short when I saw how crowded it was. Just breathe, Meghan.

  A fire roared in the fireplace, taking the chill out of the home. Wood smoke swirled around, bringing with it its rich scent. It appeared to be the only source of heat for the place. I walked closer to i
t and concentrated on the dry warmth.

  Amy nodded toward the wall. “Looks like there’s an open table over there.” She had to speak loudly over the din.

  I followed her to it. The din of the small pub was like noise traveling under water, quiet and muffled. When we reached the table, we slung our jackets over the seatbacks before sitting.

  I felt a little safer against the wall since I wasn’t surrounded on all sides. The heat from the fire warmed my back, and its quiet crackling was oddly relaxing. It helped calm my racing heart.

  A waitress appeared, a smile on her face. “Care to look at some menus?”

  I took the outstretched menu. They were simple pieces of paper with Sean’s Pub printed at the top. Decorative Celtic designs swirled around the heading while handwritten items were listed beneath. There were ten food items to choose from. Most had similar ingredients in them. In other words, those were the surplus items in the nation right now.

  “How you been, Amy?” The waitress pulled out a pad as she turned to my co-worker.

  “Pretty good, Rach, you?” Amy replied.

  “Can’t complain. Dad’s only got me working four shifts a week right now, so I can concentrate on school. Tips have been pretty good today.”

  “You can count on a good one from me.” Amy placed her menu on the table and rested her elbows on top of it.

  Rachael laughed. “If you stiffed me, I know where you live.”

  “Exactly!” Amy smiled.

  “So what can I get you for drinks?”

  “I’ll take a lager.” Amy raised her eyebrows at me. “What about you, Meghan?”

  “Water’s fine.”

  Rachel jotted it down before leaving to tend another table.

  “Old friend?” I asked when Amy and I were alone again.

  “Probably one of the oldest ones I’ve got. We grew up together. My parents and Sean have known each other forever.” Amy picked up her menu again. “Rachael’s a few years younger than me. She’s still in school, working on her masters and hoping to work for the state one day in Child Welfare.”

  I cocked my head and wondered if Rachael knew my mother.

  Following Amy’s lead, I studied the menu. My eyes widened when I saw the prices. No wonder this place was packed. The prices were half that of most places.