And now she would be my new boss.
“Lattimore is running the joint?” I squeaked as the three of us walked through several neighborhoods. Tony had told us we’d be going to work at the medical center, but he’d held who we’d be reporting to in reserve.
“She is,” he confirmed. “Seems to do a good job of it, too.”
Funny how some things work out. I had first learned of the living dead from a clearly annoyed Lattimore; now I would be working for her. It was like the circle of life. Or unlife.
“Is Gloria going to be okay?” Dax asked.
We’d held off on asking about her and Vijay up until now. I thought we showed a surprising amount of restraint.
“I’m sure she is,” Tony said.
“What’s he even want her for?” I asked.
“Information? Scaring people?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s Gloria.”
“And you don’t want to tell me you didn’t get spooked listening to her reports?”
He was right—Gloria’s near-nightly updates had never been particularly heartwarming, but at the same time, I’d recognized how necessary they were. “They were important,” I said. “He must realize that.”
Tony let out a frustrated-sounding sigh. “I don’t know what he’s going to do. Probably just ask her some questions. She’s not going to be of any use to him if she’s incapacitated. Relax, guys. Really.”
We didn’t relax, but we also didn’t start asking more questions.
The Hastings Medical Facility stretched over several acres of blacktop. It looked like a former parking lot backed up to one of the city’s many sports fields, all that land retaken for our use. Dark green Army-issue tents covered all of the lot itself, the right side backing up to a portable building that probably held equipment and medicines that needed to be kept cold. Generators hummed, and the calls of medical staffers bounced around our heads. It was far more militaristic than anything Elderwood had been able to cook up—we’d used the old student health center as our medical facility.
Hastings had a couple of actual hospitals, though. I wondered what had happened to Behrens Memorial.
Tony stopped us in front of what I guessed was the main entryway: a tent with slightly different markings from the others. He motioned for us to hold still, and then went inside. A moment later, he emerged with Lattimore herself. I recognized her dark hair and the spark of intelligence in her eyes, but there was a gauntness to her face that had not been there in her early interviews. I imagined we all had that tension in us now, that careworn look no amount of food or rest seemed to alleviate.
She looked over both of us with the same sort of restrained dislike I typically reserved for the dentist’s office. “So this is your medic,” she said, clearly underwhelmed. She met my gaze and nodded slightly. “You did all right with his leg.”
“Thanks,” I said, forcing my tone to remain even. Supposedly Lattimore had demanded my release; maybe this brusque manner was just her way of making sure I knew my place.
Lattimore sighed, then switched her stare to Dax. I thought she looked particularly disapproving. “What’s this one do?”
Dax, bless his heart, didn’t bristle. He just stood there, though his smile grew slightly strained.
Tony shrugged. “You need orderlies, don’t you? He can lift. Clean. Do stuff. Look, Doc, you wanted a medic, I got you a medic. Dax can do all kinds of shit, too. Just put him to work.”
“I need medical professionals. I don’t need someone I need to train up from—”
“Make it work, Doc,” Tony snapped. She closed her mouth, perhaps used to deferring to the perceived military connection. But her expression blackened considerably as she met his stony gaze, and I detected all manner of dislike in there—dislike for him, for the situation, for our current ruling military party, for some combination of the three.
Dax looked at the ground.
I had a sinking feeling Tony had begged for Dax’s release as a favor. Lattimore might have asked for me and Tony had used my skills as leverage: Request Dax, too, or you don’t get the actual medic at all.
Holy shit. Had he blackmailed her over me?
Tony saluted the two of us. “You guys be good today.”
“Where are you going?” Dax asked, failing somewhat at concealing his unhappiness.
“To do important things. Commander stuff. You wouldn’t understand.” He smiled at us, saluted the good doctor, and limped away.
Lattimore looked between the two of us and shook her head. “I ask for help and this is what they give me,” she muttered. “All right. Dax, you go straight to the back there and meet with Pete, he’ll get you set up. You…medic…you’re with me.”
Dax and I exchanged final nods before he headed off to his fate. I hoped Pete was nicer than the doctor.
Lattimore and I stood outside sizing each other up for another moment. “Well, you’re here,” she said, jerking her head toward the interior. “Let’s see what you can do.”