“Yeah. Sure.” I fell into step behind him. The orderlies followed us, their aim never wavering. I did my best not to make any sudden moves. Having just returned to the land of the living, I was in no mood to exit it again. “Am I ever going to get something I can call you?”
“Ah…” His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he said, “I’m Dr. Thomas. I’ve been one of your personal physicians since you arrived at this facility. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You’ve been sleeping for some time.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” The hall was built on the model I’ve come to expect from CDC facilities, with nothing breaking the sterile white walls but the occasional door and the associated one-way mirrors looking into patient holding rooms. All the rooms were empty.
“You’re walking well.”
“It’s a skill.”
“How’s your head? Any disorientation, blurred vision, confusion?”
“Yes.” He tensed. I ignored it, continuing. “I’m confused about what I’m doing here. I don’t know about you, but I get twitchy when I wake up in strange places with no idea how I got there. Will I be getting some answers soon?”
“Soon enough, Miss Mason.” He stopped in front of a door with no mirror next to it. That implied that it wasn’t a patient room. Better yet, there was a blood test unit to one side. I never thought I’d be so happy for the chance to be jabbed with a needle. “We’ll give you a few minutes. If you need anything—”
“Using the bathroom, also a skill.” I slapped my palm down on the test panel. Needles promptly bit into the heel of my hand and the tips of my fingers. The light over the door flashed between red and green before settling on the latter. Uninfected. The door swung open. I stepped through, only to stop and scowl at the one-way mirror taking up most of the opposite wall. The door swung shut behind me.
“Cute,” I muttered. The need to pee was getting bad enough that I didn’t protest the situation. I glared at the mirror the entire time I was using the facilities, all but daring someone to watch me. See? I can pee whether you’re spying on me or not, you sick bastards.
Other than the mirror—or maybe because of the mirror—the bathroom was as standard-issue CDC as the hallway outside, with white walls, a white tile floor, and white porcelain fixtures. Everything was automatic, including the soap dispenser, and there were no towels; instead, I dried my hands by sticking them into a jet of hot air. It was one big exercise in minimizing contact with any surface. When I turned back to the door, the only things I’d touched were the toilet seat and the floor, and I was willing to bet that they were in the process of self-sterilization by the time I started washing my hands.
The blood test required to exit the bathroom was set into the door itself, just above the knob. It didn’t unlock until I checked out clean.
The three orderlies were waiting in the hall, with an unhappy Dr. Thomas between them and me. If I did anything bad enough to make them pull those triggers, the odds were good that he’d be treated as collateral damage.
“Wow,” I said. “Who did you piss off to get this gig?”
He flinched, looking at me guiltily. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course not. Thank you for bringing me to the bathroom. Now, could I get that water?” Better yet, a can of Coke. The thought of its acid sweetness was enough to make my mouth water. It’s good to know that some things never change.
“If you’d come this way?”
I gave the orderlies a pointed look. “I don’t think I have much of a choice, do you?”
“No, I suppose you don’t,” he said. “As I said, a precaution. You understand.”
“Not really, no. I’m unarmed. I’ve just passed two blood tests. I don’t understand why I need three men with guns covering my every move.” The CDC has been paranoid for years, but this was taking it to a new extreme.
Dr. Thomas’s reply didn’t help: “Security.”
“Why do people always say that when they don’t feel like giving a straight answer?” I shook my head. “I’m not going to make trouble. Please, just take me to the water.”
“Right this way,” he said, and started back the way we’d come.
There was a tray waiting for us on the bolted-down table in the room where I’d woken up. It held a plate with two pieces of buttered toast, a tumbler full of water, and wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, a can of Coke with condensation beading on the sides. I made for the tray without pausing to consider how the orderlies might react to my moving faster than a stroll. None of them shot me in the back. That was something.