A sharp knock sounds on the door and my eyes flick open. For a moment I forget where I am, that is until I see Kean staring back at me.
“Come in,” he calls.
The door opens and Doctor Hope stands on the threshold. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she says, looking at me.
“Florence.”
She nods. “Florence. Doctor Harding is free. I thought we might give you a check up now.”
“Uh, sure.” I glance at Kean.
“I’ll be in the library with the others,” he says.
I follow Doctor Hope along the empty hallways, listening to her heels crack against the ground. She doesn’t say anything, and I feel like I’m back at school, insignificant and invisible.
She uses a code to get through a locked glass door, and lets it slam behind us.
This hallway is so different, with decorative white wooden panelling on the walls and a pale covering on the ground.
“This way,” she says. I hurry to catch up and follow her into an office. It looks like a doctor’s office with the big desk and computer and examination table.
A small pensive man sits at the desk. His face is narrow and pointy, with cheekbones so sharp they could almost cut through his own skin. His eyes are nearly colourless, some kind of bland grey that reminds me of the solid concrete in our sleeping quarters.
“Yes, come,” he says, not looking me in the eye. “Let me see the hands.”
“Sit, Florence,” Doctor Hope says.
I sit on a hard black plastic seat and offer my hands. Doctor Harding grips my wrists and jerks them closer, nearly pulling me off the chair.
“Ow,” I say, frowning.
He looks up at me and then glances at Doctor Hope. “Forgive me, perhaps I haven’t had a real patient in some time. My bedside manner may be rusty.” He strips off the bandages, lays my hands flat on the desk and inspects them. “Well…” he says casually. “They seem to be coming along. Splints are doing well. Still rather swollen.”
Doctor Harding holds up one of his fingers and shines a mini torch in my eyes. I flinch away. “Look here,” he says, with a note of impatience. He flashes the light across both eyes. “No sign of prolonged head trauma. Do you remember anything?”
“Everything, I think.”
“Good.” He leans back and types something into his computer. Doctor Hope stands motionless, watching me under the glow of fluorescents.
“Hope, will you set the bandages right? Now, what’s your name?” Doctor Harding asks without breaking eye contact with his shining monitor.
“Florence West,” I say as Doctor hope wraps my hands again.
“Age and birthday?”
“Seventeen. May twelve.”
“Blood type?”
“Um… I don’t know.”
“Known medical conditions?”
“None.”
“Allergies?”
“None.”
“Last immunisations?”
“Uh… I have no idea.”
“Parent’s medical history?”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with…” I say, glancing between the doctors.
“Perhaps we’ll put unknown for the moment.” Doctor Harding scratches his neck quickly and types something else. “No doubt you feel groggy. Hope gave you a sedative because you kept trying to wake up during the decontamination process.” He sits back into his chair, still staring at the screen and lets out a long slow breath. “There’s not much you can do, I’m afraid. I can’t put you on work assignment so you’ll just have to rest until your hands heal. Think you can manage that?”
I nod.
“When the swelling goes down you can take the bandages off, just leave the splints and tape in place and… in a day or two we’ll take out your forehead stitches.”
“Ok.”
“All right then. Hope, will show you out.”
“Certainly. Follow me.” Doctor Hope opens the door and waits for me. Doctor Harding returns his attention to typing, without even a final glance or word.
Out in the corridor Doctor Hope begins marching away. “What does Doctor Harding do?” I ask, hurrying to follow.
“Head of neurological sciences.”
“Sounds important.”
Doctor Hope looks down at me. “This is a medical research facility. Most personnel are in the medical or scientific fields, and are therefore extremely important.”
“How did you know to make Arcadium? I mean, the outbreak happened so fast.”
“Originally this was to be a quarantine centre but we shifted our equipment here when our labs were overrun.” She gave an airy laugh. “We realised it was just as good at keeping infection out as it was in.”
“But there were never infected actually here?”
Doctor hope gives me a quizzical look. “It was never used for its intended purpose, no.”
She stops at the glass door and punches in the code again. This time she just holds the door open for me. “Are you fine from here?”
I nod and the door closes with a hiss, like it’s an airtight seal. I watch Doctor Hope disappear, watch her determined stride. The door must be soundproofed because I can’t hear her clacking footsteps at all. I glance at the code box for a moment and then go to find the library.
The others are watching a Shrek DVD. I sit on the couch next to Kean and lean forward to gently smooth Liss’ hair. She’s so absorbed in the TV she doesn’t even turn.
“How was it?” Kean asks.
“Weird.” I sit cross-legged and turn to him. “You know they sedated me but not you guys.”
“I thought you seemed a bit slow.”
I pull a sarcastic smile. “It’s supposed to wear off.”
“And what about the rest of you?”
“Well, I think everything will wear off, eventually. They want to take out my stitches in a few days.”
“And what do you think of Arcadium? Everything you dreamed of?”
“Not exactly,” I say, glancing around. “But at least it’s infection free. You know this was originally a quarantine centre?”
Kean leans forward. “Really?”
“Yeah, they put the labs in as an after thought. Doctor Hope said it’s a medical research facility now.”
“Mmm, that makes me feel like a lab rat.” Kean laughs.
I smile and stare at the TV. “What do you think of all this?”
“I think… we’re safe now.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t waste any time.”
“Even if this place reminds me of a concrete concentration camp,” Kean says. “Just remember Liss is safe now.” He pauses to see if I’ll say anything and when I don’t he moves on. “Someone came by when you were getting your check up. Trouble and I have work assignment in the morning, apparently. Eight AM sharp. Get this… we’re on waste disposal.”
I screw up my nose. “All day?”
“All day.” He nods. “How am I supposed to explain this to Trouble?”
“He’ll have no idea what’s going on. You guys have to stick together so he knows it’s ok. They said I couldn’t do work until my hands heal.”
“Lucky you.” Kean rubs his thumb over his bottom lip. “I made it through the apocalypse to become a cleaner.”
“We can always go back to the hotel, I guess. If this doesn’t work out.”
“You think so?” Kean gives me an unsure look. “You see any windows? You see any way out except for the gas chamber? Freedom never felt so claustrophobic.”