The Last Bastion of the Living (The Last Bastion #1)(23)

“The mission you volunteered for is going to go down in history,” Mr. Petersen said in a warmer tone. It was as if he sensed her discomfort. “It’s a brave and wondrous task, and will have far-reaching ramifications for all of humanity.”

Unable to find the right words to speak, Maria opted to nod her head instead. There was no indicator as to whether the elevator was rising or descending. Only the steady hum of the elevator motor and slight vibration gave any hint of its movement through the shaft.

When at last the elevator doors opened, Maria was struck by the glaring whiteness of the walls. She was so used to the dingy grayness of the city, the bright lights reflecting off the sterile white walls was almost blinding. Her boot heels echoed as Mr. Petersen led her down a corridor devoid of any activity, which was disconcerting after the constant crush of bodies and cramped living space in the rest of the city.

“I will show you to your room, and then you will be summoned for the examinations to prepare you for the inoculation,” Mr. Petersen informed her.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘prepared’?”

“Though your recent medical examinations reveal you to be in perfect health, we will be taking one last look at your vitals before administering the antidote,” Mr. Petersen explained. “Nothing too invasive. Just a simple physical exam.”

Her hands felt clammy and she realized she was far more afraid than she had believed she would be. “And you’re sure this will work?”

“Of course,” Mr. Petersen responded confidently. “We wouldn’t want to imperil one of our best, would we?”

After several turns, he finally opened a door that led into a much shorter corridor. Doors lined both sides in regular intervals; security cameras rotated slowly overhead.

“This one is yours. I advise you to quickly unpack and change into your fatigues,” Mr. Petersen said as he swiped his wristlet and the door opened.

The room was long and narrow with the shower, sink, and toilet stall at the far end. A simple bed was tucked into a recess in the wall, and a small desk with a matching chair fit into a corner next to a narrow wardrobe. It wasn’t much smaller than her flat.

Maria stepped into the room and slung her bags onto the bed. The door hissed shut behind her and she was grateful to find herself alone. Mr. Petersen unnerved her far more than she cared to admit.

Before slipping out of her uniform, she quickly stowed her personal effects utilizing the bins tucked under the bed. Taking great care, she hung the charcoal-colored trousers and matching jacket in the wardrobe. She tried to smooth out the slight wrinkling with her hands and was careful to make sure the jacket was hanging correctly so it would retain its shape. The Roses had always done such a great job caring for her uniforms. As she thought of her sweet neighbors, she felt a twinge of regret that she had not visited them one last time.

A small black box that held her medals and her miniature Bible, a gift from her father, was placed on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Inside the Bible was a folded photo he had given her on her sixteenth birthday. It was a snapshot of a ten year old Maria dressed up in her father’s uniform. A wide smile graced her tiny face that was dwarfed by his helmet and the sleeves and trouser legs were rolled up with a belt cinching the jacket. Being an old-fashioned sort, her father had not only printed the photo, but had scribbled a message on the back. As a teenager she had not understood why he hadn’t just transmitted the image to her wristlet, but ten years later, the tattered, wrinkled photo was a treasured possession.

Once her personal effects were tucked away, she washed her face and freshened up. The lighting over the sink was quite bright, and as she peered into the mirror, she studied the faint scars decorating her neck and cheek that were clearly visible in the harsh light. Thankfully, the marks were not nearly as noticeable as the thick keloids decorating her stomach, side, and back.

The wristlet hummed on her arm, alerting her of an incoming message. For a moment she hoped it was Dwayne, but it was from Mr. Petersen informing her that he would be escorting her to the lab, and was on his way.

When he arrived exactly ten minutes later, she was dressed in her casual trousers, t-shirt, blouse, and heavy combat boots. The journey to the lab was short and silent after his initial greeting. Again, she noticed the disturbing lack of people and noise in the long corridors.

At last, they entered an examination room filled with various types of medical equipment. A large vid-screen took up one whole wall, and a very tall blond woman stood before a work station studying the data scrolling across the surface of the monitors before her.

“This is Dr. Beverly Curran. Beverly, this is Vanguard Maria Martinez,” Mr. Petersen said by way of introduction.

Beverly Curran glanced at Maria briefly before returning to her work. “Good evening, Vanguard Martinez. Please take off your blouse and get on the treadmill,” the doctor said, gesturing toward the exercise equipment nestled amidst the monitoring machines. Her eyes didn’t stray from the screen before her.

Obeying, Maria couldn’t help but wonder what was holding the doctor’s rapt attention. After hanging her blouse from a hook set into the wall, she stepped onto the treadmill.

Finally pulling her gaze away from her readouts, the doctor strode over to the treadmill, quickly activated it, and set the controls.

“You’ve done this before, you know how it works,” Dr. Curran said simply.