Mira Grant - Blackout

The guard’s expression of polite helpfulness didn’t falter. “Would you like the address of the nearest hospital with field decontamination capacity?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I said that wrong. Magdalene Grace Garcia is in the back of this van, and she has been shot. We need immediate medical assistance.” I hesitated before adding, “Please.”

The effect Maggie’s name had on the man was nothing short of electric. His expression flickered from politely helpful to shocked to narrow-eyed efficiency in a matter of seconds. “Drive through the front gate and follow the lighted indicators next to the road,” he said. “Do not attempt to leave your vehicle. A medical team will meet you at your destination.” Almost as an afterthought, he said, “Please roll up your window.”

“Thank you,” I said. He stepped away, and I rolled the window up before putting my foot back on the gas. The gate opened as we rolled forward, and bright blue lights began flicking on next to the driveway, indicating our route.

The lights followed the obvious path to the Agora for about a hundred yards before branching off, leading us down a groundkeeper’s road that had been cunningly surrounded by bushes and flowering shrubs, making it almost unnoticeable if you didn’t know it was there—or weren’t following a bunch of bright blue lights. I kept driving, inching our speed up as high as I dared. The road led us around the back of the Agora to a separate parking garage with plastic sheeting hanging over the entrance.

I took a breath and drove on through.

The garage was brightly lit, and already swarming with people in white EMT moon suits, their hands covered by plastic gloves and their faces by clear masks. I managed to kill the engine before they started knocking on the van’s side door, but only barely. The door slid open, and suddenly the van was rocking as EMTs poured through the opening.

Someone knocked on my window, making me jump. I turned to see another of the EMTs looking through the glass at me. I lowered the window. “Ma’am, please leave your vehicle and prepare for decontamination,” he said, voice muffled by his mask.

A chill wormed down my spine. The idea of going through decontamination—of going through any medical procedure, no matter how standard—was suddenly terrifying.

The others were climbing out of the van. Mahir and Becks were already in front of the van, being led along by more EMTs. I knew Shaun would wait for me as long as he could, unwilling to let me out of his sight if he didn’t have to. That was what it took to spur me into motion. I didn’t want Shaun getting sedated because I wasn’t willing to get out of my seat.

One of the EMTs grasped my upper arm firmly as soon as my feet hit the asphalt, not waiting for me to shut the door before he began pulling me toward the building. I didn’t resist, but I didn’t help him, either, letting my feet drag as I looked frantically around for Shaun. He was being led toward the building by another of the EMTs. He broke loose as soon as he saw me, ignoring the way his EMT was shouting as he ran in my direction.

“Shaun!”

He stopped in front of me. There was blood on the front of his shirt, but his hands were clean. Either he’d been wearing gloves, or he’d somehow managed to avoid touching Maggie. Given what I’d heard from the back, that seemed unlikely. He’d played it smart. For once. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Things were so hectic back there, I didn’t have time to—”

“I’m fine, but I think you’re scaring the locals.”

“What?” Shaun looked over his shoulder, seeming to notice the EMTs for the first time. They were all holding pistols now, and those pistols were aimed in our direction. Smiling cockily, Shaun waved. I doubt any of them saw the hollow fear behind his eyes. I doubt anyone but me would even have realized it was there. “Hey, fellas. Sorry to frighten you like that. I just have a thing about being separated from my sister. Makes me sort of impulsive.”

“Makes you sort of insane ,” I corrected, without thinking. Then I winced. “Shaun…”

“No, that’s pretty much true.” Four more EMTs walked by us, carrying a stretcher between them. A clear plastic sheet covered it, Maggie visible underneath. A respirator was covering her face. I just hoped that meant that she was still breathing, and that she still stood a chance of recovery.

“Sir, ma’am, you need to come with me now.” I glanced toward the EMT holding my arm. He looked at us sternly through his mask. “I understand your concern, but we need to clear and sterilize this area.”

Shaun’s eyes widened. “Our van—”

“Will be returned to you once it has been decontaminated. Now please, sir, you both need to come with me.”

Shaun and I exchanged a look. Then we nodded, almost in unison. “All right,” I said. “Let’s go and get decontaminated.”

The EMT led us out of the garage and into the building. Metal jets emerged from the ceiling as we stepped into the airlock, beginning to spray a thin mist down over the area. The smell of it managed to sneak through the closing doors, tickling my nose with the characteristic burning scent of formalin. I shuddered. Nothing organic was going to survive that dousing.

“We’re going to need to replace the rug again,” commented Shaun.

I glanced at him, startled, before starting to laugh under my breath. I couldn’t help it. He looked so sincere, and so annoyed, like replacing the rug was the worst thing that had happened to us in a while. Shaun blinked, his own surprised expression mirroring mine. Then he started laughing with me.

We were both still laughing when the EMT led us out of the airlock and into the Agora Medical Center. My laughter died almost instantly, replaced by a feeling of choking suffocation. White walls. White ceiling. White floor. The EMTs looked suddenly hostile behind their plastic masks, like they had been sent by the CDC to take me back.

“George?” Shaun’s voice was distant. “You okay?”

“Not really,” I replied. I turned to the startled EMT who had led us inside. “Do you have a room with some color in it? I have a thing about white.” It made me want to curl up in a corner and cry. A phobia of medical establishments. That was a fun new personality trait.

Working at the Agora had apparently prepared the man for strange requests from people above his pay grade—which we, traveling with Maggie, technically were. “Right this way, miss,” he said, and turned to lead us away from the rest of the action. I felt a brief pang of regret over letting us be separated from the others, but quashed it. The EMT assigned to work with me and Shaun wasn’t one of the ones who was needed to help Maggie, or he wouldn’t have been with us in the first place. Me having a panic attack over the white, white walls wasn’t going to do anything to help anyone.

The EMT led us to a smaller room where the walls were painted a cheery yellow and the chairs were upholstered in an equally cheery blue. We didn’t need to be told that this was the children’s holding area. The testing panels on the walls and the double-reinforced glass on the observation window cut into the room’s rear wall made that perfectly clear.

Oddly, the window made me feel better, rather than setting my nerves even further on edge. It was honest glass, letting the observed see the observers without any subterfuge. If it had been a mirror, I think I would have lost my shit.

“If you’re feeling better now, ma’am, sir, I would very much appreciate it if you’d let me begin the testing process.”

Shaun and I exchanged a look, and I jumped a little as the blood on his shirt fully registered. Maggie wasn’t dead when she was bleeding on him. That didn’t mean her blood couldn’t potentially carry a hot viral load.