to make sure the lump wasn’t actually protruding.
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Anna Scarlett
In my nervous fit, I didn’t realize we were under the door until it opened,
pouring light into the cabin. And, like a group of trained seals, we all looked up.
I tried to look away—just to see if I could—but couldn’t tear my eyes from the
white nothingness. In the next instant we catapulted up, swallowed whole.
Somebody screamed. Might have been me. Another rash of snickers broke
out, and I clamped my mouth shut.
The pod rested on the cage-like floor of a lighted white room, and although
we were still immersed in water, it was draining quickly. Within seconds, we
were able to step out onto dry vents. While the other passengers retrieved their
duffel bags from the rear of the pod, I waited alone, hugging myself like a lost
child.
The conductor ushered us through the only door in the room, out into a long
hallway where we lined up, side by side. The walls were painted a very
soothing—and very fitting—ocean blue instead of the customary, morbid black.
The hallway extended without apparent end in either direction, with bright
white lights embedded into the ceiling every few feet. Smiling, Ebony took the
place beside me. I resolved to thank her later for her kindness.
Little-Man silenced us with “Atten-hut!”
As unique as his fingerprints, Lt. Horan’s gait on the squeaky hallway floors
announced his presence. He strode up to me wearing a mirror-shattering grin.
“There you are, Worm! Did you miss me?” he screamed in my face. Without
taking his eyes off me, he yelled, “The rest of you are dismissed. Go get
processed, find your quarters and stay there.”
I wanted to think Ebony brushed against me on purpose, to reassure me, not
because Lt. Horan was practically foaming at the mouth. But the hall seemed to
vomit cadets. After a few minutes of shuffling, nudging and duck-and-cover, the
lieutenant and I faced each other alone.
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“Did you bring your toothbrush, Morgan?” His voice was a sickening sweet.
“No,” I replied, grateful for it.
“That’s okay. Every new cadet is issued a complimentary toothbrush. I’ll get
you one.”
I followed him against my better judgment, to what I knew would be a
bathroom where I would use the toothbrush to clean it. “That’s not very original, Lt. Pretty Princess,” I muttered as he beckoned me inside the long, reeking
room—obviously the men’s. Still, relief washed over me. As a doctor, it would
take a lot more than some excrement and poorly aimed urine to ruin my day.
“Why change a perfectly adequate tradition?” He smiled, but I could tell by
the crookedness that he was out of practice. “Get to work.” He handed me the
toothbrush and waved me forth, as if to shoo me.
I liked him better when he yelled. To accommodate his falsely pleasant tone,
I stuck my tongue out at him—I owed this man nothing. At least I got him to
scowl again before he left, instead of smiling like one of those creepy circus
clowns who scare children.
When I was sure he was gone, I cleaned enough space on the floor to sit and
plopped down, flinging the defiled toothbrush as far away from me as I could.
Drawing my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them, putting my
head down. As I drifted off to sleep, I acknowledged that a nap would do me
considerable good. I told myself the slight headache percolating was probably
from stress and lack of sleep—not a near-concussion from swan-diving into a
certain captain’s rock-hard chest. Either way, an escape to oblivion was exactly
what I needed.
But the peace of oblivion shattered as the gore of yesterday resurfaced, the
nightmare so real I could smell the smoke.
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Anna Scarlett
After ascertaining what I already knew—that the children were dead—I left
the field and headed toward the sound of gunfire. Terrified to the point of
weeping, I pressed on, despite my sense of self-preservation pleading with me to
turn around. The closer I got to the village, the more victims I found, either dead or dying. The living begged for me to kill them. Legs, hands, arms, feet. Limbs of all sizes, all ages, were scattered with the bodies, some in piles where groups of people had been the targets, some lying in solitude next to the poor souls who
died alone.
It was then that I realized I wouldn’t be saving anyone today. Not one of
these gentle, kind people stood a chance against guns meant to bring down
buildings. Awash with desperation, emboldened by a new purpose, I flung open
my kit and began administering morphine to any breathing being I found—I
couldn’t prevent death itself, but I could make it as painless as possible. Judging body weight by sight, I gave each their measure of relief. Acceptable degree of
wrong.
The tragic imbalance of supply and demand left me breathless, but I
continued on, oblivious to the heaving sounds of artillery around me. Men,
women and children swirled and staggered to their escape in varying degrees of
panic and confusion. It reminded me of sheep being herded, though I’d never
seen it done before. Many of them urged me to run too, but I remained at my
task.
I happened upon a black-clad soldier lying on his back, gripping his
stomach. He wasn’t one of the massive warriors I’d seen earlier. Blood poured
from between his fingers, and he stared up at me in horror, his body writhing in
pain. Without hesitation, I knelt and injected him twice, granting him peace. It
wouldn’t be long before that amount took effect, and I hoped his last memory
was of the kind act, instead of the need for it.
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As I rose to press forward, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the ground.
Startled and unsure of his intent, I fought to break free. Even in his condition, he was easily stronger than me, pulling me closer until my face was inches from his.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Stunned beyond speech, I nodded. His head fell back and his hand on my
arm went limp. I caught it before it flung to the dirt, laying it gently beside him in a last measure of dignity.
At that point, I’d taken the time to survey my surroundings. To my surprise,
I found a two-sided conflict—black versus khaki. I couldn’t tell who was
prevailing—lifeless uniforms from both sides freckled the road and surrounding
fields. The living multitudes kept fleeing to the village, searching for a refuge, searching for loved ones, searching for mercy. Still, I stayed the course as
shadows cast by the sun started to change direction. It was in the late afternoon that I stumbled, literally, over Blue Eyes.
“Ow,” he said when I stepped on his hand—and then he laughed when he
saw my kit. “Some doctor you are.”
Immediately, I knew his life could be saved, that I could be of use to this one
person out of so many I had failed today. And I was jubilant. I looked for a place to hide him and spotted the horrible little hut a short distance away. He saw m
y
intent and laughed again.
“That’s an outhouse, Doc,” he protested. But I was too excited to care. I
peered down at him—then gasped. Blue eyes were replaced with brown ones,
blond hair with black. Captain Marek sat at my feet, his tattered uniform
exposing the cut physique I’d felt through his shirt. He held his hand up to me,
just as Blue Eyes had done, but instead of letting me help him up, he pulled me
down to him.
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Anna Scarlett
Brushing my hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear, he traced a
finger along my jawline, pressing my body into his with his free hand and
drawing me closer. “What’s your name, cadet?” he murmured on my lips.
I had no answer…
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Chapter Four
I thought I heard someone clear their throat but couldn’t be sure, so I didn’t
look up.
“Morgan?”
I knew that voice. That voice belonged to a man I had recently met and
decided to despise. As far as I remembered, he wasn’t very happy with me
either, so the tone of concern didn’t make sense. I pulled my head from my
knees.
Captain Marek stood in the doorway of the restroom, hands folded behind
his back, perfect brow furrowed in…worry? “Are you well?” he asked, striding
toward me.
Is he serious? “In what context?” Did he not, more or less, send me to this bathroom himself?
“Are you ill?” He lowered himself on his haunches in front of me. My resting
heart rate flatlined when he lifted my chin with the crook of his finger, turning my head side to side in his examination.
“No.” I swatted his hand away, disappointed at the new heat swirling in my
stomach.
This sobered him up. I saw the exact moment it registered on his face. Not ill,
not injured—just insubordinate. Again.
He stood up, his creased brow straightening too. “I see you must have
finished your task, then.”
He could see I had not.
Anna Scarlett
It occurred to me that I had just swatted the captain of the ship within hours
of head-butting him, and in the meantime, had disobeyed one of his officers.
There was also a pretty good chance I drooled on his bathroom floor while doing
it. So much for first—and second—impressions. On the positive side, he’d
probably avoid me after this, so I wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting my
name again or amputating someone’s head instead of their toe.
Feeling confident that this would be our last encounter, I hoisted to my feet
and stretched. “Actually, Captain, you run such a tight ship, there was nothing
more I could do. It’s spotless. So I’ve been here waiting for further instruction.”
He frowned, but despite his efforts, still looked glorious. “Dr. Folsom has
boarded. I’ll take you to her.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
I followed, in much better spirits after my nap—at least the nightmare meant
that I had slept. He led me down the hallway, our boots clicking on the hard
floor in disharmony, his long strides forcing me to keep an urgent pace. We
stopped in front of an elevator whose ocean-blue doors opened in our presence.
“Admiral Rudd’s office,” he commanded, and the elevator jolted me to the
left, indicating our speedy travel to the right instead of up or down.
Voice prompted. That would be advantageous to me while I fumbled my way
around this ship.
After a few seconds, gravity forced me to the floor—we were moving up.
The elevator stopped, and Captain Marek turned around, as if to say something.
A door behind us opened, and he exited without a glance in my direction. Of
course, I followed, but considered making a face at his wide back. Again, hand
gestures crossed my mind.
Trying to keep up, I realized with dismay that this hallway was a carbon
copy of the last hall and the one before that. No signs or symbols adorned the
walls, nothing to guide a person to their destination. Was this a defense strategy 48
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Degrees of Wrong
of some sort, to slow the progress of invaders or trespassers— if they could penetrate it in the first place?
Captain Marek halted in front of the only door in this hall. As he stood at
attention, a matrix of red light roamed over his face. Peering around him, I found the source over the door—a small laser, no bigger than the eraser of a pencil.
Despite its size, it projected the light over his entire face like a net.
“Captain Nicoli Marek,” he said, startling me.
The laser then moved over my own curious expression, and a high-pitched
siren began to wail, “Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!”
The lights went dark, except for a red strobe, a robotic accuser shrieking in
alarm. Biting my lip, I looked to the captain for a directive. He rolled his eyes.
Again, a well-executed hand gesture seemed appropriate. I refrained.
The chaos stopped, and the older man who appeared at the door raised a
brow at Captain Marek.
The captain saluted. “Her in-processing was…interrupted, sir. She’s not in
our system yet.”
The man returned the salute, studied me in apparent amusement, then
stepped aside, motioning for us to enter. The room’s size and decor suggested a
tenant of high rank. I was both surprised and pleased to see real books lining the shelves on several walls. A huge desk dominated the space in front of a massive
bookcase. The other side of the room hosted a large metallic table surrounded by
sofa and a pair of armchairs—hinted at casual meetings, but none without
appropriate protocol.
Dr. Folsom was seated on the sofa.
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Anna Scarlett
“Elyse.” She almost broke into a run to reach me. When she embraced me, I
fought back the urge to cry. She’d been my mother’s closest friend, the one who
most reminded me of her.
After a final, hearty squeeze she pulled away, still hugging me with one arm.
She grabbed my chin with her tiny hand and lifted it, although I was taller than
she. Examining me with her big blue eyes—in the same way my mother would
have—she said, “You look tired. Has everyone treated you well?” She all but
pointed at Captain Marek with her glare, who offered an almost-indiscernible
shrug.
She turned back to me. “Well, don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll get you
settled in and comfortable. Then we’ll worry about your research.”
The older man cleared his throat.
“Oh,” she said. “Introductions! Of course, you’ve had the pleasure of
meeting Captain Nicoli Marek…” at this I narrowed my eyes at the one and only,
“…but you haven’t met Admiral James Rudd.” She motioned to the older man.
Admiral Rudd was still handsome for his age. Though gray had overtaken
his hair, he had all of it. Wisdom and kindness crinkled his eyes in a smile when he extended his hand to me. As I accepted, he brought his other hand up to
enclose mine.
“It’s a great
pleasure to meet you, Dr. Morgan,” he assured me, and I
believed him. “If I can be of assistance to you in any way, please do let me
know.”
“The pleasure’s mine, I’m sure.” I couldn’t say I was happy to be here, but
this man was sincere and deserved my respect.
“Forgive the interruption, sir,” Captain Marek interjected, “but I feel I’ve
been misinformed as to the reason for her presence on this ship. For instance, I
was unaware that she is a doctor of…?”
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“Medicine,” Dr. Folsom completed for him.
I took certain delight in the captain’s astonishment. He turned to the admiral.
“I thought she was here for witness protection, sir. However, Dr. Folsom
mentioned something about research?”
“I didn’t have time to tell you before port, Nicoli,” Admiral Rudd said. “I
didn’t know myself the exact arrangement until this morning. What I told you
yesterday was what I believed true until a few hours ago. She isn’t here under
witness protection. She’s been commissioned by the UN to try to find the cure to
the Black Death. We’ll be providing her room, board and a laboratory for the
duration of her research. Not to mention protection. Dr. Folsom will be assisting her with her research.”
“Protection from whom, sir?” The captain’s eyes locked on mine.
The admiral snorted. “One can only imagine who could be looking for her at
this point.”
I shivered under the captain’s scrutiny but couldn’t look away. His gaze was
like the red laser, only probing me for the truth through my reaction. “Dr.
Folsom will be assisting her, Admiral?”
I wouldn’t let myself be provoked by the doubt in his tone.
“I can assure you, if there’s anyone capable of creating an antivirus, it’s Dr.
Morgan,” Dr. Folsom said. I appreciated her confidence—mine had gone
missing.
“Seems a bit young for this kind of assignment,” Captain Marek said.
“I might say the same of you,” I countered. He couldn’t be much older than
me, and the captain of a warship. He was up to his eyeballs in hypocrisy—maybe
that’s why he was frowning. I smiled a little.
Admiral Rudd laughed. “She has you there, Nicoli. Two child prodigies on