by M. K. Dawn
“This room will be sterilized after our tour, won’t it, Major Archer?” Sloan called out. She had used his formal title, which he thought after their many encounters they had moved past.
“That is an excellent question, Dr. Egan.” Two could play this game. “See this lovely red button over here? If pushed, the whole room will be doused with a disinfectant—one potent enough to kill even the deadliest of airborne diseases but safe enough that it can be used while the room is occupied. The button even has a counterpart on the outside of the room. If you play nice, I may even let you push it and show us all how the magic unfolds.”
She smirked. “An opportunity I would appreciate, as it too is a system that requires my scrutiny.”
“It was designed by Dr. Barnett—as was this entire wing. So, if you wish, you could take your criticisms directly to him, I can point you in the direction of his office.”
The room fell silent.
“That won’t be necessary, Major.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “I have no problem locating Fletcher.”
Archer cracked his neck. “I’m sure you don’t. If you will all excuse me, I need to check on the rest of group. If you have any questions, please feel free to find me or Dr. Barnett. Dr. Egan knows where to find him.”
He strutted out of the room without a second glance back at the vexed surgeon with whom he suddenly found himself in a pissing match with. One he was unsure he could win. Out of habit he jammed his hand in his back pocket for a phone he knew wasn’t there. The Bunker had a strict no cell phone policy. The greatest concern were that pictures would be taken and shared with the outside world. Ironically, it was the pictures on his phone he missed the most. The ones of his mother and sister. Simple reminders of the life he once had and lost.
His wristband vibrated and displayed his upcoming schedule. They were behind for the day; the visit to the surgical ward had taken up a great deal more time than was anticipated. They needed to move on to the final two halls. He swiped his wrist across a nearby panel. “Intercom. Floor twelve.”
“Granted,” the panel replied.
“Attention medical attendees.” Archer’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “Please meet at hall four in fifteen minutes.”
Twenty-five minutes later, the surgeons arrived deep in conversation.
Archer bit his tongue to suppress the rush of smart-ass comments that popped into his head. “Hall four is dedicated to storage, from medications to scrubs. Any items that can be reused are reused. That includes blankets, bandages, bedding, etcetera.”
“Bandages?” a doctor asked.
“That’s correct. For the specifics you would need to ask one of the doctors on staff here.” He led the group down the hall. “As for medications, we have both pharmaceutical and homeopathic. Most of the medicinal plants are grown at the end of this hall in a greenhouse and a few are on floor eleven. Before pharmaceutical grade medication can be prescribed, all homeopathic remedies must be exhausted. We have employed the best pharmaceutical scientists and pharmacologists in the world to ensure all grades of medicine are up to par. The storage rooms are locked but you’re welcome to take a look at the greenhouse through the window down the hall.”
A line formed and his attendees filtered past the window and back again.
“Next, we’ll hit hall five: cold storage and the morgue.” Archer scanned the group. “Who are my morticians?” Two scraggly men in the center raised their hands. “Come forward. You’ll want to see this. I’ve never heard of alkaline hydrolysis. Have either of you?”
Sloan snorted then cleared her throat as if to cover up her offensive outburst. Though Archer was sure her reaction was not against the undertakers but towards his lack of knowledge.
“It’s a form of cremation,” the gawkier of the two said. “Instead of flames, the body is placed into a liquid-filled chamber and heated to three-hundred and fifty degrees. Hours later the tissues begins to liquefy until there’s nothing left but the skeleton. The bones are then pulverized and the ashes are placed into an urn.”
“Thank you, sir.” Archer opened the door of the morgue. “I’ve been told this is a more environmentally friendly burial—less carbon dioxide and more technical stuff I didn’t care to learn. Using this method eliminates the space needed for traditional burial, which is all I care about.”
“Where does the…hmm,” the second mortician began. “The rest…”
“The liquid?” Archer asked. You would think a man in his profession could talk about the remains with a little more ease. “It’s dumped in our sewer system.”
Archer was surprised how well his attendees took that news. Most appeared fascinated as they wandered about the morgue inspecting the equipment. When he and his fellow soldiers were briefed on how this process worked, many were outraged. A couple of the younger, less experienced men lost their lunch. He was one of the few that saw it as an acceptable form of burial. The dead were dead and their souls were safe in heaven as far as he was concerned. As long as the deceased was treated with respect, he didn’t mind how the body was disposed.
“Once done,” Archer said from the hall, “we will move on to cold storage.” Not one person glanced in his direction. As boring as the last stop in their tour sounded, it was probably the most fascinating aside from The Farm. “As this is the conclusion of our tour, may I suggest we hurry things along?”
This got the majority of his attendees’ attention. The morticians took a little more coaxing, but they too joined him in the hall a few moments later.
“As I mentioned, the remainder of the left side of this hall is dedicated to refrigerated medications. The right side, ladies and gentlemen, is referred to as Noah’s Ark. In a process called cryopreservation; DNA, sperm and embryos samples of every living creature—human to insect—deemed valuable to our planet’s existence are preserved. Our scientists here are hard at work developing a method to revive lost species if it comes to that.”
Travis raised his pencil in the air. “Like a global catastrophe in which the entire population living above the surface cannot survive?”
Archer’s chest contracted and for a brief second the rocky walls felt as if they were about to cave in. With a deep breath, he pushed the sensation aside and nodded. “Exactly.”
***
As Archer predicted, Noah’s Ark was a big hit. Even the unexcitable Dr. Sloan Egan was awed by the immense specimen collection. On the downside, their excitement meant he spent an extra hour on the medical floor than he had planned. Which put him half an hour late for dinner and thus his nightly jog. Neither he appreciated.
On the second lap around the quarter mile track, he found his stride. Everything else around him faded except for one thing: the woman about fifty meters ahead of him. He picked up the pace and closed in on her in a matter of seconds.
“Slash, fancy seeing you here.”
Her faced pinched but she didn’t sprint away. He took that as a good sign.
“Major Archer. It seems I cannot get away from you today.” Her breath was even and unlabored.
“Must be fate.”
Sloan tipped her head to the side, her feet never missing a step. “I didn’t take you for a devoutly religious person, Major.”
“Call me Lee.”
“When you call me Sloan,” she retorted.
“Touché. As to your earlier point, I wouldn’t call myself a devout believer. However, my mother was deeply religious and my sister and I were required to attend church every Sunday. A few things stuck. How about you, Slash? You a God-fearing woman?”
“I’m a scientist.”
“Is that a no?”
Her jaw clenched. “Did you seek me out with the intent of discussing theology?”
He decided it was best to drop the subject before he pissed her off any further. “Believe it or not, I didn’t seek you out at all. I came here for a run, same as you.”
She picked up her pace. “I find it difficult to maintain a decent speed while hol
ding a conversation. Major, if you will excuse me?”
“Blowing me off again, Slash?”
Her head jerked back. “That’s not my intention. There’s a certain speed I must maintain to optimize my workout so my muscles and heart receive the maximum benefits.”
“Don’t you ever just run for the hell of it? Like you did as a kid? Run just to see how fast you can get to the finish line?”
“No. I run for the health benefits which are substantial. The heart alone—”
“Boring.” Archer rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “Who the hell cares what it’s good for? You have sex just for the health benefits?”
“The health benefits of sex—”
“Good Lord, woman. I…” He threw his hands in the air. “I can’t even go there with you right now. We’re going to race. One lap around. Winner buys the first round of drinks.”
“What’s the point of a race?”
“There’s no point except good old-fashioned competition. You can’t tell me as a surgeon you’re not a competitive person.”
She opened her mouth then shut it and focused on her feet pounding the track.
“Come on, Slash.”
“This is a different type of competitiveness. Within my field, we are ambitious because we strive to save lives.”
Inwardly, Archer sighed. Why the hell was it so hard for her to lighten up? “You’re obviously a runner. You’ve never done a marathon, 5k, any race whatsoever?”
“I ran a 5k once for a work event.”
“What did you place?”
Her eye twitched. “I don’t remember.”
Archer nudged her softly as to not throw her off balance. “Liar. You know exactly what you placed. I bet you even know your time. Don’t you?”
A small smile spread across her face. “I did well. Though the real winner was the hospital. We raised a substantial amount of money for the new children’s wing.”
“Which is all fine and dandy. Don’t get me wrong, I love me a good charity race, but sometimes you’ve just got to run for you.”
Her stride slowed. “And how is racing against you beneficial to me?”
“For one,” he simpered, “besting me would get me to shut up.”
A grin danced on Sloan’s lips. “One lap?”
Archer stretched his shoulders back and rolled his neck. “Winner takes all.”
A hint of mischief flickered in her eyes. “Go!”
CHAPTER SIX
Archer arrived at level fifteen—The Farm—at eight forty-five the next morning in the hopes of having a few minutes to talk to Sloan before the final tour began. Their night ended in a three to three tie. Neither could admit defeat so they kept re-running the race until both were too exhausted to try again.
What surprised Archer most about Sloan was not how quick she was on her feet but how she transformed from the no-nonsense doctor to a lighthearted, twenty-something-year-old woman. At one point she tripped, blamed him—when he was nowhere in the vicinity, he might add—then stayed on the ground laughing hysterically. It was almost as if she’d forgotten who she was to the world around her. Though the moment was fleeting, it was nice to see her relax.
After she composed herself, she demanded a rematch and Archer gladly complied. There was something about her that intrigued him in a way no woman had in a while. Their time together was limited and he wanted to hold on to that connection for as long as he could.
His attendees began to filter in at around five till nine. There was no aimless chatter today. All who stepped into The Farm for the first time were awestruck and these medical professionals were no exception.
“Welcome to The Farm.” Archer scanned the group. Appeared everyone had arrived except for Sloan. Maybe she’d gotten a late start after last night? She didn’t seem overly tired when she left him on the elevator.
“Major?”
Archer snapped his head to find several dozen sets of eyes on him. Had he really been lost in thought for that long? He cleared his throat. “Floor fifteen is a mega-cavern—the largest of its kind in North America—spanning just under two hundred acres. The original cave was about a hundred acres but walls were knocked down for expansion. As the floor’s name implies, it’s a fully functional farm. Cows, goats, and sheep roam free in open fields of greens and hay. Pigs wallow in the sizable pens just outside the barn. There’s a large chicken coop, which houses hundreds of hens and roosters. On the back fifty acres is a woodworking and metal shop, a mill, dairy, and a million-gallon water tank.”
The incredulous looks on each one of his attendees’ faces made him chuckle.
“Down here is also where many large crops such as corn, wheat, and potatoes flourish under the supervision of some of the most brilliant botanist this country has ever seen.”
Dr. Morrison raised his hand, eyes wide and mouth slack. “How does that work? Was soil brought in?”
“In a few minutes one of the botanists will join us and can provide the technical explanation. But the simplistic version is hydroponics.”
“What about the ceiling?” another inquired.
Nine times out of ten that was the first question asked. When you stepped out of the elevator on fifteen it was as if you stepped outside. “The ceiling is covered in high-tech screens set to mimic the sky. Fluorescent full-spectrum bulbs are used not only here, but throughout The Bunker to replicate natural sunlight. As the seasons change outside, so does the climate inside. This is not only beneficial to the animals but the plants as well.”
Cavl Bowers—head botanist—arrived just in time to hear the end of Archer’s half-ass description of the floor the man had helped create. He slapped Archer on the back, nearly knocking him over. At six-foot-eight, three-hundred and fifty pounds, skin as dark as the soil he loved, he looked more like a defensive lineman than a scientist. “What kind of bullshit is this son of a bitch feeding you guys? Take it from me, half the shit that comes out of his mouth is…well…shit.”
The group eyed one another as if unsure whether they should laugh.
“This is Cavl Bower, the local expert in all things that grow here in The Bunker. He’s going to take over the first half of your morning tour. Cavl can answer any and every question you may have about the agriculture in this place—not only on this floor but the greenhouse on eleven.”
“It would be my absolute pleasure to un-teach and re-teach everything Major Archer here has disclosed.” He rubbed the top of Archer’s head like one would a kid brother. “If you’re well behaved and ask the right questions, I will even allow each of you to pick your own fruit from the orchard. We have a wide variety from apples to oranges to peaches. The nice thing about being able to control the climate is the ability to control when our fruit comes into season.”
“Another impressive aspect of fifteen,” Archer agreed.
Cavl snorted. “Impressive? Buy a thesaurus, man. Majestic, mind-blowing, jaw-dropping. These are the words we use to describe The Farm.”
Archer rubbed his brow. Cavl was one of his best friends here but the man loved his plants. God help anyone who spoke an ill word against them. “The second half of the morning will be conducted by one of our veterinarians. You’ll break a bit later—around one—for the day, have lunch, and then will be allotted time to go back to your rooms, pack, and get ready for the formal dinner and cocktail party that follows. If there are no additional questions, I’ll hand you over to Cavl.”
“Looks like you’ve done your job well, Archer.” Cavl knocked him on the back again, but this time Archer was prepared and braced for the impact. “If everyone will follow me.”
“Evelyn?” Archer called out before Sloan’s roommate roamed too far out of range.
She stopped and pushed her stylish glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Major?”
“Where’s Sloan?”
A slow smile crept across her face. “Dr. Egan? Why do you ask?”
“She’s the only one of my attendees who didn’t show u
p today. It’s my job to know the whereabouts of all my people.”
“Dr. Xun was out most of yesterday and is not in attendance today.”
Archer’s eyes bulged.
“But you already knew that.” Evelyn tipped her head to the side. “Right, Major?”
“Yes…she was…” Archer stuttered.
“Sick,” Evelyn prompted. “This morning she was taken to the infirmary. Turns out she has acute appendicitis. Dr. Barnett contacted Sloan this morning and asked if she would assist with the appendectomy.”
“Dr. Egan is not here to work.” His words came out more aggressive than intended. “We have several surgeons on staff for this sort of thing.”
“I’m sure as her former mentor, Dr. Barnett wanted to see for himself the surgeon Sloan has become.”
Archer gritted his teeth. “I should go check on her.”
“Yes. As your attendee, I’m sure Dr. Xun would appreciate your concern.” Her smug smile said it all: she knew he had no intention of checking on Dr. Xun.
Hell, he didn’t even know who that was. But Sloan had wandered off once again without notification and now he had a plausible excuse to find out why.
***
The medical floor was abuzz more than Archer had ever seen it before, which meant there were a few people milling around versus the lone soul he’d usually run into. He strolled down the hall, peering into each room as he passed. Most were still vacant but one of the recovery rooms was in the process of being prepped for its first bona fide patient. The team in charge of this department must have been overjoyed with the idea of an actual test run.
He stopped the only nurse he could find. “Tiffany, right?” He’d seen her around from time to time. She was a forty-something combat medic, tall and slender with short brown hair who kept to herself.
“Yes, Major.” She saluted. “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Dr. Egan.”
“She entered OR two approximately thirty minutes ago with Dr. Barnett.”
Archer glanced down the hall. “And how long will the surgery take?”
