Reservation 1: Book #2 in The Makanza Series

by Krista Street

  Sharon was a homebody. It seemed like the perfect activity for her.

  “She said to tell you hi and that she misses you,” Davin added.

  “Yeah, I need to drive out and see her again.” It had been three weeks since our last visit.

  “She was actually hoping to come to Sioux Falls this time. She doesn’t think it’s fair that you’re always driving to see her.”

  My searching movements paused in the cupboard. The farthest Sharon ever traveled was to her Food Distribution Center. “Really?”

  “Yeah, you should talk to her about that.”

  I smiled. “I will.”

  “Are you gonna have time to stop by tomorrow?”

  “Of course. When have I ever missed a day?”

  Davin chuckled. I loved the deep, rich sound. “The other Kazzies and I are meeting in the gym to play soccer at four. Can you come before that?”

  “You mean I’m not invited to play while wearing my biohazard suit?”

  He laughed. “That would be rather entertaining. Maybe you should join us.”

  “I can only imagine what Sage and Sara would say.”

  “No kidding.” Both Sage and Sara had competitive streaks. The Kazzie group sports could get serious, and low blows were not unheard of when trying to distract an opponent.

  “So are you ready for D.C.?” Davin asked.

  My stomach twisted. I closed the cupboards, all yearnings for a meal gone. “I guess. I’m only speaking once, so that’s good, but I don’t know the schedule. Dr. Sadowsky said I’d be hearing from Dr. Hutchinson soon.”

  “You’ll be fine. Just do your deep breathing beforehand. And if your anxiety gets too bad, call me.”

  I sank to the floor and wrapped my arms around my legs. Love for Davin coursed through me. The feelings were so strong, they threatened to crush me. The words he just uttered were one of the many reasons why. He accepted me. All of me. Not just the smart, hardworking, determined side of me. But the vulnerable, anxious, unconfident side too. He knew all of my weaknesses. All of my less than perfect traits. I never had to pretend with him.

  He was the only person I felt that way with.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “For what?”

  I shrugged, even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “For being you.”

  “You know I’m always here for you.”

  I know, but I want more. As much as I’m trying to have your friendship be enough, it’s not.

  “I’m always here for you too.” I swallowed thickly and not for the first time wished I had the courage to say the words I thought, but I didn’t.

  “I should let you get to bed,” he said.

  “Yeah, right.” I pushed myself to a stand. “I need to eat something anyway.”

  A disapproving sound came from his end. “Did you not eat supper again?”

  “I got too busy.”

  He sighed. “Meg. Eat something.”

  “I will, promise.”

  We hung up, and I placed my cell on the counter. Even though I’d lost my appetite, I returned to the cupboard. It was a bad habit I had. Anytime my anxiety got out of control, I lost my appetite. Consequently, I was a little thinner than someone my height should be. And getting too thin in today’s world was never a good idea.

  3 – SUMMIT

  The MRI’s jet landed ten minutes late on Saturday morning. I waited on the tarmac, bag in hand. Even though the Summit wasn’t until Wednesday, all of us were flying there now since the Director and research managers were needed earlier. Jet fuel was precious, hence why we all flew at once.

  Since I had a few days before I presented, I had ninety-eight hours, nineteen minutes and a few seconds to stress about it.

  Not that I was nervous.

  Good thing I went for a run this morning. With how I was feeling, I’d probably be running daily in D.C. before the Summit started.

  The jet glided to a stop after taxiing from the runway. Warm, summer air shimmered off the concrete in the distance.

  I waited for the door to open and the stairs to descend. Dr. Hutchinson’s head poked out. She waved and smiled, her dark, solid rimmed glasses firmly in place.

  Like Dr. Sadowsky, Cate was striking despite her age. She was tall, thin, with shoulder-length blond hair, and smooth skin. Both Directors carried an aura of authority. I had no idea why Dr. Hutchinson would be grooming me for her position. I cringed anytime I drew attention. Hardly the trait one needs in a Director.

  “How are you, Meghan?” she asked as I climbed aboard.

  “I’m good, Dr. Hutchinson. How are you?”

  She gave me a disapproving look. “You know you can call me Cate. We’re not as formal in Seattle.”

  I glanced down sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. How are you, Cate?”

  “Very well. I’m so pleased you could make this trip with us.”

  I bent over once in the airplane. The private jet could hold twelve passengers, but it wasn’t tall enough for anyone over five feet to stand fully upright.

  I knew a few of the other researchers on board. There were the heads of research at Compounds 10 and 11, Dr. Martin and Dr. Zheng. And then there were the MSRG researchers, like me. Paul Kelly had a position similar to mine. He worked closely with Compound 10’s Kazzies. Fiona Garrison sat behind him. She also had a similar position to Paul and me, but she was at Compound 11.

  Both were in their thirties, in other words, at least a decade older than me. Half a dozen other MRI employees were also onboard. I didn’t recognize them. Thankfully, Dr. Hutchinson just stated who I was and that was it for introductions. All of them just nodded hello or waved.

  My heart still hammered, and my fingers were ice when I strapped my seatbelt in place. I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and released it. Just breathe, Meghan.

  Dr. Hutchinson sat across from me. The pilot revved the engines, and we moved slowly forward. Flying was still a novelty to me even though I’d been to D.C. three times now. I leaned back in my seat and looked out the window. Whirring from the engines increased and with a release of the brakes, we took off.

  Once we reached cruising altitude, Dr. Hutchinson glanced at her watch. “We have three hours until we land. Would you like a drink?”

  “Sure. What’s onboard?”

  “The usual. Water, carbonated flavored water, soda, coffee, and tea.”

  “Coffee sounds good.” I unclicked my belt to get up, but she waved me down.

  “I’ll get it.” She sailed to the back before I could refuse.

  I used the time to stare out the window and continue my deep breathing. It was getting easier, since everybody was ignoring me, but it didn’t help that the cabin interior was so crowded. I was within arm’s reach of Dr. Hutchinson and the researchers sitting in front and behind me.

  “Here you go.”

  I snapped my gaze away from the window. Dr. Hutchinson stood over me. I took the steaming cup of coffee she held. It smelled delicious.

  “I added a little cream. Just the way you like it.”

  “Thank you.” Learning how I took my coffee was one of the ways she seemed intent on wooing me to the west coast.

  “Now tell me, how are the people infected with Makanza in 26 doing?” She sat down and sipped her coffee.

  I took a sip and held the mug between my hands. It warmed my cool fingers. “They’re all doing okay but anxious to get out.”

  “Has Davin caused any more problems?” Davin’s reputation spread well beyond Compound 26.

  “No, none since Dr. Roberts left.”

  She made a disgusted sound. “I’m surprised he was never fired.”

  I shrugged helplessly, a tight frown on my face. “He did a good job of brainwashing his researchers. He had everyone convinced the way our Kazzies were treated was the standard. And since he quit before he had the chance to be fired, his record remains clean.” It was one thing that bothered me. That Dr. Roberts never suffered any consequences for his actions.
/>   Dr. Hutchinson glowered. “Regardless, I’m surprised Dr. Sadowsky didn’t know what was going on right under his nose.”

  I’d felt the same way, when I’d found out a few months ago that Dr. Sadowsky was truly ignorant to the sinister sides of Compound 26, but I didn’t judge him. He’d done a lot to correct things recently, as if trying to make up for his lapse in attention. I also gave him the benefit of the doubt. He had a lot on his plate, more than I could really know. Micromanaging his direct subordinates simply wasn’t feasible. Still… What happened in our Compound should have never occurred.

  I took another sip of coffee. “At least, Dr. Roberts is no longer in control of the Inner Sanctum.”

  “But how much damage did he do while he was in charge?”

  I nodded. She had a point.

  When I’d started at the Compound a year ago, Dr. Roberts was three months into his new position as Director of all research within Compound 26. Before that, he’d only been in charge of the MSRG, Makanza Survivors Research Group.

  During his reign of terror, when he was Director of the entire research department, none of the Kazzies were allowed to interact. They were all in isolation, except for the twins, and truly barbaric research practices had been done on them.

  Things changed after I was fired and rehired. Dr. Sadowsky became very involved, so Dr. Roberts was no longer allowed to do as he pleased. Still, I was never entirely comfortable with Dr. Roberts continued control of the Inner Sanctum.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about that long. Dr. Roberts left the Compound for a job with the MRRA in D.C. a few months ago.

  Our parting hadn’t gone well. The last conversation we’d had, he’d alluded to believing that I was responsible for his downfall at Compound 26 which was absurd.

  I shuddered. With any luck, I’d never see him again.

  “Is Dr. Sadowsky still not letting you into the cells without your suit?” Cate leaned back in her seat with her mug between her hands.

  “No, he’s still not.”

  “All of my researchers move freely with their survivors, now that they’ve been vaccinated.”

  “And no one’s been sick.” I gripped my cup tighter when the plane jostled.

  “No. Neither dead nor Changed. A few of our researchers have had stronger immune responses than others. Most of them felt unwell for a day or two as their bodies created antibodies to fight off the live vaccine, and one moved into the second stage of symptoms, but all of them recovered successfully.” Dr. Hutchinson cocked her head, looking thoughtful. “It’s been the same nationwide in all of our drug trials. Nobody’s been around a Kazzie and died or Changed. It’s very promising.”

  My stomach churned as a thought cropped into my mind. “I hope that’s all they’ll want to talk about in D.C.”

  “What do you mean?” She tucked a short strand of blond hair behind her ear.

  I shrugged. “It’s just that… well, how am I supposed to convince our representatives that the vaccine is safe when my own Director won’t let me be around the Kazzies without my suit on? Your researchers have all been exposed and they’re fine, and the researchers in other Compounds have been fine, but I personally haven’t been exposed. It seems rather misleading for me to preach things I haven’t done.”

  Dr. Hutchinson took a deep breath and straightened her suit jacket. “We’re not going to tell them that if we can avoid it.”

  “Don’t you think they’ll ask?”

  “It’s possible, but I’m hoping we can steer the conversation away from that if it arises.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The plane dipped a little, and this time coffee sloshed onto my hand. I wiped it off with my napkin and took another large drink, just to get the level down in case there was more turbulence.

  “Have you heard that Canada’s vaccination program is coming along nicely?” Cate asked. “So is Mexico’s.”

  I tightened my seatbelt as we hit another patch of turbulence. “What about Europe and Asia?”

  Dr. Hutchinson leaned forward as she launched into details about the global efforts to stop Makanza. We’d shared our research with every functioning country. Vaccine production was now occurring worldwide. Sooner or later, the entire world would be inoculated. The progress she revealed had me grinning ear-to-ear.

  WE LANDED AT Dulles International Airport not long later. The name was deceiving. It had been ten years since any international flights had departed or landed here.

  The large airport was eerily quiet when we disembarked. The only sounds were a few birds flying overhead and the infrequent, distant sounds of traffic on the highways and interstates. The air was heavy and humid, the smell of jet fuel present.

  An abandoned air traffic control tower had all of its windows broken. I could only imagine how many rocks had been thrown by local teenagers to achieve that. The building’s windows had to be at least forty feet from the ground.

  A large van waited for us, the driver leaning against its hood. He pushed away from it and held his hand out to Dr. Hutchinson. “I’m Harry. I’ll be your driver today.”

  Dr. Hutchinson shook his hand. “Thank you, Harry. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Since we all only had one carryon, there wasn’t much to pack.

  “I’ve been instructed to take you to your hotel right away. Is that all right?” Harry opened the sliding door on the large van.

  “Perfectly fine.” Dr. Hutchinson climbed inside. “It’s been a long trip.”

  The ride to our hotel was fast. The streets in D.C. were numerous, but there wasn’t much traffic or people. A lot of the buildings had been neglected. Some had broken windows, others had been reclaimed by nature. Weeds grew several feet tall in sidewalks that were rarely or never used.

  After Makanza hit, there had been talk of moving our government headquarters away from the east coast. The coasts had been harshly affected by the virus. It had been sheer willpower on the president’s part at that time, preventing the move.

  Most of D.C. was now a ghost town, but the major government buildings and a few neighborhoods were still occupied and well cared for. It was like crossing a border between two countries, going from an abandoned neighborhood to an occupied one in some parts of the city.

  Since Washington D.C. was now exclusively government, the universities, shopping centers, and tourism areas were long gone. The only people that lived here were federal employees and they all tended to congregate in the same area.

  The drive took a little over twenty minutes, and the hotel came into view once we turned down the street. It was the same hotel we stayed at each time we traveled to D.C. Most of the meetings we had were held inside. During one trip, I’d never gone farther than a block from my room.

  The brick building with its impressive array of windows felt familiar. Flags flew above the parking garage, the colors vivid and welcoming in the summer breeze. The trees lining the boulevard were trimmed and groomed, the sidewalk without cracks or weeds.

  It was an unusual sight.

  “Here we are.” Harry pulled up to the front doors.

  We all stepped out, each of us carrying our bags before entering the building. Inside, the lobby was impressive. Grays, whites, and neutrals dominated the color palette. Several large chandeliers hung from the coffered ceiling. Wingback chairs lined the walls.

  The government helped fund the hotel now since it was an official meeting site for out-of-state business. Practical, really. Your guests could stay here, eat here, and conduct business here. No transportation was needed, other than to and from the airport, and the amenities were luxurious.

  It was so different from my life in Sioux Falls.

  THE NEXT FEW days passed agonizingly slowly. Since the Summit was held in the hotel we stayed at, we never had to leave the building. The only time I left was to run. It became my daily routine as I waited for Wednesday: run every morning, sit in meetings all day, and call Davin each evening.

  At each meeti
ng, I sat in the back and listened. I made sure my presence was noted, since that’s what Cate and Dr. Sadowsky wanted, but it was still difficult when representatives wanted to speak to me.

  Not surprisingly, when Wednesday morning finally rolled around, I was an anxious mess. I’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as I thought about all of the things that could go wrong. As much as I tried to prepare, as much as I rehearsed my presentation, and as much as Davin tried to calm me, I still threw up two times before leaving my hotel room.

  It was my usual response to public speaking. If the day ever came where I only threw up once, I’d count it as a victory.

  Fiona and Paul – the MSRG researchers from Compounds 10 and 11 in Washington state – had agreed to meet met in the lobby before going to the conference room.

  “How are you?” Fiona asked when she saw me. Her white-blond spiky hair look freshly styled.

  “Fine,” I managed.

  “You’re looking a little green.” Paul frowned and pushed his glasses up his nose.

  “I am?” My voice took on a high pitched, panicked tone.

  “No, you’re not. You look fine.” Fiona elbowed Paul to the side before fingering the multiple piercings in her ear. “In fact, you look great. That suit fits you well, and you look very professional. And I like your hair up like that. You look at least five years older.”

  Her teasing tone made my shoulders relax. The whole country knew how young I was.

  She winked. “Now, come on. We don’t want to be late.”

  I followed them to the room where the Summit had been taking place for the past few days. Today, the tables and chairs were lined up in a circular pattern. At the front stood a podium. That’s where I have to stand.

  To me, it looked like a crucifix. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.

  Dr. Hutchinson approached as soon as we entered the room. “Meghan, how are you?”

  There was an edge to her tone. She’d seen first-hand what my anxiety could do. At one presentation, I’d run out of the room just before I was due on stage. It was either that, or I’d have thrown up all over my shoes, or on the shoes of the person sitting beside me.