The away sounded abruptly loud as the flow of air stopped equally suddenly. There we were again, standing staring into the darkness, just wondering what goddam surprise was coming next. I sniffed the air; it had an artificial air-conditioned scent to it… sort of electrical, with just a suggestion of disinfectant.
With a buzz a line of fluorescent lights flickered on. We looked at each other, blinking in the sudden brilliance. I saw we stood in a passageway with featureless walls of stainless steel. The white-tiled floor made me think of hospital emergency treatment rooms… so much easier to hose away the blood…
Michaela’s eyes were wide as she looked at me as if to ask, What now? I shrugged. Hell, yes, we were safe from hornets. But did the owner of the professional voice expect us to stand there for the rest of the day?
For a while we did stand there. A voice in the back of my head warned me not to antagonize The Voice needlessly. Our lives were in his or her hands.
Then: “Remove your clothes, please.”
“Pardon me?” Michaela looked ’round for the source of the voice. There were no visible speakers.
“Remove your clothes. You’ll find a metal flap to your right. Press that. Inside there is a plastic sack dispenser. Put your clothes into the sack. If you wish to retain your clothes for-”
“Hey, wait a minute.” Michaela sounded annoyed. “I’m not getting naked for you, buddy.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just what is this?”
“Remove your clothes and bag them. It is standard decontamination procedure.”
“It might be your standard decontamination procedure, but it’s not ours.”
There was a pause, as if The Voice considered Michaela’s refusal but then continued as calmly as before.
“Those are the fucking house rules. If you don’t comply I will open the outer door and let you go.” The Voice added softly, “Remove your clothes now. All of them.”
“Let us go?” I whispered to Michaela. “What they really mean is that they’re gonna open the door and let the hornets rip us to pieces.”
Michaela looked at me, then said in a no-nonsense way, “Greg, turn your back.” Then she slipped off the jacket and began to unbutton her shirt. “It looks as if we’ve got no choice.”
I turned my back and began to undress. I hadn’t expected her to be so coy. But then, deep down, what did I expect from her? As I undressed I heard the rustle as she peeled off her clothes. When I heard the zipper go down on her jeans I saw her in my mind’s eye. Her slender body toned by months of fighting to survive until it was graceful, catlike, and God yes, I found myself staring at her blurred reflection in the steel wall. I could make out the sweep of her dark hair on her bare shoulders as she peeled off her clothes with her back to me. I made out the narrow waist and the swelling curve of hip.
Maybe it wasn’t the right time… but I thought to myself, Turn ’round, Michaela, turn ’round. Blood tingled in my veins; my heart beat harder-
“The metal flap is at waist height.” The Voice again. “Press the edge. That’s it.”
I’d found it. The metal flap popped like a cupboard door. Inside a roll of heavy-duty sacks in a drab army green sat on a spindle. I pulled off two.
The Voice continued: “Either put the sack full of clothes in the disposal chute you can now see under the sack dispenser or leave them by the door for when you leave. Your choice. Leave your weapons and ammunition by the door, too. Unauthorized firearms are not permitted inside the residential units.”
Now naked, we did as The Voice asked. It was a clumsy operation, as Michaela insisted we remain back to- back. Our butts brushed one another as we bent over to stuff the clothes into the sack. Michaela said more than once, “I’m not a cheap peep show, Valdiva. Keep your eyes away from me.” She didn’t sound hostile at all, just matter-of-fact.
But it was hard to avoid catching a tantalizing glimpse of bare skin as I stowed the sacks and guns by the door.
“Now move forward along the hallway,” The Voice told us.
“You go in front,” Michaela said, facing the wall, so she wouldn’t reveal her body to me. Good God, she was shy. Funny how social niceties remain embedded even when civilization’s gone out the fucking window.
Anyway, I did as she asked. Then I heard a loud hiss. Instantly a fine aerosol spray hit us. I felt cold droplets hitting me from head to toe.
“Cover your eyes. Hold your breath. This is the de-contamination procedure.”
Good warning, only five seconds too late. My eyes burned like fury the moment the spray hit.
“Shit, what is this stuff?” Michaela hissed. “It burns like poison ivy. Hell, it’s all over my body… shit, I’m stinging. Hey, why did-”
Her voice cut short as a blast of water struck us. From showerheads embedded in the walls, ceiling and floor jets of cold water hit every square inch of my body. I heard Michaela gasp and figured that those cold fingers of water had thrust themselves deep into even the most intimate quarters of her body.
I was gasping, too. The water was nothing short of liquid ice. What’s more, the force and sheer number of water jets made it hard to breathe. I turned away from a stinging torrent to take a breath. The moment I opened my mouth more water exploded against my face. Blindly, Michaela blundered into me, then staggered away, losing her balance. I reached out, grabbing her in my arms to steady her.
That’s when the torrents stopped. She pushed me away. Her head hung down over her chest as if she was embarrassed. Water ran from her hair to course down her body in rivulets.
“Ahead of you at the end of the hallway you’ll find another metal flap. Open it. Inside there is a paper towel dispenser. Taking as much care as possible to cover all your body, wipe your skin firmly, then dispose of the used paper towels in the chute.”
My patience snapped. “Hey! Listen, I know this is house rules and all, but did you have to subject us to that? Jesus Christ, do you know how degrading and unpleasant this is?”
“Please listen. You are about to enter a sterile quarantine unit. You must enter that clean of any possible contamination from the outside world. What you have done is pass through a government-approved decontamination procedure.”
“And we’re supposed to walk ’round naked?”
“Under the circumstances, I think you might have thanked me for saving your lives. All I am doing is asking you to respect the house rules in order to prevent contamination of the other occupants.”
Behind me, Michaela shivered. From the corner of my eye I saw her wet mat of hair. She looked miserable and cold.
“OK, OK.” I sighed. “Thank you. It’s been a tough day. I apologize for getting-”
“Just get to work with the towels, sir.”
The towels were about as pleasant as using newspaper to dry yourself; they scraped you dry rather than absorbed water. After I’d used one towel I dropped it into the chute, where a hiss of air sucked it away to the incinerator… wherever that was. Michaela didn’t say anything. She merely worked to dry herself with the scratchy oblongs of paper. I guess her being naked made her feel vulnerable. She didn’t speak during the entire process.
“Here,” I said as gently as I could. “Women can never dry their backs properly. They always miss between their shoulder blades.”
She gave me a small smile as she turned her back and lifted her still dripping hair. I dabbed her back with a fresh piece of towel. “Sorry if it feels rough,” I said. “It looks like the kind of stuff you’d use to take rust off metal.”
“Don’t worry, Greg. I’m tougher than I look.”
“This might not be luxurious, but at least we’re safe from the-uh.”
The Voice cut in over me. “The procedure is complete. Proceed through the open doorway.”
I hadn’t even noticed it open. I guess some pneumatic system had done the trick, but a steel panel had swung inward. I stepped through, followed by Michaela. As brightly lit as the hallway shower room lay another room with a tiled floor.
… easier to hose away the blood, Valdiva…
On a smaller scale I saw we’d entered what could have been a gym’s locker room. Benches ran along one wall. Clothes hooks were screwed to walls. Shelves contained shoes. There were metal lockers, wall-mounted hair driers, mirrors.
