Her panic is uncontrollable as she tries to break free of Olly’s grip, but she can’t. She tries to resist as he lowers his head deliberately, his infested red mouth opening wide. It touches her suit and then she feels the pain slicing into the side of her neck.
Chapter 3
I join the white-coated young woman from the medical staff who has just woken me, outside the cage. As I exit, I can’t help but hover outside while the cage door is re-shut to look at Josh and Emily as they sleep with Stacey close by, hoping I am back before they wake. Before I go, I give Catherine, who still looks half asleep, a reassuring smile followed by a feeble wave which she returns as I leave.
“This way, Captain Richards,” the medic instructs.
The quarantine cages now flow past on my left side, as we follow the path we entered by and every one of the people locked inside them is asleep. It seems that I am the only one cursed enough to be woken at this hour. Maybe it is a bit of payback from Colonel Reed for my ‘misdemeanours’ yesterday.
Whatever the reason the Colonel decided to wake me, my head is very heavy, my joints are aching, and my vision is still slightly blurry; what I would’ve given for a few more hours of shut-eye.
The young medic leads me out and towards the large office which had about five military personnel in it when we arrived, and far from the office being deserted at this time in the morning, there are actually more people in there now. I see them through the bank of windows along the front of the office. There are at least ten people in there, with about an even split between people in military uniforms and medical white coats; at least some of the white coats will be military personnel too.
As we enter the office, a slight hush ascends over the room, with almost everyone looking over, sizing me up, the new addition to their space.
I am led towards the back of the brightly lit room and towards a desk that only has a phone on it, its receiver out of its cradle and lying ominously on the desk.
The medic picks up the receiver and puts it to her ear. “Hello… I have Captain Richards,” she says and then points the receiver at me.
“Captain Richards, please hold for Colonel Reed,” a young-sounding man tells me.
Colonel Reed unsurprisingly keeps me waiting so my eyes wander around the room, taking my turn to do a bit of sizing up. The medic who fetched me has sat behind a desk close by and is reading some paperwork through glasses I can’t even remember if she was wearing a minute ago; ‘damn’, I do need to wake up!
Most of the people are moving around the room from desk to desk looking at different documents, having discussions with each other about the documents and then moving on. My guess would be that they are going through test results for the people in quarantine, but I cannot be sure. I wonder if the rest of our results are in there somewhere, circulating around, although I am not overly concerned about any of our results. The medics seem to be the ones seated at a desk mostly and it is the people in military uniform who are moving from desk to desk, checking, discussing and then moving on.
“Richards?” The unmistakable gravelly voice of Colonel Reed blasts down the phone line and into my ear. He normally calls me by my first name, at least since our new ‘business’ relationship?
“Good morning Colonel, thank you for the early morning call,” I say sarcastically.
“A pleasure, I hope you enjoyed your bit of R & R, because it’s more than I’ve had,” he retorts.
“How can I help you?” I say getting to the point.
“Debriefing at 0515. Captain, you will be picked up at 0500. I hear they have shower facilities there so make yourself presentable, understood?”
“Affirmative, Colonel,” Reed hangs up the phone, cutting me off halfway through me saying, Colonel. I was expecting a debrief. So, there was no point protesting, even if the Colonel was so blunt.
I put the phone down and walk the short distance over to the desk where the medic sat before I arrived. She looks up. “Captain Richards?” she says, looking over the top of her glasses.
“Hi, I need to use the shower, can you point me in the right direction, please?
“Certainly,” she says, getting up.
We head out of the office and take a right turn, walk up a short corridor where she points down another corridor on the left and tells me they are just on the left, while she still points.
“Thanks, I have a meeting, I don’t suppose there are any clean clothes around are there, I forgot my overnight bag?” I joke, looking down at my blood-stained clothes.
“There are clean towels and a laundry bag with various clothes in it, in the changing rooms. See what you can find in there, they are clean too, but I’m not sure what’s in there,” she says, smiling a little at my joke.
“Thanks, are those the test results you are going through, in there?” I venture to ask.
“That is one of our tasks, Sir, but I cannot comment further,” she says with conviction.
“Okay, I understand, thanks for your help.”
“No problem, good luck with your meeting.”
“Thanks,” I say again as she turns back towards the office.
After my five-minute shower—which I would have made last for an hour if I’d had my choice, it felt so good—I leave the changing rooms feeling far more with it, having found a black t-shirt and black fleece to put on, if nothing else in the laundry bag.
I assume I am going to be picked up at the same entrance we came in through
