Adaptation (29 page)

Todd stopped in front of one exam room, and a panel in the glass wall slid open. “Go inside, Miss Holloway. You’ll wait here.”

“What about David?”

“Mr. Li will be examined next door. Go on in.”

David gave her a slight nod, and reluctantly she stepped into the room. The glass panel whooshed shut immediately. “Hey!” she cried, but she couldn’t figure out how to get the door to slide open. There were no handles. Agent Todd led David away, and Reese saw all the lab coats in the central area staring at her.
Their scrutiny was like dozens of fingers touching her at once. She shuddered and turned her back on them.

The room was a perfect white cube, with the polished glass wall behind her. There was a hospital bed; a counter with a sink in it; and a bank of computers, monitors, and other machines along the back wall. One chair, molded out of hard, clear plastic, was pulled up beside the counter. She sat in the chair, looking resolutely at her hands. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the men moving behind the glass wall. She felt utterly exposed, like a lab rat in a cage.

She didn’t have long to wait. It was barely a few minutes later when the glass wall slid open again and two lab coats came in. One was a woman—the first Reese had seen here—who carried a tablet computer; the other was a thin white man who held a fancy-looking camera. The woman said, “Clarice Holloway? I’m Dr. Singh, and I’ll be examining you today. This is Dr. Anderson, who will be assisting me. The first thing we need you to do is take off your clothes.”

Reese had stood when they entered, and now she crossed her arms. “What?” The last traces of the sedative must have left her system, because she felt as if all her senses were on high alert. She could practically smell the scent of curiosity radiating off these people.

“Take off your clothes,” Dr. Singh said again.

“No. I don’t know you.”

Dr. Singh pursed her lips. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a severe knot. “We can’t do the exam with you fully clothed.”

“Too bad,” Reese snapped. “I’m not taking my clothes off.”

“It would be a lot easier if you cooperate,” Dr. Singh said.

“The last time someone said that to me they drugged and kidnapped me.”

Dr. Singh frowned. “That’s regrettable. I’m afraid they had no other option. I’ll ask you one more time: Can you please remove your clothes for the exam?”

“No.”

Dr. Singh’s light brown cheeks darkened. She said over her shoulder, “Sergeant Harris.”

A tall, burly man in fatigues came into the room and approached Reese. She backed away until she was in the corner of the room, trapped between the bed and the bank of machines. “Don’t touch me,” she warned, but it didn’t stop him. He put his hands on her and forced her toward the hospital bed. “Let go of me!” she screamed, trying to struggle. But he was so strong, she was like a minnow wriggling on a giant hook, and he pulled her easily across the floor. There was something unusually alarming about his touch too. His hands were unnaturally still as she twisted in his grip, and she had the impression of a dense blankness inside him that chilled her to the bone. It was that blankness even more than the threat of being forcibly stripped that made her cry out, “Stop it, I’ll do it! I’ll get undressed, just let me go.”

Sergeant Harris abruptly released her, and her legs nearly buckled in relief.

“Thank you,” Dr. Singh said. “You’re dismissed, Sergeant.” As he left, Dr. Singh removed a remote control from her jacket pocket and pressed a button that caused the glass wall to become an opaque, frosted white. Then she went to the counter and
pulled a hospital gown out of the top drawer. She laid it on the bed. “Put that on.”

Reese crossed her arms over her chest, glancing at Dr. Anderson. “Does he have to be in here?”

“I’m sorry, but we have no other technicians available right now. Your arrival was a bit unexpected.” Dr. Singh looked at the male doctor. “Why don’t you turn around while she gets undressed?”

Dr. Anderson nodded. He looked a bit apologetic, but Reese didn’t know why it made a difference if he turned around. Wasn’t he going to photograph her after she took off her clothes? Her face burned as she peeled off her jeans and T-shirt. She left on her underwear, and Dr. Singh didn’t seem to object. The hospital gown had the same pattern as the one she had worn at the Plato facility.

“Climb onto the bed,” Dr. Singh said.

Reese lay down, her heart still racing from the encounter with Sergeant Harris. “Why are you examining me?”

“You received medical treatment recently at a classified military facility. This is a follow-up exam.” Dr. Singh removed a headset from the counter and placed it over her hair, angling the microphone so that it was in front of her mouth. The headset was plugged into a digital recorder that she slid into her pocket.

“If you wanted me to come in for a checkup, you could’ve called me instead of kidnapping me.”

Dr. Singh didn’t answer, but her lips drew into a thin line. She pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and plugged her stethoscope into her ears. “Let’s begin,” she said, turning on the digital recorder. Dr. Anderson came over with his camera.

As Dr. Singh slid the cold stethoscope under the hospital gown against her skin, Reese felt cool, processed air blowing against her bare arms and legs from a vent in the ceiling. In one corner of the room she saw a blinking red light. It was attached to a video camera. Dr. Singh began to speak into her microphone, reporting her observations about Reese’s body. After she had recorded Reese’s pulse, she moved to Reese’s head, where she pulled back her hair.

“There are no visible scars on her scalp line,” Dr. Singh said. Dr. Anderson leaned over and photographed her, the camera clicking several times in quick succession. Reese closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to see either of them.

Dr. Singh’s hands moved over her body, feeling along her ribs and pressing against her abdomen. “The chart says that she had surgery to repair a ruptured spleen, but there is no residual scarring.” The camera clicked and clicked, and Reese flinched as Dr. Singh prodded at her belly. She was just a lump of flesh to these people: a scientific specimen splayed out on the hospital bed like an insect with its wings pinned to a piece of paper. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes, and she fiercely willed them to dry up.

“Her right leg was broken, but again, there is no scarring,” Dr. Singh said. Her hands touched her legs, examining her knees.
Click, click, click.
“This chart has to be omitting something,” Dr. Singh muttered.

Reese was startled when fingers pried her eyelids open, forcing her to look into a bright light. When the light was removed, she saw Dr. Singh putting it back into the pocket of her lab coat.

“Halfway done,” Dr. Singh said.

Reese glared at her and turned her head away, only to find herself facing Dr. Anderson’s stomach. She looked up at the ceiling instead and began to count the ceiling panels in the room. Dr. Singh was debating with Dr. Anderson whether Reese’s chart was incorrect, and part of Reese thought she should pay attention—it was her medical history, after all—but she couldn’t focus on their voices. It was all she could do to prevent herself from dissolving into a frightened, exhausted mess. She went back to counting the ceiling tiles. She ignored the blinking light of the video camera. At some point Dr. Singh inserted a needle into her arm and extracted several vials of blood. Reese didn’t watch, but she could feel the liquid seeping out of her, leaving her chilled and weak.

At last Dr. Singh said, “Miss Holloway, we have to bring you to the lab to run an MRI. Will you come voluntarily?”

Reese allowed herself look at Dr. Singh. She knew it would be useless to fight back right now. They could easily overpower her; they already had. She would let them run the MRI, and then she would figure out a way to get out of here. “I’ll come voluntarily,” she said.

Dr. Singh didn’t smile, but her face softened the tiniest bit. “Thank you.”

Agent Todd was sitting in the clear plastic chair when
Reese returned from the MRI, clutching the open-backed hospital gown shut behind her. “Where’s David?” she asked.

Agent Todd stood. “He’s not finished with his evaluation yet.” He glanced behind Reese at Dr. Singh. “Everything all set?”

“For Miss Holloway, yes,” Dr. Singh said. She pointed to the duffel bag on the floor at Todd’s feet. “What’s that?”

“Miss Holloway’s clothing.” Todd looked at Reese and explained, “Agent Forrestal had some things packed for you.”

Dr. Singh asked, “Why is that here?”

“She’s going to have to stay here for now,” Todd said.

Dr. Singh shook her head. “We can’t have her in the medical bay overnight. We’re not equipped for that. The exam rooms
have no attached bathrooms and she can’t be wandering around the offices.”

“There’s no other option,” Todd said. “One of the staff can keep an eye on her and Mr. Li, and they can use the main restroom.”

“What about the barracks?” Dr. Singh pushed.

“Neither of them is cleared to stay in the barracks. I’m sure you understand.”

Dr. Singh seemed irritated. “I’ll have to lock everything down.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Todd said.

“I would have liked a bit of notice, you know.” She sighed. “I’d better go see to that.”

After she left, Reese asked, “What do you mean I have to stay here?”

“Just what it sounds like. I brought you some food from the mess hall. I know you haven’t eaten all day.” He gestured to a tray of covered dishes on the counter. “Tomorrow we’ll run some other tests, but we’re done for today. You can change into your clothes in the bathroom if you want some privacy.” He nodded to the glass wall, which was crystal clear again.

“I need to call my mom,” she said.

“That’s not possible right now.”

“Right now?” She gritted her teeth and swallowed the panic that twisted in her. “When will it be possible?”

His face was as unreadable to her as his body language. “I’ll let you know. Would you like to follow me to the restroom?” He picked up the duffel bag and offered it to her.

There was nothing threatening in his tone, but Reese
understood that his question was merely a courtesy; he expected her to do what he wanted. She was too tired to chance fighting him, and besides, she did want to get dressed. She took the duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Fine.”

He led her out of the exam room to the frosted walls opposite the main entrance to the medical bay. The glass panel that was marked with a
RESTROOM
sign slid open automatically when they approached.

“You heard Dr. Singh,” Todd said. “Please don’t wander around the offices here. When you’re finished, go back to your room. One of the staff will let you in.” He gestured to the U-shaped counter, where two lab coats were sitting in front of computer monitors. “I suggest you eat and get some sleep. I’ll be back in the morning for you and David.” He left her standing in front of the open door. She watched him walk around the perimeter of the medical bay toward the exit until one of the lab coats caught her eye. Something about the way he was looking at her—as if she were a particularly puzzling science experiment—set her on edge. She spun on her heel and stalked into the bathroom. The frosted glass door slid shut behind her.

Inside was a stainless steel counter holding two sinks, and a long mirror on the wall above reflected her image, the shapeless hospital gown hanging loosely over her frame. To the right were two shower stalls hung with white plastic curtains, and to the left were two toilet stalls. She swept her gaze over the ceilings; wide fluorescent panels lit the room, but she did not see any video cameras. Maybe it was against military protocol to record people in the bathroom. She carried the duffel bag into one of the toilet stalls and dropped it on the floor. She unzipped it and found
jeans and T-shirts and even a pair of pajamas. It creeped her out to think about the agents pawing through her underwear, but at the same time, she was glad to have some familiar clothing to put on. As she riffled through the bag in search of socks, her hand struck something hard and plastic. She pulled it out.

It was her phone.

She stared at it, not quite believing it was real. The last time she remembered having it in her possession had been at home. They must have taken it off her at some point when she was unconscious. But why would they give it back to her? She peered under the wall of the toilet stall, making sure she was still alone, and then she turned the phone on.

There was no signal—not even one measly little bar. Of course, they were who knows how many stories underground; why would there be any reception? As she looked down at the screen, she noticed that the icons were in different places than they had been before. She paged through the screens, mentally cataloging the various applications. Mail, phone, calculator, calendar, a few games, e-reader, photo album… where was the camera? She clicked through the applications several times, but as far as she could tell, the camera function had been removed. She opened the photo album, wondering if somehow that would get her a working camera. She froze at the first photo that appeared.

There was Amber on Ocean Beach, smiling that teasing, movie-star smile. The sunlight made her short blond hair glow white-hot.

Reese knew that she should close the album. She shouldn’t look at the photos. She could already feel the ache beginning to
spread from her gut like a seeping stain on a white cloth. But she couldn’t help it. She swept her finger across the screen.

The next photo showed Amber standing in front of the ocean, hand raised to her mouth as she blew her a kiss. Reese’s stomach knotted up as she flipped through the dozen or so photos. The girl in the pictures seemed like a figment of Reese’s imagination. No wonder the whole thing felt so much like a dream. Amber had been putting on an act. None of it had been real.

She paused on a photo of a wall. She didn’t recognize it at first, but as she zoomed in she realized it was the bathroom stall in that club Amber had taken her to. The memory of it flooded back into her, and she could practically smell the place again: the sharp tang of disinfectant not quite masking the lingering odor of spilled alcohol. She centered the picture on the haiku graffiti inked onto the stretch of blue wall beside the toilet.