Their Memoriam: A Reverse Harem Romance (Utopia Inc Book 1) Page 4

  There were a couple of other blood tests I was waiting on, but nothing to indicate anything beyond an adverse reaction to waking—and that could be anything from oxygen imbalance to paranoia associated with dehydration. I needed more data, but beyond putting the man back into the lifepod and repeating the experience using similar if not identical circumstances, I might be doomed to disappointment.

  I’d collected samples from Hatch Benedict—now asleep in his bed—and the doctor, who was also asleep. Their vitals continued to improve steadily. Kenton insisted on staying with Rossi until Rossi allowed us to put him to bed. The man’s size and weight made the prospect of helping him to his room daunting. Between us, we’d managed. Kenton finally returned to his rooms, but only after he asked me to run his blood work.

  Unsurprisingly, it showed no significant changes from his baseline. He was far more cognizant and steady. He’d also managed to be polite, save for the moment he’d run a finger against my neck.

  “These look bad,” he’d said, concern evident in every syllable. “Who is taking care of you?”

  “I’ll manage,” I had to tell him when he wouldn’t leave it alone. “Get some sleep. I assume this is the calm before the storm.” The last comment shouldn’t have passed my lips, yet I’d spoken without thinking. Exhaustion dogged every step as I made my way from one suite to the next. My patients, as a whole, were all resting—stable vitals and no disturbances. Walking around their suites while they were helpless made me feel a little bit like a voyeur. The last time I’d had living patients, I’d been a resident, fresh out of medical training and serving rotations as part of my licensing.

  I hadn’t liked it then; I didn’t like it now.

  Everyone seemed to have eaten except Benedict. His protein bars were untouched. The water was gone. Guilt nagged me, so I found a can of insta soup. One only had to turn the bottom—it would heat the interior and provide him with protein and hot liquid. The label read chicken, rice, and vegetable. As far as I could tell from the notes, he wasn’t a vegetarian. After setting it next to his bed along with a fresh bottle of water, I studied his profile—all that was visible with him bundled in the blankets—and wrestled with my conscience.

  Of all four men, he’d had the worst awakening. Bruising my throat aside, Rossi recovered from the mild psychosis swiftly. He’d completed all four banana bags, eaten, and drank water before he’d gone to sleep.

  Kenton was doing the best, Morgan was still resting, and Benedict the worst—but he’s resting now.

  My own weariness won out over my ethical concerns. Outside his room, I checked my tablet. All their vitals were still feeding to it. It would have to do. Still, once I was back in my suite and my tea was prepared, I kept checking on them. I needed to treat the bruises on my throat, and I needed something to eat. Afterward, I likely needed more sleep.

  Hands shaking, I enjoyed a few sips of the lemon tea on my raw throat before sectioning the protein bar. Preparing anything more would take too much time.

  “Computer, define current protocols in the event of a medical emergency with any team member?” I chose the words carefully. I was also present.

  “Current protocol requires notification to team lead Bashan during the first twenty-four hours following emergence for all emergencies.”

  So I was on the hook for my own issues. The protein bar was the most unappetizing sight. Returning to my medicine cabinet, I studied the contents. There were more medical supplies in my lab. After debating my options, I prepared two syringes with a metabolism and immune system booster. Once they were stored, I finished my tea and the protein.

  Neither went down easily, but I managed. In my bedroom, I put the tablet on the wireless charger. I had updated all the charts with the pertinent stats, treatments including details on Benedict’s harsh reaction and Rossi’s sedating. Once that was done, I returned to my journal and stared at the blank page.

  The words to describe the day eluded me. Some experiences couldn’t be condensed into simple sentences, much less paragraphs. Even after showering and changing into clean clothes, I couldn’t do much more than brush out my hair and concentrate on my breathing.

  A warning message flashed across the top of my datapad, but when I selected it—I was the patient in distress. Respiration and pulse suggested pain. My neck was stiff, and sore.

  Strangulation had that effect.

  Martyring myself for a cause I wasn’t even sure I supported wasn’t within the content of my character. Not wasting medication when we had a limited supply was more about long-term survival than short-term success. The warning message flashed again.

  Leaving the datapad, I returned to the bathroom and threw up. The sourness coupled with renewed pain in my raw throat had me bracing myself against the cool tile.

  I avoided studying my own reflection while I brushed my teeth then washed my face. The knowledge paused me on the way out of the bathroom, and I glanced at the woman I’d become.

  The woman in the mirror had longer hair than I remembered. She’d lost some weight, and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her eyes though, they pinned me with narrow suspicion.

  What the hell had I done to end up here?

  Refusing to answer the question, I turned off the light and fetched the pain medication. A second dose, along with some anti-nausea, should help me rest. I pulled another banana bag out of the storage compartment and hooked it up. I hadn’t removed my own port yet.

  In the bedroom, I placed the bag rack next to my bed before taking a seat and drawing my legs up to lotus position.

  Discipline brought my pulse and respiration under control. The exercise cleared my mind, compartmentalized the responses. Once the men were on their feet, I would allow a more thorough emotional inventory. When I opened my eyes again, all the warnings were gone from the tablet. I checked the vitals of my other patients. The men continued to rest.

  “Computer, set an alarm and wake me in eight hours.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Sliding beneath the sheets, I doused the light and closed my eyes.

  Tomorrow, I would make a point of exploring the biosphere.

  And meet my team…

  A shiver raced up my spine, and I pulled the blankets tighter around me.

  The team will also meet me…

  Chapter 4

  Beware the fury of a patient man. - John Dryden

  Day Two

  The alarm jerked me out of a restive dream. The nebulous state had been pleasant, but it fled the moment reality sank its hooks into me. Pain came next—a groan because my throat more than hurt and the muscles in my neck had gone rigid. I dragged myself out of bed and remade it only out of habit. Every movement cost me.

  Discipline would only get me so far. I had ice packs. I had pain medication. I would begin with a shower, then ice. Fifteen minutes later, I waited for coffee to fill the cup and wrapped an icy towel around my neck. There were packets I could activate to do the same thing, but the towel had soaked in cold water, then the freezer while I showered. It was replaceable—the specialized packs were not.

  Whatever else I did today, I wanted to take a tour of the full facility, check to see what was in stock, what wasn’t. The computer likely had a full inventory of all items, but it was better to verify with my own eyes.

  Adding honey to the black coffee helped the soreness in my throat. I wanted to avoid painkillers if I could, but I might have to break down and take a small dose. The cold towel helped, the honey in the coffee helped, but neither took it all away.

  I’d chosen a fresh pair of scrubs. There were nice clothes in the closet, including a beautiful sari in emerald green. I didn’t see myself needing fancier clothes, at least not while I had patients.

  No longer able to put off the inevitable confrontation with the rest of the team, I retrieved my datapad. Forty-eight hours since I emerged from the lifepod and I was no closer to identifying why I was here than I’d been when I’d shivered in the chair.

&n
bsp; Each of their vitals listed showed a dramatic improvement on the day before. Rossi had an elevated pulse and respiration—the man had to be working out. Really? Benedict’s were in the active range—not as high as Rossi’s, but high enough I suspected he’d also exercised.

  Then again, perhaps he’d overdone it. Doctor Morgan’s stats indicated perfect rest. They were exactly what they should be for a man of his age, height, and weight. No one’s was so precise. Numbers shouldn’t arouse suspicion, but I would have some questions for the doctor. Kenton’s readings, however, included an elevated blood pressure and respiration bordering on a panic attack.

  “Computer, location of Kenton, Andreas.”

  “Kenton, Andreas located on sub-level four, garden district.”

  Garden district?

  I wanted to finish my coffee, but I needed to find out what was wrong with him. Leaving the cup half-finished, I grabbed a bag of med supplies and the hypos I’d prepared the night before. Leaving the ice towel wrapped around my neck, I headed for the hatchway.

  “Computer, set path for sublevel four, garden district.”

  Sub-level four? How many levels did the biosphere host?

  The soft shoes I wore muffled the sound of my steps on the metal floor as I hurried down the hallway. I’d intended to run but shooting pain from my feet to my neck and back again curbed my speed.

  The floor panels illuminated a path to the lift. I should have taken the time to explore before the others emerged. I’d been too exhausted to push it, and I put their needs above my own curiosity.

  Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?

  A hatchway opened as I reached the lift.

  “Where are you going?” The Aussie accent flavored every word.

  Rossi.

  Dammit. I didn’t have time for another assault. Ignoring him seemed the better part of valor, so I entered the lift. He slid inside with me before the doors closed. The narrow compartment shrank with his presence, and I backed to the wall.

  “Sublevel four.” I ordered the computer, proud that my voice didn’t betray the trembling in my extremities.

  Folding his arms, he stared at me so intently; I half expected to experience the radiance of an x-ray machine.

  “What’s on sublevel four?”

  “Andreas Kenton,” I answered truthfully, then checked the vitals on the tablet. One moment Rossi was on his side of the lift, the next he was leaning over my shoulder. Ice slithered up my spine. Did he intend to finish throttling me? I dropped a hand into my pocket. The meds I had wouldn’t drop him, but they might slow him down.

  “What’s he doing down there?” With each word, his breath tickled my ear. “And why do you have all our stats on there?”

  “I don’t know,” I chose to reply in order to the requests. “I have your stats because I managed your care following emergence.”

  “The bruises on your throat?” His voice dropped, and I refused to be deceived by the softness. It was an invitation to confide in him. Contrary to the intensity of my first encounter with him, we were strangers.

  The doors parted, excusing me from responding. I exited, all but running, only to slide to a halt as the brightness overhead proved blinding. Squinting against the glare, I stumbled.

  Rossi caught my arm and righted me, even as he slowed my forward momentum. “What the fuck is this?” Disbelief etched each word, the force of which seemed like it applied the words to my soul.

  All around us was the largest garden I’d ever seen—there were fruit trees with roots spreading out amidst the pale green grass like tentacles. The grove of trees offered some shade, but what took on the appearance of the sun slid between the trees, dappling the landscape with too bright rays.

  “I have…no idea.” The reply was automatic, a response my brain generated in order to process the last piece of data inquiry I’d received. Following the path between the trees, I ignored the fact Rossi didn’t release my arm. The uneven ground seemed alien beneath my feet after the cold sterile environs where we’d all awoken.

  Beyond the trees, were fields of what looked like crops, and they extended to the horizon. The sunlight struck as we stepped out and it was warm on my skin. Even the air tasted differently here. An alarm chimed from my tablet, but I couldn’t look at it, not yet.

  The air here was different, fresher and lacking the ions from the recyclers. I could almost taste the hint of citrus in the air. Twisting away from the fields, I looked at the grove. Even knowing the lift was there didn’t make identifying its entry point any easier.

  A breeze caressed my cheek, and I couldn’t move. Was that manure amidst the freshness of grass and new growth?

  “Hey, Doc,” Rossi loomed in front of me, and he snapped his fingers right in front of my eyes.

  Jerking my gaze up, I met a pair of intent green eyes staring at me. “Your alarm is going off.”

  The reminder turned my attention back to the device in my hands. My pulse had skyrocketed, as had my blood pressure and respiration. Seeing the numbers on the screen brought awareness to the fact I was panting.

  A panic attack.

  Interesting. I shut off the alarm then closed my eyes. Too much sensory data—the warm sun, the coolness of the breeze, the wild array of scents, even the man resting his hands on my shoulders…

  Blinking, I opened my eyes and glanced from one shoulder to the other before looking at the AJ. “You can let me go now,” I didn’t want to have to inform him twice. “I just need a moment to compose myself. This is an unexpected development.”

  “No shit. We woke up in a lab, and now we’re in the middle of paradise.” Even as he spoke, he released me and shoved one of his hands through the unruly length of hair—unusual in a soldier, no matter what nationality. Filing the data away for later, I concentrated on slowing my breathing as I looked over the fields.

  “Fucking incredible, isn’t it?” The reason we’d come down to the sublevel called. He appeared around a stand of corn. He’d changed from his white body suit into a pair of jeans, a denim long sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows and he sported a straw hat on his head. Adding to his easy appearance was a fresh red apple in his hand—an apple he was in the process of eating.

  “What are you doing?” Genetic crops still existed, their use having polluted the seed vaults of hundreds of farms. There were entire regions where food grew, but few if any would eat it. The chance for triggering another outbreak typically left those fields for only those who would rather die of potential disease rather than starvation.

  “I’m eating an apple, gorgeous. It’s a garden—someone needed to eat it.” To punctuate the sentiment, he took a bite and juice ran from the corner of his mouth as he crunched the fresh fruit. I had to admit, the ruby colored apple looked amazing. The closer he drew to us, I could almost imagine the way it smelled. “And since there are four guys to one girl, I didn’t want to conform to gender assignment on who would take the hit.”

  His laughter suggested he believed his joke funny. Rossi snorted, but there was a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “You picked one off and took a bite without thinking of the consequences.” The assessment had to be spot on because Kenton grimaced.

  “Fine, I was starving and the food in the suite borders on prison level quality.” The judgment wasn’t far off, but I wouldn’t have rushed to eat any of the food in this garden. Religious connotations aside, I’d rely on science to test the food.

  “I need to gather some samples.” It would be better to know. “You should stop consuming it until we’ve determined safety.”

  “I could,” he agreed, but then took another bite of the apple and chewed it deliberately. “However, this is my second one. If I’m toast, I’m toast. You can always shove me back in the lifepod until we can get a real doctor.”

  Was he deliberately trying to provoke me?

  “Hey, fuckwit,” Rossi clapped a hand on Kenton’s shoulder. “Don’t be a dipshit. The doc’s trying to keep us on our feet.�
�

  Familiar with the force in the big man’s grip, I almost felt sorry for Kenton when his smirk fell away to a grimace. Almost. “I’m also trying to conserve our medical supplies. I’ve checked all your suites. You each have different types of supplies versus what I have.” Though Morgan had more medical equipment, as well as medicine. “Until we’ve done a full inventory, we may be limited on what we can treat.”

  Kenton opened his mouth, but Rossi silenced him with another squeeze, before pinning me with a look. “Come again?”

  “Which part?” I’d listed my concerns clearly, hadn’t I?

  “You said we may be limited on what we can treat, and you don’t know what’s in the inventory.” Rossi repeated my words.

  “Precisely.” Good, he had grasp of the issue. “Food stores are also an issue. We’ll need samples from the gardens, then run some tests. I will need a full DNA scan for each of us as well, so we shouldn’t eat or consume anything that wasn’t already pre-selected.”

  For a brief moment, Kenton opened his mouth then slammed it shut when Rossi’s knuckles went white. AJ was used to being in charge. No telling what kind of issues would arise if any of the other men tested their virility against his.

  “You didn’t do the selecting?” The careful way he phrased the question peppered by the cadence of his accent gave me pause.

  “I don’t know.” No comfort for anyone in my answer. “I’m not entirely certain where we are other than what the computer has called it—Biosphere One.”

  Rossi’s expression shuttered, even as his forehead tensed into a frown. “Why does the computer list you as in charge?”

  “The daughter of Doctor Death is in charge of this lunatic asylum?” Skepticism tangled with coldness in Kenton’s tone.

  It had been years since anyone referred to my mother that way in my presence.

  “Don’t be daft,” Rossi said, then shoved Kenton to the side. “That was political scapegoating. It was a worldwide pandemic. No one person was responsible for it.”

  The immediacy of his defense stunned me. No one ever stood up for my parents. No one.