The structure of F-6 makes the walk to the clinic feel longer than it should. The cramped hallways continue long past the first. It’s like a network of tunnels, but above the ground and comprised of materials that look like they once made up ordinary trailers. The lack of windows and the only continuous sound being a low, deep hum is disorienting. Sira keeps as close to Karim as they can, even though it renews the ache in their legs. They can’t fathom how he knows which turns to make or which way is right or left, but then again, their mind isn’t exactly in the best shape. F-6 is one of the least impressive FOBs we have, Rani said, but as far as they’re concerned, this place is a labyrinth.
What proves that the base isn’t just a web of hallways are the large metal doors they pass, similar to the door they used to enter from the garage, that are always nestled between a pair of condensers. One has a small, neatly painted plastic board next to it that reads ‘cafeteria’ in all capital letters, while another is labeled ‘greenhouse.’
A few armored individuals walk the halls or stand in designated spots. Their respirators hang around their necks, allowing their faces to be visible. Sira decides to think of them as guards. Like Karim and the others, they have armbands that blend in with their black armor, but the colors of the stripes on theirs are a muted green rather than white – the same as the pair who were in the front of the truck. People dressed in work clothing pass them by as well, some of them casually chatting with a guard or other companion.
Sira can feel the strangers’ eyes on them as they walk. Most of them seem to avert their gazes once they make the connection between Sira and Karim. As Sira has been for most of the day, they keep their head lowered, eyes on the floor, and their arms wrapped around themselves.
At least this place isn’t crowded.
“How many people have you brought in here like this?” Sira asks quietly, their eyes drifting up to the back of Karim’s head.
“Uh, as far as I’m aware? None. What you’re seeing now is this zone’s only real population. The dense fog takes too many resources to make it safe for habitation,” he replies. “Don’t worry – so long as you stick close to me, people are going to mind their own business.”
“It seems like you’re kind of important.”
He momentarily glances back at them, one of his canines showing in a wry smile. “You could say that.”
That doesn’t exactly put Sira at ease.
Two hall-sections later, Karim leads them to another one of the metal doors. Its labeling is flashier than the rest: ‘Infirmary & Lab’ in bold, bright red lettering. Karim pulls the door open, and the two of them are greeted by a faint rush of cold air.
They enter a medium-sized room, its interior colored exclusively in shades of gray and sterile white. The middle wall in the back breaks into a small, dimly lit hallway. A cluster of uncomfortable-looking chairs sit aligned against the walls of the front room. Situated at the edge of the hallway is a modest desk with a person sitting behind it, diligently penning something on the papers that are spread out over its surface.
The person looks up at the sound of the door opening and the pen in her hand stops. She looks to be a woman around Karim’s age, if not slightly older, with a brown complexion, dark hair cut into a tight bob, and a white lab coat draped over her shoulders. She straightens in her seat as she lays eyes on Karim, and then Sira. They can’t help but notice the flicker of concern that comes over her face.
Sira steps off to the side and hangs back near the door. Karim doesn’t seem to notice as he strides up to the desk. Taking her attention off Sira, the woman carefully sets her pen down as Karim places his palms on the desktop. His height and the broadness of his arm span take up enough space to give him presence, but not in a way that it seems like he’s trying to loom over her.
“Evening, Doctor Pareira. I don’t believe we’ve met in person. Your nurse isn’t in today?”
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“Captain Jamil Khader,” she warily greets in return. “I think everyone here knows your name well enough by now – and no, she’s on leave to visit family.”
Sira notes one of the chairs that sits closest to the door, the insistent ache in their legs returning to their awareness. They place a hand against the wall for good measure as they quietly make their way over to it, but keep their ears focused on the conversation.
“Why the suspicious tone?” He asks, almost teasingly.
“Because this isn’t how people normally greet me, and they usually don’t come in with strange guests.”
Finally reaching the chair, Sira carefully sits themself down in it with a soft sigh. It’s cold, metal, and not as good as lying down, but better than the seats of the truck and better than standing up. Their head is beginning to feel too heavy for their neck, so they lean it back against the wall as they return their attention to the exchange.
The doctor is looking at them. Sira’s gaze quickly darts to Karim as heat rises in their cheeks.
“I suppose that’s fair.” Karim’s smile falters a little. “I hate to put my business on your plate, but this is an unusual situation, and unfortunately, it’s something that needs to be addressed faster than a trip to HQ would take. Strictly off-the-record.”
Dr. Pareira leans back in her chair, putting a little more distance between herself and Karim. “And what exactly is this business of yours?”
Her eyes flick to Sira again. They shift uncomfortably in their seat and press their knees together despite the sting of pain from how sore and scraped they are – something to relieve the tension.
“Well, obviously I can’t tell you very much, considering it’s something I plan on bringing straight to the director,” he answers, “but aside from that mess, my friend here desperately needs a checkup. That part is fairly standard.”
She studies Karim, appearing to consider his words, before rolling her chair backward to allow herself room to stand. She gets to her feet, straightens out her lab coat, and heaves a long sigh. “Fine then. Both of you come with me.”
As the doctor turns towards the back hall, Karim looks back to Sira and gives them a cheesy thumbs up. They stare at him for a second, blink twice, then push their palms against the seat of the chair and force themself back into a standing position.
Karim doesn’t move from his spot, hands resting on his hips, as Sira rejoins him. The doctor stands further inside the hallway, hands in the pockets of her lab coat and a pensive look on her face as she examines the two of them. Sira folds into themself again. It’s not as if she’s intimidating – she’s of average height, and the look in her eyes isn’t judgmental, but it’s stern enough. The situation on its own would make Sira want to be anywhere but here if ‘anywhere’ wasn’t worse than this place.
Probably.
Something lightly brushes against their shoulder, but the sensation is not enough to make them startle. Karim. His hand or fingers. It’s a gentle enough touch that it doesn’t feel invasive, but it still urges them forward. They silently appreciate the consideration.
The hall is as bare and lifeless as the rest of F-6’s interior. The pair follow the doctor to another small, metal door on the left. Other doors line the hall of the same make and material. She wordlessly opens the door for them, letting fluorescent light pour out into the hallway, then steps to the side to let Sira through first, with Karim close behind.
It’s not quite an exam room. The table that sits in the center, with restraints and parts divided from each other that allow for varied positioning of limbs, suggests more complexity than that. Arranged along the walls are counters with drawers and clean surfaces, cabinets full of supplies, and mounted shelves packed with books and folders.
If I know what an exam room is, then I’ve probably been to a doctor before..?
It’s more than that, it’s familiar. The quiet accentuates the faint hum of the lights, and Sira shudders for a reason they can’t name.
Dr. Pareira shuts the door behind everyone and breezes past Sira to plop herself down on a rolling stool by the exam table – or surgical table, Sira can’t tell which. “Is this going to get me in trouble?”
“It shouldn’t.” Karim leans back against the door, folding his arms together and sliding one leg over the other. “That is, unless you’re bad at keeping secrets, doc – but even then, I could smooth any difficulty over. I could even put in a good word for you with the director if you’d like.”
“No need. Things are quiet here, which I like, and I keep my head down. It would be nice if it stayed that way.”
“Happy to hear it.”
Dr. Pareira rolls her chair over to the counter, pulling open a drawer and taking out a box of gloves, as well as a few sheets of paper that look to have blank charts printed on them. She momentarily stands as she pulls a pen out from her coat pocket, then looks at Sira. This time, there’s some gentleness in her face. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Sira fidgets with the flimsy hem of their shirt. It’s then that they take in the state of their outfit again: tattered, rag-like, and stained. “It’s Sira, ma’am.”
“Well, you can go ahead and have a seat. Nothing in here is going to bite you, I promise.”
Face feeling hot again, Sira does as they’re told. The cushioned surface is nice, but having to hold themself up still isn’t what they need right now. At least, if anything ends up giving out, they’re in the right place for that to happen.
The entire first arc (chapters 1-13 & bonus) is all on Patreon, in addition to some of the chapters from the Part II - Initiation. These will get removed from Patreon as they're posted publicly, but subscribing means having early access!
