stated previously, Miss Carver, everything we do is done for your protection.”
He motions for us to follow him. He leads us down a smaller hallway inside of the lab to a large examination room. The room is sterile and cold and makes me instantly uncomfortable. I can’t imagine what this physical will entail, but I somehow don’t think it will be like any one I have experienced thus far in my life.
“There are dressing rooms off to your right. Examination gowns are in each room. You may leave your undergarments and socks on; everything else is to be removed. When you are finished changing, please return here.”
He hurriedly walks off and delves into a conversation with a woman I assume is a lab technician.
Zoë and I walk to the dressing rooms and do as we were instructed. I quickly change and fold my colony issued clothing and set it on the bench inside my dressing room before reluctantly opening the door and heading back into the exam room. Zoë joins me seconds later.
“Well these are by far the best things they’ve given us to wear since we got here,” Zoë quips modeling her light gray gown.
I quietly laugh at her sarcasm as we return to the designated area. Dr. Milton meets us there and directs us to our individual examination rooms.
“Miss Carver, Doctors Jefferson and Parker will be attending to you, along with several nurses and technicians. Miss Owens, you will be with Dr. Quill and me. You’ll both be extensively examined, have a full psychological work-up, a neurological exam, and extensive blood tests. You’ll be served breakfast post blood draw. The entire process will take roughly three hours.”
“Three hours?” Zoë asks, surprised.
“Approximately. Although, I expect your psychological exam may prove quite time consuming for Dr. Parker. You may be looking at four hours.”
“Hilarious.”
I look down at the floor in a feeble attempt to hide my smile as Dr. Jefferson guides Zoë into her room.
Dr. Milton motions me into the exam room. “After you, Miss Owens. We will start with measurements.”
Most of the physical examination is identical to one I’d receive in my own doctor’s office, just a little more extensive. He listens to my heart and breathing; records my blood pressure, body temperature, and oxygen levels. My vision and hearing are both tested as well. As Dr. Milton performs an examination of my skeletal system, I am finally able to speak with him.
“Did you find out anything more about the incident from last night?” I assume mentioning names would be bad. It’s possible not everyone knows about what happened.
He hesitates for a moment before answering. “We discovered three more individuals involved in the incident. They have all been removed from the premises and detained by our security team.”
“Does that mean they won’t be able to land in our walk?”
“That is our hope. We have taken further security measures as well to ensure your safety.”
He doesn’t look me in the eye, but instead just continues with his exam, occasionally calling out observations in complex medical terminology for the nurse to record in my chart.
“Why didn’t we dream or walk last night?”
“That would be one of the security measures.”
“How is it possible to stop something like that?”
“We have equipment built into each residential unit that has the ability to block certain electromagnetic waves. It prevents dreamwalking when activated. Please lie down on the table so that I can examine your abdomen.”
I do as instructed. He presses his fingers into my flesh, moving his hands around the different quadrants of my abdomen, gently prodding and observing my reaction.
“Did the security team find Ben?” I ask worried what the answer might be.
He hesitates, turns away from me and scribbles something in my chart. “No. We were unable to located Mr. Reynolds.”
He helps me sit up. “Follow me. It’s time for your labs to be drawn.”
He leads me to a large chair and directs me to sit. I am forced to sacrifice six vials of blood in quick succession. My head feels fuzzy and my limbs heavy as the warmth drains from my face. A nurse speedily supplies me with a bottle of orange juice and a blueberry muffin after the last vial is complete. I drink the juice in just a few fast swallows, but don’t touch the muffin. “Would you like more?” she asks me.
“I’d love some,” I answer smiling.
She returns to the miniature refrigerator and pulls out another small bottle for me. I sip the second one much slower, no longer