Key to Fear Page 5

  Ever-popular. Blair kept herself from rolling her eyes like a petulant child. She could be loved and admired too, if she really wanted.

  Blair cleared her throat and shook away the sudden spike of jealousy heating her stomach. “I have the perfect outfit for a funeral. However, it’s deep navy, not black. Do you think that’s appropriate?”

  Sunlight streamed in through the wall of windows behind Cath, framing her in an ethereal glow. “Perhaps you should focus on the meaning of the proceedings and less on your attire. Don’t you think that’s more important?”

  Blair bit the inside of her cheeks. “Yes, of course.”

  Black.

  And I’ll be dressed in navy.

  It wasn’t her fault Cath didn’t understand that the funeral was going to serve as the first in-person interview for Holbrook’s position. And that was really the most important thing.

  Holbrook would be dead. He wouldn’t need their regurgitated memories or their tears. But Blair, who was very much alive, did need his title. It was what she’d been working toward since she’d begun her career. A career that was taking off unlike any other. She was the MediCenter’s rising star, and she wouldn’t burn out because of the death of some old man. No, she would be a phoenix and rise from that old bastard’s ashes.

  VIII

  Aiden was only slightly late for the first morning of his new career assignment when the elevator doors slipped open and he shuffled, heavy footed, into the light-soaked hallway. The small rectangle of paper listing his room forty-four reassignment stared up at him, its bold text washed out under the glare of the bulbs.

  He shielded his eyes and squinted as he reread the room number. “Remember never to come in hungover.”

  Aiden didn’t bother to look through the hazy, Violet Shield–covered doorways that lined the hall. There’d be plenty of time to investigate his surroundings when he made the exact same walk every morning of every day for every year of his life until he retired. And by that time, he might as well be dead.

  Yep, having a career chosen for you was absolutely fantastic.

  A big “44” glowed at the end of the hall, black digits backlit by white light. The orchid-like biohazard symbol bloomed around the block numbers with bewitching beauty, even though Aiden knew each petal symbolized death and destruction.

  Haunting Holly appeared as Aiden closed in on number forty-four, the only entrance in the long, brightly lit hall with its doors closed. “Hello and welcome to the End-of-Life Unit. Only authorized citizens and MediCenter employees are allowed entry. The Key Corp thanks you for your understanding and for your help in keeping our city and its citizens safe.”

  Aiden tugged at the too tight collar of his scrub top. “The End-of-Life Unit?”

  The hologram’s sterile smile was right at home in the bleached-

  out corridor. “That’s correct. Please place your cuff beneath the scanner.” She motioned to the panel at the side of the door. “All authorized citizens and employees will be granted entry.”

  “Hang on. There must be some mistake. This is the morgue.” As he said it, he knew this was no mistake. Cath had put him here on purpose.

  Haunting Holly clasped her hands in front of her hips and nodded. “Yes, you’ve reached the morgue. Or, as we like to call it, the End-of-Life Unit, or ELU.”

  Aiden stared at the overly chipper face and hollow eyes of the MediCenter’s seemingly omnipotent mega computer. “This can’t be happening.” He stumbled backward, reaching out for something to hold onto as his world slipped out from under his heavy boots.

  The morgue? The fucking morgue? That’s where Cath sent him? This is the place he was going to have to spend the majority of his life? No, not even just the majority of his life. He’d end up here after he died too. He was going to spend his entire earthly existence in this morgue.

  Haunting Holly tilted her head to the side. Her hair fell away from her cheek, revealing a small, Key Corp–red gem dangling from her ear. The corporation really had thought of everything. Her delicate eyebrows lifted. “Please place your cuff beneath the scanner. All authorized citizens and employees will be granted entry,” she repeated.

  Aiden held out his arm and didn’t stifle his groan when his cuff flashed green and the double doors slid apart with a quiet hiss.

  “Welcome, Aiden.” Haunting Holly walked backward into the reception hall, arms open as if these first steps of the rest of his life were something to be revered instead of reviled. She pointed to the glass reception desk gleaming like a crystal in the corner of the giant room. “Octavia will get you checked in for your first day. I look forward to assisting you during your career in the End-of-Life Unit.”

  Aiden paused in front of Haunting Holly and her clasped hands and brilliant smile, forgetting for a moment that she was what her name implied—a hologram. “You say it like it’s a good thing.” He stepped through her. As though he were in a rainstorm of color, light misted around him. He stared at his palms, painted Key Corp–red by Holly’s blouse. If he ever felt empty, he’d remember this. He’d remember Holly, all seeing, all knowing, all nothing.

  Haunting Holly blinked out of existence—well, this existence—and Aiden was left gazing at the deep umber of his own skin. He cleared his throat, stuffed his fingers into his shallow pockets, and proceeded toward the giant crystal of a desk and the young short-haired woman seated behind it.

  Octavia didn’t look up from the holopad balanced on one hand. Aiden stood there a moment, shifting uncomfortably in the silence. “Hey, I’m—”

  The petite young woman held up her hand, stripping Aiden of his introduction.

  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll just stand over here and wait until you’re finished doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

  She let out an annoyed puff of air. “Do you not know what it means when someone holds up their hand like that?” With a flick of her wrist, she reenacted the move. “It means you need to stop talking, not switch subjects.”

  Aiden pulled at the short sleeves of his uncomfortably small shirt. “Sorry.”

  “It’s too late.” She tapped purposefully on the glass desktop. “I had the perfect conclusion to my paper, but it’s gone now.”

  “We’ll have time to do classwork down here?” Maybe it wouldn’t be as horrible if he had time to work on his studies. After all, he would be starting over . . . again.

  Her glitter-lined eyes narrowed into sparkling slits. “No. I only had time to do my work because the guy I’m waiting on is late.”

  “That’s me.” Aiden poked himself in the chest. “I’m the late guy.”

  Octavia pursed her lips, the pink slivers almost disappearing completely. “Yeah, I realize that.” Aiden waited in another awkward silence as she scanned her holoscreen. “You’re wearing the wrong scrubs,” she finally said, her vibrant blue eyes boring into Aiden. “Ours are blue. You’re wearing chartreuse. Surgical wears chartreuse.”

  Aiden glanced down at his slightly too small scrubs. “They’re the only clean ones I had.”

  “But we wear blue.” She gestured to her top as if doing so would magically change the color of his outfit.

  Aiden tapped the toe of his boot against the floor. “I, uh, I’m not sure what you want from me. I didn’t choose to come here. This is where I was assigned.”

  “Great.” She tucked her holopad into the front pocket of her top, shoved herself away from the desk, and took off toward the other end of the expansive reception room. “They’re always sending down idiots who have messed up their lives and are now here to mess up mine.”

  Aiden stepped forward, paused, and then took another tentative step. “Am I supposed to follow you?”

  Octavia’s neon pink–tipped hair didn’t move as she whipped her head around and cast an exasperated glance over her shoulder. “Obvi.”

  Aiden hurried to catch up to her, the
n raced to keep up. For having such short legs, she was a surprisingly fast walker.

  Octavia pointed her piercing blue gaze up at him. “Do you even have an aptitude for the medical spectrum, or is this some kind of punishment?”

  The tight, unforgiving fabric strained against Aiden’s shoulders as he shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

  She halted abruptly, her pointer finger trained on his chest. “No. It can’t be. You’re either supposed to be doing this or the corporation has sent you here to learn a lesson. To scare you so badly that you won’t ever do whatever idiotic thing you did ever again.”

  Aiden chose his next words carefully. “What if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing? What if I do have an aptitude for this, but it’s buried under the desire to do something else entirely?”

  She scrunched her small face. “That’s stupid. How can you not know what you’re supposed to be doing? The corporation literally tells you.” Another scrunch. “I can tell by your age that this is a punishment, not a serious aptitude-based life decision.”

  Octavia turned and pointed down the end of the hall to the vending machine packed with individual vacuum-sealed blue scrub sets, a row of thicker orange packages, and plain white orthopedic sneakers. “Holly will get you what you need. And don’t listen to her when she says to call me Octavia. It’s Tavi. Holly’s just being a birth record–quoting bitch. Also, you should for sure size up your scrubs.” Scrunch. “You look like you squeezed yourself into your little brother’s uniform.”

  Aiden’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean you can tell by my age that this is a punishment? I’m not that much older than you.”

  With a groan she tilted her head back. “So tedious.” She leveled her glitter-rimmed eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re what? Eighteenish?” She was correct . . . ish, but didn’t wait for a response. “Well, I’m sixteen and have been working in the ELU for three years. In two more years, I’ll probably be in charge of my own examiner bot. Not starting fresh.”

  Aiden hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “I don’t think ‘fresh’ is an appropriate description for anything down here.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think I like you.” With a final scrunch of her face, Tavi spun on her heels, her pink and blond hair firmly helmeted to her head as she stomped back toward the reception hall.

  “Then it’s a good thing we’ll be working together. Every day. For the foreseeable future.” He called after her as she turned the corner, her sneakers squeaking on the tile as she disappeared from sight.

  Aiden dragged his calloused hands down his face. “Unfuckingbelievable.”

  Haunting Holly chose that moment to return. “Hello again, Aiden. I see that you’re in need of my assistance.”

  Aiden grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

  “Great! What can I help you with?”

  “I guess I need a new pair of scrubs.” He looked down at his boots. “And shoes.”

  She followed his gaze down to his feet. “Ah, yes.”

  For an instant, Holly’s warm and knowing smile was a balm on the chapped and irritated surface of his heart. It was easy to understand why the citizens of Westfall and beyond would want to trust that face . . . that voice. What he couldn’t comprehend was how they could believe her words.

  “Scan your cuff, and I’ll get you taken care of.”

  Aiden’s plastic cuff flashed, and Haunting Holly’s eyelids fluttered as she sorted through the data. “Looks like you’ve been approved for five pairs of scrubs, two biohazard suits, and one pair of shoes. Would you like to collect all of these items now?”

  Aiden stared at the orange biohazard suits all neatly folded and tucked innocently away in their plastic sheets. “This assignment keeps getting better and better.”

  “If you would like, I can give you a detailed explanation as to the uses and features of the ELU’s biohazard suits.”

  Aiden held up his hands. “Nope. I would not like. If you tell me, I’ll probably run out of here.”

  “Unless an emergency arises, running in the End-of-Life Unit is prohibited.”

  “I didn’t mean—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. Go ahead and give me a pair of scrubs, a suit, and the shoes.”

  Haunting Holly noiselessly clapped her hands together. “Excellent. Anything else?”

  Aiden slouched against the wall. “You wanna tell me the secret to working with dead people?”

  “Tea tree oil right here.” The hologram brushed her finger across her upper lip and winked.

  Aiden rolled the back of his head from side to side against the wall. “You can make a joke, but you can’t understand an

  exaggeration?”

  Haunting Holly flashed another perfect smile and vanished.

  The vending machine spit out a tray holding the scrubs, biohazard suit, and sneakers. Reluctantly, Aiden scooped them up and followed the signs to the unit’s locker room. The door slid open automatically, and Aiden’s palms went clammy before stepping through the haze of purple light. In the locker rooms, there was always at least one person in a stage of undress. To the Key, bodies were just that—bodies.

  No touching today for a healthy tomorrow. One of the corporation’s favorite phrases. One of their favorite laws.

  There were punishments for touching, swift and just. After all, according to the Key, a touch could spread disease, create another pandemic. Without touching, there should be no desire, no lust, no aching need. Cerberus should have sent those feelings to the grave along with the billions of people the virulent strain had claimed.

  The fear of touch and the laws against it for the past fifty years meant that it wasn’t only the Key that regarded bodies as sexless. It was everyone, most everyone. And, according to most everyone, all bodies had the same basic needs and, therefore, shared the same locker room. Each MediCenter unit’s locker room was identical. Each had a wall of Key Corp–red lockers with cuff-activated locks and automatic doors, squeaky clean black-and-white tile floors with benches sprouting like metal hedgerows, two light-bath stalls bisecting the room, two toilet stalls, and one old-timey water-shower stall, although Aiden had never seen one in use.

  He shuffled to the closest locker, unlaced and kicked off his boots, and stripped out of his too-tight chartreuse uniform. He wadded up the pants and top and did a little hop as he tossed them into the nearest refuse receptacle before waving his cuff under the locker’s sensor. It popped open and Aiden stuffed his dirty boots, one on top of the other, into the narrow metal box.

  Behind him, the bulbs from the light bath hummed to life. He turned, the hairs on his arms rising as the empty stall illuminated and exhaled cleansing light. A petite, red-haired woman had slipped into the stall without a sound. She tilted her chin toward the ceiling. Her waterfall of hair brushed against her naked back, coming alive in the changing light that flowed through each color of the spectrum.

  Aiden couldn’t pull his gaze away from the shadows that scooped out homes against her curves as she swayed, or from the light that pooled in the gentle dip in her lower back.

  She gathered her hair, fastened it on top of her head, and turned.

  Aiden’s breath knocked against his ribs as he became all too aware of his own bare chest and bare legs, and the thin, white underwear stitching it all together.

  She grinned and swiped at the living rainbow spilling down her bare shoulders. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you new to the End-of-Life Unit?”

  Aiden swallowed. Another fifty years could go by and he’d never get used to the self-consciousness that quaked in his stomach. “Um, yeah.” He nodded and tried his best to pretend like this was normal, like he was normal. “It’s my first day.”

  Light sank into the hollows of her pale collarbones. “I work upstairs in MediCenter marketing, but there’s a problem with our showers.” Another grin. “Whic
h ELU department are you starting in?”

  Aiden cleared his throat. “They haven’t assigned me yet.”

  Air conditioning threw a cool gust across his bare thighs and he shivered slightly.

  She brushed her hands down the slopes of her waist as if each touch would assist the light in cleansing her further. “Oh, you’re super new.” Her hands crossed over her bare stomach. “Pray you don’t get incineration. That one’s rough,” she said as she slid her hands across the stretch marks running in powerful arcs along her naked hips. “Everything else in the MediCenter is either safe and boring or dangerous and interesting.”

  Aiden took a moment before asking, “Which are you?”

  She released her hair and it rained against her bare breasts. “Dangerous and interesting.”

  The lights clicked off and she stepped through to the other side of the open stall.

  A sudden shock of cold bit at the backs of Aiden’s legs as he dropped onto the bench in front of the lockers and busied himself with stripping the vacuum-sealed plastic from his new uniform. He shook out the folded pants and a small, rectangular card floated to the floor. Aiden picked it up. End-of-Life Unit—blue scrub set was printed on one side. He flipped it over: No touching today for a healthy tomorrow. Aiden balled up the words, the warning, in his palm and threw the crumpled card into the open locker.

  No rule, regardless of the punishment, could eliminate desire. And Aiden’s desire was a river dammed just beneath his ribs. There were others out there like him, hiding in plain sight, faking emptiness to blend in. If there was only some way he could tell who felt the same . . .

  His lips ticked with a grin as his thoughts wandered to the girl who’d run into the front door and then fled up the stairs.

  But there was no use in thinking about her, about the woman in the shower, about desire, about any of it. Those thoughts were difficult to mask and, right now, Aiden needed his disguise firmly in place.