T-PAIN
Beckett announces, "Attention, Block E and F: you will be seen for your monthly health checkups now."
We set down our equipment and march over to the medical tents, a new spring in our steps. Checkup day is always the best, assuming you're healthy. Any time off work and change from the routine is welcomed in the community.
We arrive and Blocks C and D are barely halfway done with their checkups. But I'd rather be standing here and waiting than lugging steel beams to and from. There might be nothing to do, but for once, doing nothing feels better than overexertion and pain.
I try to predict which tent I'll be in. I count about eighty men and eight tents before me. Most of the tents churn out patients every five minutes. A certain one takes up to ten. That same tent is the only one with its guard outside the tent, which leads me to believe that something super sketchy must be happening in there.
A patient exits that tent, grinning ear to ear. The line sways away as she passes. The line moves up. I hope I don't get that nurse.
