The Cure

Chapter 1

Sweltering heat followed Mila as she entered. Second-guessing her morning wardrobe decision, at least her dark suit jacket covered up her sweating skin.

A reception desk sat off to her left. Mila didn’t recognize the cheerful young woman behind it, which set her hackles up. The baby-faced redhead sat with a nail file, grinding like a mad woman as she chomped just as hard on chewing gum. Bouncing curls atop her head accompanied her breasts as they burst forth from her low-cut black top. She looked up at Mila and flashed a brilliant smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Where’s Barbara?” The regular receptionist would have taken Mila right away to where her family waited. She’d been through this same process daily, step-for-step over the last three seasons, coming up on ten months now. Every lunch break, like clockwork. No one knew outside of this building. Not the people she worked with, not even her relatives. Nothing good could come from too many people being aware of her activities.

“Called in sick this morning, so I was told. I’m from the temp agency.”

“Mila Groso,” she muttered. “I have an appointment.”

The young woman motioned. “Please have a seat.”

Mila turned toward several plush white chairs along the opposite wall. “That’s really not necessary...”

The busty redhead put on the fakest smile Mila had ever seen. “Oh, it’s no bother.”

Frowning, Mila could do nothing but follow the woman’s instructions. The young temp dropped her file and picked up a small cylindrical transmitter, squeezing the sides to pop the handset open. A communication link was established with a dual-tone beep. She held her hand up to muffle her voice. Without any background noise, though, Mila still heard every word. “Mister Docken, there’s a Mila Groso here. She claims to have an appointment, but nothing’s listed.”

Listening to the response, her face grew serious before closing the transmitter again. Without a care, she flashed another fake smile. “He’ll be out soon.” Barely a moment passed before she’d gone back to her nail file.

Mila pursed her lips and squirmed, unable to find a comfortable position in the chair. She looked around, seeing peaceful digital artwork by artists with names she didn’t recognize. The distinct stench of fresh paint spilled off the walls. They’d gone to great lengths to liven up the facilities over the past few months. There was no sense in it. Putting a friendly, pleasant face on the surroundings didn’t hide the fact there was only one reason to come here.

To visit the dead.

Down a second hallway, a door lock clicked open, drawing Mila’s attention. A tall, gaunt man in a freshly pressed white dress shirt, black trousers and tie stepped into view. Relief worked its way onto Mila’s face at the sight of someone she finally recognized.

“Mila,” he said, drawing close, “sorry to keep you waiting. Your regular viewing room is ready.”

She stood and smoothed out her dress pants, taking the high road by forgiving the utter inconvenience she’d been put through. “Thank you, Paul.”

His smooth black hair caught the light from above while he gave off a weak smile. “You’re welcome.”

The pair walked along the corridor, the only sound coming from Mila’s heels striking the faux wood floor. They passed through an ornate doorway into a rectangular waiting area. Waist-high leafy plants stood in each corner.

Once they were out of earshot, Paul mumbled to Mila. “Sorry about that. It was a big surprise finding out Barbara wouldn’t be in this morning.”