Pearl

Chapter Two: The Facility

The Facility sat deep in the woods, far off the beaten path and miles from the nearest paved road. Transports were always at their most vulnerable in the last stretch as the bumpy dirt roads jostled wounds and made medical care inefficient. Especially with a package in as bad shape as theirs, the last few miles were the final trial to get the delivery completed.

Or, they should have been.

Inside the facility, extraction team two was in a pickle.

Still in their grey coveralls, they stood beside the stretcher in a small room just a few steps inside of the moderate grey building. The driver had removed his mask and glasses but kept the hat. His partner was still in full gear, speckled with blood from his work keeping the package alive. 

On the other side of the stretcher stood a petite Caucasian woman in a fitted white lab coat. They had each met her once or twice before, but preferred not to deal with her if at all possible. 

Unfortunately for them, for the past few months she had come to inspect deliveries in person. She finished her review of the package and scowled. 

"This is roadkill," she said, nodding her head to the woman on the stretcher. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

The tall paramedic took her measure. Her long blonde hair, he decided, was the softest thing about her. She felt his gaze and returned it, and even the sheen of the florescent lights reflecting from her glasses did nothing to block the caustic appraisal she aimed their way.

That same ache in his jaw flared back up. "Ya put out a call for females only. Makes it hard to get anything kickin'," he said with an edge. "It's bad enough scavenging out there, much less havin' to be particular."

The head researcher clicked her tongue as she looked at the chart in her hands. Her manicured nail tapped against the bottom of the metal clipboard.

"Now, doctor," a deep voice called from down a narrow hall to the right of the room. 

The researcher's head snapped up with a furrowed brow and a twist to her lips.

The man who approached was just as tall as the first paramedic, but as broad as the second. Although also Caucasian, he had a thin tan that suggested that unlike the researcher, he had time to occasionally leave the facility. That tan, combined with his crisp navy blue suit, presented a distinct silhouette against the medically stark white walls.

The businessman stopped at the foot of the stretcher with his natural resting smile.

"These gentlemen here have brought us a patient," he said with a sweeping gesture to the extraction team. His eyes locked with the researcher's. "See to it she gets proper treatment."  

The researcher's scowl did not waver as she held the chart over her left shoulder. As if by magic, a medic appeared and plucked it from her hands, two more surrounding the subject and ushering the stretcher across the room and down another adjoining hall. 

"Prep for a P-strain comp test, stat," she called over her shoulder as her team rounded the corner.

She turned back to the businessman with arms crossed. 

"I need better subjects," she said flatly.

"Oh?" the businessman squared himself despite the foot and a half distance in height between himself and his opponent. "And did I just hear that you put out a sex restriction on available patients when we already have a deficit?"