The Complete Makanza Series: Books 0-4 Read online

  “Put it into park!”

  I jumped, bumping my thigh against the steering wheel. My cheeks heated at my exaggerated response. A guard stood outside of my vehicle. I’d been so mesmerized by the wall I hadn’t seen him approach.

  His belt buckle gleamed at eye level from my driver’s seat. Leaning down, his brown eyes, filled with purpose and efficiency, looked at me expectantly through the window.

  “Park. Now!”

  “Right, sorry.” My voice came out in a squeak.

  The guard waved his colleagues over. Four MRRA employees, holding scanning devices and long poles with mirrors, swept my vehicle. They’d told us what to expect in training, but my heart still pounded. While the four guards did their work, the one that barked at me rapped on the window.

  “Step out, ma’am!”

  I hastily opened my car door and did as he said. A warm, late summer breeze rolled across my cheeks causing my long brown hair to fly in front of my eyes. Pushing it back, I inhaled deeply, but my nervousness didn’t abate. I’d never been this close to the Compound before. The wall, with its gigantic steel gates that looked like jaws ready to swallow me whole, waited just a hair’s breadth away. I couldn’t see past the gates. I had no idea what lay within.

  “Badge?” the guard said.

  Snapping my gaze from the wall, I cleared my throat. “It’s my first day . . . I . . .”

  “What’s that?”

  I tried to speak more forcefully. “It’s my first day. I don’t have it yet.”

  The guard’s face didn’t crack. He gripped a handheld computer. “Full name?”

  “Meghan Janine Forester.”

  “Place your hand here.”

  I flattened my shaky palm on the screen. It scanned my handprint and flashed green.

  “This way.” He led me toward a machine stationed by the checkpoint while the other guards continued to sweep my car.

  “Put your chin here and keep your eyes open.”

  I did as he said. A laser scanned my eyes. Again, the scan shone green.

  “Step back and stand here. Legs spread. Arms out.”

  He held out a metal rod and scanned my body from every angle. When finished, he nodded curtly. “You may get back in your car. Have a nice day.”

  “Thank you.” My heart thumped painfully.

  The Compound’s gates opened soundlessly. I expected mechanical grinding or scraping but neither happened. Behind me, a trail of cars stood in line on the curving access road, like a snake slithering through a field. Four other checkpoints had guards admitting Makanza Research Institute employees.

  I eyed the line of waiting researchers in their silent vehicles. I remembered the days when idling cars, fueled by gasoline, grumbled quietly. Electric cars didn’t make a sound.

  When the gates opened fully, I slipped back into my car and drove forward. My eyes widened at what appeared.

  In the distance, the Compound waited on the flat South Dakota ground. It reminded me of the impressive cliffs at Blue Mounds State Park, just across the border in Minnesota—cliffs I hadn’t seen in over ten years. I still remembered them, though. They too jutted from the earth in strong, harsh lines.

  The Compound appeared to only be four stories, but its width stretched a quarter mile. Its exterior walls were gray concrete and dotted with windows.

  It was huge.

  South Dakota wasn’t the only state with a Compound. Every state in the lower forty-eight had one, although the bigger states had two, and some even three. Ten years ago, the Compounds hadn’t existed. Life had been easy, normal, but then the virus struck. Two years of chaos and death ruled our country until the Compounds were built to help the Makanza Research Institute study the Kazzies—the rare survivors of Makanza who remained highly infectious. The Compounds also gave the MRRA, the Makanza Research and Response Agency, a safe place to quarantine them.

  The Compounds were run like correctional facilities and research institutes combined into one, and although the MRI insisted the Compounds were nothing like prisons, everyone knew they were. If the innocent Kazzies inside of them weren’t allowed out, and they weren’t allowed the basic human freedoms the rest of us took for granted, how could they not be prisons?

  I pulled ahead to the next checkpoint, my brakes squeaking when I stopped, and did the same procedure as the first. Electronic fingerprinting and retinal scan. Over thirty minutes passed before I completely cleared security.

  “Have a nice day, ma’am.” The last guard tipped his hat.

  I nodded a stiff reply and stepped back into my car. Pulling out my map, I surveyed my location and drove tentatively forward. A large parking lot surrounded the Compound. Now, I just had to find my spot. In training, they told me to park in the north lot and look for section B, but since I’d never been allowed into the Compound before today, it took me a while to find it.

  I finally spotted my name in the third row. Pulling in, I turned off the motor and stared at the metal plate in front of me. Dr. Meghan Forester, MSRG.

  I wondered what MSRG meant.

  It was eerily quiet as I sat there. My palms still shook. Now that I was here, finally here, I realized my dream was about to come true. As a researcher with the Makanza Research Institute, or MRI, I’d be allowed to study the virus. We were the only ones granted that privilege. With any luck, I would be part of the team that one day discovered a vaccine.

  Stepping out of my car, I straightened my suit. Although business suits weren’t required, I wanted to make a good impression. I’d be the new kid on the block, with kid being the emphasis. At twenty-three, I’d be the youngest researcher to join the MRI. Ever.

  I walked across the parking lot, my eyes scanning the Compound. I was supposed to enter at North Door 64. Three doors came into view, but a painted 64 in white caught my attention. My flats clicked on the pavement as I hurried to it.

  Two military guards at the door checked me in. I tried not to be intimidated by the assault rifles they held so casually in their arms.

  “Full name?” the older one asked.

  “Meghan Janine Forester.”

  His shrewd, beady eyes flicked back and forth between me and his handheld computer. The second guard appeared to be around my age. He was big, meaty looking.

  The young one raised his eyebrows. “You’re Dr. Forester?”

  I nodded.

  “Place your hand here,” the older guard barked. He glared at the younger one.

  I placed my palm on the electronic pad. Once again, it flashed green. I hated to think what would happen if it turned red.

  “Nervous?” A smile parted the young guard's lips. I glanced at his name badge. Private Williams.

  “A little,” I replied.

  “Most are on their first day.” He smiled again, but I looked away.

  Jeremy had said to pretend that each new person I met today was him, but . . . I couldn’t. The young guard’s eyes were blue, not brown like Jeremy’s, and the guard had strong, muscled arms, not wiry ones like my younger brother. I discreetly rubbed my hands on my skirt. I would never be as comfortable with a stranger as I was with my own brother, regardless of how much Jeremy tried to help me with my social anxiety.

  “Your bag?” The older guard held out his hand.

  I shoved it forward and watched as he searched everything including the zippered pocket containing tampons. I cringed. How embarrassing.

  “All right.” He handed it back. “You’re cleared.” He sounded disappointed.

  I nodded curtly and swallowed my anxiety like a bad cough syrup.

  Private Williams inserted a key, typed in a code, and pushed a button. With a release of pressure, the door hissed open. A burst of cool air rushed against my face and a bright, interior light illuminated the walls within.

  “Welcome to Compound 26.”

  2 – THE LAB

  Holding my breath, I walked through the door. I’d wondered for years what the Compound was like. It had always been this gigantic, cl
andestine monolith off in the distance. Formidable, domineering, and notoriously secretive.

  Unfortunately, its grand reveal was anticlimactic. The short hallway opened to a small lobby with smoky blue walls, a small reception area, and two armed guards. That was it.

  The receptionist looked up. “Dr. Forester?”

  She was an older woman with a ready smile and neatly coifed hair. I hurried to her, my shoes tapping on the linoleum.

  She handed me a badge. “Welcome, Dr. Forester. We’re pleased to have you.”

  I took my new access badge and bit back a smile. The plastic card contained my name, title, and the picture they’d taken of me at training. Jeremy insisted I wasn’t hideous to look at, but this picture wasn’t my best. I’d been nervous and it showed. My long, dark hair was ruffled from running my fingers through it, and my large, hazel eyes were alight with nerves. My nose was small and slightly uneven, thanks to a skateboarding accident as a kid. Tense lips and a clenched jaw topped off the photo, evidence of the anxiety I felt from being around new people. Overall, I looked like a deer caught in headlights.

  A feeling of pride rushed through me regardless. I clipped the badge to my suit, my shoulders straightening.

  “You’ll have to wear that at all times.” Her name plaque read Carol Seaburg. Carol waved toward a chair. “Please have a seat. I’ll let Dr. Roberts know you’re here.”

  “Thank you.”

  I sat on one of the hard chairs. The back pressed sharply between my shoulder blades. One of the guards eyed me, his gaze flickering my way for the merest second. I forced myself to relax and take a few deep breaths.

  It wasn’t long before I heard Dr. Timothy Roberts. Loud, clomping stomps echoed down a hallway behind the reception area. I hastily stood just as he rounded the corner.

  As usual, Dr. Roberts wore his uniform. I’d never seen him in anything but his military green cargo pants and button-up shirt. Both were clean and pressed. His hair was freshly trimmed in a traditional buzz cut.

  “Dr. Forester, good to see you.” His tone wasn’t friendly, but it had never been in the dozen times we’d met.

  I instinctively straightened. “You too.”

  “You must be eager to get to work.”

  “I am.”

  He did his version of a smile which looked more like a grimace. One of the first things I’d noticed about him, when we’d met three months ago at MRI initiation training, was that his smile never reached his eyes.

  “Follow me.”

  With a click of his heels, he turned precisely and marched down one of the bright hallways behind the lobby. His loud stomps echoed. I followed him and once again marveled at his gait. It was unusual, even considering his background.

  Although the Makanza Research Institute was a branch of the Makanza Research and Response Agency, it wasn’t technically part of the U.S. military, as the MRRA was. You would never have guessed it, though, from Dr. Roberts’ demeanor. He was a long-retired medical doctor from the Marines and still operated like a soldier. I’d heard he ran his labs like one too.

  I sometimes wondered if he made mitered corners on his bed at home, or kept his shoes aligned in measured angles in his closet. Dr. Roberts was obviously a man who valued the precision military life had taught him.

  He was also my new boss.

  I snapped my gaze away from his feet when we rounded our first corner. The Compound swallowed us whole. Away from the lobby, everything was white. The walls, ceiling, and floor. It was like being lost in a blinding snowstorm, except the harsh fluorescents made everything blindingly visible.

  “We’ll start with a brief tour.” He didn’t turn when he spoke. “The MRI is housed in the north, west, and south wings of the Compound. The east wing is for the MRRA. There is no need for you to go there.”

  From his tone, I interpreted that as, don’t go there.

  “You’ll be working predominantly in the north wing. The labs, offices, deep freeze, and Kazzie facilities are all in that portion. However, most of the auditoriums are in the south wing. As for the west wing, it contains separate groups employed by the MRI that have nothing to do with your research. Again, no need for you to go there.”

  “Okay.”

  All of this was news to me. So much hadn’t been covered in initiation training. The instructors there had seemed more interested in vetting our trustworthiness versus educating us on our positions. All I knew was that I’d be doing lab work to help the MRI find a vaccine or cure for Makanza. Other than that, I didn’t know much about my new job.

  We rounded a corner to a hallway lined with doors. Dr. Roberts marched purposefully past the first one but stopped at the second.

  “Your office will be here.” A plain, white door stood in front of us. I stared in surprise. My own office? My name blazed in a plaque across it, my double degree awkwardly stated.

  Meghan Forester, Ph.D. Ph.D.

  Dr. Roberts slid his access badge through the door’s scanner. He then pressed his thumb against the finger pad. With a soft click, the door opened.

  “This door will only open to your and my fingerprints and badges. As you know, any sharing of badges is strictly forbidden. Any violation of the rules will result in immediate termination and, if needed, prosecution.”

  They’d definitely made that clear in training.

  He nodded toward a desk. “You may leave your bag here.”

  The office was small, with a desk, laptop, and filing cabinet. Stark, white walls matched the hallway, but the wall opposite the door held a large window. Stepping closer, I set my bag on the desk and looked down. The window overlooked a lab below.

  I smiled.

  Rows of benches held lab equipment used to study DNA. I easily spotted the liquid handlers, thermocyclers, centrifuges, and sequencers. The lab, however, was empty, not a soul to be seen.

  I turned back to my boss. “Will I not be in the lab today?”

  Dr. Roberts seemed to force another smile. “Not in your lab.” He nodded toward the window. “Your lab is closed at the moment. Normally, there’s one research group per lab, but since yours isn’t open, I’m having you work with another group. Unfortunately, we’ve had a setback.” A hard gleam lit his eyes.

  “A setback?”

  “One of the Kazzies hasn’t been cooperating. As they may have told you in training, your group works directly with one Kazzie.”

  I actually wasn’t told that. I’d never been told who I’d work with, and I definitely hadn’t been told I’d work with a Kazzie. My sudden thrill at that revelation dimmed when I processed what Dr. Roberts said. I wondered what he meant by cooperating.

  He opened the door and marched out of the office. I hurried to follow.

  “There are three researchers in addition to yourself in your group. You’ll meet them all today.”

  He led me down another series of corridors to other offices, including his own. When we reached the end of another long hall, windows revealed a second lab. This one was huge, easily four times the size of the lab below my office.

  “You’ll be working here for now.” He swiped his badge and pressed his finger against the pad by the doorknob. The door opened with the same hiss as the others. Cool air washed across my cheeks as stale laboratory air greeted me.

  I grinned.

  “There are two groups working here, yours included . . .” His voice trailed off, mentioning some other details I didn’t hear. My smile disappeared the second we stepped onto the metal platform overlooking the lab below.

  I walked to the railing and held on. My knuckles turned white. From this height, I could see everything. At least twenty other researchers worked below.

  Twenty.

  “Dr. Forester?” Dr. Roberts called. He was already at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you coming?”

  I forced myself to move, but my stomach twisted into knots. Meeting one or two new people I could handle, but twenty? I’d never been comfortable in groups. I’m sure my vagabond, isolated c
hildhood could be partly blamed for that, but twenty? All at once? Seriously?

  Dr. Roberts watched me with a cool expression. Trepidation was probably written all over my face. I made myself smile. At least, I tried to. “I thought there were only three in my lab?”

  Dr. Roberts’ eyes narrowed. “Like I said before, your group is working together with another group at the moment. And like I said before that, we’ve had a setback in your lab. You’ll be working with this group for the next week.”

  I clasped my hands tightly together. “Of course.”

  “Is this the new girl?” a voice called. A researcher walked toward us. He wore khaki pants and a t-shirt that read, Too Cool for School under his lab coat. According to his access badge, he had a Ph.D. in addition to his MD.

  I smothered a shrill laugh. Too cool for school. Right.

  “Dr. Forester, this is Dr. Hess.” Dr. Roberts waved introductions. “Dr. Hess is one of the researchers in your group.”

  “Nice to meet ya, Forester.” Dr. Hess held out his hand. “Call me Mitch, everyone else does.”

  His cornflower blue eyes studied me when I placed my shaky palm in his. His large hand engulfed mine. His skin felt like fire. Or rather, my fingers were ice. That happened when I got anxious.

  “First day, huh?” he said.

  I nodded and tried to smile. I guessed Mitch to be in his mid-thirties. He had dirty blond hair, a full beard, and although his stance was casual, a keen intelligence glowed in his eyes. He was also huge. At least six-four.

  “Not much of a grip there, Forester.” Mitch grinned and dropped my hand. “You afraid I’m gonna bite?”

  My eyes widened, and I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open.

  Mitch laughed.

  Dr. Roberts glared at Mitch. I glanced away from both of them and immediately wished I hadn’t. The rest of the group had surrounded us. All twenty of them, and they were all dressed casually. I fingered my suit collar.

  “Dr. Forester, you’ll also be working with Dr. McConnell.” Dr. Roberts indicated a woman to my left. “She’ll be in charge of your orientation.”