Partials

Kira closed her eyes, racking her brain to remember the names of the medicines. “I’m not sure—it’s all kind of rote at this point, you know? You know which ones last and which ones don’t, and you toss them in the piles without really thinking about it. But these vet clinics always have painkillers, stuff like Rimadyl, and a big enough dose of almost any painkiller will get you high. It might also kill you, though, unless you use the military nanoparticle stuff that obviously wouldn’t be in a veterinary clinic. Aside from that, though…” She paused, thinking. If she were a Voice, living in the wilderness and getting into fights with the Defense Grid, she’d have bigger concerns than recreational painkillers. She started to see where Mkele was coming from, and thought about the clinic as a military target. “Clinics like that have a lot of meds a group of rebels might find really useful,” she said. “Antibiotics, antiparasitics, flea powders and shampoos—there’s any number of things a band of forest raiders could make good use of.”

“Interesting,” said Mkele. “You’ll have to forgive my ignorance on the subject of veterinary clinics, but do you think there’s any way to find a record of their inventory? It might be possible to determine, within a small margin of error, exactly what might have been present, missing, or tampered with.”

“I doubt they have anything on paper,” said Kira, “but the clinic had a computer system. You could hook it up to a generator and hope they stored their inventory on the hard drive. If they stored it on an exterior network, you’re probably out of luck.” They used computers in the hospital, thanks to the solar panels, but the old world had used them for everything, all linked together in a worldwide network Kira couldn’t even fathom. It had collapsed along with the power grid, and everything on it had been lost forever.

“We’ll do that,” said Mkele, nodding. “Is there anything else you think might help us?”

Kira shrugged. “If I remember anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Thank you very much for your time,” said Mkele, gesturing to the door. “You’re free to go.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Private Brown drove Kira home in a small wagon, and she sat in the back holding tightly to Marcus’s hand. Jayden and his soldiers were staying for more debriefing. She didn’t see Gianna or Tovar.

It was nearing twilight, and the rocking of the wagon was putting Marcus to sleep. Kira watched as his head drooped, nodding, then jerked up as he came awake, then slowly dropped again. Over and over. The horse’s hoofbeats echoed dully off the empty houses, but as they drew closer to the populated area, Kira saw the familiar signs of human activity: painted houses, mowed lawns, roofs that were still standing. East Meadow. Kira watched closely for the gleam of reflected light, and smiled when she saw it: glass windows. Everywhere else on the island the windows had been shattered by cats and birds and weather and the uneven shifting as wooden walls rotted around them. Not here. Here the windows were protected and cared for, and most were still as clean and clear as a piece of solid sky. Out in the wilderness there were thieves and the Voice and the dying carcass of an entire world.

Here, there were glass windows.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” said Kira, bumping Marcus’s ear with her shoulder. “We’re almost home.”

“I didn’t order sushi.”

“What?”

Marcus opened his eyes warily. “What did I say?”

“Nothing I have to smack you for. You’re lucky you were dreaming about food instead of girls.”

“I’m male,” said Marcus, rubbing his eyes. “It was a fifty-fifty shot.”

“Our overnight vacation turned into two days, a Voice attack, and a military debrief,” said Kira. “You think we’ll get in trouble for missing work today at the hospital?”

“The Defense Grid must have told them what was going on,” said Marcus, stretching the kinks from his neck. “I figure if we even try to go in for the rest of the day, they’ll send us home with ration packs of chicken soup.”

Kira laughed. “That sounds like an excellent reason not to go in.”

Marcus grinned and looked at the sun. “Not much daylight left, anyway. And if they’d send us home from the day shift, there’s no way they’d let us work the night.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Kira, shifting her weight on the hard floor of the wagon. “I’m going to head home, get cleaned up, and fall asleep. I might wake up for the party this weekend, but I’m not making any promises.”

“I wouldn’t miss that party for the world,” said Marcus. “Xochi’s gonna make a chicken—a real, live chicken. Though I suppose it won’t be live for long. I’ll even pluck the scabby thing myself.”

“You think her mother will be there?”

“Senator Kessler?” asked Marcus, his jaw falling open in disbelief. “Xochi owns a gun now—Kessler won’t get anywhere near the place.”

Kira laughed and nodded. She hoped Xochi wouldn’t actually shoot her adopted mother—but she couldn’t be sure.