to know?”
“Tell me about the veterinary clinic.”
“What?”
“The clinic you and Marcus Valencio were assigned to salvage—tell me what you saw there.”
“I thought you wanted to know about the bomb.”
“I have already spoken to other witnesses who were present both before and during the explosion, and their information trumps yours in that area. The clinic, on the other hand, you experienced directly. Tell me about it.”
“It was a clinic,” said Kira, searching for something interesting to say. “It was the same as every clinic we salvage—old, smelly, falling apart. There was a pack of dogs living in it, and, um . . . what else do you want to know?”
“Did you see any dogs when you were there?”
“No, why? Is that important?”
“I have no idea,” said Mkele, “though it does seem odd that a pack of wild dogs would fail to defend their home against a group of invaders.”
“I guess so,” said Kira. “Maybe the salvage group that went through a few days earlier scared them all off.”
“It’s possible.”
“Um, what else . . . ,” said Kira. “We started on the meds, and then the bomb went off after just a few minutes, so we didn’t get a chance to test the X-ray machine.”
“So you saw the front exterior, the foyer, and the medicine storage.”
Kira nodded. “Yeah.”
“Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”
“Nothing comes to mind. Except . . .” She paused, remembering the marks in the dust. “Now that you mention it, the pill bottles had all been messed with before we got there.”
“Messed with?”
“Moved,” said Kira, “like someone had gone through them or something. Like they were looking for something.”
“How recently?”
“Not very long. There were smudges and tracks and marks all through the dust, both up in the cupboard and down on the counter.”
“It could have been, as you suggested with the dogs, the grunt salvage crew that went through before you.”
“I guess,” said Kira, “but I’ve never seen any of the grunt crews go through the meds like that.”
Mr. Mkele pursed his lips, thinking. “Do any of the drugs you found there have recreational uses?”
“You think one of the grunts was trying to get high?”
“It is one of many possibilities, yes.”
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.”
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.”
