Dark Horizons (The Red Sector Chronicles) Read Free Page B

immediately,” the soldier said. The girl sat there, staring at me with fear in her eyes. The man cleared his throat and she blinked, nodding and pressing a button.
    Her squeaky voice blared over the intercom system. “Dr. De Lange, please come to the front lobby.”
    We stood there, with me tapping my foot. I hadn’t realized I was grinding my teeth together until my gums started to hurt. Every muscle in my body felt like it was wound as tight as it could be, like any sudden movements and I would literally snap in half. I busied myself with listening to Aden’s shallow breathing, noting the faint gurgling sound coming from his lungs. A wave of nausea rolled through me, but I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge it and let my fear get the best of me.
    “Sergeant McAllister.”
    I turned, finding the escort extending a mask to me. “You should put this on.”
    I groaned . “ As I told the last bunch, I don’t need it .”
    When the soldier opened his mouth to protest, Aden cut him off. “She’s immune, Dennison.”
    Before he could argue , the sharp tap-tap of s tilettos rapped toward us. A moment later, a bolt clicked and a tall woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties burst through the double doors from behind the desk.
    I always thought Paris belonged in one of those classy, black-and-white movies, with her long lashes, deep auburn hair, and flawless complexion. She looked like she had come straight from the New Year’s Eve bash that had taken place on the base earlier; a red silk dress clung to her tall frame, partially obscured by her white lab coat. All the medical staff wore them, along with a red cross sewn onto the right shoulder, followed by a caduceus. Four gold chevrons pointed down in a stream below the winged staff, marking her as a top-level doctor.
    Paris’ s sharp eyes fixed on us immediately, and though I couldn’t see her mouth because of the mask, I knew her crimson lips were set in a deep frown. Adjusting her ruby-rimmed glasses, she strode toward us. “I should have known you’d be involved in this mess,” she said in her thick French accent, pausing to glare at me.
    On any other day, I wouldn’t have hesitated to sling sarcasm right back at her, but today I opted to ignore h er barb. It seemed too trivial , given the circumstances . I leaned in, trying to keep my voice down. “Aden’s been infected.”
    Her eyes widened , and she pressed the stethoscope draped around her neck to Aden’s chest . All the rosiness drained out of her cheeks as sh e listened. After a few seconds she straightened, her face all business. Whipping out her pager, she punched in a code, and less than thirty seconds later a nurse appeared , pushing a wheelchair. She lo oked young, maybe about my age , with dimples and a ponytai l that looked annoyingly perky. “You paged, Dr. De Lange?” she asked brightly.
    “Yes,” Paris repl ied, jerking a finger at Aden. “Take him to a room immediately.”
    The girl’s gaze landed on Aden , and a blush stained her cheeks as she eyed him up and down. “Is that Captain Knight?” she asked a little breathlessly.
    A low growl rose in my throat, and I would have hissed at her had Paris not said, “You’re one of my interns. You’re here to learn about medicine, not to treat this profession as some kind of a dating service. Is that understood?”
    “Y – yes, ma’am,” she stammered, blushing profusely. She kept her eyes glued to the ground as she wheeled the chair over and I helped Aden sit.
    “I’ll take him,” I said, pushing my way behind the chair and gripping the handles. The girl moved without protest, a little stunned by my audacity.
    Below me, I heard Aden softly chuckle. “Easy, tiger. I promise you’ll have me all to yourself soon.”
    I was about to come back with an equally smartass remark when Paris snapped her fingers, clearly irritated by the girl, who stood there gawking . “Get moving!”
    “Ye – yes, m a’am!” The girl