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Bubbles of excitement rose in Avalore’s chest as she thought about carrying the trays out to whatever was happening on the other side of the swinging door, where the servers wore crisp, white clothes.

A tall man with short, blond hair slicked back from his face with some product turned and stared at Avalore for a long moment. He frowned as he saw her cotton gown.

Avalore met his gaze with a slight lift of her chin; it wasn’t like giving them a closet full of clothing. Every day, if they weren’t sick, they were taken to shower and given a fresh gown.

Shaking his head, he moved out of the fray of those prepping food on dishes.

“Follow me.” He led her to a long cabinet on the other side of the room.

The man opened it and removed an apron as shockingly white as the other staff's clothing.

“Put this on.” He hitched his thumb toward the door next to the cabinet.

“You may use the restroom to wash your face and hands. You should find some grooming items in there, too. Use them to....to do something with all that hair.”

He walked away.

Avalore glanced over her shoulder and noticed how all the workers, like the man, wore their hair slick, if it was short or locked in tight buns either at the top, back, or nape of their heads. She moved on slippered feet to the bathroom, seeing what he wanted clearly.

The bathroom was just as blinding white as everything else in the kitchen.

Inside was a sink, side cabinet, mirror, toilet, and shower.

She stepped closer to the shower and eyed the items lining a shelf.

The individual stall was lovely, with bottles of body wash, shampoo, conditioner, something she had never used, and almond oil after-shower moisturizer.

She was tempted to get in even though she’d bathed that morning.

None of the other women, like her roommate, had shown up in the eight-spigot, tiled bay. When she questioned the morning handler, she’d told her to mind her concerns.

Turning away from the luxury, Avalore rushed to get what the man had asked her to do.

The last thing she needed was for this man to think she was lazy.

This could be her chance to gain experience and possibly set herself up for a new job soon.

Because the clinicians couldn’t need much else from them, what other samples could they give?

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, she ensured not a single strand was out of place. It hadn’t been easy to wrangle her thick, long waves into a neat bun, even with all the brushes, combs, bands, and pins she found. But she was confident it would hold at the crown of her head.

When she walked back into the kitchen with her apron on and cinched at her waist, she spotted the tall man and headed toward him.

“This way.”

Avalore’s steps faltered at the sound of a person beside her.

Apparently, an older woman dressed in a light-gray top, pants, and sensible black shoes had been waiting for her.

She nodded and followed the woman when she took her through another door and into an area half the size of the kitchen, still nice but without the elegance. Avalore frowned to herself.

Various two and four-person tables were littered around and moved off the open floor.

The older woman led Avalore to another kitchen.

All the workers were as uniformed as the other kitchen staff in their white aprons, with their hair styled away from their faces, but they wore tan pants and tops.

No one else was in night apparel like her.

She also didn’t recognize anyone and seemed to be the only lab volunteer.

“Like the others are doing, get the food in the trays, take them to the buffet stations, then help serve it.”

Even though the food wasn’t as artfully displayed as in the big, white kitchen, it still smelled and looked better than it had for her and others in the Dispatch.

“Okay.” Avalore walked over to the others and got to work.

“After the meal is served and you help the staff clean the kitchen, someone will return you to the laboratory dorms.”

Avalore wasn’t shocked; the older woman and probably everyone else knew she was a clinical volunteer.

She couldn’t help but wonder what the Providence inhabitants thought of her and the other women assisting with the clinical trials.

Did they see them as honored? Were they grateful because they were doing their part to help the cause, fighting the illness that killed and was still killing so many?

“Thank you.” Avalore stepped away and went to work.

Over two hours later, the hall held a loud hum as on-duty security workers packed the tables, ate, talked, and laughed with their co-workers. Avalore had never heard such joviality among groups in the district. Usually, everyone kept their head down or grumbled over what they didn’t have.

Now, Avalore stared down at the tray of sliced meat she served at the end of the food line. It didn’t take her long to realize that the food brought to them on the clinic side probably came from this kitchen, definitely not the other.

“The offerings look delicious tonight.”

The voice jarred Avalore out of her thoughts. The line had dwindled, allowing her mind to wander briefly. She glanced down toward the rest of the servers and ensured she had not inadvertently caused a backup. But only this man waited.

She used her tongs, picked up two thick slices, and placed them on his food-laden tray as instructed to serve each person. She expected the man to continue walking toward a seat when she drew her hand back. However, he didn’t move.

When she glanced up into the face of the bearded man with shaggy hair and dark eyes that made her feel like she was on a slide under a microscope—those eyes invaded her, tried to see too much.

There was something about him that was familiar.

In the lab area, they frequently saw guards moving through the corridor, some with batons or other weapon-like sticks in their hands.

Since their comings and goings had nothing to do with them, Avalore and the other women minded their business.

She was grateful for the extra layer the apron provided but still fought the urge to wrap her arms around her chest.

“Well, look at what we have here.”

Ava kept her silence.

“They didn’t take your tongue out in the clinic, did they?” His lascivious stare moved to her mouth.

She swallowed.

“All the better if they did.” He leaned forward toward her, his protruding belly hanging over her food tray.

Avalore continued to keep her counsel, and she looked down the line again, hoping she saw someone else coming and she’d have a reason to encourage the man away. It was still empty.

“Play shy all you want, one, zero, zero, zero, one, three... they got your number next.”

His words made Avalore frown as she looked right at him for the first time.

His smile widened at her gaze. “Yes. Got your attention now.” He let out a rough, odd laugh.

Avalore bit into her bottom lip. She was not trying to entertain any conversation with this man. However, it seemed he knew something of her volunteer work.

For a moment, she was distracted by the sounds of her fellow servers picking up their long-serving dishes and heading into the kitchen.

Thankful she’d been provided a way of escape, Avalore took hold of her tray.

A thick hand manacled one of her wrists. “You see, the others didn’t make it. Not sure that one in your room will either,” he continued.

That bit of knowledge made her pause, and her heart stop. “What?” The word tumbled out of her mouth.

His hand tightened as he brushed a rough thumb over the back of her wrist. “Yup. Gone and carried off to the burn station,” he chuckled, as if other innocent lives were not valuable.

Her throat seized, and her stomach rolled. Could this man be speaking the truth? Were she and Mich the last two?

“That can’t be true.”

“Oh, it is.” The ruddy man glanced over his shoulder to ensure he was not overheard. “Y’all ain’t the first batch. They keep dying. Can’t hold inside what’s foreign and an abomination.”

Inside? Abomination? Avalore wanted to tell the man he was wrong because they were only giving samples, and the only thing they had been given was medicine; then, they took more blood or urine to see how it processed in them so they could test it on virus samples.

The clinicians had told them this over and over and over again.

They even took the time to explain the scientific procedures to them so they would understand.

We’re saving lives , she declared silently.

Ava squeezed her hands around the pan and tried to tug away again.

The security guy's grip held fast. “Don’t you worry, none. With your hips...” He lowered his eyes down her body, salaciously taking in the wide curves of her hips, a testament to her heritage, as he licked his mouth hidden by his overgrown mustache and beard.

“You should be fine. You may be their success story. They’ll use you again and again as long as your body is able to continue. ”

No .

“But, Ole Sals goin’ get a taste before they let ‘em at you.”

Let them at me. Who? What? Her mind was swimming with so many questions that she felt lightheaded and afraid if she didn’t get away from the man, she’d drop like a stone onto the highly polished wood floor.

She may not be clear about what really was going on in the clinic, and she’d have more than a few questions tomorrow when the staff arrived and came to claim her for more poking and prodding.

One thing she did know was that there wasn’t any way in hell she’d let the man near her. Get a taste, the hell if he would.

“I have to get back to work.” Avalore yanked away from him, not caring that juice from the meat sloshed onto her pristine white apron, staining it.

“Run, now. But Sals, goin’ to give you a taste of a real man before they get’cha.” His low rumble of laughter dogged her steps.

Avalore didn’t breathe easier until she was inside the swinging doors. No one even spared her a glance as she got to work helping them clean. She purposely shut down her thoughts and the fear clawing along her spine as she lost herself in the work.

Hours later, Avalore was weary and tired as she shuffled behind a different handler who came to collect her.

Avalore barely registered the clean, empty, elegant white kitchen they passed through or the small glimpse she got through the cracked ballroom door, seeing men and women dressed in finery and jewels as they danced and laughed the night away—her first glimpse of the Consumers wallowing in their luxury.

While Dispatchers starved and scraped by.

However, that was a fight for another day. When they arrived at the door to the room she shared with Mich, she stared into the narrow window at the still bundle of her... friend... volunteer associate... fellow prisoner. The last felt like a more appropriate word now.

“What happened to the other ladies?”

With the key in the lock, the woman with short, black hair snapped in Avalore’s direction. “What?”

“The others....one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven...” Avalore counted out numbers that represented people, women who were trying to scratch out a small living by volunteering to be in this place.

“That’s not your concern,” the tall woman’s words were brisk, sharp. The handler pulled open the door. Unlike the guards, the handlers didn’t have weapons.

Hell, why would they need them? We had willingly given ourselves over to science.

“Are they dead? Just tell me that.” Avalore stood her ground and refused to move forward until she answered.

“I can’t tell you anything.” The woman’s voice was flat.

“I get paid to do what I am told. Escort the volunteers to and from the rooms, labs, and showers.... What happens behind locked closed doors,” she shook her head as a shadow of something crossed the woman’s features too quickly for Avalore to decipher.

“I don’t ask questions. Like all the workers hired in the Consumer Providence, I have a family that needs feeding.” With her declaration, the handler stopped talking.

All Avalore could do was nod and move forward into the room. This woman was not where her answers lay.

The sound of the lock engaging filled the quiet room.

Avalore gazed at Michaela as she shuffled off on laden feet to her bed.

Michaela’s tray of food was still untouched on the small table.

Avalore was glad to see the subtle movement of the covering on her roommate’s body, a sign she was still alive.

She wanted to ask Michaela what happened to her the last time she went to the lab. But, since the other woman hadn’t spoken in days, it was doubtful she’d do so now.

The lights went out around her, a signal that the day had ended.

Sliding off her slippers, she climbed into bed, still smelling of the food she’d served, and cleaned off pots and trays. Her stomach grumbled at the scent, but she ignored it as she closed her eyes and let sleep, oblivion, claim her.