Free Web NovelChapter 128: Chapter 128 - Screening Zone
Iyisha stepped into the screening zone fully geared, the weight of the vest familiar on her shoulders, Malcolm close behind her, positioned the way guards were expected to stand, alert without hovering, present without drawing focus.
The place immediately felt different from the route gate they entered. This was not a simple checkpoint. This was a system.
The zone unfolded like a maze built out of wired fences and reinforced panels, narrow corridors forcing people forward in controlled turns, every path designed to slow movement and limit sightlines.
Overhead lights burned white and constant, washing color out of skin and making everyone look tired before they even reached the front. Armed guards stood at fixed intervals, rifles held low but ready, boots planted wide, eyes tracking every motion.
Cameras blinked red from metal poles. Tablets chimed softly. Orders were murmured and repeated, clipped and procedural.
They reached the central processing area and Iyisha felt her shoulders loosen a fraction.
"Oh thank God," a voice said.
A man with a short goatee and sharp green eyes strode toward them, in a full military gear, relief written plainly across his face.
"I told Marco three times we needed more people in here," he muttered as he shook his head. "We’re swamped."
He gestured past her shoulder toward the outer fence.
Iyisha followed the motion and blinked.
The line was longer than she expected. Nearly twenty people already, maybe more, packed shoulder to shoulder between fencing, some clutching bags, others standing empty handed, all of them watching the zone with that same tight wary focus. Guards paced along the perimeter, herding the line forward inch by inch.
"I’m Phillip," the man said, already moving. "That’s Paul."
He pointed to a man behind a laptop station, fingers flying over the screen as he scanned IDs and cross checked data. Paul looked up and gave a quick wave before returning to his work.
"That’s Mira," Phillip continued, nodding toward a woman holding a thick folder, her posture straight, her eyes sharp as she checked names against handwritten notes.
"And that’s Mikey."
Iyisha’s attention snapped to the last station.
Mikey sat at a metal table stacked with scanners and documents, posture neat, expression calm, the same controlled presence from the casino now sharpened by uniform and authority.
She blinked.
"Hey," Mikey said, standing as he recognized her.
Phillip glanced between them, brows lifting. "You two met already?"
"Yeah," Mikey said, stepping closer with a small smile. "Met her at the casino last night. She was the lucky woman I was telling you about."
Phillip looked her up and down, interest lighting briefly in his eyes as his brows rose and fell. "So you’re the one who made a fortune."
She smiled easily, the practiced kind that settled without effort. "I hope so."
"I’m Astrel," she said smoothly. "This is Lance."
Malcolm did not react, only shifted half a step back into position, the role fitting him like it had always been his.
Phillip nodded, already satisfied, then pointed past her shoulder. "Have him report to that man."
He gestured toward a senior guard speaking quietly with two armed soldiers near the inner corridor.
Malcolm moved immediately, peeling away without hesitation, blending into the flow of uniforms and authority as if he had always belonged there.
"I know you want to flirt with Astrel," Phillip said dryly, already turning back to the line, "but we’ve got work to do."
Mikey only grinned, unbothered. "Talk to you later."
"That man’s a workaholic," Mikey muttered, rolling his eyes as Phillip waved him back to his station.
Phillip glanced at her again. "I heard you’ve got experience."
She nodded once. "Redridge."
That earned her a look of approval. "Good. Then you’ll handle physical inspection. My hips couldn’t take it anymore."
She drew in a slow breath she hoped did not show.
Of course.
That was always the most dangerous part. The closest contact. The place where eyes lingered too long, where mistakes were made under pressure.
"Don’t worry," Phillip added, misreading the pause. "We’ve got full equipment. And guards."
She nodded again, steady on the outside, already running procedures through her head, angles, distances, how to keep it clean and fast.
The gate buzzed.
The first person was ushered forward, boots scraping against concrete as the wired corridor funneled them in. A guard gestured sharply. Another scanned. The outer noise dulled as the inner fence slid shut behind them.
Iyisha stepped into position.
"Let’s start," Phillip called to the guards.
The inner gate slid open and the first person was guided forward, boots scraping against concrete until a guard stopped them at the marked line. The scan frame hummed, light sweeping from head to toe as the tablet flashed green.
Two guards stepped in immediately.
"Outer clothing off," one ordered.
Jacket, belt, boots, vest. Each item was taken by gloved hands, laid flat on the steel table, scanned, flipped, and tagged. A handheld wand passed over seams and soles.
A second guard opened the bag, emptied it piece by piece, running each item under the UV lamp before logging it. Anything metal went into a sealed tray. Anything questionable was boxed and labeled.
Only when the table was cleared did they move closer. "Your turn." Phillip nudged her.
"Underwear only."
The subject complied stiffly, guards watching from both sides, rifles angled low but unmistakable.
Iyisha stepped closer.
At least when they got in Westridge, they got privacy. Here, you got none.
She snapped on fresh gloves, her focus shifting completely away from objects and onto skin. Neck first. Jawline. Collarbone. She checked behind the ears and along the hairline, then moved to the shoulders and arms, pressing briefly to feel heat, swelling, resistance.
She meticulously check on the scalp, every inch of skin.
"Turn."
She worked down the back, along the spine, over the hips, then paused at the upper thigh.
The bruising was faint but wrong.
"Lift your leg."
The subject did. The discoloration spread wider than it should have, reaching toward the inner thigh.
Iyisha straightened.
"Bruising noted," she said calmly. "Upper left thigh."
The man shifted as she straightened, his voice coming out too quickly.
"Wait, wait... I jumped," he said. "I fell off a crate two days ago. That’s where it came from."
Iyisha did not answer right away.
She kept her face neutral, eyes already moving, because bruising on its own was not an infection marker. It could mean a lot of things. Accidents. Restraint. Bad luck. What mattered was what came with it.
She crouched again.
"Hands down," she said.
She checked his fingers and nails next, lifting each hand in turn, turning them palm up, then palm down, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at the nail beds. Infection often showed there first. Darkening. Mottling. A faint purpling that did not match normal circulation.
They were clear.
She straightened and glanced toward Mira, who had already flipped to the correct section on her checklist.
"Bruising noted," Iyisha said evenly. "No discoloration in nail beds."
Mira marked it without comment, pen moving fast, precise.
Iyisha nodded once. "Forward."
Relief crossed the man’s face as a guard stepped in, guiding him toward Paul’s station. Paul looked up as they approached, already pulling on fresh gloves, the UV lamp warming with a low hum beside him.
"Temperature," Paul said.
The scanner beeped once. Normal.
Paul worked through the rest without ceremony, the UV light moving in slow passes over skin and fabric, pausing briefly at the thigh before continuing on. No abnormal glow. No trace markers. He checked wrists, neck, behind the ears, then straightened.
"Clear," he said.
Mira flipped her checklist, pen moving quickly. "Vitals normal. No secondary indicators."
Phillip stepped closer, his gaze flicking once more to the bruise before he nodded. "We’ll monitor it," he said. "Looks like it’s already fading."
The man nodded fast, eager. "Told you. Just a fall."
"Then you don’t have anything to worry about," Phillip replied.
A guard moved in at once, placing a guiding hand at the man’s back and steering him toward the corridor that led to quarantine clearance, not rough, not gentle, just firm and final. The inner gate slid open, then sealed behind them with a muted clang.
Iyisha watched until the fence locked.
Then she reset her stance, snapped on a new pair of gloves, and lifted her eyes to the next person in line as the zone slipped back into its controlled rhythm, lights humming, procedure swallowing the moment whole.
After a while the line stopped feeling like it had an end.
Iyisha’s feet ached from standing, a deep pull settling into her hips from bending and straightening over and over, checking the same places on different bodies until muscle memory carried her through it. Gloves on. Gloves off. Again. Again.
Then the air shifted.
She felt it before she saw anything, the guards around the zone straightening, shoulders pulling back, rifles adjusting into a sharper readiness. Iyisha froze for half a breath as footsteps sounded directly behind her, unhurried, confident.
"Sir," Phillip said, his tone changing instantly. "Long time no see."
Iyisha did not turn.
She kept her hands moving, continuing the inspection in front of her, fingers pressing, voice steady even as her heart began to pound hard enough that she could feel it in her throat. Her gaze flicked sideways, just enough to catch Malcolm in the corner of her vision.
Their eyes met.
He did not move. Did not signal. Just watched her, calm and anchored, and somehow that steadied her enough to finish the check.
Behind her, another voice spoke, smooth and authoritative. "This place is impeccable, as always."
Phillip laughed lightly, the sound easy, practiced. "We do our best, sir."
"Great work as always Phillip. I’m actually here to deliver notice from the higher ups."
She heard the faint rustle of paper being passed, the sound sharp in the tight space. Phillip went quiet as he read, the silence stretching just long enough to feel dangerous.
"I see," Phillip said finally, his tone sober now. "That’s serious. We’ll keep our eyes open."
Her heart pounded. Keep eyes open for who?
"Good," the man replied.
The footsteps moved away, receding toward the inner gate, the pressure lifting only slightly as the guards eased back into position.
Iyisha finished with the man in front of her and stepped back, pulling off her gloves. She let herself breathe.
They are safe for now.
