The second checkpoint did not pretend to be polite.
If the first was meant to put you into small boxes, the second was to beat you down until you realized that your body was no longer yours.
The space beyond the first barricade opened into a wide concrete yard bordered by temporary fencing and portable floodlights. The lights were unnecessary in daylight, which made them all that much worse.
They were there to remind people that darkness would not protect them later.
Long folding tables had been arranged in rows. Behind them stood men and women in medical scrubs that were too clean and boots that were not. Clipboards were everywhere. So were the blue medical gloves he never wanted to see again.
Lachlan clocked the smell before anything else.
Disinfectant layered over sweat. Old blood that had been scrubbed but not erased. Something faintly chemical that stung the back of his throat when he breathed too deeply.
