The blood drains from my face.
“Mistveil Island is heavily fortified,” Dr. Greenberg continues. “The Mainland government has invested enormous resources in containing those feral dragons because we understand the threat they pose. But Draig Island?” He shakes his head. “Draig Island is not as heavily guarded against escape. The dragons there have riders, they have some measure of control, they’re allowed to come and go, within reason, of course. The border security is focused primarily on keeping threats out, not necessarily keeping dragons in.”
“I…I hadn’t thought about it that way,” I admit.
“The scenario I just described isn’t some far-fetched hypothetical, Miss Lewis.” His voice is hard now. “It could happen. All it takes is one missed vaccination. One shifter who slips through the cracks. One dose that isn’t properly administered or documented. One batch that gets compromised.”
Crap! He’s right. I mean, I knew all of this, but when spelled out so meticulously, I feel my mouth go dry.
“You are on the frontlines of preventing a catastrophic outbreak,” he says. “Every vaccination you administer, every record you keep, every runner you help bring in… Well, let’s just say that it all counts. It all keeps everyone on that island safe. It keeps the Mainland safe.”
“I understand, sir,” I tell him. “I assure you that I take my responsibility very seriously.”
“I know you do. That’s why you’re there.” His expression softens just a fraction. “I don’t mean to frighten you, Miss Lewis. I simply want you to understand the stakes. What we’re doing– what you’re doing – is literally saving lives. The lives of the shifters and thousands of human lives…or more…”
I nod, my throat tight. “I won’t let you down, sir.”
“I know you won’t.” He glances at something off-screen. “Was there anything else you needed to discuss this week?”
“No, sir. Just…thank you for the reminder. Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in the routine and forget the bigger picture.”
“That’s exactly why we have these weekly check-ins.” He gives me what might be the closest thing to a smile I’ve ever seen from him. “Keep up the excellent work, Miss Lewis. Your dedication does not go unnoticed. Do not hesitate to contact me for any reason. I know that Dr. Morrison checks in with you regularly, too. You can count on her as well.” Dr. Morrison is our roving doctor on the island. She moves between the centers, checking in on all of us nurses and personnel who make a vaccination center such as ours function at a high level. I thought it was all a bit overkill, but a conversation such as this reminds me why it’s all necessary.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Your request for overtime and additional duties was approved, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of your day-to-day duties.”
“That’s great. It won’t, sir.” I’m trying to save extra money. The overtime will come in handy.
“I’ll review next week’s report at the same time. Good evening.”
“Good evening, Dr. Greenberg.”
The screen goes dark, and I sit there for a long moment, staring at my reflection in the blank monitor.
I take a deep breath and close my laptop. My shift is almost over. I have one more task before I can leave for the day. Theunused vaccination vials from today need to be returned to cold storage and properly logged back into inventory.
I gather up the small insulated cooler bag that I use to transport the vials and double-check the contents. Three unused doses, all from the same batch. I pulled twenty this morning in case of walk-ins, but only ended up using seventeen. The vials are nestled securely in the temperature-controlled interior, still well within the acceptable range.
After tidying my office, I put the strap of the cooler over my shoulder and lock my office door. Then I walk down a long hallway.
The pharmaceutical storage area is at the end of the building, a secure space with reinforced walls and a heavy-duty door. Just outside the entrance, there’s a monitoring station where someone is always on duty.
Ethan Porter is manning the station today. He’s around twenty-eight, with sandy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a quick smile that he flashes the moment he sees me approaching.
“Hey, Wren.” He straightens up from where he’d been doing something on his computer and gives me that smile that I know is meant to be charming. “Bringing back the unused doses?”
“Yeah, three from batch HF-2047-B.” I set the cooler on the counter of his station.
“Perfect.” He’s already pulling up the inventory system on his computer. He types something and then moves his mouse, clicking, and then types something else. “Okie dokie, it looks like everything is properly documented with full data entry. The system says you used seventeen doses and have three to return.” He looks up at me, lifting his brows.
I’m always impressed by how efficiently everything works. Every single vial is tracked from the moment it’s manufactured on the Mainland until the moment it’s administered. Batch numbers, lot numbers, expiration dates, temperature logsduring transport, storage, and use. Chain of custody is maintained at every single step.
“That’s correct,” I confirm.
Ethan pulls the vials out of my cooler and scans each one individually with a handheld scanner. The data for each one populates on his screen. “Great. You’re good to return them.”
I swipe my keycard through the reader beside the heavy storage door. It clicks open with a soft beep, automatically logging my entry, as well as the time, date, and my employee ID number.
