Arena

"This is pretty fancy equipment," she exclaimed as the plate vibrated beneath her palm.

"Takes fingerprints, temperature, blood pressure, and blood chemistry all at the same time," he boasted with a grin. "State of the art. Now please step up onto this disk."

She complied, looking around curiously. "It must be a pretty physical obstacle course if you have to examine us first."

"Just follow the instructions, and you'll be fine. You need to put your jewelry and such in the bowl there." He gestured to a steel receptacle sliding out of the wall. "Glasses, too.

As Callie deposited watch, earrings, and glasses in the bowl, Angelo stepped into a cubicle across the room. Then a low hum sounded above her and a studded circular plate descended from the ceiling, stopping well above arm's reach. She heard some clicks, and the hum changed pitch. Abruptly, ribbons of multicolored light swirled around her, the incongruous scent of warm taffy tickling her nostrils.

"My goodness! What is this?"

"Organ scan," Angelo called from his booth. "Relax."

Again the ceiling plate clicked and whirred. The taffy scent faded, and now a tingle burred through her body like a tiny whirlwind. It stopped a moment later, and the humming ceased. As the lights faded Angelo emerged from his controls. "You're the picture of health," he said with a grin. "I'd guess you're a jogger."

"I do my share. Would you have disqualified me if I wasn't in such good shape?"

"Well, if you had a bad heart or something, we'd have to address that," he said, helping her down from the raised disk. "But you don't."

He gave her a cream-colored jumpsuit and sent her off to a changing booth. Stitched with pockets and zippers, the suit was fashioned from a fine, buttery fabric that seemed unlikely to withstand the rigors of an obstacle course. Though she felt silly wearing it, it was very comfortable.

Only one person remained in the waiting room when she returned--a thin man seated by the hall doorway whose open stare made her even more self-conscious about the jumpsuit. Keeping her distance from the window, Callie sat as far as she could from the pointy-chinned stranger. But she'd no sooner settled when, to her chagrin, he got up and sat one chair away from her, regarding her with an almost leer. "You here for the experiment?"

Suddenly aware that even the Asian receptionist had left his post, Callie nodded and looked around for a magazine. There were none.

"Better reconsider," he said. "Strange things go on around here."

Curiosity made her look at him. His hair was lank and gray, his skin waxy pale, and he had an unpleasantly strong earthy smell. "Like what?"

His black eyes bored into hers, and she thought--absurdly--that they weren't quite human.

The chair squeaked as he leaned close. "Have you noticed...that none of the workers here"--he looked around conspiratorially--"have beards?"

Callie blinked. She tore her gaze away, flushing. "No, I hadn't noticed," she said, thinking of going back down the hall to look for Meg. Or even the lab tech, Angelo. And where was the receptionist?

The stranger leaned closer. The earthy odor acquired a taint of decay. "They're aliens," he whispered. "Can't grow beards like regular men. And they're plotting to kidnap you. Better reconsider."

Callie rose, heading for the hall to the examination rooms. Before she reached it, however, the stranger stood and, chuckling softly, left the room.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she sagged into a chair. No beards? Aliens? What nuthouse did he escape from?