User:Doctor Schweitzer

Day Book

2007

Aug 18: I thought it was odd when the personnel guy from the hospital volunteered to bring me down personally. I had heard that there were some interesting public health issues in Malton that were being covered up by the military. Probably the CIA testing on live civilians again! Can't believe anyone still takes the subway. Anyway, things got really quiet on the last leg in. There were FEMA trailers everywhere and National Guard sprinkled here and there. Then I noticed the tank. Couldn't miss it, big, green, and parked across the road.

"Check point," Terry explained. "The quarantine order is very strict."

"Apparently."

Two guardsman respectfully positioned their rifles in our direction. A third checked Terry's wrist for a pulse, and then mine.

"I'm a doctor," I joked. "If I lost my pulse, I'd notice."

"Yes sir, you would."

He gave the nod and they waved us through.

I served my residency in a real pit. There were drug dealers visible from the doctor's lounge window and one of my nurses is serving hard time now for being too neighborly. But nothing had prepared me for the "Welcome to Malton, pop. 13,299 living, 11,247 not" sign that greeted me. Or the ruined and barricaded buildings. And some of the street walkers looked in need of serious attention.

"The insurance companies have redlined Malton completely out. Various Federal and state agencies have announced programs to alleviate the problems, but we just aren't seeing much help on ground here."

It was mid-afternoon when we pulled into the lot across from St. John's. Boards over the first floor windows. Ad hoc wood shutters alternating with plywood for the next two floors. Scorch marks above the windows and doors. Which, as Terry quickly pointed out, made it top of the market for Malton.

"Lockettside is pretty much as good as it gets in Malton. Stay behind the barricades and everything will be all right."

He gave me two first aid kits and showed me the drill. I went out on my first run. Broken arms. Puncture wounds. And a really nasty bite. Not from an animal. On the way back to St. John's I saw a pair close up. I turned the corner and there they were. Upwind.

I ran and gagged and covered the last two blocks in record time. Terry was stitching up a wound. "Saw one up close?"

"Two. Upwind."

"You're lucky they didn't fart."

"How do you know they didn't?"

"You're here."

I checked the barricades, ate a 3 Musketeers, and listened to the other doctors tell old war stories until I crashed.

Aug 22: Eat, search for supplies, heal the wounded, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat.

Aug 25: There was a delivery of rations today. We were down to canned pork and beans, so it all tasted good. And there was toothpaste inside. Hallelujah. Two casts and an appendectomy today. There's supposedly a heavy zed storm rolling down from the north west corner. We're seeing families and injured moving in ahead of it all. Yesterday I found a boy in the street with the infection, hanging by a thread, a bowie knife clung tight in one hand. I carried him in and sewed him up in four places. For now I'm focusing on learning to survive myself in this madness. We've been blessed for now, but it won't last forever. I need to find a weapon, learn all the tricks, and fast.

Aug 26: Survivors are starting to stream in from the north. Zed has slashed his way to Marken Mall, and Tompson Mall is doubtless next. The malls are going first, 13 of 23 are in red zones and have fallen or are about to. Zed will be here in force in a few days.

The worse news is there is no way out. The Army sees us all as infected and, from what I've seen and heard, they're right. Sooner or later, everyone rises. NecroTech has done what they set out to do. Humanity is immortal. Behind the vacant leer of Zed.