At the very back of the inpatient ward, there's movement behind the collapsed curtain. You edge along the wall and move closer—it's a living person. Wearing an old military uniform, his eyes red with high fever, one leg swollen badly, huddled behind a dragged mattress. He gripped half a steel pipe, and only slowly lowered his hand when he saw you weren't a zombie. [The night it happened, I was here keeping watch by a bed. The hallway was in complete chaos, carrying out patients who couldn't walk one by one... By the time I was carrying the seventh one, half of the second floor collapsed and my leg got trapped underneath. When I finally crawled out myself, everyone who could walk was long gone.]

What you think[I'm not moving. It's even more hopeless out there than in here. At least this room still has a door that can hold them back.] He tugged at the bandage on his leg. He'd found some medicine from the nurses' station, and it was still enough for now. [I'm just out of food. If you can come back, bring something to eat and that'll do. I won't take it for nothing—once my leg heals up proper, I can repay this favor.]

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