Anna led Bryan's group into the clinic. In the waiting area to the left, a handful of residents sat scattered across the chairs. At the center of the room, several men with lacerations supported each other, standing and calling out for help.
Blood dripped steadily from wounds on their arms and legs, spattering the tile floor. A crowd of onlookers had pressed in around them—explaining why the place looked so packed from outside.
Before long, several white-clad nurses hurried down from upstairs, directing the injured men to sit and scrambling to clean their wounds. Naturally, the first order of business was confirming they had supply cards to pay.
It sounded heartless, but the logic was simple. Any QZ resident willing to work could earn supply cards. If you didn't have any, you were either unwilling to contribute—in which case, an injury or death was no great loss—or you'd been robbed, in which case… bad luck.
The QZ didn't tolerate robbery, of course. Reports to the administration center would trigger an investigation. And since the threat of card theft had become common knowledge, most people guarded theirs carefully. Actual theft was relatively rare.
Anna spared the commotion a glance, then walked straight to the reception desk. A young female nurse sat behind it, roughly her own age.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for someone named Marlene. Is she here?"
The young nurse had been watching the chaos in the middle of the room and startled at being addressed. She turned, took a moment to process the question, then jumped to her feet—perhaps from nervousness.
"Mar—Marlene isn't here right now. She left a little while ago with some soldiers to pick up medication from District G. Is there something you need her for?"
Disappointment flickered across Anna's face, but she pressed on. "When will she be back?"
The nurse scratched her head, eyes rolling upward in thought. "I'm not sure exactly, but she's been gone a while. Shouldn't be too much longer."
Anna nodded. They'd confirmed Marlene worked here—no rush now. They could wait.
She turned and signaled the others with a look, then headed toward the waiting area chairs.
"AAAGH—!"
But as they passed the cluster of injured men, a howl of pain split the air, followed by a young woman's gasp. Every head in the clinic turned.
A heavyset man with a deep gash on his thigh was clutching his leg, face contorted in agony. He screamed at the nurse who'd fallen to the floor in front of him: "Goddammit, do you even know how to stitch?! Are you trying to kill me?!"
The young nurse—fresh out of school—had clearly never faced anything like this. She sat frozen on the ground, eyes wide, completely unresponsive.
The other nurses nearby, midway through prepping to stitch up the remaining patients, froze as well, hands suspended in mid-motion.
Bryan stood watching. He glanced at the nurse on the floor, then at the man's leg propped on the examination platform, the suturing tools beside it. He frowned slightly. Nurses weren't typically authorized to perform sutures—especially not green ones like these.
But then again—this was the apocalypse. Trained personnel were in desperately short supply. If someone could hold a needle, that was good enough. Beggars couldn't be choosers.
He also noticed the nurse hadn't used any anesthetic. No wonder the man had screamed. But that made sense too—anesthetic was far too precious to waste on something this routine.
Seeing the nurse's deer-in-headlights expression, the man slammed his palm on the armrest and bellowed toward the reception desk. "Is there no actual doctor in this place?! I paid my supply cards—and you send some little girl to botch the job?!"
The young receptionist, who'd barely recovered from dealing with Anna's group, nearly jumped out of her skin. "D-Dr. April is… she's treating another p-patient. Your injuries aren't… aren't really that s-serious—"
"WHAT?!"
The man cut her off with a roar. He braced both hands on the chair, looking ready to stand up and cause a scene.
The receptionist clamped her mouth shut, tears glistening in her eyes, and ducked behind the desk.
"Sir, please calm down!"
Anna had seen enough. She pushed through the crowd without hesitation, stepping into the open. "Anyone can see these nurses just came out of school. Suturing shouldn't be beyond them—they just need some real-world experience."
"Real-world experience?"
The man stared at this girl who'd inserted herself into the situation. For a moment, he seemed almost amused despite his fury. He jabbed a finger at his wound. "And why should my leg be their practice dummy? I paid my supply cards for this!"
Anna scoffed. "Look, this isn't the old world where paying makes you king. The world's ended. Frankly? Be grateful there's anyone here to treat you at all."
She tilted her chin toward the clinic entrance. "Also—there are armed soldiers right at the door. I'd advise against making trouble."
"You—!"
The man's face flushed with rage. His first instinct was to signal his buddies. Nobody talked to him like that. But something made him stop. He glanced toward the entrance. Sure enough, the soldiers were already eyeing the commotion. He clenched his jaw, wrestling with himself, and reason narrowly won out over impulse.
Anna didn't bother watching his internal struggle. She turned to the nurse still sitting dazed on the floor. "Can you finish this suture or not?"
"No!" The man answered before the nurse could, shouting, "If it's her, I'd rather leave it unstitched!"
"Then leave. Nobody's forcing you."
Anna shot him a withering look, then added: "Fair warning, though—if you don't close that wound, the healing time will be extremely long, and the risk of infection is significant."
She turned back to the nurse. "I'll ask again. Can you finish the suture?"
The nurse had regained her senses by now. She looked down at her own trembling hands, her expression complicated. Slowly, she shook her head. She didn't say a word.
"Alright, get up."
Anna's face betrayed no judgment. She simply extended a hand, pulled the girl to her feet, and took the suturing tools from her. "In that case, I'll do it while you watch and learn."
...
Get 20+ chapters ahead on - P.a.t.r.e.o.n "RoseWhisky"