Post by Noah on Jan 20, 2009 21:23:49 GMT -5
Noah awoke with a white light blaring in his eyes. Cold lactated ringers pumped through his veins along with pain-killers and new blood. His wrist hurt from the large needle that was inserted that was peirced straight into the vein.
He didn't know any of this. All he knew was that he was in a strange place and in pain. His survival instincts instantly kicked in. His hand slid down to his pistol on his hip. The only problem was it wasn't there, nor was the bowie knife on the opposite hip. The most ditrubing part was that his neck knife was missing. He hadn't removed that since the beginning of the outbreak, no matter what had happened, he'd kept that through it all.
His hand also didn't feel the familiar jeans as it fell on his hip. Nor was there the tug of the coat arms as he moved or the comforting pressure his baseball cap applied to the temples when the brim was curved just right, which it always was. Something was greiviously wrong.
His eyes darted around the room. Two people were in the room. One who looked like a doctor and a second who had the appearance of a nurse. They could simply have been a nurse and doctor but Noah's mind wasn't functioning on the usual cognitive level. Devoid of weapons and in a simple paper frock, he felt exposed and helpless. His mind had slipped into fight-or-flight and he almost always chose flight.
Noah sat upright in the bed. The nurse turned around, surprised to see him moving.
"Oh, Mr. Kling! Lay back down. You really shouldn't be moving in your condition."
She made a motion towards him to ease him back down but the unexpected impact of Noah's fist into her face knocked her back into the wall, knocking over a set of shelves which clattered to the floor. The doctor made a motion towards him but Noah was already out of bed. He tackled the doctor in the stomach, sending them both crashing through the door and into the hallway. After knocking the doctor out with a blow to the temple, Noah took the doctors coat and began running down the hallway, barefeet slapping against the cold linoleum and the coat held tight around him.
He heard footsteps racing after him, heavy boots. Noah spun around to see two orderlies making their way towards him. They didn't look like they were sent to be friendly, especially not with the nurse behind them, gushing blood from a broken nose. Noah turned and ran, heading for the window. A few steps away from the large glass window, Noah lept and curled into a fetal position. He crashed through the window and burst into the cold winter air in a shower of glass, three stories above the Malton streets.
He slammed onto the fire escape of the building opposite, something in his left arm broke. He began to climb upwards. The orderlies had stopped at the broken out window and were yelling into their radios. Beneath him, Noah saw people streaming out of the yellow-lighted doors into the night. Once Noah had reached the rooftop, he looked upwards. He judged by the stars which way was north and began eastwards, perpendicular to the hospital.
Once he was a good mile plus away he stopped and began to think. He was lost, without supplies, in the night with only a thin doctors coat and no shoes. His feet were bloody and he had numerous scratches all over his body from glass and falling. His head was freezing since he'd lost his hair from the radiation and he felt very weak and sleepy. His arm was in pain and the pain-killers were starting to wear off. All in all, he was screwed.
"Good job, Noah," he whispered to himself, alone on the dark rooftop, "Your in one hell of a shithole, again."
He fell asleep shivering, praying he wouldn't succumb to hypothermia.
He didn't know any of this. All he knew was that he was in a strange place and in pain. His survival instincts instantly kicked in. His hand slid down to his pistol on his hip. The only problem was it wasn't there, nor was the bowie knife on the opposite hip. The most ditrubing part was that his neck knife was missing. He hadn't removed that since the beginning of the outbreak, no matter what had happened, he'd kept that through it all.
His hand also didn't feel the familiar jeans as it fell on his hip. Nor was there the tug of the coat arms as he moved or the comforting pressure his baseball cap applied to the temples when the brim was curved just right, which it always was. Something was greiviously wrong.
His eyes darted around the room. Two people were in the room. One who looked like a doctor and a second who had the appearance of a nurse. They could simply have been a nurse and doctor but Noah's mind wasn't functioning on the usual cognitive level. Devoid of weapons and in a simple paper frock, he felt exposed and helpless. His mind had slipped into fight-or-flight and he almost always chose flight.
Noah sat upright in the bed. The nurse turned around, surprised to see him moving.
"Oh, Mr. Kling! Lay back down. You really shouldn't be moving in your condition."
She made a motion towards him to ease him back down but the unexpected impact of Noah's fist into her face knocked her back into the wall, knocking over a set of shelves which clattered to the floor. The doctor made a motion towards him but Noah was already out of bed. He tackled the doctor in the stomach, sending them both crashing through the door and into the hallway. After knocking the doctor out with a blow to the temple, Noah took the doctors coat and began running down the hallway, barefeet slapping against the cold linoleum and the coat held tight around him.
He heard footsteps racing after him, heavy boots. Noah spun around to see two orderlies making their way towards him. They didn't look like they were sent to be friendly, especially not with the nurse behind them, gushing blood from a broken nose. Noah turned and ran, heading for the window. A few steps away from the large glass window, Noah lept and curled into a fetal position. He crashed through the window and burst into the cold winter air in a shower of glass, three stories above the Malton streets.
He slammed onto the fire escape of the building opposite, something in his left arm broke. He began to climb upwards. The orderlies had stopped at the broken out window and were yelling into their radios. Beneath him, Noah saw people streaming out of the yellow-lighted doors into the night. Once Noah had reached the rooftop, he looked upwards. He judged by the stars which way was north and began eastwards, perpendicular to the hospital.
Once he was a good mile plus away he stopped and began to think. He was lost, without supplies, in the night with only a thin doctors coat and no shoes. His feet were bloody and he had numerous scratches all over his body from glass and falling. His head was freezing since he'd lost his hair from the radiation and he felt very weak and sleepy. His arm was in pain and the pain-killers were starting to wear off. All in all, he was screwed.
"Good job, Noah," he whispered to himself, alone on the dark rooftop, "Your in one hell of a shithole, again."
He fell asleep shivering, praying he wouldn't succumb to hypothermia.