|
|
Post by Murray Jay Suskind on Mar 12, 2007 19:31:30 GMT -5
[The Set-up]
One of the busier hospitals in Malton, even before the zombie outbreaks, Catherine General has become the anchor of a vital complex in the Stanbury Village section of town. It is next door to a Necrotech facility, and is often home to the recovery efforts after survivor setbacks in Ridleybank, Barhahville and Nichols Mall.
This week is especially busy as a massive zombie horde has smashed all of the malls to the east of the area, sending a flood of battered, bruised and beaten survivors to this isolated stretch of Stanbury Village to recover.
At the hospital are legendary surgeons like Dr. Pierre St. Laurent and Dr. Miriam Goodwin. Amongst the flood of survivors hitting the hospital is Murray Jay Suskind. Who stops and glances at the "No Guns Allowed" sign posted over the strong but passable barricades. Stationed just on the other side was a guard with a wicked looking submachine gun who took Murray's three pistols and dozen or so clips. As Murray was handed a number he laughed at the thought of a coat check for guns, "You can claim your weapons when you leave."
A tired looking nurse warily glanced up at Murray asking, "How may I help you?"
"Well, I have a neck wound that ought to be looked at, that and I just got revived."
The nurse shrugged and said, "You're a low priority right now. We're in full-blown triage with this fucking Mall Tour sending everyone our way. You might want to see if someone has a FAK in the waiting room. If not, you may have to wait a few hours."
As Murray settled down in the waiting room, he took a fleeting glance at the magazines that were probably outdated even before the uprising when something caught his eye. A familiar face who was wearing a poncho. As he walked up to her he said, "Uh... sorry about making waste a needle and a FAK back there."
|
|
|
|
Post by Tovarisch Khrushchev on Mar 12, 2007 19:39:51 GMT -5
Ivan Khrushchev fumbled with his DNA Scanner as he pricked the half rotted flesh of the zombie strapped to the operating table. The Mall Tour had flooded the hospital he was stationed at with plenty of undead and living people alike, and the combination of lack of sleep and constant working had driven him nearly mad. Luckily, unlike his brother, he was good at keeping his cool. The DNA Scanner beeped loudly, and the screen flashed with garbled symbols, and then an error message. The zombies cortex was damaged, and the scan had failed.
"This ones a rotter!" Ivan said, shouting to the other doctors in the back room.
Ivan recorded the condition of the rotter, and moved on to the next patient.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lachryma on Mar 12, 2007 19:46:48 GMT -5
Lachryma looks around the empty waiting room with wonder. She ignores Murray.
"This...is merely waiting room?! Is not operating room?! I is in hospital of future! I is in dream!"
She watches with awe as a nurse hurriedly pushes the wheelchair of a survivor with a stomach wound through the room.
"So...clean. Is perfect place. Is lovely."
She finally deigns to notice Murray.
"Ah, old friend. You submit to be stripped of weapons to come here? Takes brave man to be unarmed in zombie city."
She laughs softly, then steps closer to Murray. She opens her hand slightly, revealing a gleaming scalpel.
"Ooo, you have nasty neck wound. Here, have cloth bandage."
She strolls away from Murray over to the doorway into a nearby hallway and peers down it.
"What miracles are in hospital, I wonder..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Tovarisch Khrushchev on Mar 12, 2007 20:18:55 GMT -5
Ivan, having completed his rounds, went out into the waiting room to take a bit of a rest. The on call rooms had been turned in to patient rooms with the surge of new patients, and the only place to actually relax was the noisiest part of the hospital. It was irony, and annoyance, at its best.
Ivan sat down in one of the few open seats, next to a table covered in outdated magazines. The cover of one had a picture of the Necrotech logo, and some scientific propaganda about extending your life. It was a bullshit claim, but it was an interesting read.
|
|
|
|
Post by Murray Jay Suskind on Mar 12, 2007 20:22:33 GMT -5
As Murray's wound was re-cleaned and re-bandaged, he immediately felt better, but he was still exhausted. "Maybe if I just get some rest I can help out a bit here," he murmured. Before dozing off, though he nodded to the tired looking doctor reading one of the two-year old magazines. "Long day, eh?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Lachryma on Mar 12, 2007 20:22:55 GMT -5
Lachryma turns from looking around the hospital.
She strides over to Ivan, crouches down, and puts her face mere inches from his.
"You is familiar. And not familiar. Is strange."
|
|
|
|
Post by Tovarisch Khrushchev on Mar 12, 2007 20:32:41 GMT -5
Ivan nodded, letting out a deep sigh. He turned to the man with the neck wound and replied, "You better believe it. It seems some zombie horde is going around smashing malls. Its been a non stop surge of patients for at least a month!"
Ivan put the magazine down, and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.
"I wonder if my brother had to deal with this kind of shit when he first dropped in."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lachryma on Mar 12, 2007 20:38:02 GMT -5
Lachryma waves her hand in Ivan's face.
"Hello? Is I invisible?"
She waits a moment, then stands back up.
"Fine. Talk to big, bad zombie slayer. I is going to go get food. Murray, you want specific food?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Tovarisch Khrushchev on Mar 12, 2007 20:40:58 GMT -5
"Oh, I'm sorry." Ivan said, turning his attention the strange women. "I've been a little out of it lately, I blame the lack of sleep."
Ivan rubbed his hand over his gray goatee, and looked up with wonder at the woman.
"That accent...you're Russian?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Murray Jay Suskind on Mar 12, 2007 20:48:55 GMT -5
Murray shrugged and said to Lachryma, "If they have any fresh fruit, that'd be great."
He then paused for a second, saying, "There seem to be a lot of Ruskies around this part of Malton. Must be all of the vodka hidden under Ridleybank."
|
|
|
|
Post by Tovarisch Khrushchev on Mar 12, 2007 20:50:31 GMT -5
"Vodka hidden under Ridleybank?" Ivan said with a laugh. "Oh come on, who would be crazy enough to believe that? And furthermore, who would be crazy enough to dig the tunnels necessary!?"
Ivan pushed the small round glasses up the rim of his nose, and let out another short laugh.
"The stories keep getting crazier and crazier."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lachryma on Mar 12, 2007 21:00:14 GMT -5
Lachryma decides to stick around for a moment.
"Yes, I is Russian."
An awkward silence ensues.
"Oh, I forget manners. I is Lachryma, Czarina and medic. And you is Doctor...?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Tovarisch Khrushchev on Mar 12, 2007 21:02:09 GMT -5
"I'm Ivan, Ivan Khrushchev." Ivan said, pointing to the name tag on his scrubs. "More of a resident than a Doctor...but in times like these we all do our fair share."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lachryma on Mar 12, 2007 21:09:19 GMT -5
Lachryma waves lightly at his nametag.
"Of course, of course. Well, I go get thing to eat now, then maybe I set up mini-clinic in this waiting room."
She turns with a swish of her poncho and saunters out of the room.
|
|
|
|
Post by Prisonner Of Today on Mar 12, 2007 21:25:07 GMT -5
After running for his life from a flood of undead that came out of one of the city's darker side alleys, Priz found himself hopelessly lost. He had managed to evade his perusers by climbing up an old, rusty fire escape, and with a little agility, he worked his way onto the roof of the building.
Looking out over the city, he spots the lights of Catherine General just a few blocks away.
"Damn, I hate hospitals" he mutters to himself, "You can never find a good drink." With that, he heads off, jumping from roof to roof until he finds himself in the packed waiting room of the well lit hospital. He checks in his firearms, and looking around, he spots Ivan.
"Hi there," he says, tapping Khruschev on the shoulder, "I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm pretty sure we met back when I used to run around with that Collosus group. It's nice to see a familiar face."
|
|
