The hospital had become a battlefield in its own right. The smell of blood and antiseptic hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the chaos just outside the walls. Yabe moved quickly through the corridors, her dark skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, but her movements were steady. She wasn't the same nervous girl from her first day—no, now she was focused, controlled, and calm, even as the wounded poured in.
A gurney rolled past her, a man clutching his side as blood oozed between his fingers. Another stretcher followed, this one with a woman whose leg had been torn open, bone visible through the flesh. The sight of such gruesome injuries would have made her stomach churn a month ago, but now Yabe barely flinched. She had learned to compartmentalize—to push the panic aside and get to work.
Hazuki, the petite nurse with long white hair, was by her side, calm and collected as ever. They had become an efficient team, Hazuki guiding Yabe through the tougher moments when she first started, and now they worked in near-perfect sync. The only thing that slowed them down was the shortage of supplies.
"We're running low on gauze," Yabe muttered as she passed a tray of bloodied bandages to Hazuki. "And we're almost out of antiseptics."
Hazuki nodded, her expression serious but still unflustered. "I know. We've been rationing since last week. Make do with what we've got."
Yabe sighed, frustration gnawing at the edges of her calm. "We need more supplies. If this keeps up, we're going to lose people."
Hazuki gave her a sidelong glance. "We're always going to lose people. But let's try to keep that number as low as possible."
Yabe nodded, taking a breath and pushing her frustration down. There was no time to dwell on what they didn't have. They had to focus on what they could do.
Another patient was rushed in, this one missing an arm. Blood pulsed from the stump where his forearm used to be, and his face was twisted in agony. Yabe immediately moved to his side, her hands moving with precision as she applied a tourniquet to stem the bleeding.
"We need to get this bleeding under control," she said, her voice steady. "If we don't stop it soon, he's going to go into shock."
Hazuki was already on it, grabbing the remaining gauze and pressing it tightly against the stump. The man groaned in pain, his body jerking, but Yabe kept her hands steady, her focus unshakable.
"It's going to hurt," Yabe said, her tone firm but compassionate. "But we need you to hold still. We're going to stop the bleeding, okay?"
The man nodded weakly, his teeth clenched as he tried to hold back a scream.
Yabe looked to Hazuki, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. "How long do you think before we get more supplies?"
Hazuki shook her head. "Could be days. Could be longer. We're on our own for now."
Yabe gritted her teeth but didn't let the frustration show. She couldn't. Not here. "Okay," she said quietly. "Let's make it work."
They worked quickly, securing the tourniquet and cleaning the wound as best they could with the little antiseptic they had left. Yabe could feel the pressure mounting, but she kept her breathing steady, her hands precise. This was her job now—this was the world they lived in.
After what felt like an eternity, they stabilized the man. His breathing had evened out, and though the pain was still etched across his face, the bleeding had stopped.
"We'll get you patched up," Yabe said softly, wiping her hands on a cloth. "You're going to be okay."
The man nodded weakly, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you..."
Yabe didn't linger. There was no time for relief, no time for a break. Another wave of patients was coming in, and she could already hear the shouts and cries from the next room.
As she and Hazuki moved to the next patient, Hazuki glanced at Yabe. "You're handling this better than I thought."
Yabe raised an eyebrow, her hands already moving to assess the next injury. "What do you mean?"
"First day you nearly threw up. Now you're calm as a rock," Hazuki said with a faint smile, though her hands never stopped moving. "You've come a long way."
Yabe let out a small, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well, I didn't have much of a choice. It was either get used to it or break."
Hazuki nodded, her expression softening just a little. "You didn't break."
Yabe didn't respond to that, instead focusing on the next patient—a woman with deep lacerations across her chest, likely from some kind of attack. Zombies, raiders, it didn't matter. All that mattered now was saving her life.
"We're going to need stitches," Yabe said, looking around for the surgical thread. She found it, though there wasn't much left.
"Make it count," Hazuki said, watching as Yabe began to stitch the wound closed, her hands steady and sure. "We're down to the last of it."
Yabe's brow furrowed, but she didn't let her frustration show. She worked quickly but carefully, stitching the woman's skin together with precision. The woman groaned softly, but she was still conscious, her eyes wide with fear.
"You're going to be okay," Yabe said, her voice soft but firm. "We've got you."
The woman nodded, her breath shaky, but she relaxed slightly under Yabe's care. With each stitch, Yabe could feel the weight of the shortage pressing down on her, but she didn't let it slow her down. There were too many people depending on her now.
Once the wound was closed, Yabe stepped back, wiping the sweat from her brow. She glanced at Hazuki, who was busy prepping for the next wave of patients.
"We need more supplies," Yabe said again, her voice edged with frustration. "We can't keep doing this with scraps."
Hazuki met her gaze, her expression grim. "I know. But until we get them, we have to keep going."
Yabe nodded, though the weight of it all pressed harder against her chest. This was their reality now—saving lives with whatever they could scrounge up. But at least she wasn't doing it alone.
As the next patient was wheeled in, Yabe took a deep breath, pushing the frustration aside once more. There was no time to waste.
They had work to do.
***
Daisy adjusted the strap on her hunting rifle as she and her patrol partner, Greg, rode along the outer perimeter of the town. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the trees, and the silence of the woods was broken only by the soft clopping of their horses' hooves and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Everything felt too calm, too quiet—never a good sign.
"Something's off today," Greg muttered, his eyes scanning the tree line. He was a tall guy with a permanent scowl on his face, his hands always fidgeting with the reins like he was itching for a fight.
"Yeah, I feel it too," Daisy replied, adjusting the brim of her cowboy hat. She kept her hand close to the rifle slung across her back. Her eyes were sharp, focused, watching for anything out of the ordinary.
The trail wound through a dense patch of trees, the perfect place for an ambush, and Daisy's instincts were on high alert. As they reached a small clearing, the sound of a motor cut through the quiet. It was distant but growing louder by the second.
Greg cursed under his breath. "That's a buggy."
Daisy narrowed her eyes, looking in the direction of the noise. "Fuck. Raiders."
They both pulled their rifles from their backs, eyes scanning the horizon. That's when they saw him—a man running as fast as his legs could carry him, stumbling over rocks and roots, his clothes torn and bloodied. Behind him, a beat-up buggy with two raiders on board sped toward him, dust kicking up in their wake.
"Shit," Daisy muttered, her grip tightening on the rifle. "We gotta help him."
"Damn right we do," Greg replied, already positioning his rifle. "Let's take these bastards out."
The raiders hadn't seen them yet. Daisy and Greg had the element of surprise. She steadied her rifle, tracking the buggy as it bounced over the uneven ground. The man was running out of time, his steps faltering as exhaustion set in.
"We fire on three," Daisy said, her voice low and calm. "Aim for the driver."
Greg nodded, lining up his shot. "One... two..."
The buggy swerved, and Daisy squeezed the trigger. The crack of the rifle shot echoed through the clearing, and the driver slumped forward, the buggy veering wildly to the side. Greg fired a split second later, hitting the second raider in the shoulder. He let out a yelp and clutched his arm, the buggy spinning out of control and slamming into a tree.
"Hell yeah!" Greg shouted, pumping his fist. "Nice shot!"
But it wasn't over yet. The raiders weren't down for good. The second raider, still holding his bleeding shoulder, scrambled out of the wrecked buggy, pulling a handgun from his belt. He fired wildly in their direction, the shots going wide but too close for comfort.
"Fucking hell!" Daisy ducked, pulling her horse back behind a tree for cover. "He's got a gun!"
"Stay low!" Greg called out, returning fire.
Daisy peered around the tree, her heart pounding. The man they were trying to save had collapsed, either from exhaustion or a wound they couldn't see from this distance. She cursed under her breath, lining up her rifle for another shot.
The raider was stumbling, his aim shaky as he tried to steady his handgun with one good arm. Daisy exhaled slowly, her finger on the trigger. Another shot rang out, and the raider's body jerked backward as Greg's bullet found its mark.
"That's two down," Greg said, his voice breathless but triumphant.
Daisy didn't waste any time. She kicked her horse into a trot, heading straight for the fallen man. He was barely moving, his breaths shallow and ragged. When she got close, she dismounted quickly, kneeling beside him to check his wounds.
"Hey, you still with me?" she asked, her voice surprisingly soft for how harsh the moment felt.
The man groaned, his face pale and drenched in sweat. "They... they were gonna kill me," he muttered weakly, his voice trembling.
"Not if we can help it," Daisy said, giving him a once-over. He was bleeding from his side, and there was a nasty gash on his leg, but he was still breathing. That was something. "You're lucky we came along when we did."
Greg rode up beside them, his rifle still in hand, scanning the area for any more threats. "Think there's more of them?"
Daisy shook her head. "Not sure, but we need to get him back to town before they come looking for their buddies."
Greg nodded, keeping his eyes on the tree line. "I'll keep watch. Get him on your horse."
Daisy helped the man to his feet, his body sagging against hers as he struggled to stay upright. She gritted her teeth, half-carrying, half-dragging him to her horse. He winced in pain as she lifted him into the saddle, but he didn't complain.
"You're gonna be okay," Daisy said, tightening the reins. "Just hold on, alright?"
The man nodded weakly, his grip shaky as he held on to the horse's mane.
Daisy mounted up behind him, her hands steady as she guided the horse back toward town. Greg rode alongside her, his rifle still in hand, eyes scanning the horizon for any more signs of trouble.
As they made their way back, the man mumbled something under his breath. Daisy leaned in closer, her brow furrowing. "What'd you say?"
"They were gonna... they were gonna take everything," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "They hit my camp... took all our supplies... killed everyone."
Daisy's jaw clenched, anger simmering just beneath the surface. She'd seen too much of this shit—raiders preying on the weak, taking whatever they wanted, leaving death and destruction in their wake.
"Not gonna happen again," she muttered, her voice low and dangerous. "Not on my watch."
Greg glanced over at her, his expression grim. "We'll make sure he's safe. But this isn't the last of them, Daisy. You know that."
She nodded, her eyes hard as she stared straight ahead. "I know. But we'll be ready next time."
As they rode into town, Daisy couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get worse. The raiders were getting bolder, more aggressive, and if they didn't get more help soon, it wouldn't be long before they were knocking at Banff's gates.
But for now, they had saved one more life, and that was enough to keep her going.
Q: Do you have a job? If so are you proud of doing your job?