Medical supplies first

Looking down at your thighs again, you decide on the medical supplies. You definitely want a morning-after pill, and some antibiotics and bandages would be nice, too. The last thing you need is to be pregnant or sick out in this wasteland.

Groaning, you **** your sore muscles to move again, and set foot back on the street. Clutching your knife in one hand, you carefully work your way up the street, heading for the doctor's office you know is a few blocks away.

The trek seems to take an eternity. Every sound makes you jump for cover, hoping it's not someone, or something, hostile. Worse, it's hard to see what's in front of you in the moonlight, and you trip over piles of detritus and debris several times. Thankfully, the rags you've wound around your feet protect them from the worst of the damage. Along the way, you find a tire iron half-buried beneath a wrecked car, and you gratefully take it. It's far more useful as a weapon than your knife, which you tuck into your makeshift loincloth for safekeeping.

As the sky begins to turn grey with the coming dawn, you find yourself hunkered down in the shadows of an alleyway, staring across the street at the doctor's office. The place is a complete mess, and has obviously been looted several times. The windows are smashed, and debris and paper are liberally scattered on the sidewalk in front of the building.

You wonder if it's even worth checking this office, or moving on to another one. On the other hand, the rags you've wrapped your feet in are in tatters, and not going to last much longer. You're tired, hungry, and thirsty, and you need a place to rest. With how looted this place is, it may yet be the safest place you'll find to lay your head down.