Hospital

"I think we should make a straight break for the hospital down the street," you suggest. "It's not far, and if we're careful, we can make it without much trouble. We can get medical supplies, food, and clothing there."

"And drugs," Amanda says.

You look at her oddly.

"Not for me," she insists. "But drugs are valuable. People will give anything for them. And they're likely to be even more valuable now."

"Are you suggesting we go into the narcotics business?" you ask incredulously.

She shrugs. "It's a different world, now. The old rules don't apply."

Something about Amanda's demeanor doesn't sit well with you. "Roll up your sleeve," you tell her.

She becomes suddenly angry. "What are you talking about, I'm not going to roll up my - HEY!"

You grab her by the wrist and force the sleeve up her arm. Sure enough, there are the scars of needle punctures.

"You have NO RIGHT!" she screeches, yanking away from you.

You turn your back on her. "I'm leaving," you tell her. "Don't follow me. I don't need an addict on my side."

"Those scars are ancient history! I haven't done heroin since I was a teenager!"

"Really?" you ask, not bothering to turn around.

"I swear, I haven't - what are you DOING??"

Amanda's protest is in response you your suddenly yanking out several drawers and dumping their contents on the floor. Before she can stop you, you pull one and spill a collection of hypodermic needles and empty liquid vials. "You been staying here since your teen years?" you ask.

She bursts into tears.

As you watch her cry, your anger turns to sympathy. Slowly, you kneel down on the floor and put a comforting arm around her.

"I c-couldn't take it," she sobs. "I'm not strong, like you are. I thought, who cares anymore, the world is ending anyway... so I broke into my old stash. I meant to overdose, get it over with. But there wasn't enough left..."

"So now you're hooked again."

"I took the shot, I don't know, three days ago. It put me out, but I woke up yesterday. I was so damn pissed to find out I wasn't dead. I thought about just throwing myself out a window, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The cravings started again this morning. I... I don't know what to do, Alex. Please help me!"

You hold her for a while and let her cry. Finally, she blubbers to a stop.

"All right," you tell her. "We're going to go to the hospital. You stay by my side every second. And you'd better not lose track of me, because the moment I think you've snuck off on your own to get a fix, I leave you on your own."

"But... do we have to go there?"

You nod your head. "It's still the most logical place to go. You must have quit once before, those are old scars. Think you can do it again?'

"I... I don't know. But I'll try."

You stand and help Amanda to her feet. "Right now, we're the only friends we've got," you remind her. "We need each other. Don't let me down."

The two of you approach the hospital from the rear, keeping as low as you can. There's definitely activity around, you can hear people's voices, the clanging of metal on metal as they fight, the screams as some of them lose.

A stink starts to fill the air, and you realize that you had failed to consider that many of those who succumbed to the plague likely made it to the hospital before they died. Your stomach turns as you realize that the building could be stacked with corpses. Still, that's almost good news, as it may have kept others out.

Amanda presses something into your hand - you look and see that it's a hospital mask. "It might help," she suggests.

You take it from her gratefully, noticing with some alarm that her hand is definitely shaking. "Are you all right?" you ask.

"It'll get worse," she says with a frightening calm. "Maybe we should find me some Methodone just so I can get through this. I can quit when we're done."

"No," you insist.

"It's my body and I can do what I -"

"I'll leave you if you do it."

Amanda's shoulders slump. "Okay," she mumbles. "Just don't leave me."

You give her a reassuring hug around her shoulders, and proceed forward.

As you get closer, it becomes obvious that the masks aren't going to do you much good. The stench is overpowering, and you wonder if you can breathe the polluted air for long and live. Amanda seems to be suffering even more, and for a moment you wonder if you'll have to leave her behind after all. But since you know that would probably mean her death, you can't bring yourself to do it.

You make your way into the hospital through the geriatric ward, figuring that it would probably be the least crowded. Once inside, you take a moment to replace your masks with towels plucked from the cabinets and dampened to keep out the worst of the reek. It helps a little.

"The upper levels," you tell Amanda. "The offices. They wouldn't have been treating patients up there, it's probably cleaner."

She nods. You can tell she's trying not to be sick.

You pick your way through the mess in the hallway to the central core, where you hope to find a serviceable staircase.