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A week. She'd been here a week already. And as much as Kathy wanted to sit in her room all day and sulk at the unfairness of the universe for sticking her here, she was really, really bad and doing nothing. Just ask Raven! Or Dante! Or Anders! You know, if they were here. She was especially bad at doing nothing when just outside her window were several hundred exes all chattering their teeth at the guards on the walls above them.
So, as an accredited EMT in a place where trained medical professionals were few and far between, Kathy had volunteered to work in the clinic for a few hours every day, in part to spell Dr. Connolly and give the poor woman a break, and part to keep herself busy so she didn't run screaming mad watching every minute tick by that she was stuck here.
Boredom mixed very oddly with hypervigilance.
Today, though, even this place was slow. With regular scavenging runs currently on break due to demonic activity in the neighborhood, fewer people were getting hurt. The last patient--Deborah Jenkins, 33, sliced her arm on a rusted railing--had been discharged this morning. Kathy had remade the bed, cleaned up the patient area, taken stock of equipment and supplies, folded bandages, thrown a load of sheets in the washing machine...and now was stationed behind the desk reading the treatment of thrush, an outcropping of oral yeast. Not really her thing, but it was that or Connolly's notes on the ex-virus, and of the two...
( Yeah. Oral yeast outcroppings it was. )
[Adapted and mangled from Chapter 16 of Ex-Communication by Peter Clines and, oops, I made myself sad with this one. NFI, NFB, OOC is great though. Previous Post Next Post]
So, as an accredited EMT in a place where trained medical professionals were few and far between, Kathy had volunteered to work in the clinic for a few hours every day, in part to spell Dr. Connolly and give the poor woman a break, and part to keep herself busy so she didn't run screaming mad watching every minute tick by that she was stuck here.
Boredom mixed very oddly with hypervigilance.
Today, though, even this place was slow. With regular scavenging runs currently on break due to demonic activity in the neighborhood, fewer people were getting hurt. The last patient--Deborah Jenkins, 33, sliced her arm on a rusted railing--had been discharged this morning. Kathy had remade the bed, cleaned up the patient area, taken stock of equipment and supplies, folded bandages, thrown a load of sheets in the washing machine...and now was stationed behind the desk reading the treatment of thrush, an outcropping of oral yeast. Not really her thing, but it was that or Connolly's notes on the ex-virus, and of the two...
( Yeah. Oral yeast outcroppings it was. )
[Adapted and mangled from Chapter 16 of Ex-Communication by Peter Clines and, oops, I made myself sad with this one. NFI, NFB, OOC is great though. Previous Post Next Post]
