Things had fallen into a sort of routine for Law and his companions. The day after deciding to stay, Law informed Margaret, who had woken up looking a little worse for wear, that he would be staying separate Shachi and Penguin from then on, requesting to remain in the guest 'suite.' She'd raised a surprised brow at that, asking why he didn't want to remain together with his friends, but Law refused to disclose the reason why, casually replying that it was his decision and for the best. Reluctantly, she agreed that he could stay there temporarily until they had need of it again, though he could feel her curious glances in his direction the rest of that day. For the most part, he ignored them.
Immediately, Shachi and Penguin reported to her for their new trailer assignment, and were shown to one further down the way to an empty vehicle. There weren't many unoccupied trailers to choose from, having only two empty ones left for housing, but they seemed content with their new accommodations, marveling at how comfy the beds looked for a zombie apocalypse.
After they'd moved their belongings and gotten settled, they reported to Margaret for their tasks for the day. Law hung back and waited until they were instructed what to do, running off to find the other repairmen, before he approached the woman in charge.
"I'll head over to the infirmary now, if you'd like." He offered, and she nodded, wincing slightly at the apparent headache that still pained her.
"I already let Tara know you'll be staying, but there is something else." Law had began to turn away, but stopped and returned when she continued. "I'd like you to teach her the more advanced stuff. She's doing the best she can with what she knows, but as you so kindly pointed out to her the other day," she gave him a pointed look, to which he refused to appear ashamed, "that may not be enough for the group's needs. We'd be a hell of a lot better off if we had two trained doctors around."
"Hmm." Was all Law said in way of his objections. He didn't particularly fancy the thought of having to teach the redhead. It all seemed trivial, anyways. Had she been a more eager or willing student, someone who'd actually chosen the medical field as their subject of study, rather than being thrust into the position, he'd had been a bit more enthusiastic about the arrangement. He found that students who were more inclined to want to learn the material were more likely to retain it and use it correctly.
Margaret sighed deeply, and shook her head. "Look, I get that you two may not get along at first. Just…think of it as an investment. Tara will know how to more easily help you treat wounds if she knows what she's actually doing."
Law didn't really have an argument to that, considering the brunt of Tara's annoyingness was her obvious ignorance of most everything medical. This seemed like the best remedy for it. That didn't mean he had to like actually working to get her to the point of adequacy.
So, with an indifferent shrug, he nodded. "Very well."
"Great." She smiled gratefully, as if she'd expected him to refuse. That made him pause. A leader who felt her people would outright disregard an order? How strange. "You can head on over and start working with her. I'd like you to be present in the infirmary during most of the day, just so people know you're available. You'll have a break for lunch and dinner, but seeing as you never know when things might happen-"
"I'll be on call." He guessed, already familiar with how emergencies worked and the unpredictable hours a doctor would sometime have.
"Right. Sounds like you know the drill." The black-haired woman nodded, cheeks flushing. She must have realized she was talking to a certified doctor, who already knew the way things were. "Anyways, I'll let you get to it." Forgetting one last thing, she grabbed Law's shoulder before he could walk away. "Oh, and…about what happened last night…I'd like to keep it just…between you and me, alright?"
Law held her gaze a moment, until she looked away in either shame or fear. He didn't want her thinking that he was following orders because he wanted to. No, he only felt obligated to comply because one wrong move on his part may have negative consequences on his friends' chances of staying.
"Of course." He finally replied lightly, as if only casually conversing. And with that, he walked towards the infirmary trailer, unable to shake the feel of her stare at his back.
The first few days were definitely the most taxing, both because of the endless questions from Tara, and the stares Margaret kept giving him when she thought he wasn't looking. Honestly, it was getting a bit creepy, the amount of times he'd look over and catch the woman's quick glance away, cheeks slightly pink, fearing that he'd noticed her watching. Which he did. Every time. After a point, it almost seemed like she wanted him to notice, to which he didn't understand her attempt at discretion. God, women were so frustrating sometimes. If there was something she wanted, why didn't she say something about it?
Being used to the rapid hustle and bustle of a hospital emergency room, where one learned to expect the unexpected, things were remarkably quiet and uneventful in the camp's infirmary. Which should've been a good thing, considering they didn't have an unlimited amount of supplies to treat people with. But Law almost wished someone would get shot in the foot to give him something to do, if only to occupy himself so Tara would stop trying to talk to him so god damn much.
The medical-related questions he was fine with. After all, it was part of Margaret's decision to have him teach her. No, the ones that chipped away at his already thin patience little by little were the irrelevant, nosy ones that seemed only to stem from her blatant curiosity of his character.
"How many patients do you think you've seen total?"
"More than I can count."
"How long were you a doctor?"
"Several years."
"Have you ever been sued before?"
"No."
"Do you have really bad handwriting? I heard all doctors do."
"No."
"Prove it."
"…"
"Oh, wow, yours looks really nice. Hey, what's the longest shift you ever worked? Don't doctors have crazy long hours?"
"More than a day."
There was a pause in her seemingly endless questions. A break from her jabbering mouth, a blessedly rare thing. Perhaps it would last more than a handful of-
"What was the weirdest thing you've ever seen in the emergency room?"
Dammit.
Law considered just ignoring her to see how long that would afford him from the next question, glancing over to see her lounging on the cot reserved for a potential patient. Had she been a real nurse in a real hospital, he'd have berated her for her recklessness and unhygienic practices.
The old doctor in him almost responded instinctively with a remark about confidentiality, but considering 90 percent of the world was probably dead, if not more, there was probably no HIPPA to enforce such regulations anyways. "I don't know. It's been a long time." He replied shortly, hoping the conversation would end there.
"There's gotta be something that stuck out in all that surgery stuff you did. You didn't just have a desk job, did you?" The disappointment was fairly evident in her voice, but he ignored that little quip.
Instead of speaking, he only sighed, rubbing at his head to try warding off his growing headache. Tara finally seemed to realize all her questions were wearing him down, and jumped down from the counter to land on her feet. The trailer shook from the impact, before settling back to normal again.
"Jeez, didn't know I was that annoying." She snarked as she turned away with a swish of her hair. Law watched as she opened up a cabinet and pulled out a tattered magazine from the small stack within. "You know I'm just trying to get to know you is all? If we're gonna be working together, I'd prefer to at least know you a little bit. Gives me peace of mind that you won't blow my brains out in the middle of the day."
Perhaps you could do so in a less annoying way. Law thought, deciding that it was probably in his best interest to keep that tidbit to himself. The last thing he wanted to do was piss the annoying woman off, which would only prompt a more annoying angry response on her part.
Passing him by, she walked to the very opposite end of the trailer, where there was a plush seat built into the side of the vehicle. The leather had long ripped away, cracked, and split in two, but Tara sat on it anyways, bouncing up and down a moment as she took her seat. With a flick of her wrist she opened the magazine and promptly ignored him in the same fashion he had to her.
Law didn't mind the silence for awhile, and he eventually stood to go over their medication inventory again, if only to familiarize himself with their store. It would save him time later if an urgent treatment came around. Not to mention, he didn't have to sit there awkwardly in the thick silence of the trailer. His goal was not to be friends with her, rather, just tolerate her enough not to kill her. So far so good…
For the first week or so, this was their normal routine. Tara would ask her barrage of questions to the point that Law could tolerate them no more, in which case they'd fall silent and occupy themselves doing various tasks inside the trailer. Perhaps this wasn't the best style of teaching Law could come up with, but it was the best he was willing to enact upon.
Law was constantly checking inventory and equipment, making sure everything was clean, or as clean as they could be given the circumstances. The high risk of infection made the working environment a daily battle to contend with. At least Tara seemed to understand the importance of cleanliness, so that was a plus.
Sometimes, very rarely, they'd get a member of the group come in with an injured hand or foot, something that required actual medical attention. It was agreed upon that Tara would handle the smaller wounds-bumps, scrapes, small burns, minor symptoms of sickness- and Law would handle the bigger things, like stitches, lesions, infections, medication distribution, and any other assortment of afflictions that came in through the door. Those that Tara could not handle, she would shadow and learn form him how to properly treat them. Seeing as they didn't have a regular inflow of patients to use as example, it was a slow going process, but at least she was learning.
When someone was in for treatment, Law went straight into 'doctor mode,' as Shachi and Penguin loved to jokingly call it, and focused only on the patient's care. Even if he couldn't stand Tara at all that day, he'd at least keep it in check until the patient left the trailer. Thankfully, the redhead seemed to realize this and followed suit as well. When a patient was around, it was all business. Just how he preferred it to be.
Dinner was a quick affair for the two doctors. Tara would leave first to join the group in the middle of the camp, surrounding the fire pit in the middle as they ate. After she finished, Law would take his dinner. Margaret suggested taking their meals in shifts so there was never nobody in the infirmary during the day.
Once most of the group began to turn in for the night, Law and Tara would take their leave of the trailer and return to their own to sleep. It would never be locked, despite Law's initial recommendation to do so because of the amount of medication inside. Margaret wanted 24/7 access to the infirmary in case of emergency. He couldn't really refute that, so he kept quiet, though a little unhappy that all that medication was left unattended and without security measures in place. Perhaps he could request a door with a lock be installed.
It had yet to happen quite yet, but Margaret had brought Law aside with one of the wall guards to talk about how to best alert Law to an emergency without waking the entirety of the camp. From that conversation, it was decided that since the guards roaming the perimeter already had a way of alarming him in some way, they would stomp on Law's trailer to wake him in case he was needed in the infirmary. Law's status as a light sleeper would make this an effective measure.
After more than a week of staying at this camp, Law had resigned himself to the drab routine and dragging hours. There were times when he'd think back to days on the run from the mindless undead, almost missing the constant challenge to survive, the constant need to be planning and thinking and doing. The inactivity wore at his soul. Lack of stimulus, lack of trust, it all added up to him actually missing being out there again. That was certainly not something he ever thought he'd say.
Margaret, after telling the group about their dire food situation, had proposed longer and farther scavenge missions, which had proved successful, as the first group of survivors had returned with a hefty supply of canned goods, enough to hold them over another week or so. In addition, she announced her plan of an expansion to the garden to increase their growing capabilities. Everyone seemed to agree it was necessary, and they'd begun gathering materials to build the bigger wall around it. The construction team, Shachi and Penguin included, were rarely seen inside the camp at all during the day, either out looking for supplies, or away from the group to put together the skeleton of the wall.
Law found himself alone in a camp of strangers most days. The only times he saw his companions were at dinner, and even then, they didn't speak much beyond the casual pleasantries, updates on the wall, and other trivial things. Law and Penguin seemed to be slowly, very slowly rebuilding the broken trust in their friendship, but it was still in the first stages of recovery. Penguin had yet to say he'd forgiven him, something Law had been hoping would come by now. Shachi was just happy to see the two getting along and not yelling at each other. Other than their small chats at dinner, their jobs in camp kept them mostly apart, leaving no room to chat to themselves.
Unsurprisingly, though he did well to hide it, Law lay awake in his bed with a heavy heart most nights, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, or that things would never be the same between him and his best friends. So quickly it had fallen apart…
He allowed thoughts of a certain brunette only rarely, deciding that it wasn't wrong to wonder where she may be, safe or otherwise. Most of the time, though, he reserved thoughts of her to when he was alone in his trailer, staring up at the metal ceiling as he waited for sleep to come. Was she alright? Doing better than they were? Would they ever cross paths again? The odds of bumping into each other were apparently much higher than he'd ever expect, looking back at all the times they'd already met before. Perhaps this is what people called fate, if you believed in such a thing. Law did not, but the evidence spoke to the contrary.
Somehow he knew that Lexi would have been on his side of the argument to stay or not, if she'd been there. Her sense of danger, at least from what he could tell, was sharp. Nothing else explained how she was able to survive for this long already. Maybe a woman's opinion would have been able to convince the others to leave…Dare he say it, he wished she was there. He was 100% sure she would have been less exhausting to talk to compared to Tara. At least she knew what she was talking about, and didn't blather on incessantly about things that didn't matter at all.
Now that he really thought about it, she was rather pleasant to see. It gave him that tiny spark of hope that maybe there were still good people left. If anyone could survive and pull through, it was her.
Hmm. Maybe he should extent the offer for her to travel with them. Then he'd finally have someone to talk to about things he actually cared for, instead of women and construction projects from years back. Hell, the longer he thought about it, the more appealing it seemed to be. Maybe it was time to place his trust in someone new. Maybe he was too cynical. Baby steps, as they say.
He fell asleep still thinking about her, wondering where on earth she could be…
Damien was nowhere to be seen. He'd attached the end of the chain to the bedpost of…their bed, reassuring her that he'd be back soon with his creepy smile, then left through the door, locking it soundly behind him. She'd waited with a tense chest, expecting to hear his heavy boots tromping up the stairs any minute. But still, nothing. Still, she was alone.
As soon as he'd gone, her makeup began to bleed from the unrestrained tears, sobs getting caught in her throat. He'd be angry when he got back, seeing her so messed up and unkept, but it wouldn't matter soon enough.
Her shackled feet clanked together as she dropped to the floor, mindful of how far the long metal chain would allow her to go. About ten feet out, far enough to reach the toilet should she need it, but not far enough to grab anything from the bathroom counter, the chain yanked taught, stopping her by the thick, gold-painted collar around her neck. She watched the desperate figure of a woman in the mirror, staring back with tacky makeup and despair marking every line on her face. It was time. She'd had enough.
She knelt at the bowl of the toilet, reaching behind it as far as she could with scrabbling hands, finally feeling the sharp edge of the makeshift knife she'd stashed there the night before. It had been hell to get ahold of this, but she had it now, and that's all that mattered. Nothing else mattered.
That nervous tension in her belly rose significantly as she clutched the blade to her bikini-clad chest. Bare feet padded back to the bed, and she climbed in slowly, sitting with her legs laid out in front of her. Arranging the pillows behind her for support, she leaned back and breathed deeply.
Eyes travelled to the ceiling, where the tiny carving of her name hovered above her. As far as she knew, Damien had no idea it was there. She intended for it to stay that way. A subtle warning for the next one to take her place. Perhaps they'd be able to do something that she could not.
Her gaze lowered down to the knife, and she held it up for a moment, marveling at its sharpness. Maybe all her fears were groundless. Maybe she wouldn't feel a thing…
Bringing her wrist up to eye level, she positioned the knife right above some of the visible veins, hesitating only a moment before she slit the skin quickly, gasping aloud at the pain. No, it had indeed been painful, but that was alright. The blood immediately began to flow down her arm and onto the sheets beside her. It was warm. So warm. Before she could go back on her decision, she repeated the action to her other wrist, slashing a thin line in her skin and watching the red blood flow freely.
The knife fell from her fingers into the comforting beside her, forgotten as she lowered her wrists back to the bed. The pain began to ebb, leaving her body as slowly as the warmth did. It was so, so cold. Her sense of time stopped, almost reversing entirely. Was time even passing? How long had she been there?
The light shined in through the shutters to her left, and she almost couldn't look at it, it was so bright. When had it gotten so bright? Maybe it was more than the sunlight. Was this heaven? She hoped so. She missed her parents. It had been so long since she'd seen them. She hoped they were waiting for her.
Her head lolled to the side, but when she tried to lift it, her muscles were far too weak to move. Something red began to soak into the pillowcase her head was on, just in view of her vision. What was it? It was so hard to think. Her mind was fuzzy, going slowly blank…
Suddenly everything was black. Had her eyes closed? She couldn't quite tell…
As soon as he opened the door, he saw the lifeless body sprawled out across the bed. Damien sighed in frustration. "God dammit." He muttered, strutting up beside the bed and looking down on the mess. Her blood had soaked into most of the bedding, an ugly red stain pooled around where her wrists were. There was no way those stains were coming out.
"Fucking…just great…" He had to resist the urge to kick the bedside table in anger. Turning in place, he stomped out into the hall and pointed at the first person he saw. "Clean up the mess she left in there! And get me some new sheets. And a mattress." He added as an afterthought, realizing that was probably ruined too.
"Ah…right, sure thing." The man nodded, hesitantly heading in the direction of Damien's room. The leader descended the stairs of the house and stepped outside, heading towards the main operations tent further down the way.
Upon entering inside, he saw Chase and others standing around the main table where the map was laid out. They looked up at his approach, and greeted him with nods.
"Chase, my man." Damien greeted casually, as if he hadn't just seen a dead body a few minutes before.
"What's going on? Thought you were gonna spend some time with your lady." The man looked confused.
"Well, looks like she decided to bite the dust. Slit her wrists, right there on the bed."
"Huh, what a waste. Those were some of the bed sheets we had." Chases nodded along, his gaze drifting back to the map on the table. "So, that mean you're coming with?"
"You got it. We'll leave first thing tomorrow." Damien patted him on the shoulder affectionately, giving him an encouraging grin, before turning and heading towards where most of the laundry was done. Hopefully they could clean the blood thoroughly enough that they could be salvaged.
ns 15.158.61.50da2
