Blood transfusions. Needles. Glassworking. Plastics? No. There's too much I don't know.

He ran through materials and ingredients for making higher-tech medical equipment but he knew too little. His education on Earth was limited to garden variety high-school stuff. There may have been a general health talk in middle school P.E., but all he could remember was square dancing.

Seriously. Why?

Electronics are a no-go. It will be hard enough replicating gauss weaponry based on sci-fi films, I couldn't make a computer if I tried. Is a heart pump even a computer? It's automatic and has an "on" switch... I assume.

Carl Nevins. Male. 22. Two brothers and a mother.

There have to be substitutes for plastic. We can use clean water pouches for IV drips. What about the tubes? Some sort of reed? Pig's veins. Now there's an idea.

Vora Wilde. Female. 21. No next of kin. Extra clothing is to be donated.

Bellavarn placed the token in a separate pile and speedily filled out a second donation form.

I miss them.

His parents weren't amazing people. They couldn't always provide and struggled to keep a roof over his head. It took Bellavarn too long to realize how much they cared for him. As a teenager, he fixated on when his parents said no or denied him simple what he thought were simple requests. Bellavarn spent the years after their deaths reminiscing about packed lunches and how he always got a juice box no matter how old he was.

Mom always made him memorize their home address, including their work phone numbers. No matter how many times they moved or changed jobs, he needed to remember in case he ever got lost or needed help.

Dingey Office 244-8923, Sparkly Office 212-9292, Power Plant 593-5531, Neighbor Betty's 660-4400.

The point being that those numbers are one of the only things he has left of his old life and his parents. Each number is a portal to a different time in his life. Like when visited his mother's office on a tour and managed to somehow lock himself in the supply closet for hours. The earful he got that night still rang in his eardrums, along with the lingering smell of ammonia.

Because that's what Aurelia needs. Lysol.

"Bell, we're out of tarps again."

"How many crates is that now?"

"Three."

"I thought it was four."

"Technically. We're only at three hundred tarps, though."

"Oh, right. That two crates in one mishap is still throwing me."

"The snake didn't help."

"No. It did not. Crack the next crate and start laying them down. I can collect the tokens and fill out the paperwork while you catch up."

"You're the boss, boss. But now you'll never get to see how pretty my handwriting is."

Bellavarn laughed once.

"I'll remember you said so."

"Now why did you have to say that."

Kerv didn't like that snippet of foreshadowing.

"Beware of snakes."

"And possums. No worries. That's what the crowbar's for."

Kerv hefted a crowbar and jogged off through the aisle of corpses. His acclimation to the environment went more swimmingly than Teddy. When the first disemboweled body landed at his feet, he lost his breakfast. To be fair, Bellavarn hurled as well.

"Teddy. Take a break and grab something to eat."

"I think I'll lose it just as soon."

"Go. Better something than nothing. Grab some for the rest of us while you're at it."

Teddy nodded dully and trudged over to Kelly to ask what she wanted. They exchanged a few words and for once it was Teddy who got heated. Bellavarn couldn't hear the words used but he could read Teddy's body language. Kelly lashed back with some arm swinging, but she never made an aggressive action. Things didn't get any better after Teddy stormed off. He left via the Right Corner for the resupply station.

Each Corner had a meal station except the top one. It was a mistake Bellavarn intended to correct if he ever found himself working here again.

"Ester."

Hearing her name called broke the trance. Ester stood up and stretched out.

"Next time you have access to food you hoard it like a dragon."

A thumbs-up was her response. Then she rolled her palm out in a magic trick.

"Bread?"

Ohh.. Bread...

Bellavarn gulped.

"L-later."

Ester shrugged and bit into the loaf without reservation. She made sure Bellavarn was watching while she did it too.

That girl is pure evil.

There was no sign of an attack as of yet. Which meant that it was coming soon.

They would arrive in numbers, grieving and looking for someone to blame. Spending hours watching their friends and fellows fall down around them, or carrying a brother to triage only to have the doctors deem them unsavable. It was a mob that was coming for Bellavarn now. The inconsolable. The scared. The weak.

And hidden inside their numbers would be the true assassins lying in wait to strike the critical blow.

The best way to identify those threats was from on high, watching for deliberate movements in a murmur of chaos. He'd seen enough cop shows to know how those situations went, and Bellavarn had some personal experience being stuck inside an angry mob.

"God, I hope I don't get stabbed again."

=

Kenzie Lorrel. Female. 32. Three kids.

381 bodies.

381 souls departed.

Bellavarn rubbed his face and posed a question to Teddy.

"Hey, how many people did we come with?"

"I don't know. It doesn't say on the registry?"

"I'd have to count the papers, and there are duplicates which would make it harder. Can't you give me a ballpark?"

"A what?"

"An estimate."

"Sorry. I don't have a clue. I only know that Lionel has four standing armies and we're the only active one."

"This is one of those 'left with more questions than answers' conversations, isn't it?"

382 bodies.

Another was being carried in. A black circle on his wrist with a red X crossed inside. The circle meant immediate attention needed. The X meant he was abandoned halfway through.

Those were two of three symbols that marred the dead. The rarest one was a bright yellow triangle. It told doctors the patient was non-critical and could wait. 1 in 10 there was internal bleeding and they never lived long enough to reach the front of the line. Dead men walking.

There wasn't much that could have been done for them anyway. Internal bleeding was an impossible fix given the limited technology. Or maybe it was fixable with some type of magical equipment. Bellavarn would need to find out before he decided what improvements were needed and what was even possible.

Teddy hinted that there should be another symbol that cleared someone for re-entry into battle. It's a legend of sorts because the marks were always wiped off. There was a stigma saying if you went out with a mark you were sure to return for an upgrade.

Bellavarn didn't know and he was too tired to care.

"Two and one."

Kelly's sly commentary went dry ages ago. Another man was being carried through the entrance clutching at the paramedic's arm. He fought the whole way in, causing hell for the ferrymen. Bellavarn heard the man's protests as he got closer.

"I told ya I get sick. Always, even as a wee boy. Who's the bastard who marked me, ay? Ruger. Where's Ruger at? He'll tell ya. He'll tell you straight and then you'll be sorry. I ain't dead yet!"

They dumped the flailing soldier onto the cot with annoyance and fled quicker than usual. The soldier blinked the pain away while cradling his back.

"I'll be coming for you, you hear me! This isn't over—Ah, hello."

"You're more talkative than my usual crowd."

"Cause I'm alive and kickin'. That's why. Always hated this corner. Buried too many friends here."

Bellavarn followed the soldier's eyes to the rows of the dead. Curious, Bellavarn tapped his clipboard.

"I don't see any open wounds. Are you planning on dying here?"

"Call me Craps. And no, I don't. Just let me swing meself up—oh no."

All the color drained from the grizzled soldier's palette. There was a squishing sound as he laid back down. The audible and olfactory cues made Bellavarn squirm.

"Yup, that''ll be the dysentery. On second thought, a nice lie down will do me good. You got any snacks?"

Of all the things... Bellavarn had no idea what to say to that. Luckily he didn't need to because he saw Kelly sprinting.

Kelly never sprinted.

"Thirty! Maybe forty!"

Adrenaline spiking, the group dropped everything and assembled at their designated spot. Kelly took Teddy aside where they had a not-so-hushed argument. Bellavarn met with Kerv to discuss options.

"Is forty doable?

"I count forty-seven."

Ester's specific count seemed more reliable for some reason. Kerv checked his armor to make sure it was fitted correctly. His sword and shield were in easy reach so he could draw them in an instant. Bellavarn triple checked his baton was there and his hands roamed his pockets counting his ammunition.

There was a whisper from ground level.

"So that's a no on the snacks?"

"Shut it and play dead.

"Hard no. Got it."

Bellavarn ignored the sickly soldier.

"Kerv, talk to me here. What are our odds?"

"Desperate. You need to try to talk them down."

"You don't honestly think that'll work."

"No, but forty-seven is impossible. Talking to them and getting some to withrdaw wouldn't hurt. Otherwise, it'd be best to funnel them at the entrance and then retreat when overrun."

The wagon obstructing the entrance was pushed aside by a very large man. He was covered in tattoo's. And blood. It made the giant tiger on his arm look rabid.

"That's not good."

And the understatement of the year award goes to...