Day 27: May 5th, Wednesday

Too many thoughts went into my head, coupled with the adrenaline, the panic, the confusion as I woke up, and the quick realization that we might be seriously fucked. I had flashes of torn up bodies, the smell of a burning city, and the vectors...god, the vectors haunted me even when I'm awake. I could hear their shrieks, and I thought: No, they can't be here already. They can't be here outside my door.

I realized I only imagined their blood-curdling screams.

All that went over my head was that this can't be happening again, over and over. When you saw a large smoke like that from a distance, nothing good could come out of it, especially with waiting beyond the walls. Did it fall? Well, the gate was wide open, but did the army contained it? How far had the vectors reached within the city? How long had it been on fire? So many questions, so little answers.

I had seen how fast the sickness spread on the streets of New York. It took my teacher, Mr. Ramirez, two minutes to turn once bitten, and overwhelmed the entire city in a day. The air-raid sirens still wailed outside, and I could hear people running around in the hallway. I had to find the others and made sure that everyone was safe. But how far am I from downtown? Was this a bad dream?

I blinked at the window. No. I'm definitely not dreaming.

I wasted no time getting out of the bed, but when I put weight on my injured leg, the pain gripped me to a standstill, and I muffled a curse, almost forgetting I got shot. I grabbed Betty from under the pillow, realizing I had no holster or even some pants to carry it with. From the other side of the bed, Luke busily put his pants and shirt on. He reached my side of the bed and pushed me back down.

"No, no. You are in no condition to walk about," Luke said, hand firmly on my shoulder.

I shrugged his hand off. "Well, I'm not just going to lie here."

"What are you going to do? Go outside? The soldiers are going to take care of it. This is the Med district, Bren. The army's barracks are here. We're safer here than out there."

"This is a hospital, Luke, the nearest one! Where do you think all the injured will go?" I asked, raising my voice, and Luke froze. "One bite! That's all it takes to turn into one of them, and they're not always easy to find. Look at what happened to Carson and how fast he turned. If even just one gets here... I'm not going to be caught inside this building."

His mouth hung open, on the verge of saying something back, but he kept quiet. I wasn't proud that I had to raise my voice like that, especially to him. I reached out for his hand, and I was relieved he took it into his. I was glad to see him smile, at least. He made me smile, too.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Can you please find me some clothes?"

Luke nodded. "Hold still."

Luke walked toward the small closet at the corner of the room, opened it, and pulled out a duffel bag. I had no idea that was in there, courtesy of Clemons, I guessed. Luke proceeded to pull out some pairs of rubber shoes, a couple of shirts, sweatpants, and another couple of jackets. I sifted through them quickly and picked what I liked. Luke helped me put them on, especially on how difficult it was to put on the sweatpants. I didn't want to run out of the hospital with my ass hanging, in the open, with nothing but my flimsy hospital gown.

The shoes were half-a-size too big for me, but I couldn't call Clemons to complain, so I had to work with what I got. It's better than nothing.

"I'll go fetch a wheelchair," Luke said.

"No. The crutches are right there."

Luke shook his head. "You are not in a good place to walk on crutches. Can you run on crutches?"

I paused. Luke had a good point. I was fine walking with crutches yesterday, but could I run with them? To an end, I could, but that would be a mix of running, speed walking and limping—a tripping hazard and a broken neck waiting to happen. I heaved a sigh, told him to get the damned wheelchair, and Luke strode out of the room, coming back a couple minutes later with it. He gently guided me onto the chair.

"It's crazy outside," he said. "It's New York all over again."

"New York didn't have the military inside it," I said. "I'd doubt Clemons would leave everyone to die."

"It is the army. They've done worse."

I paused. "Yes. They did."

I glanced behind him to the window displaying the chaos miles away from us. "Though, I hope this time it'll be different."

Luke furrowed his brows. "Do you think they're inside the walls?"

My heart dropped. "Worst case scenario? I think they're already are."

Luke then wheeled me out of the room, bringing the extra duffel bag with us. He tried to hide his concern, and he must have felt naked as I am when we didn't even have a weapon, only a single pistol, and its 16 bullets compared to the arsenal we had outside the walls. We're going to need more than that. For a second, I thought that if I fought Clemons hard enough to keep some of those weapons, we'd feel better. Having the benefit of hindsight cannot change the past.

Luke wasn't kidding when he said it was crazy outside my room. Doctors and nurses were busily wheeling patients out of their offices, and those who were able were already dressed. Those who were too ill had to be either carried via a wheelchair or on a gurney. I saw some had family members freaking out, and there were definitely a lot of soldiers patrolling each floor. Some aided the patients to the ground floor where buses and trucks were apparently sent out to evacuate the district. If they're already abandoning The Med, then the situation must be worse than I imagined.

The TVs on the fourth floor's reception area played some CW teen drama that no one paid attention to. I even saw a few sick kids (not vectors) reassured by their parents, dressing them up for transfer to another facility. I overheard one mother telling her daughter that they were going on an impromptu field trip with her friends, trying to mask the fear in her eyes. We locked eyes for a brief second, and it had stayed with me to this day—a mother's fear for her child coming true.

Another family was waiting by the reception area, busy arguing with the head nurse while another was on their phones, frantically calling their loved ones. Perhaps in her sixties, an older lady screamed in frustration when she couldn't get through her granddaughter. She grabbed a soldier passing by, asking if he could drive to her house to check, but I realized she was pointing at the same neighborhood engulfed in flames.

We headed for the elevator, hiding my gun when a soldier passed by us.

Then, I remembered. "Did you have a car when you got here yesterday?" I asked.

Luke paused. "Uh...We rode on a Jeep. But I think the others left with it back to the apartment."

Damn. "No way you're going to wheel me across the city. Downtown is far from here."

"We don't have a choice, do we?"

"Or we can hop a ride on one of the buses, see if one is heading that way."

Luke nodded. "Yeah. That might work."

Luke reached out to press the elevator button, but then the doors parted, and Peter Gauthier strode out, eyes focused out front, and almost crashed on top of me, tipping the wheelchair over. Fortunately, Luke was there to catch the handle from the back and corrected it.

"Watch it!" Peter bellowed, hands clasped around my shoulder for support, but when his eyes looked down on me, a sudden realization crossed his face, his scowl dropped, replaced by a wide grin. "Oh, there you are. This makes it easy."

I pushed his hands away, thinking of all the worst things I was going to say, but Luke beat me to it. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Luke seethed.

Peter's smile dropped like a fly, and he glared at Luke, eyes going up and down. He glanced at me, then to Luke, and nodded, his lower lip puckered out like someone who was clearly impressed. "Ah. I get it," he mumbled. "Nice catch, Bren."

I stared at him, confused. "Er...thanks?"

"You didn't answer my question." Luke pressed on, his voice rougher than what I used to hear. I winced a little, but I couldn't help but feel something below my waist as well. Luke stood straight, shoulders held back, and his chest puffed out, trying to match Peter, who was already a big guy, to begin with.

Peter merely shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I'm here to escort Bren out of the district. General Clemons's orders."

Well, at least that solved our car problem real quick. Peter reached out for my wheelchair's handle at the back, but I slapped his hand away. "There's no way I'm going with you and your psychotic captain. Ramos shot me. He might try again."

Then, Peter's grin returned, a lot wider this time. "Ah, right. That guy. Well, don't worry about him."

"Didn't you hear me? He shot me. On the leg. Right in front of you!"

"And yet you live. I'm not part of that squad anymore. I just got transferred," he said. "Apparently, backstabbing your captain when he's about to murder a civilian is not good for morale or someone's career. Though, I think I hurt his feelings. Your uncle saw that, too, that's why I'm now working for him under his regiment, full-time."

"You're lying."

"Eh. You're not exactly innocent. Poor Payne. You tortured the poor soul, and the guy's still sour and all emo about that. Can't say I wasn't impressed by the tactic. Nice job on that one, and if you want to know, that asshole really deserved it, so I guess a thank you is in order. Just be glad he ain't here to do the things he told me about. None of them are really nice. Now, can I please get you out of here? As you can see, we are in a tough spot."

I turned to Luke, and he didn't leave his eyes off of Peter, feet standing apart, ready to lunge if Peter tried to attack me again. I was prepared for him, too.

I gritted my teeth. "Fine. But no funny business." I showed him the gun tucked at my side.

Peter rolled his eyes again. "As if. You had a chance shooting me on the head once, and you didn't."

"Then, don't test me."

Peter smirked and winked at me.

I wanted to pull my hair out in frustration, angry that he wasn't taking my words seriously, or maybe the fact that he shrugged that I got shot. Now that I thought about it, I don't even know why I'm worked up. I didn't want to go with him, and a drive with him in an enclosed space would be unbearable. However, he had the only car to get us out of here.

Luke sidled past him and grabbed the handle of my wheelchair, saying firmly, "I'll do it."

Peter raised his hands up, stepping away from him. "Whatever you say, boss."

All three of us entered the elevator, the speakers streaming soft, relaxing jazz music that did not match the chaos and panic outside the hall. It was the longest, most awkward elevator ride of my entire life.

I hadn't seen the outside of the hospital building, but my mouth hung open when I saw several rows of military canvas tents and pavilions scattered around what used to be the parking lot. Chain-linked fences surrounded the building, then another outside of it, separating the parking lot into sections. I guessed one would be operations, the triage centers, storage, and housing. Posted signs of "Do Not Enter" or "Military Personnel Only" were on the fences, hanged everywhere I looked. I saw a helicopter on the grass field next to the hospital, a few soldiers loading it with crates. On the only parking lot not turned into a shantytown, rows of buses were being loaded with patients and civilians. If the hospital was in a mad scatter, the soldiers outside were in a state of frenzy, zooming to and from loading up whatever supplies they could and hauling them into trucks. Their eyes did not betray the terror held within as everyone could see the smoke and what it meant.

"Delaware District is on lockdown," Peter said beside me, almost forgetting that he was there.

"Is that where that gate is?" I asked.

Peter nodded. "It only happened an hour ago. We tried to hold it off, but the gate buckled. The infected came out of nowhere, counted at least a thousand via the heat signatures based on what my friend told me. He works for Millenium."

"Are they here now?"

Peter shook his head. "No. The neighborhood got closed tight. No one is coming in or out without a bullet through their head. We're currently evacuating The Med because it's right next door to Delaware. General Donahue and your uncle have issued a city-wide lockdown for each neighborhood. No one is going in or out except those being evacuated from affected and nearby areas like us." He then grabbed something out of his pocket: A government tag. "And we also have this."

"And the refugees?" I asked.

Peter stayed quiet, and never in my life had I desperately wanted to pray, all that discipline as a Catholic child in a Catholic school and Bible studies made me gesture the sign of the Cross on instinct. As I said in the beginning, I wasn't particularly religious compared to my parents, but the thought of all those refugees trapped between a massive wall they couldn't get through, and the horde of vectors made me tremble and pray for mercy. I prayed for a quick death for them.

Luke clasped his hand over his mouth. "Those poor people outside the walls..."

Peter frowned, and he didn't meet my eye. It was probably the first time I had seen him feel sad since we saw each other again. "They're all dead."

I froze. "No. Not dead. Infected."

Peter didn't say anything more after that.

A thousand vectors reached the south side of Albany's wall, but the thousand or so refugees left outside were a gold mine for them to join their ranks. I had witnessed the state of the fences around the refugee camps. I had told Clemons what a joke they were, hastily put together compared to the ones inside the city, only placed there to ease their minds and avoid riots, thinking that it was enough to hold the vectors back. Now, two thousand vectors surrounded us, maybe two thousand more would join them by the end of the hour.

There were two hundred thousand people inside the city, more than doubled what it could typically support outside the pandemic.

We reached the humvee parked at the curb, and I saw a familiar face leaning on the side of the hood. It was Haskell, the man who tried to ambush me back at the lake. I quickly turned to Peter, thought that maybe he had lied that he wasn't on the squad anymore, ready to punch him even if I'm limping to do it, but Peter blurted out, "Okay, maybe not entirely out."

"Are you kidding me?" I snapped.

"Hey, look. Haskell's with me, okay? We got transferred together because we can't stand Ramos like you do. We just found a perfect excuse to be as far away from him as possible."

Haskell gave me a curt salute, a casual one, with a hidden smile beneath his gaze. He still had that bruise I gave him on his cheek, though a little less puffy and discolored. He didn't seem angry when he saw me, more amused and found it as strange and bewildering as I did to face the man who had tried to beat the living shit out of you a week ago.

"Morning," Haskell greeted.

"Uh...morning," I greeted back. I didn't know what else to say.

He cocked his head toward the billow of smoke. "Crazy thing to wake up to."

"Um. Sure."

Luke gave both men a stinky glare as he hauled me out of the wheelchair, then helped me into the back seat of the humvee. Luke climbed after me while Haskell and Peter hopped at the front. Haskell started the engines.

"You have a mean swing," said Haskell, looking at me through the rear-view mirror. Peter snickered on the passenger seat.

"I was kind of busy not dying," I said. "You did try to ambush and shoot me."

"Oh yeah. Sorry about that," he said. He then turned to Luke. "Sorry that I tried to shoot you, too."

"I'm fast, thank goodness," Luke said. "This is really awkward."

Haskell scoffed. "The feeling is mutual. Then again, maybe after this, we won't have to run past each other again."

"It's a big city," Luke added.

And getting smaller by the hour, I thought.

"Hopefully not," Peter interjected, not realizing I had said it out loud.

"I believe we haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Jason Haskell."

He offered his hand to me, but I didn't take it. Luke just glared at him.

Haskell clenched his jaw. "Um, alright. Baby steps."

I decided to keep my mouth shut throughout the drive. I hoped Logan and the others were holding okay. I needed to make sure that they were all okay.

——

I realized that we were heading the wrong way. First, I noticed the street names, most importantly the ones pointing to the various historical landmarks in the city for the tourists to find, especially the Times Union Center in downtown, and they were getting higher and higher as we drove, and then completely disappeared from the signs.

"Turn around," I said suddenly.

The two soldiers and Luke all looked back at me. Luke then started staring out the window, realizing the same thing. "This isn't the way to downtown," Luke said.

"It's because we are not going downtown," Peter said.

"Why? Our apartment is there. We have people there." Luke swallowed, rubbing the sweat forming on his forehead.

Peter kept his voice calm and steady. "General Clemons says to bring you to the university. All the government officials and the top brass are being relocated there since it is all the way up north of the city. Many people and the rest of the military are being relocated to the north and the east."

"But that's the opposite of downtown!"

I stared out the window again. We were driving through suburbia, families were running around, packing everything into their cars, abandoning their homes for wherever the army had said would be their designated shelter. At least the air-raid sirens had stopped. "Turn around and bring me there," I said, putting as much force to my voice.

I didn't know how far we were now from downtown compared to when we were in the Med. If I had to limp my way there, I would.

Peter sighed. "Your uncle isn't down there. He's at the—"

"But my friends are."

"Peter's right—"Haskell tried to interject, but I wasn't having it.

"I wasn't asking you," I said, trying to lean forward. I was sitting behind him, and it was easy for me to throttle him from the back if I'd taken the opportunity. I didn't want to crash the car, though.

"Hey, I'm the one on the wheel here, sweetheart."

I glared at Haskell. "Don't call me that."

"Would you two calm down?" Peter interrupted, his voice louder now. He didn't care. "It's already dangerous to be out here in the open. Do you want to die?"

"Do you?" I snapped back. "Because it's getting dangerous in here too if you don't turn this tin can around and head downtown." I took my gun out and rested it on my lap.

That got Peter's attention.

"Unlike you, Peter, I don't leave my friends hanging," I added, going for the jugular.

I knew it was a low blow, but I hooked Peter's tongue, unable to retort. He scowled at me on the rear-view mirror instead. I had cut him where it hurt most, and I couldn't say that I was proud to find something that he had been thinking about, something that he regretted, and perhaps a bit peeved that the person he had done that in the past was me.