Chapter Two (Edited)

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My fingers clutched the steering wheel to keep from shaking as I sped down the road toward the only hospital around here that I knew. My machete kept a gun comfort in the passenger seat while I attempted to keep my mind away from worrying about Craig. I had to focus. I needed to get to the hospital, get blood and antibiotics, and get back. There was no room for worry and if I let it get the best of me, I'd make mistakes.

The plan was to get back before sundown, but that all depended on when I found everything in the building. I had traveled to the hospital once or twice with some people from the old group that was back at the apartment. When we went in, I usually stayed behind everyone else and took mental notes on the route we went. It was only a few twists and turns on the first floor when you went through an old emergency exit on the side of the building to get to a supply closet full of antibiotics. That was as far as we had ever had to go, which left the rest of the hospital unexplored and dangerous. Whenever we went in, it was a tossup of how many snappers would be in the halls. However, it was manageable. There was only a small fraction of killing we had to do as it was pure luck finding a suitable supply closet for our needs that close to an exit and for the simple fact that we only needed to go when it was necessary, which surprisingly wasn't too often.

Goosebumps traveled along my body as I started to realize just how deep I'd have to go in there to retrieve the blood for Craig. It was manageable with a group. Now, I was all by myself. And honestly, I was terrified. A small voice begged me to drive far, far away and to leave Craig die for my personal safety. I hadn't heard that voice in a while and it scared me even more now. I wasn't a coward, but walking in on a suicide mission wasn't appealing.

You're his only hope, I reminded myself sternly. He would do the same for you in a heartbeat. You owe him.

Snappers caught my eye, tearing my attention away from my thoughts momentarily. As I propelled the vehicle down the street I noticed that more and more snappers were appearing. My stomach began tying itself in knots at this and my knuckles turned whiter as my grasp tightened on the steering wheel. I didn't want to be one of them, roaming around, brain dead, craving human flesh, and possibly taking someone's loved one away from them.

My muscles tensed and my lungs froze themselves as the hospital came into view. It was a large glass building for a suburb, but small compared to the skyscrapers in the city. It was also far more intact than the city, which from stories was mostly burned down from bombs and filled with snappers. It wasn't a place anyone wanted to be, but because of that, it was said to be full of supplies. The city wasn't too far from here, but it would take more than blood for me to venture in there.

Before I realized, I had already pulled up to the side of the building where the exit was. For a second, I sat there with my white knuckles and stared out the window. Then, just like snapping a twig in half, I came out of my trance. There was no choice here. There was a decision and I had to do what I had to do, because I couldn't live with myself if I let him die, too.

Reaching into the backseat I grabbed onto the bag I had packed and opened it. I accounted for the hunting knives I had packed along with a flashlight I had tossed in there. The light wasn't too strong as the batteries were aged, but it would have to do. Taking out the flashlight, I looked at my machete and the gun. I could only carry one, but it was a no brainer. If I shot off the gun snappers would swarm and I'd be screwed. Plus, I was tense enough already. Not holding the gun would probably be the best idea.

Slipping the bag over my shoulder, I put the flashlight in my mouth and clasped my hand around the machete. My lungs expanded as I swallowed hard. Time to go into the lion's den, I thought to myself as I pulled the exit door open.

The small light shined on two figures moving against the darkness. Feeling the flex of my muscles, I rose my machete and struck the first one, pushing its body off with a kick as moved back on my feet to get ready to strike the next one. For a second I felt a little dizzy, the lack of food hitting me hard. Seconds later, I managed to regain my composer and I continued down the hall.

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