I personally lifted Hugo on my shoulder, since Earl would probably spew eggs onto him, bringing him to his run-down, raised floor clinic that made my place look clean. Building covered with layers of dust and rust, weeds growing around it, all sorts of potential infections from simply stepping inside the place...
Entering the clinic itself was easy. Getting out was the hard part; Hugo was a hoarder. Thankfully, me and four others dug out most of the trash, although there was still a copious amount of junk laying inside the place. Brushing by rusty umbrellas and knocking over a disorganised pile of metal scrap, I was able to put Hugo on the bed where patients usually laid. 'Usually', as in Hugo's assistant was shot in the head by a bandit some of months earlier, being left on the floor for a day until Hugo returned from a hunting trip with several others. I'll never forget his screams. Damn bandits, getting the bastard to haunt me for his problem...
Anyway, Dr. Hugo Ying's a doctor, which is expected since pretty much every Asian we knew had some sort of degree. His plane crashed a couple of years back, running out of fuel while the solar flare made his pilot go blind or something. Initially, he was crazy and rambling about some 'safe haven', but he's recovered over the years. More or less. Point is, he's our physician, which is pretty helpful in a small community of around 20 people.
"Agh. Quit your crying. You've already given me bloody nightmares." I sternly said to Hugo. I knew he wouldn't stop crying, but of course one could always try. I strolled around the place, checking out empty and expired medicines alike being stacked on the already-filled bench. Interesting fact: Hugo scavenged for junk so much that for some reason, he would come across all this medical waste. Even more mysteriously, the medicine was usually safe to use, despite laying in such conditions. And hence all the infections, but hey - I preferred being treated with staph rather than this crazy disease that made you bleed from your orifices. I owe Hugo for pumping me full of this 'yellow penicillin.' As much as I didn't really like his rather unstable attitude, he was our only doctor around. Better yet, he was able to treat every infection we got on a weekly basis, mostly through lucky though... that's why some of us refer to him as the 'spin doctor.' Either that, or maybe the fact he often spun around on his heels to face his patients got him his nickname.
My train of thought was disrupted by Hugo's ridiculous crying. As I turned to him, my expression turned from pissed to fateful shock. Hugo was bleeding from his chest, and I was praying in my head that it wouldn't be bad. Even though he was our doctor, he couldn't exactly treat himself. Not in his current mental state, at least. Why the hell did Holland run off to the local clan... "Ah, my frickin' God." I dropped an empty vial of medicine, letting it drop into a rubbish bin, which was oddly empty in a building full of junk. I tried to get Hugo to talk, but he was panicking, begging for a ticket on a train or something. I suspected he'd wouldn't be the same afterwards. This damn world...
"I really gotta get Holland." I muttered to myself, slamming the door behind me after I scrounged through a swamp of faded junk, slinging my M40 on my back and making sure my blowtorch didn't fall out after hitting the railing for the clinic's stairs. Simply wrapping bandages around Hugo wouldn't exactly save his life, and I definitely didn't need Earl puking on him just so he'd be reincarnated as a chestburster.
...and then, all I did was just sit down grumpily and started throwing various curses around, kicking at a few weeds that couldn't prick my scales. I loathed the day of the solar flare; I would've been able to get my jeep and drive to the local clan for Holland. Or, I could've gotten my electric tools to fix that pipe. Better yet, Hugo wouldn't have crashed, and he would've gotten to his 'safe haven' or something.
One thing could save his life. Not bloody Earl, but another resident around here; Stanley. Before all of this, he was my best friend. We made a bet on who could trick emergency services more than the other. I managed to escape from police custody, and they still didn't know who the bloody hell I was. Stanley on the other hand managed to become a paramedic, although the seriousness of the job made him stay for two days until all of this happened. So far, he's a tall bipedal insect with two legs and four arms (two of which are smaller than the other two), but at least he'd be able to provide some support to Hugo. Unfortunately, Stanley was farming, and that meant I'd have to cross a large wheat field just to search for him...
Entering the clinic itself was easy. Getting out was the hard part; Hugo was a hoarder. Thankfully, me and four others dug out most of the trash, although there was still a copious amount of junk laying inside the place. Brushing by rusty umbrellas and knocking over a disorganised pile of metal scrap, I was able to put Hugo on the bed where patients usually laid. 'Usually', as in Hugo's assistant was shot in the head by a bandit some of months earlier, being left on the floor for a day until Hugo returned from a hunting trip with several others. I'll never forget his screams. Damn bandits, getting the bastard to haunt me for his problem...
Anyway, Dr. Hugo Ying's a doctor, which is expected since pretty much every Asian we knew had some sort of degree. His plane crashed a couple of years back, running out of fuel while the solar flare made his pilot go blind or something. Initially, he was crazy and rambling about some 'safe haven', but he's recovered over the years. More or less. Point is, he's our physician, which is pretty helpful in a small community of around 20 people.
"Agh. Quit your crying. You've already given me bloody nightmares." I sternly said to Hugo. I knew he wouldn't stop crying, but of course one could always try. I strolled around the place, checking out empty and expired medicines alike being stacked on the already-filled bench. Interesting fact: Hugo scavenged for junk so much that for some reason, he would come across all this medical waste. Even more mysteriously, the medicine was usually safe to use, despite laying in such conditions. And hence all the infections, but hey - I preferred being treated with staph rather than this crazy disease that made you bleed from your orifices. I owe Hugo for pumping me full of this 'yellow penicillin.' As much as I didn't really like his rather unstable attitude, he was our only doctor around. Better yet, he was able to treat every infection we got on a weekly basis, mostly through lucky though... that's why some of us refer to him as the 'spin doctor.' Either that, or maybe the fact he often spun around on his heels to face his patients got him his nickname.
My train of thought was disrupted by Hugo's ridiculous crying. As I turned to him, my expression turned from pissed to fateful shock. Hugo was bleeding from his chest, and I was praying in my head that it wouldn't be bad. Even though he was our doctor, he couldn't exactly treat himself. Not in his current mental state, at least. Why the hell did Holland run off to the local clan... "Ah, my frickin' God." I dropped an empty vial of medicine, letting it drop into a rubbish bin, which was oddly empty in a building full of junk. I tried to get Hugo to talk, but he was panicking, begging for a ticket on a train or something. I suspected he'd wouldn't be the same afterwards. This damn world...
"I really gotta get Holland." I muttered to myself, slamming the door behind me after I scrounged through a swamp of faded junk, slinging my M40 on my back and making sure my blowtorch didn't fall out after hitting the railing for the clinic's stairs. Simply wrapping bandages around Hugo wouldn't exactly save his life, and I definitely didn't need Earl puking on him just so he'd be reincarnated as a chestburster.
...and then, all I did was just sit down grumpily and started throwing various curses around, kicking at a few weeds that couldn't prick my scales. I loathed the day of the solar flare; I would've been able to get my jeep and drive to the local clan for Holland. Or, I could've gotten my electric tools to fix that pipe. Better yet, Hugo wouldn't have crashed, and he would've gotten to his 'safe haven' or something.
One thing could save his life. Not bloody Earl, but another resident around here; Stanley. Before all of this, he was my best friend. We made a bet on who could trick emergency services more than the other. I managed to escape from police custody, and they still didn't know who the bloody hell I was. Stanley on the other hand managed to become a paramedic, although the seriousness of the job made him stay for two days until all of this happened. So far, he's a tall bipedal insect with two legs and four arms (two of which are smaller than the other two), but at least he'd be able to provide some support to Hugo. Unfortunately, Stanley was farming, and that meant I'd have to cross a large wheat field just to search for him...