Allistor parked the truck right in front of the ER doors and got out.  He gripped his spear and checked the .45 holstered on his hip.  He could feel the shotgun strapped over his shoulder.   Amanda was holding her shotgun like she knew how to use it.

The two of them exchanged a look, then stepped through the broken glass.  The ER was a disaster zone, furniture and supplies were strewn everywhere, and blood stains covered the floor and walls.

They stopped to listen, holding very still for a solid minute.  When they heard no movement, Amanda lowered her weapon and began pointing.   She knew this ER and had worked here for years.  Leaning close to Allistor, she whispered, “Down this hall to the left is a portable X-ray we used to move from bay to bay.  We need that.  And a crash cart - if there’s one still intact.  Also a few of these beds wouldn’t hurt.  They’re on wheels.  If you’ll do that, I’ll go raid the pharmacy.”

Allistor shook his head.  “We’re not in a rush here.  I don’t want you wandering off alone.  Something or things might still be roaming the halls.  Which is the priority?”

Amanda glanced fearfully over her shoulder, then gave him a look, and he could tell she was trying to decide if he was being sexist.  He cut her off at the pass. “I know you can take care of yourself.  I saw you handle that shotgun.  You know how to shoot, right?”

She nodded her head.  “My pop took us hunting as kids.”

“Right.  So you’re just as capable as I am.  Maybe more.  But look around.  See all the bloody prints? Some kind of pack of monsters must have done this.  We need to stick together.”

With a sigh, she relaxed.  “Sorry.  Old habits.” She looked around.  “The drugs are the priority.  Antibiotics especially.  Let’s hit the pharmacy first.  We can grab this stuff on the way back.”

So he followed her as she crept down one hall, then another.  He insisted on checking each room they passed, then closing the door as quietly as possible.  The last thing he wanted was mobs sneaking up on them from behind.  He realized his pulse was racing, and his shirt was soaked with sweat.  There was a definite feeling of being prey, watched by a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

Ten minutes later, Amanda was crawling through the broken service window of the pharmacy to unlock the door for him.   He found a rolling laundry hamper out in the hall and dumped its bloody contents.   Rolling it inside, he pushed it down the aisles behind Amanda as she cleared the shelves of useful drugs.

“I’m skipping all of the cancer drugs, that kind of thing.  I think with this new system, those aren’t going to be a problem.  I’m focusing on infections and pain reduction.”