The hospital loomed out of the fog as if it had been waiting to be found.
Daniel slowed the truck as they drew closer. A six story building of concrete and steel, the lower windows were shattered beyond repair, the remaining glass scattered across the pavement. The upper floors were intact save for a few charred streaks running down their sides.
Someone had taken up residence here.
Large sandbags had been stacked against the front doors, civilian issue rather than military, and warning signs stenciled across the concrete in thick black letters.
KEEP OUT.
DANGER.
WE HAVE GUNS.
Daniel regarded the warnings with a thoughtful frown.
Musa leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Friendly place."
"They’re afraid."
"Who isn’t?"
Daniel killed the engine and sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, studying the building. Blood stains ran down the sidewalk leading to the entrance, dark red smears against the concrete, and spent shell casings littered the ground in small metal piles.
This wasn’t a place the people left on their own.
There were people inside.
Daniel turned to the soldiers in the back. "Secure the perimeter. Keep the civilians in the truck."
Private Adekunle nodded and climbed down, rifle in hand, and Corporal Bello followed, his weapon raised.
Daniel stepped out of the passenger seat and took a deep breath of the air, thick with the scent of smoke and something else, something more medicinal. A coppery taste bloomed on his tongue, the acrid scent of blood.
He took another step forward and the sound of gunfire echoed from the upper floors.
Daniel froze.
The round passed through the space he’d been standing in a moment before, embedding itself in the concrete two meters to his left.
Musa pressed himself against the side of the truck. "Daniel!"
Daniel raised his hands, open palms outwards. "I’m military! Lieutenant Daniel Cross! We aren’t here to hurt anyone!"
A pause.
Then a woman’s voice called out from one of the top floor windows.
"Military doesn’t mean anything to us anymore. Go away."
Daniel kept his hands raised. "We have wounded civilians. Medical supplies. Are there any survivors inside?"
"We don’t need your help."
"Then you’ll want to leave. We had an evacuation today. It took three hours to get here."
Daniel turned to regard the building. "May I speak with a doctor?"
"Who are you?"
"Daniel Cross. I’m not here to hurt anyone."
Another pause.
The woman who’d called out emerged from the building, a rifle slung across her back and a blood soaked coat draped over one shoulder. She looked to be in her early fifties, her face lined with worry, and her dark skin bore the faintest hint of a rash.
"There is a doctor."
"Can I speak with her?"
"She’s busy."
"Tell her I’m here."
The woman studied him for a long moment before vanishing back inside the building.
Musa exhaled sharply. "That went well."
"We’re still alive."
"Barely."
They waited for nearly twenty minutes.
Daniel remained where he was, the rising sun beating down upon his shoulders as sweat slicked his back. Behind him the civilians in the truck muttered amongst themselves in fearful tones.
Then the front doors to the hospital opened and a woman emerged.
She wore a blood stained dress and a clipboard, her short grey hair tied back in a tight bun. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, perhaps weeks, and the dark circles beneath her eyes suggested she hadn’t slept in quite some time.
"You’re the soldiers?"
"Some of us."
She regarded Daniel with the same wary expression as the first woman. "How many wounded do you have?"
"None serious. We have civilians. Families. Children."
Something in her expression shifted.
"Wounded or not, bring them inside."
Inside the hospital the survivors were crowded into the halls and rooms, patients milled about in the waiting area alongside refugees who’d taken shelter within the building. Blankets and sleeping bags lay strewn across the floor, people huddled together for warmth, the air thick with the scent of unwashed bodies and antiseptic.
Dr. Okafor led them through the main ward, past rows of cots and stretchers lined with the injured and ill, towards an open door at the end of the hallway. "This is Adaeze," she said by way of introduction, "she was a surgeon before Heavenfall."
Daniel gave the woman a long look. Thin and wiry, she wore the same tired expression as the first survivor, though there was a determination in her eyes that suggested she was used to making difficult decisions.
"We took in anyone we could during the initial evacuations," Adaeze said, "we’ve lost people, but we’re still fighting."
"How many?"
"Eleven."
Daniel did the quick calculation in his head. Twenty-eight survivors in the building with eleven fatalities.
"Survivors," he said, "what do you need?"
"Everything," Adaeze said, pausing beside an open doorway. "Medical supplies. Weapons. People willing to fight."
"We have some supplies," Daniel said, "from a military checkpoint."
The woman’s gaze snapped to him. "What kind of supplies?"
"Medical, ammunition, and fuel."
"Those will help."
Daniel nodded. "We’ll share what we have."
They toured the facility, Adaeze showing him the makeshift triage areas and wards before stopping before a set of double doors.
"Most of the patients are in here," she said, pushing the doors open to reveal a large cafeteria filled with survivors. "We have limited resources, so we’re rationing food and water."
"How long has it been since you’ve had a proper meal?"
Adaeze looked past him to where the civilians in the truck were waiting. "Since we left Lagos."
Daniel frowned. "You left Lagos?"
"Yesterday."
He nodded slowly. "We can provide more food."
"We’ll take anything you’re willing to give."
She turned, already walking away, and Daniel followed, falling into step beside her.
"Did you encounter any of the monsters on your way here?"
A troubled look crossed her face. "We avoided them. They’re attacking everywhere."
Daniel hesitated. "People are dying."
"We know."
He studied her for a long moment before speaking again. "How many of your survivors have fought off one of the creatures?"
Adaeze’s lips pressed into a tight line. "Too many."