“What kind of equipment and medicine does your mother need?” Leon asked.
“Mainly hemodialysis.”
Lee Mijoo’s voice dropped.
“At least three times a week.
Plus medication to control her blood sugar and blood pressure.”
“It’s all expensive, and…
a private dialysis machine is nearly impossible to come by.”
Leon’s fingers tapped lightly on the table.
A dialysis machine.
Not something you could walk into a pharmacy and buy.
But for Shane, who was about to have access to a hundred thousand dollars in supply channels, sourcing a secondhand unit, or pulling one out of some clinic on the verge of closing, wouldn’t be hard at all.
And that, precisely, was the best insurance money could buy.
“I can get you a dialysis machine,” Leon said, his tone even.
“And everything else your mother needs.”
Lee Mijoo’s eyes lit up.
“But.”
Leon’s tone shifted.
He leaned forward slightly, holding her gaze.
“You need to understand what this means.”
“There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”
“You will take good care of my patient…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
His eyes said the rest.
Lee Mijoo shivered despite herself.
The man sitting across from her wasn’t offering a job.
He was selecting a slave , one who would have no choice but to be absolutely loyal.
“I…
I understand.”
She bit her lip.
The words came out almost through gritted teeth.
For her mother, she had no other choice.
“Good.”
Leon stood, pulled a slip of paper and a few bills from his pocket, and set them on the table.
“That’s the address and cab fare.”
“Go there now.
Clean the place up, get familiar with it.”
“What you need will be delivered tonight.”
“Trust me.” He said it without warmth, without performance.
“This is the best decision you’ve ever made.
I guarantee it.”
He walked out of the motel without looking back.
Night fell.
At the rear entrance of Harrison Memorial Hospital, a black Ford SUV rolled silently to the curb and cut its engine.
Leon sat in the passenger seat.
He watched as Shane and two burly men — dressed in orderly uniforms he’d arranged — wheeled a gurney out of the hospital.
The figure on it was covered with a white sheet.
Rick.
Lori followed close behind, one hand gripping the gurney’s side rail so hard her knuckles had gone pale.
“…In response to a potential nationwide flu outbreak, the National Guard has established temporary quarantine checkpoints around major cities.”
“Citizens are urged not to panic and to cooperate with all government directives…”
Leon looked away.
The last trace of guilt in his chest dissolved without ceremony.
He wasn’t deceiving Lori.
He really was saving someone.
He knew , better than anyone alive , that it wouldn’t be long before those uniformed National Guardsmen started using bullets to “purge” hospitals they’d written off as lost.
They would open fire indiscriminately, gunning down civilians, just to contain wards overflowing with the infected.
In the original story, Rick survived because the plot demanded it.
One-in-ten-thousand luck.
Why would soldiers clearing out a hospital specifically skip the comatose man in the bed?
Why would they leave Shane enough time to drag a surgical cart in front of Rick’s door?
It didn’t make sense.
Not in any real world.
It made sense because the writers needed Rick alive for episode two.
But now the butterfly had already flapped its wings.
Who could guarantee that same luck would come around again?
Getting Rick out of this city , out of what was about to become a slaughterhouse , and into the safety of the countryside was the only play that made sense.
“Move!
Get in!” Shane hissed, keeping his voice low.
The two men lifted Rick, gurney and all, into the back of the SUV.
Lori stared at her husband lying motionless in the vehicle.
Her tears broke through again.
“Mr.
Leon…”
She turned and grabbed his arm with both hands.
“I won’t ask who arranged this.
I won’t ask where you’re taking him.”
Her voice cracked.
Every word cost her something.
“I’m just asking you…
please…
for Carl’s sake.
He can’t lose his father.
He can’t…”
“Please.”
She let go.
Stepped back.
And bowed , low and slow, with everything she had left.
A desperate wife.
A helpless mother.
Using the last scrap of her dignity to make one final plea.
“He’ll be fine.” Leon looked at her and said nothing else.
The SUV pulled out and disappeared into the dark.
Thirty minutes later, it stopped in front of a remote wooden cabin set back from the road.
Lee Mijoo heard the engine and ran out.
When she saw the unconscious man being carried from the vehicle, her expression settled into quiet understanding.
This was the patient.
“Get him set up in the basement,” Leon said.
A fresh hospital bed sat squarely in the center of the room.
The two men got Rick situated, accepted a thick stack of bills from Shane without a word, and left.
“This is the place you meant?” Shane looked around the bare, low-ceilinged basement, jaw tight.
“Don’t knock the environment.
It’s the safest place for him right now.
Quiet.
Off the grid.” Leon didn’t elaborate.
“Who’s she?” Shane’s eyes settled on Lee Mijoo, who stood rigid near the bed.
“Caregiver.
I found her.”
Shane looked at the Korean woman.
Then at Rick.
His expression was hard to read.
“Leon.” His voice came out low and heavy.
“My brother’s life is in your hands.”
“I know.”
“The supply list — I’ve already got people on it.”
Shane pulled a new phone from his pocket and held it out.
“This is your contact line.
The procurement contact is already in there.
Once the purchases are done, they’ll call you directly.
Goods delivered in batches, wherever you tell them.”
“One more thing.”
He held out a black travel bag.
“Some cash.
My savings.” He paused.
“Ask her to do her best.”
Leon took the bag, unzipped it, and glanced inside.
Neat stacks of hundreds, packed tight.
Shane was betting everything.
Whatever he said about Rick, their bond wasn’t something you could fake.
“Check his vitals,” Leon said, turning to Lee Mijoo.
“Get him on IV fluids.”
“Yes.”
She moved immediately , practiced, efficient, slipping into the role without hesitation.
Leon crossed to the far corner of the basement.
A brand-new dialysis machine stood waiting, flanked by several boxes: medications, a small refrigerator, disposable supplies.
“The room on the right, upstairs,” he said, without turning around.
“That’s yours.
Yours and your mother’s.”
Lee Mijoo’s hands stilled.
“Give me her address.
I’ll bring her here tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Her voice broke.
“Thank you.”
Tears spilled down her face.
She turned to face him and bowed , deep, and without hesitation.
➤ Next: True Fairness — Face to Face