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| Dead Men Walking | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,054 Views) | |
| DoctorYerishi | Feb 24 2015, 11:58 PM Post #331 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Eli looked from Maxwell back to Randall with a shrug. So this guy was another victim, fair enough. He seemed harmless, at least. He was too preoccupied to exchange introductions. "What about everyone else? Are they okay?" |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Feb 25 2015, 12:00 AM Post #332 |
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Is that so?
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"They're at the hospital now. Everyone's fine, but Brandon got hit bad." Randall informed him. "We were just on our way over there now to see how he was doing. What the hell happened to you though? Did you get the cure?" "Wait, did you say cure!?" Maxwell's jaw all but dropped. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Feb 25 2015, 12:17 AM Post #333 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Again, Eli looked to Maxwell, then back at Randall. His face fell, and he shook his head only slightly. "Let's get inside," he said. "We need to talk." * * * Randall led the two of them into the rank-smelling hospital, past the litter of corpses. They followed the others tracks into what had to be one of the only exam rooms left in tolerable condition. Brandon was shirtless and bleeding on a table. Jeff stood nearby, his expression blank, blanker than it was back at the rec center following his near death experience. The ladies were nearby as well -- Glenda, Willow, Julie and Kelsey. They all looked a little worse for the wear. As Eli walked into the room with his gym bag, a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. How was it that he ended up in the best shape among them? He certainly hadn't done anything to deserve that kind of luck. Jeff looked up as he entered. Surprise seemed to defeat despondence on his face, at least for a moment. His mouth hung open a little. "Eli?" "Hey," Eli said simply. Jeff leaned his head a little, catching a glimpse of their new guest. The surprise turned to alarm. "And who the fuck?" |
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| Strompy | Feb 25 2015, 04:13 AM Post #334 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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"Eli!" Brandon exclaimed, perking up a little. "Gang's all here. Had us worried." he commented happily if wearily. He didn't mention the new face among them, questions could wait until he was stable. Seemed they were picking up a lot of people. First they found Julie, and then Jeff insisted on tagging along. As for Julie even though she'd only been with them a day she was wary of the new guy. She'd decided she could trust these people, but experience told her attachment was foolish. The new guy was an unknown and that put her on edge. She'd be on guard until she decided he wasn't a threat. If she and Kevin hadn't been so easy to trust he might have been there with them. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Feb 25 2015, 10:17 AM Post #335 |
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Is that so?
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All of these new people made Maxwell slightly nervous. Not only were they new, but they were armed and, for all he knew, very dangerous. "Professor Maxwell J. Eastwood." He simply introduced himself in response to Jeff, excluding his usual fluff as he bent over to inspect the injury on the young man; Brandon presumably. Maxwell removed his cracked glasses and leaned in close to examine the wound. Definitely a gunshot wound with a clear entry and exit point. Possible organ damage; significant blood loss; risk of infection also considerable. All in all, there were a lot of risk factors involved. And these risk factors did not bode well for Maxwell's future if he could not find a way to save the boy's life. With a frown on his lips, he turned to face Randall. "Such an injury is far outside my area of expertise. I can splint and treat basic wounds, but the possibility for internal hemorrhaging and organ damage is very real. Not to mention the potential for infection or complications from blood loss." Maxwell cleared his throat. "At the end of the day, I am a biologist, not a doctor. There is only so much that I can do, and-" "Then do what you can." Randall simply told him. "Jeff, keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't try anything funny." "V-very well." Maxwell gulped audibly. "I will do what I can!" Maxwell was not a drinking man; he had been studious and hard working his entire life. Alcohol would have inhibited his ability to be productive. But this past month had given him ample opportunities to wish he could start. His friends dying to a group of bloodthirsty brutes; surviving the age of the walking dead; and now it felt like he was being held hostage by a different group of armed brutes. If he couldn't help this Brandon fellow, there was no telling what would happen to him. Not only was it technically the right thing to do, but for the sake of his own self-preservation, he needed to save this man's life. And in order to save his life... he needed supplies. He took a moment to ransack the room, finding only a few leftover medical supplies from the scavenging that had no doubt taken place. A little bit of gauze wrapping and padding and some Betadine sterilizing agent. All of which would be useful, but he needed more if he wanted to make this work. "You, Jeff, was it?" Maxwell addressed the other man in the room; the one with the shaggy beard. "I need you to find me some stitching and antibiotics. Any stitching you can find will be useful." At the same time, he tore open one of the gauze pads and popped open the bottle of Betadine, applying some of the solution onto the pad. "I apologize in advance for this next part, Brandon." Maxwell stated. "I need to sterilize the wound to reduce your risk of infection. This will probably hurt. A lot." ********** As Maxwell went to work, Randall took a moment to see his daughter. She had a little bit of bandaging wrapped around her head, but looked to be in good spirits besides that. She shot her dad a toothy smile as he knelt down to greet her. "Hey, pumpkin." Randall rubbed her head as he knelt down next to her. "You feeling alright?" "My head hurts a little, but I'm okay." She replied. "Glenda is good at that. She went off to help Willow while you were talking to the new guy though." Sure enough, both parties had disappeared since he had last seen. Willow's wound had not properly been dressed when he came in, so it was not much of a surprise. He was just glad everyone was okay. Although they could be here a while with all of the injured they had; time that he wasn't sure they had. Or maybe we do have time now that the cure is gone. The melancholy thought entered Randall's mind. He didn't know for sure, but Eli had avoided talking about it since he asked. Hopefully he was wrong about that; he wanted to wait until he could talk to Eli about it. "I'm just glad you're okay." Randall told her. "And if you need to talk about anything that happened, then... well... I'm here, okay?" "Thanks, daddy." She jumped up and gave him a brief hug. Randall gave the girl a quick kiss on her cheek before letting go of her and getting back to his feet and turned to Eli. "Alright." He nodded. "What happened?" ********** "That stings." Willow cringed. Glenda had taken Willow to a private room so the woman could take her shirt off and she could properly clean the wound on her side. At the moment, Glenda was wiping the blood off the left side of her stomach; a shot that had grazed her at some point, though Willow didn't know when. It honestly didn't even feel that bad, it felt worse now that Glenda was poking around near it. The wound on her head had already been cleaned and wrapped up, so this was really the last of it. "You'll be fine." Glenda told her. "The bullet took out a small chunk of flesh, but that's about it." Willow frowned, but didn't say anything. She merely laid there and let Glenda continue her work. For a few minutes, it remained that way; her mind heavy with what she had done and Glenda preoccupied with dressing the wound. Willow knew that is was likely to happen eventually, but the weight of killing someone, even someone who was actively trying to kill her, weighed heavily on her mind. No matter how she tried to justify it, it still felt like murder. "Hey." Willow finally broke the silence. "Have you ever... killed someone before?" "Yes." Glenda answered. "When?" Glenda didn't immediately answer. "When I was eight." "Wait, what?" Willow was stunned for only a moment. "You mean, you killed someone before all of... this?" "My dad was a drunk. An abusive drunk. Would come home after a long night of drinking and beat me and my mom. Neither of us really know why, but I suppose that isn't important." Glenda shrugged. "One night, he got out his gun and started threatening us with it. My mother and I were both crying, terrified for our lives. He was so drunk though, that eventually he dropped it halfway through a rant about how terrible we were and why we should be killed. During the scramble, I somehow managed to get to it first. When he came at me, I just... reacted." "Is that why you... you know... don't like using guns?" Glenda nodded slowly. "I-I'm sorry." Willow stammered. "I had no idea about all of that. That... that's fucked up. I feel bad about asking about your past all those times before now." "My mom still got mad at me despite the fact I saved her life, and she never looked at me the same way afterwards." Glenda sighed, but quickly wormed a smirk onto her face. "But I suppose the school of hard knocks came in handy for something, eh? Takes a special kind of person to survive out here in this... rotter-infested world. Even those of us that don't think we have anything special have a fire inside of us, even if we aren't aware of it. It makes us want to fight for ourselves and our friends. It's the reason that we're alive today. It's the reason you are alive today. Tell me... have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?" "You mean that idea that a butterfly flapping it's wings on one side of the world can cause a hurricane on the other?" Willow asked. "Exactly! I bet you were actually a really good student." Glenda retorted. "Straight A's, actually." Willow actually sounded proud of herself when she said it. "Hah, I knew it. You're smarter than everyone thinks you are. Anyway, that example is a little crazy, I don't think I buy it. But on a smaller scale, I think it still works. The guys you killed today, obviously they were bad guys. I doubt we were the first they attacked and we will likely not be the last. Not only did you save our lives, but maybe the fact that you killed them today will save other lives down the road. Everybody that they could have killed may now survive. You gotta look at the big picture here." Willow closed her eyes. You know, it did make sense. She hadn't really thought of it that way before, but she found that it did help a little. She still felt bad, of course, but the weight seemed a little lighter than it had before. "Also, you can put your shirt back on now." Glenda mentioned. "While I think your pink bra is cute, it matches your hair and all, we really should see how everyone else is doing." Willow glanced down and noticed that there was now a piece of gauze padding over the bullet wound. Rising back up to a sitting position made her feel a quick stab of pain in the region, but she gritted her teeth and bore through it. Brandon had it a lot worse than she did right now, she could deal with a little scratch. "Alright." Willow slipped back into her shirt and then slid her jacket on over it. "We can go back now. And... thanks, Glenda." The middle-aged woman smiled and put an arm around Willow, which the younger woman returned. "No problem, kiddo. You're stronger than you know." |
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| Strompy | Feb 25 2015, 10:32 PM Post #336 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Memories of biology class came to Brandon with a wave of worry. He remembered dissecting small animal and organs. He had learned where everything was in the body but they never had to sew those things back up or keep them alive. The idea of using some powder and Jeff's lighter to cauterize the wound seemed a more appealing then having a biologist poking at him lije a specimen. Just take his chances with that. That was foolish though, his odds weren't any better doing that, in fact they would be worse then if he just let the guy do his work. It was actually a small relief, at least thus way the burden fell to somebody else. There was never going to be any preparedness for the pain. Brandon tried being tough, but even so he let out a muffled cry as Max sterilized his wound. Jeff had taken off in search of the items he had requested, Brandon felt a little sympathy for the newcomer, he was probably feeling a little uneasy about strangers with guns. "Don't worry, you're not in any danger here. We're not that kind of people. Just a little wary right now." he said after regaining his composure. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Feb 26 2015, 06:38 AM Post #337 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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After Maxwell asked for meds, Eli put the gym bag down and dug through for the supplies he looted from his hideout earlier. He grabbed a bottle of painkillers and a cardboard pack of antibiotic appointment, then put them on the desk near Brandon's table. "These should help," he said simply, then looked to Brandon. His guilt hit him in full force and he struggled to find the words. "Just... hold on, man. You're gonna be okay." He gave him a half-smile, which was the most he could muster. Then he took a step towards Jeff, leaning into his ear. "Keep on eye on the doctor," he whispered. "Something off about him." Jeff still hadn't fully processed the situation. Eli could see that in his eyes and in his posture. But he nodded back anyway, and that would have to be good enough for now. Eli gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning and heading out of the room. When Randall was done talking to his daughter, Eli crossed his arms and mentally steeled himself so he could deliver the bad news. "I couldn't get it," he said. "I'm sorry." |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Feb 26 2015, 01:23 PM Post #338 |
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Is that so?
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"The last people that told me that ended up mowing down my friends in the street. So I do believe I will be more keen on believing your claim when everyone stops aiming their guns at me as their standard greeting." Maxwell let out a tired sigh. "Of course, I... I am appreciative of the sentiment." He looked around and noted that nobody had managed to find any thread. The one named Jeff had not been allowed to leave his side and nobody else was really stepping up the challenge. Rather than try to rally them, he decided it would be better to simply go to Plan B. "No thread?" He would have been so lucky. "Then we will do the same thing I did to my leg. Cauterization. You will like this even less, I am afraid. Lighter and a knife, anyone?" With a small degree of hesitance, he was able to collect a lighter from Jeff and, somehow, a knife. Everyone was watching him carefully, but all he did was wipe the blade down with the Betadine, which was not really made for sterilizing blades, but it was all that he had. After making sure the blade was as clean as it was going to get, he dried it off and used the lighter to heat up the metal. "There is a trick to this." Maxwell explained out loud; mostly to inform the others that he wasn't about to kill their friend. "You can't heat the blade up too much or apply it for too long at once. It needs to be within a certain range and applied in short bursts. That way, you don't cause permanent damage to the subcutaneous tissue. Nevertheless, there will be tissue damage, but I will do my best to keep that to a minimum. This is, unfortunately, the best I can do without stitching. Now, you might want to brace yourself, this will not be-" "Found some!" A voice cut through the room. Kelsey stood at the doorway, holding a needle and some stitching. Maxwell felt like a serial killer; the girl walked in as he stood over his friend with a knife pointed at him. Strangely enough, this didn't elicit the usual response it would from a young girl. She simply walked up and placed the supplies on the counter nearby, and then walked out. Maxwell silently gave a thank you; he remembered how badly he screamed when he cauterized his leg. If they heard Brandon screaming like that, they may actually think he was killing him. "Much appreciated, young lady." Maxwell handed the knife back to Jeff and immediately grabbed the stitching and needle. He used the lighter to sterilize the needle before handing that back to Jeff as well. "This will... actually be only marginally uncomfortable." Maxwell cleared his throat. "Don't worry, I have done this before. It was in a... veterinary medicine class. But what are we if not hyper-intelligent animals at the end of the day, hm?" Maxwell frowned, but didn't lift his eyes as he started to stitch the wound closed. "That wasn't actually assuring, was it?" ********** "God dammit..." Randall grunted. No cure meant no trip to Chicago. It meant Mac had died for nothing! He didn't want that weighing on his shoulders. "I don't know what to do anymore." He admitted. |
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| Strompy | Feb 26 2015, 03:59 PM Post #339 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Thank God! Brandon almost shouted the words as Kelsey came in with needle and thread. Cauterization was of course Brandon's first thought and only moments before he'd wished to do it even to himself. As soon as Max had heated the knife though he had done a complete 180 on the idea. First thing he'd been told about it by his dad was that it hurt, hurt like hell. After that close escape Brandon had no more concerns about Max treating his wound. Anything was preferable to the hot knife. "Just do your thing, Doc. Strangely very comfortable with this, considering the alternative." he said, relief clear in his voice. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Feb 26 2015, 07:17 PM Post #340 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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"I do," Eli told Randall, sounding darkly confident. "After I got away, I got one of those pendejos alone, and I convinced him to tell me where they're all holed up. After they've looted the car, that's where they'll go. And that's where I'll get the cure back." He paused when he saw Willow and Glenda emerge from another room and walk their way. Aside from a bandage on her head, Willow looked okay. Eli was thankful for that. He turned back to Randall. "I think everyone should hear this," he said. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Feb 27 2015, 04:01 AM Post #341 |
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Is that so?
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"Hardly a professional job by any stretch of the imagination." Maxwell looked over his work on Brandon. The wound had been stitched closed and the bleeding controlled. He had to feel his way through the procedure, since he had never quite done anything like that before, but it had not been as difficult as he had expected. Of course, there was room for improvement, but for a first attempt, Maxwell was rather pleased with himself. He couldn't hide his pleasure and relief at the success of his handiwork. "It will probably be sore for a long while, but your friend here did lend his painkillers and antibiotics to your cause. And while I am hardly a medical doctor, I don't think I need to stress the importance of both of these medications to you right now." Maxwell motioned to the two bottles of pills that Eli had brought in earlier before glancing at his blood-covered hands. "And of course, do take it easy for a while. Not to imply that you will feel like moving around much because I can assure you that will not be the case." Maxwell let out a loud sigh. Hopefully this would be sufficient to prove he was useful. Enough to keep him alive. Before he could even find something to wipe his hands off with did Randall poke his head in the door. "When you guys are ready, Eli wants to have a word with everyone." ********** About five minutes later, the ragtag band of survivors stood crowded around the room where Brandon had been operated on. It was a courtesy to him, since nobody figured Brandon would feel much like moving at this point. He could rest within earshot of Eli's announcement. "Alright Eli." Randall started everything off. "What's the plan here?" |
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| DoctorYerishi | Feb 27 2015, 01:25 PM Post #342 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Eli stood by the door and addressed those assembled. His expression was grim. "I owe you all an apology," he began, but his eyes fixed on Maxwell when he said it. "Almost all of you, at least. This was my fault. I'm the one that said we should come up this way. I thought it would be safer. When I was in New York, I heard a lot of stories about how after the shit really went down, the government released a lot of the prison population, exiling them west. I'm talking some gladiator places too -- Attica, Sing Sing, Rikers. In the final days of the quarantine, I heard stories about chaos. Maybe they were exaggerated. I thought we could avoid them by going north. I was wrong. That mistake lost us half our supplies. It lost us the cure. It got Mac killed." He exhaled loudly, then continued. His expression was even grimmer. "That last thing I can never make up for. Ever. But the cure -- maybe I can put that right. The assholes who did this to us are camped out at Old Fort Erie. It's an historic fort from some war, I guess, and it's just south of here. When they're done scavenging, that's where they'll take our shit, including the cure. I'm going to go there and I'm going to get it back." He paused again, and decided in that moment to be a little more honest than he even intended. Until now, he figured their backgrounds before the outbreak were irrelevant and that it didn't do any good to invite unnecessary judgment by confessing to the kind of stuff he used to get up to. These were people who used to take their lead from a police officer, after all. Now, though, it seemed so far from important. "I used to do this kind of thing," he said. "I was a thief, I've taken scores like this. I can do it again." He still left out the part about how he wasn't necessarily great at his former profession. He'd been in jail twice for it, and had skipped town while on bond for his third strike. There was honesty and then there was instilling unnecessary doubt, he figured. He'd stick with the former, avoid the latter. "I'm not asking any of you to come with me. But that's the plan." |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Feb 27 2015, 05:30 PM Post #343 |
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Is that so?
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"That's extremely dangerous." Glenda warned out of instinct, despite the obviousness of the claim. "I agree. It's extremely reckless and dangerous." Randall threw his two cents in with a heavy sigh. "But then again, I said the same thing to Mac and we all know how that worked out. Regardless of whether or not it is a cure, Mac's blood is on that thing now. If I walked away from this, I feel like I would be insulting his memory. So, I'm in." There was a lot that could go wrong with this plan. Like Eli, Randall would never ask anyone to help them. This was dangerous and Randall was the one that wanted to deliver the cure to Chicago in the first place. Eli thought that this was his mistake to fix, but Randall felt exactly the same way; he had led them up here and he needed to fix this. He could never ask for more from everyone than what they had already given him. "I'll go too." Glenda immediately volunteered. "No, I'm sorry." Randall shot the woman a frown. "I want you to stay here. I need someone reliable and in good shape to make sure our injured are safe." Glenda returned the frown but nodded her head in acceptance. "You're right. I understand." |
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| DoctorYerishi | Feb 27 2015, 05:56 PM Post #344 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Eli frowned and kept his lips tight. He felt more guilty than ever -- both because Randall was volunteering and putting his life in more risk, and because Eli secretly hoped he would. He was prepared to march down to the old fort alone, but the truth was he would need help. This was unlikely to be a one man job. "It's gotta be a small team, anyway," he added. "We need to do this on the prowl. Get in, get out before they knew we were there. Too many people and we're gonna attract attention." |
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| Strompy | Feb 27 2015, 07:34 PM Post #345 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Brandon couldn't keep his frustration from showing. They were going out there, possibly to another fight. They'd be in danger and he couldn't do anything to help. It was more likely he'd end up being a liability to them. Pursing his lips in disappointment and frustration he let his head fall back down on the table and sighed. "I'm sorry I can't go with you on this." he said to voice his frustration, with a bitter note note of disappointment in his voice. "Sorry I can't help. Not that I'd really want to go anyway." Julie admitted. Her arm had been splinted and rested in a sling, Glenda's handiwork. Without an x-ray they couldn't tell the severity of the injury. Julie hoped the fracture was a minor one, but even if it were she'd be pretty unhelpful for a while. "Whoever does go just don't die, okay. I don't know how many people like you are left." Julie added. |
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7:31 PM Jul 10