Reborn Before the Apocalypse: The Last Medic System

Rain hammered the stone steps of Saint Brigid Hospital, and Caleb Rourke braced his shoulder against the heavy ER door. The metal was cold through his wet jacket, and the smell of antiseptic drifted out from the hall behind him.

Marcy Dunn stood just inside with a clipboard pressed to her chest. "Keep it open, Caleb, because I count nineteen people so far," she called over the storm.

Caleb did not look back, since his eyes were on the dark street. "Nineteen is good, Marcy, so keep counting out loud for me," he replied.

A white-haired man shuffled up the steps with a cane, and Caleb reached out to catch his elbow. "Easy now, Mr. Webb, the stone is slick, so lean on me," he urged.

Mr. Webb gripped Caleb's sleeve with a shaking hand. "Thank you, son, I did not think my legs would get me here," he gasped.

Caleb guided him through the gap and gave him a gentle push toward the hall. "Twenty," he announced, and Marcy marked her clipboard with a quick nod.

Marcy leaned close, and the light from the hall caught the worry on her face. "Caleb, I have to tell you something, and you will not like it," she murmured.

Caleb wiped rain from his eyes with his free hand. "Then tell me fast, because the door will not hold itself," he answered.

Marcy shook her head slowly. "The supply room is empty, because we gave the last bandages and the last doses to the ambulance crews an hour ago," she whispered.

A cold weight settled in Caleb's chest, and his hand drifted to his jacket pocket. Inside it, a single injector lay against his ribs, still warm from his body.

Marcy watched his hand and tilted her head. "Do you have anything on you, anything at all?" she asked.

Caleb pulled his hand away from the pocket and forced a tired smile. "No, Marcy, I used my last kit on the bus stop and I have nothing left," he lied.

'If I say it out loud, every person here will beg for it, and one dose cannot save them all.'

Marcy sighed and let her shoulders drop. "Then we pray the night is short," she sighed.

A shout cut through the rain from the street, and a man in a torn work coat stumbled into the glow of the doorway. "Please, do not close it, I am coming," he panted.

Caleb stretched out a hand and hauled him up the last two steps. "I have you, sir, so tell me your name," he ordered.

The man held up his left arm, and blood ran down it in dark ribbons. "Tobias Greer, and I tore my arm on a fence when I ran," he groaned.

Caleb felt his stomach tighten, because the copper smell of the blood rose sharp and strong in the cold air. "Tobias, sit on the top step and give me that arm right now," he commanded.

Tobias dropped down and held out his arm with a wince. "Is it bad, doctor?" he asked.

Caleb pulled a roll of gauze from his belt and began to wrap the wound tight. "I am only a medic, but it is not deep, and I need you to hold still," he said.

Tobias hissed through his teeth as the gauze pulled snug. "It stings like fire, but I can hold still," he promised.

Caleb tied off the knot and glanced at the wet stone where red drops still glistened. "Marcy, bring a towel and wipe the step, because the rain will not wash all of this away," he called.

Marcy hurried out with a gray towel and scrubbed at the stone. "I am wiping it now, but the blood keeps coming," she grumbled.

Then a low groan rolled up the street, and every head on the steps turned toward it. The sound was wet and rough, and it came from many throats at once.

Tobias froze with his bandaged arm held against his chest. "Do you hear that?" he whispered.

Caleb stood up straight, and the rain ran cold down the back of his neck. "I hear it, and I need everyone to stay calm," he warned.

Shapes moved at the end of the street, pale and slow beneath the broken lamps. They walked with their heads tilted up, as if they were smelling the air.

Marcy dropped the towel and gripped Caleb's arm. "Those are the Sallow, and they are coming for the blood," she cried.

Caleb pulled her hand from his arm and gave it a firm squeeze. "Then we move faster, so get Tobias inside and tell the others to climb to the second floor," he ordered.

Tobias scrambled to his feet and swayed. "I did this, did I not, because my arm is bleeding," he groaned.

Caleb caught him by the shoulder and held him steady. "You did nothing wrong, Tobias, because they were already coming," he replied.

Tobias nodded, and his eyes were wide and wet. "Then I will help you hold the door," he offered.

Caleb pointed past him toward the hall. "No, you will go inside and sit down, because I need your arm to stay still," he insisted.

Tobias hesitated, and then he stumbled through the gap and out of sight. Marcy stayed in the doorway with her clipboard crushed in both hands.

Caleb squinted through the rain, and a large shape caught his eye at the curb. A white truck sat there with its engine running and its lights off, and a faded Corvane Pharmaceuticals logo showed on the door.

Marcy followed his gaze and frowned. "Why would a truck sit there with its lights off on a night like this?" she asked.

Caleb watched the dark windshield for a moment, but he saw no face behind it. "I do not know, Marcy, and I do not have time to find out," he snapped.

The groaning grew louder, and the first pale figure reached the bottom of the steps. Its head lifted, and its mouth hung open as it breathed in the scent of blood.

Caleb gripped the edge of the door with both hands. "Marcy, how many are still outside?" he demanded.

Marcy leaned out and peered into the rain. "Two, I think, and one of them is running," she shouted.

A woman burst out of the dark with a small girl pressed against her chest. "Wait, please wait, we are right here," she screamed.

Caleb stepped down one stair and held out his arm like a rail. "Run to me, ma'am, and do not look back," he called.

The woman stumbled up the steps and nearly fell into his arms. "My name is Janet Hale, and this is my daughter Piper, and she is burning up," she sobbed.

Caleb touched the back of his hand to the girl's forehead, and the heat of it startled him. "She has a high fever, and she is shaking badly," he murmured.

Piper lifted her head, and her voice was thin and cracked. "My chest hurts, mister, and I am so cold," she whispered.

Caleb crouched until his eyes were level with hers. "I know, sweetheart, and you are very brave for telling me," he replied.

Janet clutched his jacket with both fists, and her voice broke. "Please, you are a medic, so please help her," she begged.

Caleb looked past her shoulder, and the pale figures were already climbing the lower steps. 'There is only one dose, and there is only one door.'

Marcy tugged at his sleeve from the doorway. "Caleb, we have to close it now, or they will get inside," she pleaded.

Caleb raised one finger without turning his head. "One more breath, Marcy, because I am almost done," he said.

He reached into his pocket and drew out the injector, and it shone dull silver in the weak light. Marcy saw it and her face went pale.

Marcy stared at the injector, and her voice shook. "You said you had nothing," she accused.

Caleb gave her a sad, small smile and shrugged. "I know what I said, and I am sorry, but I needed it to be true for a little longer," he confessed.

Janet pressed her hand to her mouth as tears ran down her cheeks. "Is that medicine for my daughter?" she asked.

Caleb pulled the cap off the injector with his teeth and pushed up Piper's sleeve. "It is the last one in the building, and she is the youngest person here," he explained.

Piper looked at the needle and flinched. "Will it hurt?" she asked.

Caleb pressed the tip against her small arm and spoke in his softest voice. "Only a little pinch, and then you will feel better, I promise," he soothed.

The needle slid in, and the dose emptied with a quiet click. Piper gasped once, and then she leaned against her mother with her eyes half closed.

Janet kissed the top of her daughter's head and looked up at him with shining eyes. "How can I ever thank you?" she wept.

Caleb stood and pointed at the open door with a steady hand. "Go inside, find a bed, and stay away from the windows, because that is all the thanks I need," he told her.

Janet lifted Piper and ran for the door, and Marcy caught them both and pulled them into the light. The hall beyond was full of frightened faces, and every one of them watched Caleb.

A cold hand closed around Caleb's ankle from below, and he looked down in horror. A Sallow knelt on the step with grey skin and cloudy eyes, and it dragged itself up toward the scent of him.

Caleb kicked free and slammed his boot into its chest. "Marcy, close the door right now," he shouted.

Marcy gripped the edge of the door and shook her head. "I will not leave you out there, so come inside this second," she screamed.

Caleb turned and looked at the street, where dozens of pale shapes now filled the steps. There was no gap left for him to pass, and the door could not stay open another heartbeat.

He faced Marcy and set his jaw. "If I step in, they follow me, and twenty-two people will not survive it," he said quietly.

Marcy's voice cracked, and her eyes filled. "Caleb, please, do not make me do this," she cried.

Caleb pressed his back against the cold metal and gave her a firm nod. "You can do it, Marcy, because you are the strongest person I know, so lock it and keep them safe," he urged.

Tobias appeared at her side and grabbed the door with his good hand. "I am sorry, Caleb, I am so sorry," he choked.

Caleb stepped back until his heels met the edge of the top stair. "Count them one more time for me, and then go," he whispered.

Marcy wiped her face with her sleeve, and her voice came out small. "Twenty-two," she sobbed.

The door swung shut with a heavy thud, and the latch clicked like a stone dropped in a well. The sound was final, and it echoed in Caleb's ears longer than the storm.

Hands seized his jacket and his arm, and teeth tore into his shoulder with a burst of white pain. Caleb cried out once, and then he slid down the cold door until he sat on the wet stone.

The rain beat on his face, and the copper taste of blood filled his mouth. The groaning of the Sallow faded into a distant hum, as if someone were turning down a radio.

Caleb tilted his head back against the door and let out a slow, shaky breath. "Twenty-two," he whispered, and he smiled, because the count was right.

The street dimmed, and the cold crept up from his fingers to his wrists. Then a calm voice spoke inside his head, clear and quiet, and it was not his own.

"Caleb Rourke, you gave everything and kept nothing, and I have been waiting for you," the voice said.

Caleb tried to ask who was speaking, but his lips would not move. The darkness rushed in, and the last thing he heard was the voice speaking once more.

"My name is Triage, and this is not the end," it said.