Night 57: Medical Wing Hall

[purpletaint]

[from here]He glanced idly at the doorways as they passed them, and yet still none read infirmary. "It's only a waste of time," he replied. "If you can't find them. Which would be a bit pathetic in a small building like this

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[zack_fair]

It was clear that he was no longer getting through to her. Zack didn't know if he could blame himself for that, though -- if Rose had actually been paying attention, she probably would have figured it out. But she couldn't exactly do that when she seemed to be having a mild panic attack, and Zack was still trying to figure out why. They had come down this way to get to the infirmary originally and she'd been completely fine, so why was she acting so scared now? Did it all have to do with that blood that she'd smelled?

But then, suddenly, it hit him. They'd thought she was immune at first because it hadn't been so obvious, but in reality Rose had also suffered some sort of side effect from the drug that she'd taken. She had a crippling of fear of... well, of something.

All she said was that there were "things," so it was possible she was hallucinating. Zack felt for her, since even if he was currently not himself, at least his mind wasn't having tricks played on it. A physical change versus a mental one -- it almost seemed like this had been planned. But he couldn't think too much on it now since Rose was racing back down the hall, and Zack didn't hesitate to follow. She didn't seem scared of him, strangely enough, and so he was going to stick with her no matter what. He doubted she would do well if she was left alone.

[loyalrose]

She could hear the click of Zack's nails on the tile behind her, following her. Despite the fact that Rose knew it was him, the sound still sent cold chills down her spine, her breath coming in panicky gasps. Something loomed in front of her and a shriek left her lips before she realized it was a wall. Another hallway. Completely disoriented now, her fingers reached out, guiding herself down in a new direction, stopping when she found a door. Another room.

Her hands were scrabbling for the handle an instant later. It was locked or jammed or something, but in the dark, she couldn't tell, and in a moment of extreme frustration, she slammed the handle of the flashlight against the knob with a strained curse.

Miracle of miracles. The lock snapped, the door bouncing inwards from the force of her blow. And what was better, the flashlight flared back on, dimmer than before, but welcome all the same.

"Oh, thank all the gods," she whispered fervently, clutching it in a rush of relief that made her knees week as she staggered into the room.

[ Going here.]