It’s a ceiling, I thought to myself. I think I am looking at a ceiling—or at least the remains of a ceiling. It looked like your standard steel rafters covered in drywall. How could I tell they were steel and not wood? About half of the drywall had fallen, revealing the rusty steel roof rafters commonly used in commercial flat-roof buildings. Though, none I know of looked a couple of hundred years old though. Thankfully, none of the old, crumbly looking drywall had dropped near where I was currently lying down.

I had awoken just a minute before, and the grogginess I felt seemed really strange. I don’t remember ever feeling like this when I’ve woken up before, and with that weird ceiling above me, I started to freak out a little bit. Where the fuck am I?

I think I may even have a headache on the way. A small pain was staring at my temples. I slowly rolled my head side to side in an attempt to clear my mind, afraid that if I moved too quickly, this nascent headache would become a full-blown migraine. The old weathered fake leather, It just had to be plastic, actually, crackled as I moved my head. As my grogginess started to clear, I raised my hand to rub my temple and I got my second surprise in less than a couple of minutes. I could barely raise my arm. I felt as weak as a kitten.  I stared at my arm.  It looked like the arms you saw on concentration camp survivors in those old WWII films!

"What the hell," I croaked. My voice was barely a whisper and sounded as dry as concrete. The sound echoed faintly in the decaying room, a lonely reminder of my disoriented state. I tried to swallow a few times but my mouth was too dry.  I chewed my tongue and the inside my cheek in an attempt to get my mouth to produce some saliva.  After a minute or two, I could finally swallow and my mouth began to feel a bit moist again.  

With a monumental effort, I pushed myself up on my elbows and started to look around. The brittle plastic or vinyl covering of the mattress crackled again as my elbows sank into the old, no longer springy foam underneath.

Okay, no one ever expects to wake of to this, I thought, Or, the Spanish Inquisition, the nerd part of my brain added. A small dry laugh escaped my lips

The sight was so strange, alien even, that it took me a few minutes to acknowledge what I was looking at. Had I not been a gamer and played Fallout, I would probably still be blankly staring at my surroundings. It kind of looked some of the old office building in the game, minus the 50’s retro vibe.

I was looking at what could only be described as a post-apocalyptic version of a hospital room. Definitely not my bedroom. The walls were cracked and crumbling, with chunks of plaster scattered on the floor. An old IV stand lay toppled in the corner, its bag long dried out, shriveled up and mostly crumbled to dust. Old, dust filled, cobwebs hung thick in the corners, their strands shimmering faintly in the dim light filtering through a single, grime-covered window. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay, mingled with the faint metallic tang of rust.

"What the hell," I croaked again, more to hear my own voice than anything else.

I slowly took in my surroundings, a mantra playing over and over in my mind. Don’t freak out, don’t freak out. I was on the remains of a hospital bed that at one time in its apparently long life had been a fairly high-end model. Now it looked like it had decayed to the point that if I moved even just a little bit, it might collapse and send my now, apparently boney, ass to the floor. That should probably seem weird, but that was fairly normal compared to the area right near my body. Within the range of approximately six inches from my body, everything was perfectly clean.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I’m not just talking clean, I’m talking crystal clear, mountain stream fresh. But, past the six-inch limit, everything was caked with dust, mold, and mildew... and... the floor was littered with bones. What the FUCK!?!? Most of the bones were small, like rat or rabbit size, but a few were larger, like from a dog or maybe even a... sheep? All of them piled to a height, I would guess, of a couple inches. A faint draft stirred the dust just beyond the clear zone, causing motes to dance lazily in the pale light filtering through the grime on the weirdly unbroken window.

Dust, mold, and mystery bones. It’s like a bad episode of ‘Survivor: Hospital Edition’, I thought to myself.

And the hits just kept coming.

Am I naked? Yes... well, no... can these little wisps of rotted fabric even count as clothes? I am definitely barefoot. The tattered remains of what might have once been a hospital gown clung to my emaciated body in shreds.

Of course, the world ends, and I’m stuck in a hospital gown that barely counts as clothing. Classic. P.S., don’t freak out!

"Okay Luke, you need to get your ass moving before you shut down from shock," I whispered to myself.

I needed to get the hell out of here before whatever put those bones in room came back and my bones were added to the pile! I slowly slid to the edge of the old hospital bed and, with as much care as my weakened muscles could stand, I slowly lowered myself to the floor, carefully brushing my feet side to side, making a safe place to plant my feet. Just as I added weight to my legs, the table finally gave up its fight against gravity and slumped into a pile. I wasn’t quite ready and I teetered a bit, my weak leg muscles screaming in protest, before my balance stabilized.

I slowly stretched my back, coming to my full 6’ 2” height. Taking a deep breath, I was overcome by a fit of coughing.  Too much dust!

Recovering, I slowly took calming breaths till I felt a bit stronger.  I then slowly picked my way through the bones, dust, and debris to the doorframe. Of course, the door was off its hinges. The decayed remains of a hollow-core door lay on the floor of the hallway. Outside the doorframe was what you would think of if someone said, “hospital hallway,” or more correctly, “abandoned hospital hallway.” The walls were lined with faded, peeling paint, and old medical posters hung askew, their messages long forgotten. A row of shattered fluorescent lights that, in times past, would have lit the hallway, now hung dark, what little light there was that came from the open doorways, cast a sickly green hue that made the deep shadows dance unnervingly.

Left or right, I asked myself, Ignoring the other doors that lined the sides of the hallway. Both looked similar as each ended in T intersections. The faint smell of mildew and something far less pleasant permeated the air, and the occasional drip of water echoed down the corridor, punctuating the eerie silence.

Mentally flipping a coin, I started heading left. At the left side T intersection was another short hallway. To the left, was a door with a sign above that read “Recovery,” and to the right, was a door with a sign that read “Lobby.” Lobby it is, I thought to myself and I pushed against the door that had, against all odds, remained on its hinges.  The door didn’t want to open so I pushed harder. 

Well, I tried to push harder but in my weakened state, I’m not sure how much additional pressure I was actual able to apply. In a few minutes though, it started to open.  It only opened about a quarter of the way before it stopped with such finality that instead of trying to get it to open further, I just squeezed through the opening.

The lobby was comprised of a waiting area filled with broken chairs, half the ceiling and a large round reception counter in the center of the room. Like everything else that I had seen here, the walls bore the scars of time, with large patches of mold creeping across them, and the floor was littered with debris. The remains of shattered glass bulbs, that had obviously fallen when their fixtures had crumbled way, crunched underfoot as I stepped inside. What had to have been a toppled potted plant lay in the corner, its ceramic pot cracked and its contents reduced to a mound of dry, compacted soil. On the wall above the counter was the name “Longren Medical Center.”

Longren Medical... memories started to flood in, and I staggered a bit, having to lean up against the door I had just squeezed through... but those thoughts were soon derailed as text filled my vision:

SYSTEM RECONFIGURATION COMPLETE