Bob woke up to a loud knocking on his door. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, trying to shake off the grogginess of sleep. It was early morning, and the sun had barely risen over the horizon. Bob stumbled towards the door and opened it, expecting to see one of the refugees asking for help with something.
But instead, he found himself face to face with one of the men who had brought the refugees from the city suffering from the outbreak. The man looked distraught and was panting heavily. Bob recognized him as one of the men who had been helping in the medical center all night.
"Bob, please, you have to come with me," the man said, his voice shaking.
Bob frowned, wondering what could be so urgent that the man would wake him up so early in the morning. "What's going on?" he asked.
"It's my daughter," the man replied, his eyes filling with tears. "She's sick, really sick. The disease is taking its toll on her little body, and I don't know what to do. I need your help."
Bob felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to watch his child suffer and not be able to do anything about it. "Of course, I'll come with you," he said. "Lead the way."
The man nodded, and Bob followed him out of his room and toward the med bay. They walked in silence, the only sound being the man's ragged breathing. Bob tried to prepare himself mentally for what he might see when they reached the makeshift hospital.
When they arrived, the man led Bob to a small cot in the corner of the room. A little girl lay on the cot, her face pale and her eyes closed. Bob could see the rise and fall of her chest, but it was shallow and weak. He could tell that she was struggling to breathe.
The man knelt beside his daughter and took her hand. "Please, Bob, you have to help her," he begged. "Use your magic to keep her stable until the CDC gets here."
"I'll do what I can, but I am not an experienced healer, I can't guarantee results. I only just learned healing magic yesterday."
Bob swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He knew that he had to do something, but he didn't know if he had the power or the knowledge to help the little girl. Still, he closed his eyes and focused his mind on the task at hand.
He concentrated on the girl, as he focused his magic, and placed his hand on the girl's forehead. He felt the energy flow through his body, and he directed it toward her, willing it to keep her stable and calm. He felt a tingling sensation in his fingers, and he knew that his Gentle Touch spell was working.
After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked at the little girl. Her breathing had become less labored, and her color had improved slightly. Bob knew that he couldn't cure her completely, but he could at least give her a chance to survive until the CDC arrived. The man looked up at Bob, tears streaming down his face.
"Thank you," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you so much."
Bob nodded, feeling drained and exhausted. He knew that he had to rest and recharge his energy, but he also knew that he had done the right thing. He had used his gift to help someone in need, and that was all that mattered.
As he walked back to his room, he couldn't help but think about the little girl and her family. He knew that they had a long road ahead of them, but he hoped that his magic had given them a glimmer of hope. Bob also knew that he would do whatever he could to help them in the future.
Bob was feeling exhausted and needed a break. He decided to stop at the cafeteria to get some food before heading back to his room. As he entered, he noticed that the previously empty cafeteria was now filled with refugees, all eagerly waiting in line for a hearty meal.
He grabbed a tray and made his way down the buffet line. The options were limited, but he didn't mind. The cafeteria was serving a simple, yet satisfying stew, freshly baked bread, roasted potatoes, and a sweet-tasting drink that washed the food down quite well.
Bob sat down at a table and took a spoonful of the stew. It was warm and filling, with a savory broth that hit the spot. He paired it with a piece of bread that was still warm from the oven and slathered it with butter. The roasted potatoes were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, adding a delicious crunch to the meal.
As he ate, he looked around and saw the refugees, all sitting together and sharing a meal. They all had different stories and backgrounds, but they were brought together by their shared experience. Bob felt a sense of camaraderie with them, even though he couldn't fully understand what they had been through.
After finishing his meal, Bob felt recharged and ready to get back to helping as best he could. He returned his tray and left the cafeteria, feeling grateful for the warm meal and the opportunity to help those in need. He went back to his room to do a little light reading while he waited for the next knock to interrupt him, which he was sure would probably happen soon enough.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
----------------------------------------
The small group of heavily armored soldiers moved through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dead leaves covering the ground. The trees towered above them, their branches intertwining to form a dense canopy that filtered the sunlight and created a gloomy atmosphere. The air was thick with the stench of decay and death, a reminder of the horrors that lurked in the shadows.
The soldiers moved in a tight formation their weapons at the ready, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. They were a highly trained unit, handpicked for this mission because of their expertise in dealing with the undead and their prowess with magic. Their armor was reinforced with magically enhanced metal plates and their. Each soldier was trained in several weapons, to ensure that they were prepared for any situation.
In the center of the formation was the person they were tasked with protecting. They were on an escort mission, and this particular package had to arrive on time, or there would be dire consequences. He was a Healer, and a specialist in infectious diseases, and his magic held the key to eliminating the disease at its core. His presence was essential to the success of the mission, and the soldiers were determined to get him to the bunker at all costs.
As they moved deeper into the forest, the soldiers encountered their first group of zombies. The creatures were slow and lumbering, their limbs stiff and their eyes vacant. But they were also relentless and hungry, driven by an insatiable hunger for human flesh. The soldiers began to launch lightning bolts at the oncoming zombies. The zombies fell in a heap, their bodies twitching and smoking as they were charred and returned to death.
The soldiers pressed on, their pace quickening as they realized that time was running out. The doctor was the only hope for the survivors of the outbreak, and they could not afford to fail. More zombies appeared, their numbers increasing with each passing moment.
The soldiers fought back with all their might, their movements precise and coordinated. They moved as a unit, their armor clanging against each other as they blocked and parried the zombies' attacks with their weapons, all the while unleashing spells into the zombies.
The forest grew darker as the day wore on, the shadows lengthening and deepening. After several more zombie attacks, they finally reached the entrance to the bunker. It was a heavy metal door set into the side of a hill, guarded by a team of heavily armed soldiers.
The soldiers on the inside recognized the important person, and they quickly opened the door and ushered him in. The small group of soldiers breathed a sigh of relief as they watched him disappear into the safety of the bunker.
A group of soldiers stood guard at the entrance to the bunker shelter, their weapons at the ready as they defended against the onslaught of zombies. Some of the soldiers wielded bows, sending arrows flying toward the approaching undead. Others used magic to conjure up powerful spells, blasting the zombies with fiery bolts and lightning strikes.
The rest of the soldiers engaged in close combat, brandishing swords and shields as they fought off the relentless horde. Despite the overwhelming odds, the soldiers stood their ground, determined to protect the safety of those seeking refuge inside the bunker. The sounds of arrows whistling through the air, of spells, whizzing, and swords clashing echoed through the air as the battle raged on.
The soldiers guarding the entrance to the bunker had been fighting tirelessly for what seemed like hours, defending constantly as wave after wave of zombies rushed toward them. The horde seemed never-ending, with no sign of slowing down. However, the soldiers never lost their determination and continued to fight with all their might.
As the sun began to rise on the horizon, the tide began to turn in their favor. With a final push, the soldiers managed to defeat the zombie horde, their shouts of victory echoing through the air. They breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that they had protected the bunker and everyone inside. It was a hard-fought battle, but they emerged victorious, proud of their bravery and sacrifice.
The soldiers, weary and grim-faced, closed the heavy metal door behind them, shutting out the acrid smell of death and fire that permeated the air outside the bunker. Now, as they returned to their guard posts inside the bunker, they tried to shake off the horrors of the outside world and focus on their duties. But the memory of the smell of death lingered, a constant reminder of the loss they had all become too familiar with recently.
The soldiers who had just defended the bunker entrance were immediately relieved of duty by their commander and told to get some rest. The soldiers halfheartedly began to say they didn't need it when a deep voice boomed behind them.
"You soldiers better follow that order and go get some well-deserved rest. That fighting out there was great, you should feel proud for defending this place so well yet again."
The soldiers snapped to attention, ignoring their exhaustion, saluted the commanding officer, and hightailed it to the barracks to rest. The Officer ordered everyone else about their business and then went to debrief the Elite Squad that completed the escort mission, safely delivering the package. The Officer walked briskly to the med center where he found the VIP being guarded closely by the elite squad. He approached the Healer, who he knew quite well, and greeted him.
The Officer in charge of the city guard approached the Healer who had just arrived to deal with the outbreak. "Thank you for coming, we've been waiting for your arrival. What do you need from us?"
The Healer looked up and replied, "I'll need access to the affected areas to assess the situation and start treating the sick. I also need to set up a quarantine zone to prevent the further spread of the disease."
The Officer nodded, "Of course, I'll arrange for a guard escort to take you there. But, I must warn you that the situation is dire, and our resources are limited. We've had reports of looting and riots in the city."
The Healer looked concerned but resolute, "I understand the risks. We'll have to work together to ensure the safety of both the sick and the guards. I'll need your help to maintain order and provide protection for those in need."
The Officer replied, "Agreed. We'll do everything we can to support you. Once you have gotten the situation here under control, we will begin to make plans to liberate the city. Let's get to work."