Chapter 4
“The Nurse”
The relentless sun beat down on Port Phillip Bay, its heat oppressive as it reflected off the parched ground. Mia Holliday moved through the crowded makeshift hospital, her eyes scanning rows of patients laid out on simple cots, their faces etched with exhaustion and pain. The tarpaulin roof flapped in the wind, offering little respite from the harsh Australian summer. Even with the makeshift cooling units, the air was stifling, thick with the acrid scent of antiseptic, sweat, and something darker—a scent she had come to recognize as despair.
The hospital was a patchwork of what had once been a seaside market, now converted into a temporary care facility. Brightly colored tarps and tents, once meant for selling handmade trinkets and fresh produce, were now lined with the injured and sick. Mia adjusted her mask, her eyes stinging from the dust kicked up by the wind, and moved towards her next patient. She had grown used to the chaos, the sense of barely controlled disorder that came with trying to treat too many people with too few resources.
She knelt beside an elderly man, his breathing shallow, his skin pallid. She took his hand, her fingers brushing the faded blue tattoo that marked his wrist—a relic from a time when the world still had enough resources to afford luxuries like ink and needle. His eyes flickered open, and he looked at her, a weak smile playing at his lips.
"You again," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustle of the wind and the groans of other patients. "I thought I told you I wasn't going to make it."
Mia smiled back, though her eyes remained sad. "You know I don't take 'no' for an answer, Mr. McAllister," she said gently, reaching for the saline solution hanging from the pole beside his cot. The bag was nearly empty, and she sighed, knowing there were too many patients and not enough supplies. Each drop that ran into his veins was precious, each moment gained a victory, however small.
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Mr. McAllister's smile faded, his eyes searching her face. "You... you shouldn't be here, girl," he murmured. "You should be with your family. Not... this."
Mia swallowed hard, her gaze drifting towards the sea in the distance. The water shimmered, an illusion of tranquility against the backdrop of a world falling apart. "This is my family now," she said quietly. "These people... they need me. And I can't walk away from that."
The old man closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. "You're too good for this world," he muttered, his voice trailing off as he slipped back into a fitful sleep.
Mia stood, her knees aching from crouching on the hard ground. She took a deep breath, wiping sweat from her forehead as she glanced around. The other medics moved like ghosts, their movements mechanical, their expressions hidden behind masks and exhaustion. It was easy to forget they were people—each one carrying the weight of the suffering they tried, and often failed, to alleviate.
As she moved to the next patient, Mia's gaze caught on the poster pinned to the support beam in the middle of the tent. The image was familiar now—an advertisement for Ultimate Dive, the same one plastered across every wall in Melbourne. "A chance to make a difference," it read, the bold letters framed by the image of a serene, untouched world. A world where hunger, fear, and death had no place.
Mia had heard the rumors. People disappearing, people being convinced to enter the pods, promised a way out of the suffering. It was a gamble, a chance to leave behind the crumbling remains of the real world for something different. For something better, if only in illusion. She had dismissed it at first, but as the weeks dragged on, as the supplies dwindled and the death toll climbed, she had begun to understand why so many were willing to take that leap.
She reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the edge of the gamepass she had kept hidden. It felt like a betrayal to even consider it—a betrayal to the people she cared for, to the patients who depended on her. But there was a voice, small but insistent, that whispered to her in the dark hours of the night. A voice that told her that staying here, trying to fight against the inevitable, was a losing battle.
Mia looked down at the gamepass, her heart pounding. Her decision was made. She had given everything she had to this place, to these people, but there was nothing left to give. She had to find a way out—not just for herself, but for those she might be able to help in a different world, a world where her skills could mean something beyond buying another day of suffering.
She tucked the gamepass back into her pocket, her fingers trembling. The sun was setting now, casting long shadows across the makeshift tents, the sea turning a deep shade of crimson as if stained by the blood that had been spilled. She turned away, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
"I'll find a way," she whispered, her voice lost to the wind. "I'll make this mean something."
With that, Mia turned towards the processing center, her heart heavy but resolute. Tomorrow, she would take her place among the players. She would leave behind the world that had taken so much from her and step into the unknown, carrying with her the hope that somewhere, somehow, she could make a difference.