(+)8

2075 ROBCO(R)

LOADER V1. 1

EXEC VERSION 41.10

32K RAM SYSTEM

14302 BYTES FREE

HOLLOWTAPE LOADED: "THE-SANITARIUM"

INITIALISING….

SUCCESS!

STATUS

Battery Level: 12%

Wireless Signal: (?)

Operating Temperature: 92F

HEALTH

BP: 124/90

SPO2: 100%

Temp: 98.5F

RR: 15

HR: 80

TIME

Day: 25 SEP. 2279

Time: Far Too Fucking Late.

CLIMATE

Current Temperature: 73 F

Atmospheric Pressure: 732 mm

Background Radiation: 0.231 RAD

The lights were flickering- the air was hot. Every fan in the building was whirring at full speed, and the wind outside was howling, shaking the rickety wooden windows and blasting through the corrugated metal roof. Inside the grimy hospital room, little streaks of black, drying blood dripped down aluminum cots, where the morphine was flooding in through plastic IVs- clear liquid draining through clear, twisting tubes.

And I was really, really tired.

My prediction about this being the longest night in my life had turned out to be right on the bottle-caps. Over the course of the last few hours, I'd worked with Gram and Jas to get all of the patients into the barracks, pulled together an operating room, and tried to keep my errant patients from getting hurt any further. Tried not to hurt myself any further either, what, with all the bruises I'd gathered during the chaos. I bruised real easy in some spots on account of that thing that I don't like to talk about.

Blinking away sleep, I surveyed the group. The least serious case was Cook; a couple of messed up ribs, nothing more. She gave me a friendly wave as I walked past her bedside.

"Howdy Cook. Painkillers working?" I asked, checking her morphine I.V. I'd decided on the dosage I needed using an old trick my father had taught me: one tenth of a milligram IV per 1 kilogram, with subsequent doses at half that number. Only complication I was worried about here would the respiratory depression of the morphine mingling with the possible respiratory distress from gettin' her lungs hurt, but as it stood that was a non-issue.

"Mhm- Actually, I think I feel better than I did before the deathclaw threw a table at me!" She gave me a coy little smile. "But, you know, if you wanted to up the dosage a little, I wouldn't complain..."

"Ain't worth a prayer," I said. She stuck out her bottom lip.

"Why not?"

"Well, cause clean Morphine powder is expensive! Hell, you'd have to be crazy to think I'd waste my caps getting you extra high!" She laughed at that- well, tried to laugh at it, but let out this awful cough-laugh instead, which descended into a fit of loud, dry coughs. She was clutching at her chest when it was finally over, and her head was hanging back. She wasn't smiling no more.

"Ah shit, You alright!? Or wait, don't answer me yet, you just- just take your time there..." Behind me, Jas was skipping through the doorway, singing a song I didn't recognize under her breath.

"... When you're chewing on life's Gristle, don't grumble- give a whistle! And this'll help things turn-out for-the-best. Aaanddd… Al-ways look on, the bright side of life- boo doo, boo doo, boo doo doo doo do doo!"

I didn't know the song, but I was pretty sure that the "doo"s were supposed to be whistles, only Jas didn't know how to whistle. Of course, neither did I, but I didn't go around trying to sing songs that needed whistling now did I?

I focused my attention on Cook again. Her eyes were watering, and she looked to be in so much pain, and I knew it was kind of my fault for making her laugh. I'd normally just say sorry in this kind of situation, but something strange was going on with my head. I felt a compulsion that I'd not felt much before.

"Can I squeeze your hand?" She squinted up at me.

"What?"

"I feel sorry. I'd like to squeeze your hand."

That must have been a strange thing to say, because after that she just stared at me. Not awkwardly, mind you, but just sorta trying to figure me out, like a cardiologist interpreting a bizarre heart rhythm. There was a scary little fluttering in my stomach as she looked me up and down, and I worried that maybe I crossed a boundary. Some folks do not like to be touched.

"If you'd like," she said, a few watch-ticks later. I breathed a sigh of relief as her hand strayed out over the edge of her cot, and I knelt down to her level and took it. We both squeezed.

There's something calming about squeezing someone's hand. It's like a hug in a lot of ways, at least for me. It takes me out of the wasteland and puts me somewhere happier, even if just for a moment.

As soon as she released me I stumbled trying to stand, slipping on the greasy floor and falling straight onto my butt. I managed to catch myself before I could fall any further, but I'm pretty sure I gave myself a tiny little splinter as I threw my hands out behind me and splayed my fingers across the rough wooden floor.

Trying to seem like I wasn't embarrassed, I stood back up and pulled on my coat a few times. I don't reckon I was very convincing.

"Did I squeeze a little too hard?" she asked, and I almost just said, "no," then realized she was joking. I thought about a witty way to respond to that, couldn't think of anything, and instead started searching for any way to respond.

"No, see, you're fine. I'm just a little broken is all," I said, taking one foot off the ground and swinging my leg on the joint. As usual, it took just an extra millisecond or two to respond to my commands. That wasn't a problem if I was just trying to walk, but it really screwed me when it came to fine motor movements. Drawing, writing, talking, running, and, in the past, operating. I'd gotten pretty good at compensating for it in my hands, but I still had problems with keeping my balance, and moving in nonstandard ways.

Father had called it apraxia, said it was somehow tied to whatever was wrong with my head. Delayed firing of the neurons to the muscles, resulting in… well, I guess I just told you what it meant for me. Lots of big delays. Still, considering the fact that I didn't learn to walk until I was five, and I couldn't speak any sort of comprehensible language until a few years after I'd reached that impressive landmark, I thought I was doing pretty damn good for myself.

"Um, Isaac? You okay there?" Asked Cook. I shook myself awake.

"Yeah, sorry. It's been a long day. I'm kinda running on smelling salts and caffeine right now…" That was really not the intended use of the ammonia inhalants nor the caffeine citrate, but seeing as how neither of them had ever been any help outside of that context, I didn't feel too guilty. Cook nodded sympathetically.

"You're doing good Isaac. I guess it would be too much to ask for you to stay with me for a while?" I shook my head.

"I can't. I'm awful sorry, but literally everyone else here is doing worse than you. I'm worried that their condition might get worse if I don't keep an eye on them." Cook looked mildly disappointed. "But… I'd love to talk with you more sometime! Preferably when we're both in a normal state of mind." I gave her a little smile and poked her morphine-bag. She contrived to look offended.

"I'm not that high," said Cook. I nodded.

"Sure, sure. I'm going to go check on the others, is there anything other than company that you need?" She sighed and laid her hands on her stomach.

"Noooo, not really. I'm kind of hungry, but I feel like it might hurt to eat…" She gave her belly a mournful pat. "Anyways, ciao I guess. Good luck tonight."

"Thanks! I'll talk to you tomorrow, Cook-" I started to say, then stopped as I tried to recall her name. Had she told me her name? Did she even have a name besides Cook? It felt kind of demeaning to keep calling her that, now that I actually kind of knew her. I cocked my head. "Actually, what is your name? Everyone keeps calling you Cook, but that's not really a name."

Cook responded to that with uncomfortable silence, averting her eyes much like I did when I was nervous. My heart rate picked up as I waited, wondering if I might've struck a nerve. She'd mentioned before that she was from a tribe- I didn't get the impression that she held pleasant memories of it. She'd said that she was glad that Gram took her in, got her away from it all. Had I just brought up a bunch of traumatic memories?

"… Savanna," she said, at last. I closed my eyes, and exhaled. If I would've looked at my pip-boy, I bet I would've seen my speech-skill go up or something. I gave Savanna a nod of acknowledgment.

"Splendid. Talk to you later, Savanna!" I said, walking towards the next cot before I could get sidetracked any more. I'd set up little dividers between each of the beds using the mildew-covered towels from the kitchen, which I was beginning to regret as the smell of the towels mixed with the smell of Chomps Lewis hit me right in the soul.

"How are we holding up, Mr. Lewis?" I asked, plugging my nose as I entered his space. The stimpak I'd hooked him up to had sealed off his flesh wounds, but the smell of his stomach-contents still lingered around him from when his intestines had been falling out of his body.

Chomps blinked at me- he was sweating, I noticed. Not profusely, but enough that his skin was glistening. I tried to put a hand on his forehead, but he shooed me away, shaking his head and weakly waving one of his arms. I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He was trying to be brave, but I could tell that he was hurting. His arm was so tense, the muscles strained beyond belief… He relaxed a bit as I massaged his bicep.

"When's it gonna be over, Isaac? The morphine ain't working, and I haven't stopped throwing up since I laid down. Am I gonna stay like this all night?" He asked, placing both his hands on his gut. Gently, I brushed his hands aside.

"Careful, Mr. Lewis- don't wanna disrupt the IV-flow," I said. He nodded weakly. "As for the pain and the sorta cold, tingly feeling: that's the stimpack sewing you back up, and fighting the infections in your tummy. Your stomach'll be done healing by the end of the night, if not before then, but you'll probably feel sick for the next couple of weeks. Not this sick, but still awful sick. You may wish for death," I admitted. Chomps sighed.

"Well then this will be a hard few weeks for me. The whole rest of the quarry is on vacation on account of the deathclaws, and I still don't know how my daughter's doing. At least I've got Jas to take care of me…" Chomps paused. He looked over at the divider to his right, where the NCR soldier laid on the other side. Chomps pursed his lips. "How's Tyrone doing? I saw him get thrown against the wall, and I wasn't sure if he…"

"He's fine," I said, and, surprisingly, I meant it- he'd bled a lot from his head, but it was all superficial; No racoon eyes, no battle-sign, and no cerebrospinal halo on his bloodsoaked pillow, so I didn't suspect a basilar skull fracture. His posturing was perfectly natural, his reflexes checked out. At worst, he might've suffered a concussion. He'd shown some brief lucidity during my assessment, but he hadn't properly woken up yet. I wasn't about to rush him.

"You sure? That looked like a pretty tough hit he took," Chomps said. I nodded.

"I'm sure. You got it a lot worse than him." I looked down at the tin bucket beside his bed, which was brimming over with puke. I gestured towards it.

"You want me to…" He nodded.

"Didn't want to ask."

Careful not to spill any of the putrid sludge, I picked the bucket up by the handle, and staggered over towards the window, walking past my other two patients in the process. Once I was sure I wasn't going to drop the bucket, I heaved it up onto the windowsill, spilling a bit of puke on my leg. Barely registering my mistake, I held the bucket by the rim and dumped it out the window. It was dark outside, but I could see it splashing and glistening in the sand as impacted the ground and started to pool. I didn't feel like scraping off the solids, so I just let the big chunks slide out, and carried the tainted bucket back to Mr. Lewis's bedside.

"Anything else you need?" I shouted, letting the bucket drop with a quiet, "clang". Chomps shook his head

"I'm feeling kind of hungry, but I'll hold off on that until my stomach's all healed. I don't wanna be sick any longer than I got to," he replied. I nodded. I was a little hungry too, if I was being honest with myself, but I was trying not to let it get to me. I had been just inches away from taking a bite of delicious steak when the deathclaw attacked...

"Good. I'm off to visit the others. G'night!" I said, and walked to the next cot. The NCR soldier- Tyrone, I'd learned, lay asleep in his cot, hooked up to a bit of morphine and nothing else. As quickly as I could, I stepped up beside him, plugged my stethoscope into my ears, and checked his vitals- breathing and heart-rate normal, circulation normal, airway unobstructed, obviously. BP was average for a boy his age. His morphine dose was low, and the drip was still going at the proper rate. He had wet himself, I noticed, but I could deal with that when he woke up. In the meantime, I wanted to check on Tandi, the patient who had come the closest to dying on the spot.

"You awake?" I asked, stepping around the divider and kneeling beside Tandi's bedside. In response, Tandi stuck one middle-finger up in my direction, then let it flop back down. Pretending not to notice, I stood back up and walked to the other side of her bed, where I could at least see her face. As soon as I started to sit down, she turned her head away from me.

"Suck my dick," she said.

I opened my mouth to speak-

"Suck my dick!"

I sighed.

"Tandi, I'm-"

"Fuuuuck you!" She groaned, stuffing her head into her pillow. I rubbed my temples.

"Tandi, I just want to know how you're doing. I've never done anything like that before, and I want to make sure I didn't screw anything up," I said. I wanted to put a hand on her shoulder and say something nice, like I had with Chomps, but after seeing her call an albino deathclaw a bitch and snap it's arm like a twig, I had my doubts that I'd survive the night with both hands. So, I kept them to myself. "Please?"

Finally, she turned to me, and I realized that she had been crying. Her one functional eye was red and glistening, and I could see a steady stream of clear reddish-liquid coming out of her broken eye. Hands shaking, she brushed away the tears with fingers.

"You know, no one has ever hurt me like that, and gotten away with it? Last person who tried to take my body away from me, I cut him open- But here you are, all smug and smiling! And soon you'll say it was for my own good, and they'll believe you, but I won't. I will still hate you, because-"

"I couldn't- I couldn't let you-" I tried to say, but then she threw her leg out and kicked me in the ribcage, hard. I went reeling backwards, clenching my teeth and trying not to knock over her hospital divider. It took everything I had to not shout out in pain.

"-Because I would've rather DIED, if I'd known what you were going to do!"

She stopped to breathe. I tried to step back, but she grabbed me by the tie and yanked me forward. My eyes locked onto hers. "And Gram, he was supposed to protect me! Double-crossing bitch promised me, he promised that after what the legion did, he'd never let anyone break me again. And there he was, stripping me bare and sticking his hands in my guts, bathing himself in my blood…"

"I'm so sorry," I said, quietly. I'd never felt like such a lousy bastard in my entire life. No one had ever looked at me like Tandi was looking at me now, and I could feel my self-image crumbling. To her, I was a villain; not a badass disco doctor in a white coat, but an oily little snake

I tried to look away, but it was impossible- Tandi was physically holding me in place, and I felt like she was holding onto my eyes the same way. Like if I looked away, she could just yank my gaze back to her. I let out a shaky breath. This was all so sudden, so violent- how could I possibly address everything she was saying? All the things that she was right about?

"Tandi, I- I don't even know what to say. But, I want you to know that I understand you." She tightened her grip. I wouldn't let myself tense up, though. I tried to remain relaxed. "Everyone deserves a choice, and I promise that I didn't mean to take yours away! If I'd have known what this would do to you, I wouldn't have operated," I closed my eyes. "I swear."

"You would've let me die?" She wasn't crying no more, but tears still stained her flushed cheeks. I shook my head.

"I would've found another way. I always find a way! But I was scared, panicking- I didn't want you to die, so I did what I was trained to do! God, I feel real bad for saying that, but it's true- I've spent so long preparing, and when it happened, I wasn't thinking about no morals, or ethics, I just wanted to get the job done. I wanted to save your life."

Tandi released me, and I stumbled backwards, bumping into the divider and then falling onto my hands and knees. I tried in vain to dig my fingers into the wood, and clenched my teeth. I wasn't crying- not yet, at least, but I was dripping sweat from my forehead, and it probably looked like I was. I decided to stay like that, though, since it meant I wouldn't have to look her in the eyes. Above me, I could hear Tandi growl.

"You know what? Fuck you. You're nothing to me anyways. Hurt me again, and I will kill you."

"Yes, ma'am. I won't hurt you again," I said, holding back the tears, trying to keep a stiff upper lip. I sat in silence for a while, until Tandi kicked the side of her metal cot with a loud "CLANG!"

"GO! Get the hell out!" She bellowed, and I scrambled to my feet, hoisting my bag up with me. Not bothering to acknowledge Jas's concerned little "ums", I kicked open the door and walked onto the stairwell, where I clambered down the stairs and into the dining room. Once I hit the bottom of the stairs, I fell onto my butt and tossed my medical case aside. If someone needed help, they'd tell Jas, which admittedly could have disastrous consequences, but I didn't really care. After that little exchange, I needed some time to myself.

The dining room still smelled like blood and gunpowder, and the dismembered deathclaw still lay in pieces on the ground, head blasted apart by Gram's laser gun. But, it wasn't all bad- the dust had settled, the blood had dried, and the surviving food had been hung outside to be turned into jerky. I'd even managed to sneak a couple of pieces of mystery-vegetable off the ground during the cleanup phase, though I hadn't had the stomach to actually eat them. Now that I had some time to myself, I removed one of the stalky greens from my inner coat pocket and bit down on it. It was cold, now, but it still tasted good- the juice from the Brahmin steak had clearly soaked into it, and the thing didn't carry much of a flavor on its own.

"Enjoying your vegetables, Isaac?"

Trying not to spit out the delicious food, I whipped my head around to see Gram in the back of the room, leaning against the back door. He was holding a smoking cigar between his thumb and fingers. I nodded sheepishly.

"Man's gotta eat. Ain't you supposed to be packing the caravan?" I asked, finishing my snack and wiping my mouth with my sleeve. Gram took a puff on his cigar.

"Oh, that's been done. If everyone is ready, we're heading out in the morning. I didn't want to go this way, but clearly we ain't equipped to deal with deathclaws." Well, tomorrow morning would be pushing it, but given that Savanna had gotten a stimpak earlier, and Tandi was currently hooked up to a creatively named, "super-stimpak," they'd both be relatively well healed by noon. I suspected that Tandi might not be in walking shape for a few days due to the side effects of the super-stimpak, and because she'd lost a lot of blood. Super stimpaks give your body the energy and the instructions to produce more blood, which was all fine and dandy, but Tandi's pip-boy profile told me that she had lost 34% of the stuff. Replacing all that blood takes time and energy.

"I'd plan for leaving a little after noon. But, yeah, I think we're good for tomorrow." Gram gave me a nod of acknowledgment, and blew out a plume of smoke. Once he had put his cigar back in his mouth, he started walking towards me. I was very confused for a moment, then I realized that he was actually walking towards the front door. Trailing smoke behind him, he opened it up.

"Why don't we step outside for a moment? You've been cooped up all day, why don't we catch some of that fresh night-time air?"

Not quite sure what he was getting at, I stood up from my comfortable position on the stairs, and followed him out the front door. He let it slam behind him as we walked out onto the cool asphalt of the highway at night.

The only lights were the moon, and the faint stars in the sky- those that managed to poke through the clouds, anyways. We started walking, me in front of Gram. The warm, muggy air felt nice against my skin.

"Watch out for the puke," I said, stepping over the puddle of vomit that I'd dumped out the window. Gram followed suit.

"I heard you talking with Tandi, earlier. She alright?" Gram asked. I shook my head.

"No, she's really not. I think that what I did reminded her too much of something that the legion did to her in the past." I stopped for a moment, to look Gram in the eyes. It was hard to read that look in the dark, but I didn't see any sympathy there. I looked away and continued. "She wasn't too happy with you either. Thought that you were breaking some sort of promise, holding her open like that."

I looked up at the sky. It was awful clear, given the season. I could see the brilliant outline of the milky-way galaxy in the spaces between the clouds. If I weren't thinking so much about Tandi, I probably would've started wondering which of those millions of stars was the closest.

Gram didn't stop walking, but he slowed down enough that I could easily catch up to him. Tearing my gaze away from the sky, I jogged up beside Gram, and we continued to walk down the highway. I could feel a cloud of smoke curling around me as Gram removed the cigar from his mouth, and blew out the scented smog. It wasn't necessarily a good smell, but I didn't hate it- mostly, it just smelled like smoke, with a little bit of Life mixed in. I closed my eyes as the wind picked up and it blew past my face.

"How do you feel about that, Isaac? You feel like I did something wrong? You feel like you did something wrong?" Gram asked. I thought about that for a little while.

"I don't know," I concluded. When Gram didn't respond, I decided to elaborate. "See, I've always felt like everyone should have their own choice, no matter how stupid it is. I've always hated it when people- or, governments, or anything- tries to take my choices away from me, even when they say it's for my own good- especially when they say it's for my own good. So, I can't really use that argument…"

We'd reached the spot on the highway that was overlooking the deathclaw infested quarry now- a giant, man-made hole full of diggers and cranes and chutes and giant boulders and the like. As I came near the edge, Gram gently grabbed my arm and turned us around. We started walking back the way we came.

"...But, on the other hand, she would've died if I hadn't done something. And, in the heat of the moment, I wasn't really thinking much about her feelings. I couldn't have, and I'd be lying to myself if I said that I'd had time to do that. Hell, until tonight, I didn't know she had feelings!" I said, throwing my arms out to convey my stress. I sighed. "It's complicated, I guess. How do you feel about it?"

Gram chuckled. His laugh was surprisingly hearty and full, given his raspy voice. I'd expected him to sound like the little green guy from star-wars when he laughed, but it wasn't anything like that. It was sort of like father's laugh, as It echoed softly through the abandoned quarry, and against the gravely, rocky hills in the distance.

When he was finished laughing, he stuck his cigar in the corner of his mouth and patted me on the shoulder.

"And so it begins! The young scholar gets a taste of the real world, gets to wondering if maybe everyone really needs a choice about everything… It's a tale as old as time," he said, placing his hand against my back and leading me along the road. I suppressed a groan.

"Naw, that ain't it. But I'll play ball- how's it end?" Gram shrugged.

"Depends. Some of 'em get insecure, end up going full anarchist- like the Fiends, or the Followers if you want a more positive example. They don't let anyone control them, they keep fighting the system, until eventually they either get worked into it, or they get put down. That's the ending I usually see."

"And the other one?" I asked, fairly certain I knew the answer. Gram straightened his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Well, the rest of 'em grow up. People need a bit of structure in their lives, or they… collapse. Maybe they don't need a president, or a bunch of armed thugs watching over their shoulders, but they need somethin'. A flag to unite under, a simple set of rules to follow…"

"People are smart enough to figure those things out on their own! I mean, look at Primm- we ain't got a mayor, we've got two police officers who mind their own beeswax, and everything runs fine. People vote on big decisions- or, they don't vote if they don't care either way, and the town works together to fix its own problems. That's all that we need," I said, but I wasn't so sure about that. Before Gram even spoke, I knew what his counter was going to be.

"You say that, until someone who feels differently shows up. And, I hate to spoil your dreams, but since you ain't got more'n a couple of gats and two police officers, they'll win 100% of the time. The organized army will always beat down the plucky militia, if all else is equal." That sounded true. I knew he was going to say that, and yet I had no idea how to argue with it. "That is, unless you call your government for help. A government that you don't want to pay tribute to, don't want to support in any way, until you need their help again. Tell me, do you think that the NCR would be inclined to help out poor little Primm if they didn't get something out of it- say, control of the town and its resources, and some of those sweet tax dollars?"

"If the people up top have any morals at all, then yes. The government exists to serve the people," I said. Gram smirked.

"Does it, Isaac? Does it really?" That smirk was infuriating, but I couldn't argue with it. That was the kind of smirk that knew it was right.

"No. Not this one," I admitted. "Seems like it exists to serve the taxpayers just enough to keep them paying taxes, so that the people up top can keep living like kings."

"Right, that's how every government ends up when enough self-serving bastards like myself get in charge, and once it's like that there's no changing it. But, as I see it, that's okay! Instead of fighting it, you just play with the system to make it serve you too. People did it before the war, they can do it now." I clenched my fists.

"That don't feel right," I replied. Gram shrugged.

"Let it simmer for a while, then. I ain't trying to turn you over to the dark side or nothin'- just trying to help you feel better, and keep you making the smart decisions in the future. For you, and for the rest of us."

He let that sit as we neared the main building again. We stopped in front of the door.

"People are stupid, Isaac. Really, really stupid. Sometimes, they genuinely don't know what's best for em. You ain't a nazi for disagreeing with them about something that you're an expert in, and they ain't."

"But I didn't just disagree with Tandi, I forced something on her!" I said. Gram put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'll talk to her about that later. The simple fact remains that you made a hard call, and you saved her life. Your patients won't always be grateful- sometimes, they'll act like you've ruined their life. And you don't have to ignore 'em- I know you ain't a psychologist, but you can still talk with them about their feelings. Understand where they're coming from, if you want, just don't let it get to you." He paused, and looked deep down into my eyes. I still don't know what he saw. But he smiled right then, and it sent shivers down my spine, made my skin crawl. He shook his head.

"You'll help so many more people that way."

I almost responded, but then the front door flew open and Jas burst out, nearly slipping in the puddle of vomit as she ran to meet me. I froze.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. She was severely out of breath, hunched over and pressing her palms against her knees. She nodded, and motioned up at the window with one hand.

"Something's wrong with Tyrone! I think you need to see him," she said, panting between words. My blood ran cold.

"I'll be right there," I muttered, looking at Gram. He nodded, and I sprinted for the door.

I'm never going to go to sleep, am I? I thought as I threw open the door, and picked up my medical bag. I dashed up the stairs, with Jas and Gram in hot pursuit, and walked through the open door.

"What's the problem?" I asked, walking over to Tyrone's bed. He was crying.

"I can't- I can't…" he murmured. Cook had gotten out of her bed to check on the man, and looked up at me accusingly as I came closer.

"He can't feel his legs, Isaac. He's paralyzed," she said. I shook my head.

"No, that can't be- I tested him for sensation before I carried him up. How could he be…" I started to say. Then it clicked.

Had I immobilized his lower back when I'd carried him up the stairs?

"Oh," I said. I could feel everyone's eyes drilling into me.

I'd fucked up.

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