63 Body Farm (1/2)
2034
Underground Shelter, W.A.R.T.S
The sandstorm winds begin to ebb, as several people rush the rest of the way into the underground shelters' entrance tunnel. A blonde man approaches with a borrowed rifle held up to his eye line and not a step behind him are two other men wielding pistols. One of the men awkwardly holds his gun while keeping his bandaged arm up to steady the aim at his elbow. They stop a moment at the ticket booth, a remnant of the underground garages' past purpose, and pause at the stain of blood on the off-white wall.
They sidestep the body left crumpled on the ground and stalk toward the generators set up along the wall beside the makeshift electric fence. The rolling gate shutters as the last of the storm passes by, but the lack of howling winds outside goes unnoticed while the mercenaries check if their newest assailant has truthfully been neutralized. They focus on the threat lying on its side, slightly smoking from its chest. Each man hangs back at least a meter from the body, while more people return to the scene.
”Wallace!” the night guard runs over to the body beside the ticket booth. He slides the rest of the distance to the body's' side and grips the bloody man's head while repeating his name. ”Wake up, Wallace!”
”Move aside,” the night guard shifts to the right to give the smaller man room to work but doesn't leave his companion's side.
Pheno kneels beside the unconscious guard and notes that he is bleeding profusely from his forehead. He ignores the commotion happening behind while leaning over the injured man and monitoring his pulse at the side of his neck. There is a slim, shallow cut on the patient's' neck, but it isn't a cause for concern.
”Is he alive?”
The doctor ignores the question as he examines the laceration cut across the forearm, tsks at the deep wound, and reaches within his brown satchel for some materials. The thick strap digs into his boney shoulder as he rifles around in its depths. His hands pull out a small brown bottle, a thin white cloth, and a small roll of gauze. He settles down on the ground and lays the items on his lap. He cleans around the wound with the thin cloth, then unravels some of the gauze, folds it, and presses it into the unconscious man's forearm.
”Hold on here,” the doctor instructs the night guard beside him while keeping the limb raised above the patient's head. ”Hold down, keep it high,” He packs his other items into his bag, then uses the guard's shoulder to rise off the ground. Small pebbles and soil cling to the knees of his raggedy, brown trousers.
”-dead. The storm seems to have died down. Don't know for how long, but-”
Pheno hurries over to the mercenaries surrounding the human remains beside the generator. The darker skinned mercenary, Nard, is nudging the corpse with his foot while his comrade keeps his weapon drawn, aimed for the head. The blonde has his rifle lowered and is speaking on his radio. The doctor clears his throat, ”I don't know if he meant it, but only one dead. This one will make it if we make it to infirmary.”
Ika bites his lower lip, he can see the night guard keeping the pressure on the injured man's wound behind Pheno. He glares down at the remains in front of him before speaking into his radio, ”We're coming over to A level. The gate is clear. Open it up, and send someone to the infirmary, we're on our way.” He pockets his radio and turns to Nard, ”Let's go. We have to get them out the side exit.”
Nard looks over at the other mercenary, spits on the corpse, and holsters his weapon, ”Legs?”
”Meh, fine, but you first. I'm sh*t backwards,” both men grab the injured man while the night guard keeps the damaged arm up and out of the way. Pheno follows after them, calling out reminders for care.