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Rachel - Interactive Story - scene 4
🕑 Added 2024-03-04 19:43:48 +0000 UTCRachel exhales deeply, her decision weighing heavily on her. She knows she can't in good conscience take him to a hospital, nor can she abandon him to fend for himself in the chaos. "Come with me," she says.
The EMT opens the driver's door of the ambulance and steps out, shaky on his feet. Rachel quickly follows, her pistol ready as she scans the area for threats. Across the street, two infected feed off a body, oblivious to their presence. Above, the sound of helicopter blades cuts through the air once more.
As the EMT begins to stagger down the street, away from the feeding infected, he throws an angry glance over his shoulder. "If you're not going to help me get to a hospital, I'll just flag down a cop."
"I want to help you, but it's unsafe out on the street. By the way, I'm Rachel," she says, aiming her pistol down the street as they move.
He glances over his shoulder at her. "I'm Scott."
"You need to come with me, Scott. You must have heard about the infection. It's all over the news, and at any moment, one of the infected could find us and attack. My house is just over there," she says, pointing behind her. "I can patch you up quickly, and we can get you proper medical attention when things are safer."
"I appreciate your help back at the ambulance, but I need medical attention now. I may have a concussion."
As they reach the end of the next street at a major intersection, a military jeep crawls into view and stops. Moments later, a transport truck pulls up, its back filled with civilians. One of the soldiers calls out, "We're taking civilians to a FEMA camp for any who require support!"
Scott's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "I'm going to the FEMA camp," he says, hobbling faster towards the truck.
As Scott and Rachel make their way toward the military truck and Jeep, the unsettling sound of the soldier's announcement over the bullhorn seems to invigorate the two infected they had spotted earlier. They rise from their victim and advance quickly towards the truck, roughly fifty feet behind Rachel and Scott. Despite their drive to move forward, the infection has rendered their limbs stiff and their movements sluggish.
Suddenly, Rachel's attention shifts to a commotion in a house directly across the street, no more than thirty feet away. The sounds of a desperate struggle filter through the morning air, culminating in the front door being violently thrust open. A woman bursts out, panic etched into every line of her face, pursued closely by an older man whose appearance leaves no doubt of his zombified state.
