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Memoirs of a (Fallen) Doctor

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The woman is awoken with a start, eyes wide, lungs inhaling and pushing air out as swift as a jet. Finally, they settle, looking around the small camp she had made for herself. With a hardly concealed grimace, she extracts herself from the sleeping bag, coming to her feet. Focused on only one thing... She finds the bottle, which never seems to be too far from her side. In goes one of the tablets, then two, then three. A slight smile breaks out over her features as the early morning dawn barely peaks through the leaves of the forest. Next comes the journal, lying underneath the bag.


Day.... Does anyone really keep up anymore? I suppose not.  Hans does, apparently.


Strange how everything is gone and yet... It seems like everything is just starting. The rise and fall of civilization, doomed to rinse, cycle and repeat, on the constant basis. And my poor Cassandra... Doomed to fall into that loop, never to return. A professor once told me that the human body is capable of amazing feats. The things that I've been witness to the past few years have most certainly proven this to me. The dead being able to live once more, men and women surviving bullets to the skull... I wonder if I would, were I to put my pistol to my head?


They've been asking more and more recently about my hands... Not that there's anything wrong with them. Nervous hands. Not the pills, not the pills, notthepillsnotthepillsnotthepills. I should be a comedian. Or a liar. I'm getting better with both, it seems. I'm alright, though, I tell them. Am I, though? Maybe, yes. 


Hans made another trip into the city, yesterday... Getting harder and harder to do so, with the dead roaming further and further out. He brought the medicine I requested. Oxycodone. For the patients. And my headaches. 


I'm the doctor - they can't tell me I'm wrong about this. I know this. I went to school for it. I was trained for it. 




Eyes lifting off the page,  Olivia matches eyes with the recently awoken man across from the camp. When had he woken up? Minutes ago? How long had she been writing? She closes the journal, returning it to it's hiding spot, grabbing the plastic bottle. One more for the road...



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  • Legend

A nice read! 

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  • Diamond

Good read, flows really well!

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  • VIP

Really nice read short but sweet

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