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Cipher

Need More Doctors [Open Freq.]

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Jeremiah, feet up on his desk and feeling good at Camp Indigo, picks up his radio and presses down the PTT.

"Hey, Jeremiah here, today we've got ourselves a bit of a pickle here. We've been growing pretty well, doing pretty good, nobody's died in the past few days, plenty of food, plenty of water, but we've got one problem.

WE'VE GOT NO FUCKIN' DOCTORS! We've got a sick-ass medical center, fully-kitted hospital, just sittin' here, doin' nothin. Only person with medical training 'ere is Rikey, and I don't know if she's up to task of running a full hospital on her own.

So, if you've got experience with anything medical related, or pretty much anything in general - we're lookin' for new citizens - then contact me on this frequency, which I'll be monitoring dlligently over the next few hours.

Ta-ta!"

Jeremiah releases the PTT and does a little jig in his chair.

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*John, after listening in on the conversation decides to respond. He puts on his fake accent and holds down the PTT*

"Well Mr. Jeremiah it seems that you really are in a bit of a pickle. One big ol' hospital but no doctors whatsoever?"

"I'm thinking that maybe I can offer you a deal to solve your issues with this, but I would prefer to talk more face to face or in private"

"If you boys want our frequency ask your buddies at Coldwater, and if not I'll be around the camp"

"I'll be waiting to hear from you, Jeremiah"

"Doc Holiday, signing off"

*John releases the PTT and writes down Jeremiah in his notepad*

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-snip-

Jeremiah flicks his legs off of the desk, falling out of his chair, gracefully into a standing position. He presses down the PTT.

"Ahh... pretty sure I've spoken to you before, or at least have seen you around camp. Maybe not though, lotta shit went down the past week or so.

Anyway, yeah I'm well interested, don't know if I know your name however, if you told me, I forgot. Once again, lotta shit. Lotta shit.

Our frequency is 111.1, come have a chat when you're ready."

Jeremiah releases the PTT.

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*Arthur is sat in the offices next to camp, gently strumming on his ukulele. He thinks about his position in Black Fox and what he can do to help them out more. He turns on the radio and listens to Jeremiah asking about doctors. That's when Arthur gets the perfect idea. He puts his ukulele down on the table and clears his throat before pressing the PTT*

"J...Jeremiah. I think I can help in that sense"

*He gets out of his chair and looks into the camp, seeing if he can see Jeremiah in camp because if he was in camp this message would be pretty stupid. Not seeing him, he carries on*

"So, back when things wasn't... this fucked up. I took a few courses in first aid. I may be able to aid you if you need it."

*Arthur releases the PTT and goes back in his room. He sits back down into his chair and picks his ukulele back up and begins to gently strum it*

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*Wyatt listens to his radio, flicking through channels, and comes across the frequency. He listens, and presses down on the PTT button*

"Uhh... umm... I hope this thing is working... What citizens? Are you... safe? Do you know of a guy named... Ryan Mitchell? What about Peter Fletcher?"

*Wyatt takes a pause to manage his expectations and to ask his main question*

"Where and what is this place?"

*Wyatt sets down the radio but jumps when he hears a quiet moan from a nearby zombie. He quickly grabs his things and quietly walks away, keeping his radio in hand listening for an answer.*

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-snip-

*Lance sits on the floor in his "office" while throwing a tennis ball at the wall. His radio had been on and broadcasting the various replies and Lance listened in. He finally decides to address the man on the radio, picking it up from his side and holding the PTT*

This is Lance Forbes of Black Fox

*he pauses for a moment*

Associate of Jeremiah... don't think he said our name in his broadcast... anyways... Guy who just spoke... personally I ain't seen a Ryan or Peter around and we don't have them recorded as citizens of the District

*he throws his notepad to one side and stands up, holding up the radio again*

This place? This is Camp Indigo... the heart of the Black Fox Allied District. I did a run the other day and posted the location on those tourist maps posted across the country so find one of them... if not its... shit

*he walks over to the pin board on the wall and looks at a note pinned on it*

Coordinates are 12.8 05.6... contact us on 111.1hz if you need anything pal

*he releases the PTT and lies back down on his makeshift bed, placing the radio to one side and switching it off*

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Mandell hears a broadcast over the radio. He waits for several minutes before pressing the PTT.

"I guess I can help."

He pauses for a moment before speaking again.

"Not full time though. As I've said many times...I'm on vacation."

He turns his radio off for a moment before remembering he forgot something

"Oh yeah...I'm sure you know the old doctors frequency and if you don't, someone else can tell you I'm sure. The name is Dr. Müller, by the way."

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*Ethan casts a sideways glance at his radio as it continues to squawk at him. Attempting to ignore it, he eventually grabs it and holds it to his mouth*

"What you are doing right now is a recipe for disaster. Calling out on the radio for a Doctor will get you three things. An actual medical professional... Which in this day and age is unlikely at best... An idiot playing pretend... Which to be fair, wouldn't a first... Or someone looking to kill you... Which... Hey, like the former option, wouldn't be a first."

*A sigh exhaled from his lips and the sound of a desk chair squealing as he leaned back in it came over the radio*

"But it's no sweat off my back, I care little to none. In fact, I do not care. I just simply enjoy being the voice of reason, reminding you all of where other people have had their folly before you."

*Ethan places his radio back on his desk and continues to go through paperwork.*

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-snip-

Jeremiah presses down the PTT, delighted.

"Fuckin' A! Contact us at 111.1Hz and we'll let you know what you gotta know." Glad to have you aboard, even if it is part-time!"

Jeremiah releases the PTT.


-snip-

Jeremiah presses down the PTT, chucking a bit.

"Hey man, appreciate you lookin' out. You'll be glad to know that the last fuck who tried the second - and third, actually - they're sitting rotting on the street somewhere in Chernogorsk.

We try to keep casualties to a minimum, but it was me or him, y'know?

Anyways, thanks again man. Come by camp sometime."

Jeremiah releases the PTT, leaning back in his chair, looking out the window towards camp.

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*Flicking back and forth between frequencies, Maxwell messes with the radio in an attempt to get it working. It had taken a hit from an infected and been knocked clean out of his hand, cracking the casing wide open. He'd managed to repair it but still had trouble hearing broadcasts. After what  felt like an eternity of toying with the radio, he finally picked up the transmission.*

*Listening intently, a concerned frown furrows itself into Max's face, etching worry lines across his leathery, hardened visage.*

*He picks up the radio and flicks on the transmission*

*His voice sounds nearly robotic and is interrupted by frequent bursts of static*

"I recognise your voice... *a burst of static shrieks out over the frequency* "I hope you've got protection... Medical camps *his voice becomes robotic* don't last long."

"I don't have much to offer... *the transmissions goes dead for a moment, before a burst of static explodes over the frequency*

"Basic medical training... I'll see if I can make it..."

*The radio lets out a violent shriek of static and Maxwell switches it off, before leaning heavily on his cane and continuing down the worn old road.*

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-snip-

Jeremiah presses down the PTT, delighted.

"Fuckin' A! Contact us at 111.1Hz and we'll let you know what you gotta know." Glad to have you aboard, even if it is part-time!"

Jeremiah releases the PTT.

He presses the PTT.

"Never said I was joining you. Just said that if you need emergency assistance, give me a call. On vacation, remember?"

He releases the PTT.

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*After having listened for a bit to the chatter, having stumbled on the frequency a while back, Antonio decides it's time to try to rejoin what's left of the society here and keys the talk button*

Name's Antonio Marak. Been wandering the outskirts since early days, after the helo that brought me in crashed. I was a US army combat medic back in the day, and part of one of the WHO research teams sent in somewhere 'round the middle of the initial outbreak. Can't really say I'm a doctor, but I can triage with the best of 'em. Did most of my work with WHO as a bodyguard and nurse in some of the nastier places they went, so I think I'd be able to lend a hand.

*Releasing the button, he runs his hand down across his face and gets to his feet, grabbing what little gear he's got at the moment and heading out, radio in hand.*

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-snip-

Jeremiah listens, struggling to make out the words the man was saying over the frequency. After a while, he presses down the PTT, responding to the man.

"Hey, friend, any medical experience is appreciated. Contact us on 111.1Hz, or stop by Camp Indigo at Chapavesk."


-snip-

Jeremiah hears the man's transmission and smiles, pressing down the PTT.

"Same goes to you, Antonio. We'd love to have you at camp, we're looking to fully staff this facility."

Jeremiah releases the PTT.

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