It’s not easy manoeuvring yourself down from the tracks with your mangled foot, it takes you a very long time and every movement is fraught with pain. You’re shuffling like one of the dead yourself and jealous of their ability to not feel pain. The afternoon is wearing on now, getting into the evening and the dead seem to be ‘waking up’ as it gets darker and the sky begins to take on the red and gold hues of the setting sun.
You find a pharmacy, tracking in on its green cross but find it broken open and mostly looted. There’s a storeroom and motivated by desperation you smash the lock off the door with a fire extinguisher and batter it down, in so much pain you don’t care too much how much noise you make.
Inside the store room you wedge the broken door shut and overturn trays until you find some high powered, prescription painkillers, gulping a handful down like candy and laying flat on your back until the pain in your foot begins to fade and you can start trying to tend to your foot… though you have no real idea what you’re doing.
|Lay up here overnight, trying to fix your foot on instinct.|
|Limp out to try and find a bookshop or something with first aid information.|
|Grab armfuls of drugs and look for somewhere else to hole up and – hopefully – heal a little.|
|You THINK you saw an abandoned ambulance at the end of the road… maybe you can hole up there.|
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