NATHAN RUSSO
GOVERNMENT 
the night surgeon[M:130]
nothing can bring you back, shilo is all i have.
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Post by NATHAN RUSSO on Jun 21, 2012 18:23:52 GMT -5
Nathan didn't like this place. Even though he was a doctor and had long been since become accustomed to being around sickness and death- this particular hospital gave him a bad feeling. The patients were scared and confused, many completely oblivious of what was to happen to them soon enough. In some twisted way, Nathan felt that most of them would have been better off scavenging in the wasteland against the zombies, rather than being hoarded and tortured like lemmings. And all for what? The 'cure' that the Government was so insistent on finding wasn't real. The British doctor knew this, the scientists knew it, and goddammit, the government spooks they occasionally sent to check on their progress knew this too. They irked Nathan to no end. Nothing could possibly done when they kept checking up on him constantly. He wasn't even in charge of the project. He was just one of the gears in the machine. He wasn't a scientist- he was a doctor and once, a very talented surgeon. He still was a surgeon, but now his talents were used as methods of 'exploratory surgery'; or rooting around in patients who might not even be infected with the virus in hopes to find something out of ordinary. They had run out of disposable anesthesia months ago, they only had a small supply left for emergencies. Which meant that many of these surgeries were performed with a low quality narcotic or absolutely none at all.
And most recently, they had start running low on a lot of the things a sufficient hospital needed. Gauze, narcotics, disinfectant, you name it. If it weren't for the fact that Nathan's daughter, Shilo was safest here, there was no doubt in his mind he would have left this shithole months ago. Oh, his darling Shilo. She could never know what extent of brutality her father had been reduced to, being forced to go on a wild goose chase for a cure that didn't exist. A few years ago, if anyone had known what Nathan was being forced to do, they would have yanked his license and had him hung by his own shoelace strings in a heartbeat. He was a murderer- he had been before all of this, but this whole ordeal certainly did not help Nathan's already, paper-thin sanity. Nathan sometimes had to wonder if he was still cut out for this job. Sometimes he wondered if this wasn't the best place for Shilo. He knew she desperately wanted to go outside, but it wasn't safe! She couldn't know about the zombies that had long since destroyed most of civilization's social and political structure! Many governments had fallen, some were still hanging by a thread, just like America's was. Nathan's mother country had been one of the most recent to fall completely. The entire British Isles had been overrun with those rotten, evil bastards. So there was absolutely no where Nathan could run with Shilo to. They were stuck here, in this godforsaken place.
The only upside to this place was that Shilo was safe and that he had access to some things he couldn't have obtained on his own, that could help her health. The downsides were numerous and some already stated. Another one of them was dealing with the regular patients, who as he expected, came in all different shape, size and personality. Some were alright, others, he felt needed to be punched. Nathan had never been much of a people person. He had a great dislike for many people, especially whiny, dependent ones. They were annoying and often disrespectful. Others, were troublemakers. Like the one who one of his fellow 'co-workers' had paged him about. He hadn't said what this Zane guy had wrong with him, though the Brit was positive it was an illness rather than an injury. The government doctor had informed Nathan that this guy had given some of the other staff members some trouble in the past, so he was to be wary, even if he was sick. An annoyed feeling arrived with the page, as the last thing Nathan wanted was any trouble.
A limp cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth. Smoking was a habit he had had most of his life, though had become more prominent in the past fifteen years. He was rather good at hiding his stinky habit from his daughter, who as far as she was concerned, had never been around a smoke in her life. Which was good, because the smoke couldn't possibly be good for her. And since staff members were not allowed to go outside [to keep a sterile environment], Nathan could only smoke in his office, which is where he was now. He was sitting at his computer chair, leaning forward and staring at the blank screen, waiting for this Zane Azealis to arrive.
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notes: >3>
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Post by ZANE AZEALIS on Sept 17, 2012 22:54:04 GMT -5
 Even though there was no proof one way or the other, Zane was still inclined to blame his current problem on the stupid motherfuckers who ran the CDC building.
He’d been woken up in the middle of the night with a stabbing pain in his stomach, sharper than the dull ache that was often left behind after one of the medicines made him puke for hours at a time. At first he thought it must be another side effect of the pills they kept forcing on him to ‘calm him down’, but he hadn’t been given any in the past couple of days, and this was nothing he’d ever felt before. It felt like someone was jamming a knife into his side repeatedly, and it only got worse when he’d tried to move.
As much as he hated the scientists and doctors of the CDC, when the pain had kept him from sleeping the rest of the night (in addition to a constant roiling nausea in his gut and several bouts of vomiting) he’d had to admit defeat. He’d gone in search of the very people who almost seemed to enjoy tormenting him and swallowed his pride long enough to demand that they figure out what the hell was going on.
They’d run him through a whole mess of tests, jabbing a needle into his arm to take some blood and running him through a couple of different scanners (they didn’t bother to tell him what the point of all of it was). Despite the knowing glances he’d seen several of them trading, they refused to tell him anything until all his test results were back. They didn’t want to upset him if it turned out not to be a big deal, they said. Zane would have called bullshit on it, but the pain meds they’d given him knocked him out before he could.
When he’d come around later in the day, the rather smug-looking doctor had shown up to tell him that apparently his appendix was inflamed, and that it would have to be taken out surgically. Though he claimed that there was nothing in particular that was likely to have set it off, Zane had his own private theory that all of the drugs they’d been giving him were responsible. There were only so many times a guy could spend the night puking before something bigger inevitably went wrong, and now it had. The doctor waved off his accusations, claiming that the pain must be making him agitated, and had half put him out with another whopping dose of pain meds.
Now, too out of it to really make a fuss, Zane only caught snatches of what was going on as he was (surprisingly gently) guided up and out of the bed he’d been confined to since coming to the doctors that morning, and led down the hall. In a normal hospital perhaps he would have been wheeled in the bed itself, or had the surgeon come to him, but this was hardly a normal hospital. The CDC building hadn’t really been built for medical treatment, it seemed.
Zane’s mind wandered as he was led along the corridor (though he was lucid enough to be grateful that they had left him in the normal CDC gear and not insisted on forcing him into some stupid gown). He wasn’t too happy with the idea that one of the asshats who ran the place was going to open him up with a scalpel, but he probably wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter, even if he did want to just push on through the pain. And it was pretty painful, even for someone with as high a pain tolerance as Zane. If the surgery could actually fix the problem, he was more or less prepared to suck it up and deal with it, as much as he hated to owe the CDC staff anything.
He finally roused slightly, pushing himself to focus past the fog of the drugs in his system, as he was more or less gently guided into an office. The smell of cigarette smoke was in the air, but it didn’t particularly bother Zane. Plenty of his mates in Australia had smoked around him, so he was used to it.
It took him a moment, out of it as he was, to notice the guy sitting behind the desk. Zane made an effort to focus, shaking off as much of the haze as he could, and managed to focus his gaze on the guy. ”You the surgery guy, then?” he asked, the drugs slurring his Aussie-accented speech just slightly. ”Never met a doc who smoked before. S’a new one.”
Tagged: Nathannnn
Words: 784
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