Hearing Morgan’s footfalls, Frank didn’t dare stop his frantic limping run, but shot a fearful glance over his shoulder. His eyes snapped wide and then softened in relief. He stumbled to a stop. With a low-pained moan, he set the child softly on the ground before collapsing with a tortured grunt onto his side.

  Morgan arrived and gave the young girl a reassuring half-wave. The girl quietly sat on the ground. She was wearing a long, blood-stained t-shirt as pajamas, a small plush toy clutched to her chest. She didn’t acknowledge Morgan’s presence but buried her face deeper into the toy.

  Turning back to Frank, Morgan realized the old man was in serious trouble. His face was pale, almost white, and his eyes were drawn into a tight squint as he attempted to push himself up to a sitting position.

  “Whoa, hold on. Let me help you up. You are gonna be alright. Let me just check this here,” Morgan dropped the backpack he was holding and reached out to help right the old man. The shirt bandaging his left hand was soaked and dripping thick blood on the pavement. He sat hunched over, his legs akimbo, holding his hands in his lap. The right leg of his pants was shredded and stained with fresh blood as well.

  Hastily removing his backpack and laying it beside Frank’s, Morgan began to pull out the bandages. Working confidently, he examined the extent of Frank’s wounds to determine the necessary triage. In addition to the hand and the cut in his leg, Frank had a man’s floral-pattern silk tie tied tightly just below the elbow.

  Morgan unwrapped and removed the blood-saturated shirt to reveal the wreckage of Frank’s hand. His palm and wrist were scratched and ripped. Horrifically, the last three fingers on his hand were missing. The sight of the mutilated hand almost made Morgan revert to his previous squeamish self. He gulped and then focused on the fact that Frank needed his help. Blood was still oozing out at an alarming rate, but not gushing.

  As they had practiced, Morgan went through the steps. Talking in a calm, reassuring voice that belied the extent of his worry. He talked Frank through each step as he treated him. He lay Frank on his back and placed a bag under his feet. Removing a plastic tourniquet, Morgan deftly applied it just above the tie and tightened it with a few twists. Satisfied, he then tightly packed and wrapped gauze around Frank’s hand and wrist, and secured it to his chest with a quick sling.

  Frank, fighting the effects of shock, gave quiet approval like a schoolteacher as Morgan recited each step in the process to him.

  The cuts on Frank’s legs were deep, but not serious. After a few more minutes of wrapping tape and gauze, Morgan sat back. Worry etched his face. Frank was breathing heavy and deep; he lay with his eyes closed.

  “Frank, you still with me?” Morgan questioned, hesitantly.

  “For now,” Frank grunted. “Feeling a bit better, just so damn tired,” Frank muttered. Opened his eyes and glanced at the girl. “Err… Darn tired,” he said a little more loudly.

  “Take a minute to rest, just stay awake, keep talking to me.”

  With a chuckle, Frank said, “Okay, Doctor Ward. I will.” Pausing to take a deep breath, “You did a great job. If this were the EMT test, I would pass you,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

  “Well, I had a good teacher; he wasn’t the friendliest at the start, but he grows on you,” Morgan said, leaning heavily on his backpack.

  “Ahh, Screw you. I am plenty friendly.”

  “Frank?” the little girl’s soft voice cut through their conversation like a bullet. “Frank?” she repeated just as quietly.

  “Yes, sweetheart?” Frank asked his voice soft and gentle voice.

  “Frank?” she repeated, oblivious to anyone else around her. She slowly stroked the ears of the plush bunny in her hand. “Frank?”

  “We cant rest long, lad, we need to get her,” he glanced down at his own blood-covered body, “get us to the Academy. Maybe someone there can help us. At the very least, someone will be better able to help her than the two of us.”

  Morgan helped Frank stand and placed a now much lighter backpack on Frank’s back. Then he picked up the girl, who once again failed to even acknowledge his presence. Together, Frank limping slightly, they made their way slowly north to the Academy.

  The short walk took nearly an hour. They didn’t see any other monsters, but did pass a few small groups that stopped to see if they were alright. The groups of five or six were searching the nearby houses for survivors and supplies. They were grim-faced, just as Morgan and Frank were.

  The day had been long and arduous. Frank must have been nearly out of stamina. He looked drawn, and each step made him grunt under his breath. Morgan worried about him. They had been low on stamina before they had entered that last house. Frank must be running on fumes.

  “How much stamina do you have left?” He decided to ask.

  “2%,” Frank said. The strain was evident as he clipped his words mid-step.

  Morgan worried.

  As they entered the next intersection, they could see the walls of the Academy.

  Large stones made up a 12-foot-tall wall surrounding the entire nine square blocks in the center of the city. The wall had crenelations like a castle. Over the walls, they could see the tall spires of a gray Gothic-style building with a black tiled roof and a few chimneys. It was 3 stories tall, with evenly spaced windows down every wall. It had a large central tower with a huge, now unmoving, clock face on each side. At the corner of the intersection was a large metal gate. The gate was closed, but standing behind it were two men.

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  As they walked toward the gate from the street, the guards noticed them and perked up.

  “Hello,” Morgan called out.

  “Hey, are you okay? Are you in need of healing?” A large man with a goatee, wearing an AC/DC shirt and blue jeans, asked. His partner turned and started running to the large house in the distance. Through the gate, Morgan could see an impressively large, well-manicured lawn with a large fountain in the middle of a circular driveway. There were two very tall, large double doors at the top of five or six steps that spread out in a half circle from the landing. The building was a large cross shape.

  “My friend and the girl need to see someone,” Morgan indicated Frank and pointing at the little girl in his arms. “But I am doing alright.”

  “We really just need a place to rest,” Frank protested, “Just for a few hours.”

  “We found the girl in a house at the end of town,” Morgan stated. “We are looking for a safe place for her to stay, we cant really take her with us.”

  The guard mumbled a bit to himself as he pulled out a set of keys and started looking through the ring. He had about a dozen keys. He sorted through them unhurriedly, unbothered by the silent stares of Morgan and Frank. Morgan began to feel angry at the man for being so uncaring.

  He had thought the people would be glad that more survivors were here, but at least this guard acted like it was more of a bother than anything else. By the time he found the right key, Morgan was about to say something, his anger getting the better of him, but his partner was returning with a tall, willowy woman.

  She was taller than Morgan by a bit. Maybe she was six feet four or five. She walked with an easy and confident stride. She was wearing a long, simple blue skirt with pinstripes and a light blue blouse. She had a serious angular face, and her graying brown hair was pulled into a tight bun. Her proper image was only broken by the pair of white sneakers she wore. Sneakers that obviously did not match the rest of her attire. As she reached the gate, she saw the girl for the first time. Her serious look softened a bit.

  “Hello,” she said. Her voice was refined from the message they had heard earlier. “I am Katherine, the headmistress here at Maple Creek Academy.” She finished and waited, tapping one of her feet as the large man slowly unlocked and opened one of the large metal gates. “Mister Marshall has established a town with a special skill of his. If you need, the shop kiosk is just inside the foyer.” She pronounced it Foy-yay. “Please come in. We have a few people who have healing skills if you need.” She walked forward, reaching out her hand daintily.

  “I am Morgan, Morgan Ward.” He said as he shook her hand. It was warm and thin, but it was firm as she gave his hand one shake and then released.

  “I am Frank.” He growled in his deep rumble, arching his neck back to meet her eyes as they also shook one short handshake.

  “And who do we have here?” Katherine asked, looking at the girl in Morgan’s arms.

  “Frank?” the girl said quietly. Like she had for the last half an hour.

  “We don't know. She was alone in a house at the very east edge of town. On the street four or five blocks south of here.” Morgan said.

  “Birch Avenue,” Frank said tiredly, then wobbled a bit, unsteady. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I am about to fall asleep standing up, and I might end up bleeding to death at the same time.” He showed his heavily bandaged hand stained red through the gauze.

  “My deepest apologies,” Katherine clutched her hands and did a very slight bow. “If you follow me, I will see that you get a bed and the healers as soon as possible.” She turned and then walked slowly, looking back to ensure Frank could keep pace. As they walked, she talked about the girl, “I assume you don’t plan on taking her with you. We have a few people who are acting as nannies to the young ones we have found. Unfortunately, she isn’t the first. I can take her once we get to the house. The children are staying in the other wing.”

  “Okay. Hopefully, someone knows her. I feel bad that I don’t even know her name.” Morgan frowned, feeling the girl squirm a little as she rubbed the plush bunny’s head.

  “If you can show me on the map where you think she was, I can look in the registry and see what family lives…” Her voice stuttered a little, and Morgan could see a tear running down her cheek. She reached up and quickly wiped it away as she finished. “…Lived there.” They walked up the few steps to the wide landing as Katherine waved, and someone inside opened up the door.

  he thought to himself as he walked in through the open doors. Those doors were like six inches thick.

  As they walked into the foyer, the first thing he saw was a thin gray podium. Standing at the podium was a man in a pair of sweatpants that said Maple Creek on the side and a t-shirt that said something about needing caffeine. As they watched, there was a flash, and he reached out to pick up two small brown boxes about the size thick book. He turned and walked to the side where a clerk was sitting at a table.

  The man handed one of the boxes to the clerk, who recorded it on a sheet before placing it on a cart behind him. The cart already had about a dozen of the boxes stacked on it. Then Morgan noticed the line that was behind the podium, as a woman from the front of the line stepped forward and touched the podium. The line was like 15 people long. They stood along the wall to the wing they were being led, a plush rope attached to silver stanchions dividing them from the hallway.

  “This is the door up to the male dormitory,” She pointed to the door behind them, “ and this is the line for the shop kiosk. You can use it now to get the ration packet to rent the rooms. I know Frank is in terrible need of a rest. The cost of the rooms is one ration packet per person. The packets are available in the kiosk for two common tokens…. The cost for healing is also one packet.”

  At this comment, Morgan subconsciously looked at the corner with his tokens. He had 145 common and 9 uncommon tokens. That wouldn’t be too bad. Frank should also have a similar amount.

  She held out her hands in a request for the girl. Morgan turned the girl easily in his arms so she was facing away from his chest. The headmistress grabbed her under the arms and lifted her into her own chest, and the girl just leaned down, as though nothing had changed.

  “Frank?” the girl whispered, “Soo damn tired.” This was the first time she had said anything other than Frank. Morgan glanced accusingly at Frank, who looked away, pale face starting to flush a bit red.

  “Well, let’s get you to bed, then, young lady. I will return shortly,” Katherine directed to Morgan, turning and heading down the other wing.

  Frank stumbled a bit getting into line, and when Morgan caught his arm, he could see beads of sweat forming on Frank’s ashen face.

  “You alright?” Morgan whispered.

  “1%,” was all Frank said between labored breaths.

  Sophia commented.

  Morgan asked.

  “

  Morgan commended.

  “ Sophia responded, sounding pleased.

  Morgan looked to the front of the line. Everyone in line was wearing clean clothes, most were still in pajamas, and they hadn’t moved in minutes. He felt his frustration and worry warming his chest. Morgan leaned Frank against the wall. The pulse in Frank’s arm was light and rapid. Taking a steadying breath, he stepped out of line.