Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter Seventy-Nine | Third World

[ 79 ]

"You did well today." Dr. Aksel praised as he removed his glasses to rub his eyes. For someone who was only in his mid-thirties, he seemed to have aged due to the stress that seemed to be constant. And Hansel had been experiencing it first-hand, alongside the man.

Hansel had started his day by being plucked out of his bed for mandatory training. A penance for choosing to be both a soldier and a doctor. He wasn't permitted to slack off on either of the two, even when it did feel like his bones were going to break. Following the training, which was a long run in the horrible conditions that came with the micro-climate they were living in, he was thrown in the deep-end at the makeshift hospital; a queue of people waiting anxiously for a doctor to ease their minds.

They worked solidly. Which meant, hours upon hours later— far past their supposed finishing time— Hansel collapsed in the chief doctor's office. They were supposed to have some form of briefing earlier on in the day but it kept being pushed further and further down the line, until there was entirely no room for it.

"Are there usually that many people?" Hansel rubbed his face, slumping into one of the chairs as his feet throbbed. He could honestly say that he'd never worked so hard in his life; aside from almost coughing up a lung during physical torture training.

"People are becoming increasingly anxious as more flood through the gates. There's only a certain amount of supplies, after all." Such feelings were normal for human beings. They wanted to keep themselves, and their immediate circle, safe. At the chance of losing their supplies, ones which were shared equally and with care, people were willing to be violent in order to defend what they believed was entitled to them.

While many took solace in the fact that people were looking out for them, ensuring they got a warm meal and a bed to sleep in at the end of the day, there were more who questioned why it was those people who got to call the shots in the first place. Those resistant few, who placed themselves above others, were the intended targets of the previously conducted interviews. They were toxic to the natural flow of things.

And they were people Valentin, welcomed with open arms.

"Then we need to give some tough-loving treatment; better sooner than later." Hansel admitted, running his hands over his face. They couldn't leave anything to chance, not when they were only surviving by a tiny margin. With the worst still to come. If their supplies ran dry before then, then they might as well shoot themselves in the head.

"Meaning?" Dr. Aksel knew exactly what Hansel was talking about, but clearly wanted to hear his own exact thoughts spoken by someone else. He gestured for him to continue speaking as the older of the two ventured over to a table and grabbed two glasses. He brought them over along with a jug containing a water-filter.

Although it wasn't something stronger, something Hansel would have really appreciated as the remainder of his energy filtered out, he was more than happy to receive the cold glass of water. He only spoke after taking a few much-needed gulps.

"We need to prioritise those who are really sick from the hypochondriacs. Even those with minor sniffles, who we ordinarily shoot up with antibiotics and vital medicines before quarantining them, we need to work out a more efficient method. Yes, it was vital in the beginning when everyone was appearing from all different walks of life with who-knows what sort of contagions in them, but now we need to conserve. And if anything, we need to strengthen our immune systems. If there's a chance that in the future we actually leave these walls, then they're going to need to be strong enough to deal with the graveyard that's currently all over the world."