Chapter Eighty-Seven | Third World

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"Does it look bad?" Jakob practically slurred as he messed with the dried bloody ends of his hair. Given how light the colour was, Hansel suspected it would probably stain. But seeing the drugged-up state of his patient, and having already suffered a majority of the journey with him asking the same anxious question about his hair, Hansel decidedly shook his head.

"No. It looks fine." Hansel responded without looking up, instead keeping his attention on the journal in front of him. As the pages kept turning, the quicker he realised that his eyes were beginning to fail him. Words steadily became more blurry. In between Jakob's attention-seeking slurs, Hansel felt himself drop in and out of sleep. He kept making himself jump every time he startled himself awake. But the action was masked by the bumpy roads and never-ending swerves the van had to take to avoid various obstacles.

After stopping off at the small fortified base, where they picked up those who had chosen to remain behind, the soldier who was driving put his foot down. There was a short span of ten minutes where Hansel had to do a rapid procedure of stitching up a gaping wound, and injecting antibiotics into Jakob. It wasn't exactly a pretty result, but it did the job.

Seeing how everyone else was unscathed, it made those who dropped out feel guilty. When one man spoke up, the Commander shook his head and reassured him. "We survived because our teams were small." What he didn't add was the fact that it was hugely beneficial that these smaller teams were mostly filled with trained soldiers. Bjorn and Jakob could handle themselves, there was no disputing that, and even though Hansel was far tougher than he looked, it definitely helped that he had been attached at the hip with Niklas.

The driver called out when they were on the homestretch. Niklas stood up and approached the front compartment's window. He peered through for a time before turning and marching to the centre of the moving vehicle. From there he removed the mechanisms that kept the roof's hatch secure and pushed it open.

An immediate flood of cold air hit everyone, but most were relieved to see the sky again after a few hours of sitting in a metal box. But whilst watching their Commander as he propped himself up onto the roof for a time, those who didn't know the procedures were stupefied.

"With weapons, anyone could steal an armoured vehicle." Roscoe suddenly said. No matter the familiarity of the vehicle, if those stationed on the wall with their finger's on the triggers were suddenly being hurtled at at nearly 60mph with no visible sign of friendlies, they would be more inclined to shoot.

But with the appearance of the well-known Commander and his hand-signals to say that everyone was safe and sound, the military van was instantly given permission to go ahead to the armed-forces entrance. From what Niklas could see, as they drove across the open stretch before the divided quarantine-zones, there was a clean-up team getting to work. Littering the ground was a more than average amount of Rotter remains.

Those discarding the bodies looked as repulsed as everyone else did when given the task.

Finally passing through the first barrier of the safe-zone, Niklas jumped back down and locked the hatch once again. Only after the van came to a stop did everyone begin to move. The soldiers were the first to jump out, greeting the members that were the final line of security. The connection between them all was obvious, talking loudly and cheerfully like old friends reconnecting. It made sense that those who risked their lives on a regular basis would have a pretty strong bond.

Making those who were just recently trained feel like outsiders.

Hansel supported Jakob as they stepped down and they quickly drew attention. Any and all injuries were regarded with caution. "He sliced his arm on metal. I've checked and stitched him up myself, so I can vouch for it not being a bite." Hansel stated in a tone that dared any unqualified individual to argue with him.

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