Eye's of the Enemy - Doctor John Fritz
Sometimes I'm not sure it's even worth trying to treat the wounds of the living. No one knows how long they may stay alive even if I can save them. What's the point in being a doctor to this group of starving junkies and mercenaries. I tried to save the ones I could along the way. The trip from the city to Camp Zero is a blur at this point if not I couldn't sleep at night.
It's been twelve months and thirteen days since I had to say good bye to the love of my life, rest in peace my dear Carla. I wasn't going to let her be one of them, I won't be one of them, there will always be one bullet left in my pistol guaranteed. The Vetala seem to stay away from Camp Zero, maybe it's the mega tons of nuclear weapons that lay underneath our feet. I'm not sure who has taken up residence in the high tower who speaks frequently with someone underground but those two men hold the lives of everyone underneath their finger tips. One push of that little red button and I can see Carla once more.
It smells in this place, as if time stopped moving very long ago driving away all that was once alive. I'm lucky though to be here the military evidently loved to spend money experimenting on anything they could find. I've never seen so many different types of laboratory equipment, drugs I haven't ever heard of. When I'm not treating the wounded or sobering up the drugged I work late at night hoping to find a vaccine against the toxin the Vetala use to subdue their victim. The transformation from human to walking dead isn't instant and if I can find drug to counteract it before it spreads into the system maybe I can save the rest of these vagabonds.
There have been rumors that the remaining first breed are showing signs of transformation. This worries me more than being caught by the Vetala. These half human half Vetala could be the end of all that means to be human. No one knows how many mothers were impregnated with those wretched creatures DNA. Did they even know that what they had intended actually may have worked. A separate breed of creature with a mind of its own. If they are driven to the Vetala it will only throw another wrench into the cog.
It's been twelve months and thirteen days since I had to say good bye to the love of my life, rest in peace my dear Carla. I wasn't going to let her be one of them, I won't be one of them, there will always be one bullet left in my pistol guaranteed. The Vetala seem to stay away from Camp Zero, maybe it's the mega tons of nuclear weapons that lay underneath our feet. I'm not sure who has taken up residence in the high tower who speaks frequently with someone underground but those two men hold the lives of everyone underneath their finger tips. One push of that little red button and I can see Carla once more.
It smells in this place, as if time stopped moving very long ago driving away all that was once alive. I'm lucky though to be here the military evidently loved to spend money experimenting on anything they could find. I've never seen so many different types of laboratory equipment, drugs I haven't ever heard of. When I'm not treating the wounded or sobering up the drugged I work late at night hoping to find a vaccine against the toxin the Vetala use to subdue their victim. The transformation from human to walking dead isn't instant and if I can find drug to counteract it before it spreads into the system maybe I can save the rest of these vagabonds.
There have been rumors that the remaining first breed are showing signs of transformation. This worries me more than being caught by the Vetala. These half human half Vetala could be the end of all that means to be human. No one knows how many mothers were impregnated with those wretched creatures DNA. Did they even know that what they had intended actually may have worked. A separate breed of creature with a mind of its own. If they are driven to the Vetala it will only throw another wrench into the cog.
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