Inside the Settlement
Tucked into the most stable corner of the settlement, standing slightly apart from the denser cluster of dwellings, was a sturdy, angular shack constructed primarily from salvaged corrugated metal sheeting bolted and welded onto a frame of scavenged steel beams. A single, heavy door made from layered sheet metal and wood planks, fitted with a sturdy slide bolt, guarded the entrance. Above the door lay the word "Clinic" painted in red, along with multiple crosses across the building.
Stepping inside felt like entering a different world, albeit a small one. The interior walls were lined with flattened tin cans nailed over makeshift wood panels, creating a surprisingly reflective, if slightly uneven, surface that helped maximize the light from a pair of solar-powered lanterns. Meanwhile, the air carried a dry, aromatic scent, predominantly that of medicinal herbs mixed with a strong smell of homemade alcohol used for cleaning.
Four makeshift beds made from sturdy wood with mattresses and rolls of blankets on top occupied one of the corners. A makeshift workbench made from a merged table and a vehicle hood occupied the other. On it rested immediate tools: neatly arranged forceps, syringes, a scalpel, boiled suture needles, small tins of salves and rendered fats, and a bottle of alcohol. Above the workbench, wooden crates nailed to the wall acted as cabinets, holding labeled bundles of dried plants, gauze pads, and repurposed jars containing saline or infusions. A heavy, salvaged door near the back led to a small, cramped storage room, packed high with overflow supplies and doubling, out of necessity, as Maria's quarters.
Within the clinic were three figures. Two younger women assisted the third, whose age set her apart immediately. Her face was a roadmap of the decades since "The Silence", deeply creased by sun and worry, yet her eyes remained sharp and missed nothing. Tied like a bun was her black hair, with some signs of gray within. Her unwavering determination to help everyone, mixed with scarce resources, kept her thin, but her posture remained stubbornly upright."
"Alright, girls - are you done with cleaning?"
She was busy maintaining the inventory, so she had appointed the other two to maintain hygiene within the clinic.
"We're almost done, Sister Maria." Both replied in unison.
"Very good. Sara, confirm the suture needle count. Are we down to the last three packs? What about the syringes, Amber?"
A well-maintained inventory was a daily part of the routine for Maria. So, she divided an equal task of maintaining inventory among both Sara, Canadian-born and sharp-witted in her late twenties, and Amber, equally adept with African-American roots in her mid-twenties.
Knock! Knock! Knock! Amidst her inquiry, sudden knocks rang on the door.
"Come in," she replied.
As the door pushed open, a figure made its way into the clinic.
Huff! Huff!
Sweat trickled all over his body as he was left gasping for air.
Maria recognized the young man. "Jim, why are you here in a hurry? Weren't you supposed to be at the watchtower?"
His sudden arrival and his state surprised her.
"Sister Maria, there's a problem outside. Bob has gone to check, and he asked me for your help." A sense of urgency could be felt in his voice, and his state confirmed it.
"Okay. Amber, come with me. Sara, you stay here and ready the equipment."
She wasted no time, but came across a group of people before they could depart, one of them being Ethan, his usually cheerful face grim, with wrench marks still dark on his knuckles.
"Ethan, why are you guys here?" Their sudden appearance surprised her.
"We're here for stretchers. Someone heard Bob screaming for stretchers. So, I joined the group on the way here. Maria, I have a bad feeling about this." Ethan commented.
"The stretchers are in the left corner. Let's go." Maria grabbed her stethoscope and departed at a brisk pace, Jim and Amber hurrying to keep up.
The usual settlement chatter seemed muted, replaced by an anxious tension. Her mind raced through various possibilities - a raider attack? A fall? A mutant attack?. However, she couldn't put a finger on the specific possibility. Suddenly, Ethan's comment about having a bad feeling echoed in her mind. As they neared the main gate, Bob's cry for help became audible, confirming the severity. He waved frantically beside two still forms on the ground. Maria quickened her pace, her gaze already assessing the scene from a distance.
***
Once at the destination, Bob's concerned face was noticeable. Immediately, her attention turned to two still forms on the ground, easily recognizing them. Her anxious thoughts flared up.
"Aden. Tom. What happened to you guys?" She called out for them while trying to maintain calmness, but their lack of response spurred her to check for their vital signs.
Her first course of action was to check their breathing. Once sure of it, she placed the chest piece of the stethoscope on Aden's chest and checked for his heartbeat. Fortunately, it was normal.
As she repeated the same with Tom, she ran into a problem. His heartbeat was irregular and growing chaotic. Immediately, she placed both her hands on his chest and started chest compressions.
Soon, Ethan's group joined them.
"Place both of them on the stretcher. Amber, you go with Aden. I'll go with Tom." She commanded swiftly, her hands never ceasing their rhythmic pressure on his chest even as Ethan and the others carefully maneuvered the stretcher beneath him.
***
The clinic door burst open. The stretcher carrying Tom rushed inside first, Maria still leaning over him, counting compressions under her breath.
"Get him onto the bed! Sara, oxygen tank – now! Amber, start hydration for Aden! Now!"
The small clinic instantly filled up with focused urgency.
"Yes, Sister." Both executed the command swiftly.
"Sara, administer two Quinidine tablets and remove his bandages." The chest compression did not cease until all the bandages were fully removed. She breathed a sigh of relief after confirming his heartbeats were stabilized enough to cease chest compressions.
"Hmm. Most of the bleeding seems to have stopped except for the shoulder. There's something on the shoulder. Sara, bring my tools." During Tom's inspection, she came across the claw tip. A closer inspection revealed a dark green liquid oozing from the base of the claw.
"Sara, bring saline solution too." The claw and its content caused her unease, she wanted it out of his body as soon as possible.
She swiftly grabbed the tool tray from Sara and placed it on a nearby table.
"Sara, clean his wounds," she exclaimed.
Trickle! Trickle!
Following Maria's orders, Sara cleaned the wounds with saline solution. Meanwhile, Maria disinfected the tools with homemade alcohol. The high alcoholic volume from multiple distillation made it more than suitable for the job.
Once Sara was done, Maria grabbed the scalpel and started incising around the claw. The incision resumed bleeding, prompting Sara to clean the wound with clean water. Shortly, she used the forceps to pluck the claw out.
"Sara, place gauze on the wound and apply pressure." She placed the claw on the tray and washed her hands. With her hands clean, she applied a thin layer of petroleum jelly around the wound edges before carefully bandaging them.
"Administer an antibiotic tablet to him, and keep an eye on him. I'll have a look at Aden."
"Yes, Sister," Sara replied passionately.
With Sara in charge of Tom's care, she approached Aden.
"How's he doing, Amber?" Seeing his weakened state, a sense of melancholy unfurled along with a repressed memory.
***
"Please, take care of Aden. He's a good child."
A reluctant voice echoed in her mind.
***
"He is fine, Sister," Amber reported, adding with forced brightness perhaps aimed at Maria's sudden quietness, "Just exhausted and dehydrated."
Amber's assessment jolted her back to the present.
"Stupid child," she muttered.
With Sara and Amber in charge, she left the clinic with the claw in a tin can, her destination: the town hall.
***
TOWN HALL
Situated near the middle of the settlement was the Town Hall, a two-story structure cobbled together from welded storage containers and highway overpass panels, identifiable by a faded American flag hanging limply from a bent flagpole on its roof. Inside, the lower level was stark: a packed earth floor, a central meeting table built from stacked crates, and benches lining the corrugated metal walls where residents might wait or listen. Light came from battery-powered lanterns hung from ceiling beams, casting a utilitarian glow. Located on the right of the assembly hall was a door with 'Mayor' painted crudely on top.
Once inside, she navigated past a group of people with stacks of papers on their tables. The usual meeting tables and benches were being utilized as a makeshift administrative workstation.
Focused on her urgent task, she nodded briefly to the workers and walked toward the Mayor's room.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Come in." Moments later, a reply came back, gruff and slightly muffled.
Inside, she came across a small, cramped room dominated by a large metal desk. A simple table and chairs, a dented metal wardrobe, and shelves were placed near each other, leaving little room to maneuver. Within the room were two figures - a male and a female.
The man, likely in his mid-fifties judging by the lines around his eyes, donned a faded camo T-shirt and pants despite being indoors. His short-cropped hair was a mix of wine red and ash white. He sat solidly in the chair behind the desk.
Standing behind him was a woman, perhaps in her late thirties, clearly of Asian descent with sharp features and straight, dark hair pulled back efficiently. She wore informal but neat and patched wear and held a thick folder clutched to her chest.
"Good afternoon, Franz. Riku. Have you been well?" Maria offered them a curt greeting.
"Ah, Maria. Good afternoon. We are doing fine. What brings you here today?" The man responded, his voice carrying a thick German accent.
"I'm just gonna cut to the chase. Aden and Tom were likely attacked by the death hounds. Can you confirm if it's them?" She placed the tin can containing the dark, jagged claw tip on the desk.
Franz picked up the tin can, angling it toward the lantern light to inspect the claw within.
"You do know these are radioactive?" He peeked up at Maria from under his brow.
"While it's not ideal, short-term exposure through tin is fine. After all, it was your team who discovered how to handle them safely," she exclaimed.
This particular breed of mutated beast had been encountered before, so safe handling protocols for the remains were common knowledge amongst veteran hunters, scavengers, and other experienced settlement members.
Upon closer inspection, Franz noticed the subtle curve and density of the claw and grunted.
"Ja, it's a death hound's claw, likely an alpha given the robustness. It could be a considerable achievement if they killed it. How are the boys doing?" There was a hint of grim appreciation in his voice.
"Aden is fine, just needs some rest and hydration. However, Tom was injured badly. He'll probably need a month to recover, but he's bound to have a permanent scar on his shoulder." She gave her concise analysis.
"Good to hear about both. As for Tom's scar, we're no longer in the same world. Some scar here and there isn't a bad thing. It'll serve as a reminder to always be vigilant for him."
Although harsh, Franz's view held the pragmatic truth of their situation. Maria disliked seeing anyone injured or dead, but such wishes felt too idealistic in this world.
"That's all I needed confirmed. I'll get going." Her hand reached the door latch. Suddenly, she heard Riku's voice, quiet but firm.
"Maria, wait. Husband, aren't you forgetting something?"
Maria paused, glancing back at Franz.
"Forgetting? Am I? What could it be?" Franz frowned, trying to recall, but came up blank. However, every passing second, Riku's gaze grew pointed.
Shortly after, perhaps prompted by Riku's assessing look, comprehension dawned on his face.
"Ah! Ja, I remember now. The water pump in the reservoir has broken down, the stored water will run dry in a week at best. We're about to arrange a medium supply run in 3 days with a group of 20 or so to Bullhead City for parts. If you need any specific medical supplies from the city, note them down and pass the list by tomorrow evening." He detailed the information rapidly.
"Wait, Bullhead City? Isn't that well within acknowledged Death Hound territory??" The sudden revelation caught her off guard.
"That's why I'm taking 19 capable people with me. They're all veterans and will be well-armed. We'll be fine." A sharp and confident aura exuded from Franz as he spoke, the authority returning to his posture.
"Okay… I'll forward the list tomorrow." She left the room, heading back towards the clinic. The conviction radiating from Franz restored a bit of faith in his plan, despite the risks.
***
"Schatz (Honey), can you ask someone from sanitation to dispose of this tin can? Carefully."
With the situation dealt with, Franz resumed his work, the weight returning to his shoulders.
"Okay, Franz." Riku left the room with the tin can held carefully.
"An alpha… killed by those two." Franz mused, staring momentarily at the closed door.
"Gut.(Good.)"
He glanced briefly out the window in the clinic's direction before resuming his focus on the stacks of vital paperwork.