Day Zero / Season 1, Episode 8
Blood on the Linoleum
Nina’s shoulder slams against the gurney’s frame, her sneakers squeaking on the wet linoleum as she shoves with everything she’s got. The teenage boy strapped down, pale as the sheets beneath him, wheezes through the oxygen mask, his chest barely rising. Blood seeps through the gauze taped over his knife wound, a slow, relentless bloom. Jamal’s on the other side, his face slick with sweat, grunting as he pushes, his arms trembling from the weight. The corridor stretches endless ahead, a tunnel of flickering emergency lights and ankle-deep water, the flood creeping higher with every passing minute. Somewhere behind, the looters’ shouts echo, raw and hungry, their boots splashing closer. “Move, move, we’re almost—” Jamal’s voice cracks, his eyes darting to the double doors at the end of the hall. The west wing. Safety. If they can just get through. If the keycard still works. If the mob doesn’t catch them first. Nina’s breath burns in her chest, her hands slick on the gurney’s metal rail. The air smells of mildew and iron, the floodwater mixing with the tang of blood. Her scrubs cling to her skin, heavy with damp, chafing at her thighs. Every step sloshes, the cold seeping into her socks, numbing her toes. She can’t think about that. Can’t think about the ache in her back or...