closed starter for @staticandstitches
Jun kept his back flush against the peeling wallpaper near the doorway, his grip tight on his rifle as he watched Jeremy unpack glass vials onto the dusty folding table. It had been his job to watch. Jeremy said he'd work faster if someone had his six, and Jun wasn't about to let his medic get jumped by rotters or worse. So he stood here, motionless except for his eyes scanning every shadow, every splintered floorboard, listening for any sound that didn't belong.
The building was long abandoned, hollow, and reeked of mildew. No lights except what they'd brought—flashlights and two lanterns—leaving corners thick with darkness Jun couldn't trust. But fear was a luxury he couldn't afford. The dead that wandered outside these walls were far more terrifying than shadows. Darkness might hide threats, but it couldn't rip your flesh.
"What is all this stuff? I mean... I know you're checking samples, but—what am I looking at here?" He tilted his head toward one of Jeremy's smaller notebooks, careful not to step too close to risk disrupting any of his work.
Most of what he was looking at were just notes. Most of it, he wasn't ashamed to admit, was way above his head. Jeremy's penmanship was horrible, but his diagrams were precise; half of them looked like something out of his college chemistry books. It was familiar in that he'd seen similar charts and equations years ago, but meant nothing to him now. The practical things—clear signs of infection, stages of deterioration—those he knew. He could pick out how fast someone turned, how bad an infected wound looked. He could do triage.
But what Jeremy was doing... it felt important. Even if he couldn't wrap his mind around all of it.
"Are we figuring out why this is happening? How to fix it?" He didn't know if he should ask that—maybe it was stupid, maybe it was impossible. But Jeremy was one of their medics. If anyone had answers, he figured Jeremy would.