[u]Remmy[/u]

It was nighttime when headed towards Elone Medical Center, the chief makeshift Hospital and medical facility within Chico. One of the few to survive the infected's tidal wave across the USA. A massive yellow stone building with red roof, concrete paths winded around buildings and other trees leading up to it like silent sentinels in the night air. A few dim street lamps casted their faint light across the pathways leading towards the large center as Remmy made his way from shadow to shadow. 

The place was mostly empty. The city's curfew was slowly being out into effect after the increasing riots, the streets slightly more lonely then they had been the day before as Remmy's eyes shifted around. Glimpses of flirting darkness brought the Cajun an intense wariness and alert. His fear was quelled by the weighed comfort of his borrowed piece pressed against his back small and the few rounds in his pockets. His form made his way to the soft jingling sounds from one of the blue CDC tents in the hot, humid air. It's tarp outside faded and aged from the relentless time that passed since the infection broke out. 

Gently, Remmy pulled away the tent entrance and sighed. It seemed empty. Where the hell was she? He thought bitter as he frowned at his contact's absence, his gaze shifted to the seeping, shitty patch up job. The blood, now dried and crusted, plastered to his side. Leaning upon the tent's entrance side, Remmy inhaled softly. Inwardly he cursed his timing before suddenly a hand gripped his shoulder and jerked him inside. Surprised and unable to brace himself, Remmy's balance topples. He fell inside the tent and smacked the ground, the pain for his landed side rippled through his side. 

"Shit!" Remmy cursed from the ache, his arms wrapped about his sides. A failed attempt to chase away the flames licking up his form. 

"Hush, keep it down you idle brained brat! You soft in the head? Or you aimed to get arrested and tossed away?" An auburn haired and Caucasian female spat, her blue eyes fixed upon the lankier man. Her hand raised the flap to peer out, her eyes turned from Remmy. "The streets aren't safe since the 1007th have been coming around to Chico. Not with rumors of a cure running rampant like wild fire and causing riots to break all over the city." 

Her head looked out for a moment longer then she jerked the flap downwards, her figure dressed in a skimpy jean shorts and oversize tee. Hair braided up in a messy style while Remmy twisted to spot her glaring expression, followed by her outstretched hand. He took a bracing breath before he placed his own into hers, hauled upright to his feet with a flinch. A soft hiss erupted out of his lips and commented upon his rough reception. "Awe, Cher. Easy on the greetin', not that I don't me it rough. I take it you're Gil?"

"Yeah, what of it?" The woman, in her middle twenties, said as her hand mounted her tilted hips. Her other reached and tugged Remmy roughly to a table, where she gestured for him to sit. She then turned to one of the medical cases on the floor and unzips it, her body hunched over and picked out cleaning supplies. "What's cha got? Wot type of wound?"

"Gunshot, right through. It just needs a stitching." Remmy casually admitted, his hand propped his descent onto the table's surface. Slowly he peeled away his shirt to revealed his wound and sloppily done patch job. 

"Geeze." Gillian Graham said eyeing it then pulled out a thread and stitch, her body pushed upright once more. "Painkiller is sparse, so you'll have to do without it. How you're a tough guy, nothing more pitiful then a fully grown man crying over a bit of stitching." 

She pulled closer and wiped away the blood, the thread hooked to the needle and readied for the skin. Remmy's body tensed when she began threading up the hole. Trying to aid her effort, he started to chatter. "Tell me about the current situation of Chico. I rode in, thanks to a friend, on a 1007th chopper this morning. I've heard rumors and sayin's whispered before I came here but I want to know the facts."

"Mostly rumors, fights and problems about this so called cure. From I've gathered it's some young girl but other then that, I couldn't tell you much more. I do know another woman was arrested under the crime of hiding an infected within the city and is currently being treated since she lost the baby. Turns out she was with the young kid when everything went south. The 1007th got word of it and they started to arrived lately. They've been meeting with those in charge, mumbles about Legion and military aid. It'll likely end up as it did in Evergreen." Gillian said somberly while she managed to pull the skin together, her hand worked quickly as she talked. Her eyes fixed upon the wound's condition and minded Remmy's hissings. When she finished, he watched her pull away to dispose of the needle in a bowl on top a metal tray. "There. That should hold for now and if doesn't, I'll have to stitch it up again."

"Thanks." Remmy managed to say fairly steadily and added more. "I need you to send a message to my pod, D-13." 

"Oh? Fine, here," Gillian replied then passed Remmy a piece of handmade paper and old pen. "Write it there and I'll have it delivered." 

Remmy began to hastily scribble out his message, his chicken scratching danced across the rough texture. Once he was done, he rolled it up then passed it back to Gillian. "Thanks, darlin'. I appreciate it very m-

Gillian's hand shoved him a bit and took the paper, stashed into her pocket. "Shut up with your flattery and hit out of here. Now."

She shoved a smiling Remmy right out of the tent and nearly on his ass. Shaking his head, the man started his way back to the trailer park where he would wait for Coltrane there. He had a lot to share with the man when came back.