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Drakon Rus: Battle for Cambria

Weaving her way towards the evacuated hospital, Britt ran through the chaotic streets of the human capital. The quick trip she had anticipated took longer than expected. She stopped several times to administer first aid to anyone she found. Most were soldiers, but she found three civilians who’d been hit by crossbow bolts that had over shot the wall. Most had survivable wounds, but two died in her arms. Both were soldiers with head wounds, and who had been manning those walls. Her visage grew dark knowing that this would be repeated over and over today. The last soldier who died had been carried to the hospital by corpsmen who hadn’t heard the infirmary had been moved to the citadel. He died in an empty hospital with only one remaining doctor, who was also leaving soon. She made sure the corpsmen knew where to take the wounded from now on.

Britt’s white smock was stained red, and she had blood smeared on her cheek. Not taking the time to clean up, she hurried upstairs to the storeroom that contained the needed drugs, and began gathering up all she could carry. She found a large duffle bag, and filled it as full as she could carry, and began carefully lugging the heavy load down the three flights of stairs to the hospital’s main floor.

She quickly regretted leaving Ziggy back at the citadel. That had been a mistake. His strong back would have been a great help to her now. Carrying the loaded bag down the stairs had sapped most of her strength, and now she had to get it from the hospital all the way back to the citadel. She reckoned to ask some soldiers, whom she was sure to find, for help once she made it outside.

She never had the chance.

Pushing the door open with her back, she was struggling to get the bulging bag full of glass vials through, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. It shocked her so much she dropped the bag, breaking dozens of the fragile vials. Frustration and anger quickly took hold as she whirled around to dress down the buffoon who caused this idiocy. Her hand flew to her mouth in shock the instant she recognized who it was. “Hello, sis," Bayne casually greeted her. “How’s your day been going?”

Except for her voice, the rest of her body went paralyzed. Bayne left her vocal cords unaffected. He wanted to hear to her scream, and she screamed allot.

Once the rape was finished, Bayne wiped her blood off his hands, and left the hospital. Barely conscious, Britt lay battered on the stairwell floor. Fresh blood now added to her stained smock. But she was alive. As much as Bayne was tempted to kill her, he decided she deserved a worse fate—the fate of a long life. A life tormented by the seed of revenge he had planted.

After ten minutes the paralysis wore off, and Britt painfully moaned, for both the physical and emotional trauma she had just undergone. She was still face down where Bayne had left her. Once she was able to move she curled up into a fetal position, and cried. It had been years since she last cried, and stairwell echoed with her wails almost as loudly as her screams had done a few minutes earlier.

Her forehead was cut, and swollen where it had been repeatedly slammed down on the bottom stair. Her hair matted with blood. Finally gaining the courage to rise, she rose to all fours. She had a job to do, and nothing—not even the past hour was going to keep her from doing it. Britt crawled over to the bag, and in spite of the terrible pain in her pelvis, struggled to her feet, and tried to pick up the bag.

She didn’t have the strength to lift it.

The stairwell door burst open. Britt jerked away, fell over the duffle, and screamed in terror. The look on the man’s face was pure anger, but he said nothing as he reached down, and gently picked up the terrified woman.

Ziggy carried Britt back to the citadel cradled in his powerful arms. Her own wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his chest—sobbing the whole way. Once he laid her down on a cot the other physicians immediately tended her to. As Ziggy turned to leave, Britt grabbed his hand, and held it tight. “Ziggy…thank you,” she gulped down another sob, “but, we still need that medicine. Can you please go get it for me? They’re in—in—.” She was unable to say the word. “Yes, Miss Britt,” his own voice quaking. “I saw them. I’ll be back soon.”

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