Apocalyptic Adoration || CHANGED TITLE

Morning In The Morgue

After the double doors to the police station slam open, you quickly whipped your head around as the noise sliced through the air. You could hear uneven footsteps quickly approaching your makeshift surgical bed in the Main Hall soon after, and suddenly, you were greeted with the pained face of Marvin Branagh.

The pain on his face slightly-- emphasis on slightly-- morphed into relief upon seeing your figure in your station at the end of the Hall, near the beautiful goddesses statue. You passed that statue constantly when you came up to the surface from the morgue, whether it had been to deliver or pick up reports, or just shoot the shit with some of the officers.

How you wished things were still the same.

Upon clearly seeing Marvin, bloodied and holding his side, you quickly stood up to meet him halfway. You quickly ran to him and grabbed hold of his weak, bloodied frame, firmly throwing his arm over your shoulders and leading him back to where you previously were.

"Marvin, what happened!? You need attention right now." You unintentionally scolded. Yes he was your superior, but at this point-- the hierarchy of staff at the station really doesn't matter.

"I went out looking for supplies in the garden shed-- anything I could find-- and I was blind sided by a few of those things outside. I-" He hesitates with a pause, grief quickly pooling in his eyes. He opens his mouth to continue.

"Vickers was one of 'em. I couldn't-", He chokes lightly, "I couldn't do it. I thought he was still in there. He did this to me. I should've done something but I-," he pauses, and he looks so angry at himself.

You can tell how much it's affecting him. Quickly hushing him, you attempt to console him in any way possible.

"It's alright Marvin, I'll patch you up in no time. You're gonna be okay. We're all gonna be okay. I just gotta stop the bleeding-"

With a sharp tone, he cuts you off with your name.

"No, no, it's a waste. He bit me. He got me. I'm a goner." He began to quiet as the realization dawned on you. You didn't need a mirror to know it was showing on your face.

"Marvin, at least let me clean it, I want you to be comfortable at least." You meekly offered, with as much of a smile as you can muster.

With a groan he uttered, "Fine, but take us upstairs, to the waiting room. The couch is more comfortable than that cot of yours. No offense." He joked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

With a nod, you guide him up the flight of stairs to the right. You turn to the side as you go up, almost feeling the way the eyes of the goddess seem to bore into your frame. It gives you the creeps and you decide to quickly avert your eyes.

As you enter the waiting room, you lay Marvin down on the couch and quickly grab some wipes from one of the hip pouches that the lieutenant insisted you carry on you. You gently untuck, and unbutton the last few buttons of his shirt. Peeling away the bottom of the white tank top he wore as an undershirt, you finally get a good look at the wound.

It was nasty; each of Brad's teeth created deep gashes. Delicate black veins were beginning to creep outwards from each of them. Blood gushes out with every shaky breath he takes, and you quickly began applying pressure and cleaning it to the best of your ability.

He groaned in pain at the pressure of your hands, but was otherwise fine as you cleaned it. Not, of course, counting the infection beginning to spread. You desperately hoped he'd be okay, no matter how stupid you knew you were being.

As you finished your handiwork, Marvin began to drift off to sleep. Most likely from the blood loss. You sat in front of the couch, quickly gripping a scalpel from your hip pouch. It began to feel reminiscent of how things used to be. You wondered how this all started.