Lucien followed at a distance.
Gale wheeled the gurney down a corridor that sloped gradually downward, deeper into the hospital's lower levels. The lights flickered overhead, most of them dead.
Paul lay on the gurney, unconscious. The bandage around his abdomen was soaked through with blood that had gone from bright red to a dark, ugly brown.
Gale stopped in front of a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Wooden planks were braced across them, blocking the handles, while heavy chains were looped through and secured with a padlock. She stood there for a long moment, staring at the doors. Then she pulled a key from her coat pocket and unlocked the padlock. The chains rattled as she unwound them. She lifted the planks away and set them aside.
From behind the doors came a low moan. Then another. And another.
On the other side was the cafeteria. It was where she had been putting the patients she could not save. She was feeding them to the walkers.
Medical supplies were limited. The staff was gone. Every dying patient who turned became another threat that could attack the few people still alive in the hospital.
It was better to put them somewhere contained. Somewhere they could turn without endangering anyone else.
It was ruthless.
And it was eating her alive.
Her hands were shaking as she opened one of the doors, just wide enough to wheel the gurney through.
The moaning grew louder. Shapes moved in the darkness beyond the door.
Gale pushed the gurney inside.
She let go of the gurney and backed toward the door. She pulled the door shut and started wrapping the chains back through the handles.
That's when Lucien saw it.
Or rather, felt it.
Paul's chest rose, just slightly. But it rose, and held, and fell again. He had spent the last few weeks practicing healing spells whenever he had a spare moment. He'd gotten better at it, good enough that he could feel when the spell was working.
And he'd started to notice patterns. The way injured tissue felt different from healthy tissue. The way a body responded when it was healing versus when it was shutting down.
Paul's breathing was wrong for someone dying. The rhythm was too regular. His body was struggling to stay alive.
He wasn't gone yet.
Lucien made a decision. He pulled the Invisibility Cloak off and shoved it into his backpack. Then he stepped around the corner and shouted, "He's not dead yet!"
His voice echoed down the corridor.
Gale spun around so fast she nearly dropped the chains. Her eyes went wide, scanning the hallway for the source of the voice. Then she saw a blond kid with blue eyes, standing at the end of the corridor.
For a moment, she just stared.
Since the outbreak, she'd seen plenty of survivors. Desperate people looking for medicine, safety, or someone who could tell them what the hell was happening. But a kid by himself?
Then her mind caught up with what he'd said.
He's not dead yet.
"What?"
Lucien walked toward her. "The man on the gurney is still alive. You can save him."
Gale's expression shifted. "Kid, I'm a doctor. I know when someone's—"
"He's breathing," Lucien interrupted. "His chest is moving. It's faint, but it's there. He's not dying."
Gale opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. She looked at the door, then back at Lucien. Part of her wanted to dismiss it as a child's naive hope. Another part wanted desperately to be wrong about Paul. Because if she was wrong, if she had sent living people into that cafeteria, then they would have been torn apart.
"Please," Lucien said quietly. "Just check. What's the harm?"
Gale stared at him for another moment. Then she cursed under her breath and started unwrapping the chains again. She pulled the door open to grab the gurney and hauled it back out into the hallway. The walkers inside pressed against the gap, hands reaching through, but Gale was already slamming the door shut and locking it again.
Her hands moved on autopilot, fingers finding Paul's wrist, checking for a pulse.
Her eyes widened.
Lucien watched as she checked again, pressing her fingers to Paul's neck, leaning down to listen to his breathing.
"He's... you're right. He's still..." She trailed off, looking at Lucien. "How did you know?"
Lucien shrugged. "I saw his hand twitch. And his eyes moved under the lids. I just... I don't know. It didn't look like he was gone."
It was a lie. But a plausible one. Gale didn't question it. She was too busy processing the fact that she'd almost killed someone who still had a chance.
Together, they wheeled the gurney back upstairs. When they reached the storage room, Karina looked up from where she'd been sitting on the floor, her face blotchy from crying.
The moment she saw the gurney, hope flared in her eyes like a struck match.
"Is he..." She scrambled to her feet. "Can you save him? Please, tell me..."
"I don't know. But he's not dead."
Karina let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. She looked at Lucien, then back at Paul, then at Lucien again.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I don't know who you are, but thank you."
Why was she thanking him? Lucien nodded anyway, feeling slightly awkward. He hadn't done it out of kindness. He had done it because Paul was more useful alive, but he wasn't about to say that out loud.
---
Hours passed.
Gale worked in silence, checking Paul's vitals, changing his bandages, administering what little medicine she had left. Karina hovered nearby, refusing to leave his side.
Lucien sat in the corner with his backpack beside him, and watched.
Paul's condition didn't improve dramatically, but it didn't worsen either. The fever that had been burning through him started to break. His breathing steadied. Somewhere around the fourth hour, his eyelids even fluttered.
Karina gasped. "Paul?"
His eyes opened slowly, like it took every ounce of strength he had left.
"Karina?"
She broke down completely, collapsing against the side of the gurney and sobbing so hard her whole body shook. "You're awake. Oh God, you're awake."
Paul's hand moved, lifting to rest on her head. "Hey. I'm... I'm okay."
It was a lie. He looked like death warmed over. But he was alive, and conscious, and that was more than anyone had expected.
Gale stood back, her arms crossed, watching the reunion.
Paul's gaze shifted, finding Lucien in the corner. "You're the one who... I heard you in the dark."
Lucien blinked. "You were conscious?"
"Yeah." Paul's voice was getting stronger, but only just. "I felt like I was drowning. Everything was cold. Then I heard you yelling that I wasn't dead. Figured I should probably prove you right."
He smiled weakly. "Thanks, kid."
Lucien shrugged, uncomfortable again. "You're welcome."
Gale stepped forward. "You're not out of the woods yet. That wound needs proper care, antibiotics, and rest. But..." She hesitated. "You might make it."
Karina grabbed Gale's hand, squeezing it tight. "Thank you. For bringing him back."
Gale's expression cracked.
"I almost killed him," she said quietly. "I was so sure he was dying. I thought..." She swallowed. "I thought it would be kinder to let him go quickly instead of suffering."
"It wasn't just him, was it?"
Gale shook her head. "No. There were others who were too far gone, who I couldn't save with what I had. I made the call, and sent them down there before they could turn and hurt anyone."
She looked at Karina. "And I was going to do the same for you. If Paul died, if you couldn't handle it... I had a morphine syringe ready. Enough to make it painless."
Paul's eyes widened. "Jesus, doc. That's—"
"Necessary," Gale cut him off. "Or at least I thought it was. In a world like this, sometimes the kindest thing you can do is let people go."
Karina didn't pull away. She just held Gale's hand tighter. "I understand. If he had really died... if I was alone... I might have asked you to do it."
The room fell silent.
These people had been through hell. They'd lost everything and were holding onto each other because that was all they had left.
And Lucien had just inserted himself into their lives for purely selfish reasons.
But guilt was a luxury he couldn't afford.
---
Paul and Karina decided to stay at the hospital while he recovered. It made sense, Gale was here, and moving him in his condition would be suicide.
Lucien, for his part, saw an opportunity and took it.
"Dr. Gale," he said, catching her alone later that evening. "I was wondering... is there somewhere I could stay? I've been sleeping rough for a while, and..."
He let the sentence trail off, looking as young and helpless as possible.
Gale studied him for a moment. "Where are your parents, kid?"
"Dead," Lucien said simply. It was easier than explaining. "It's just me."
Her expression softened. "There's a private room on the third floor. It used to be reserved for VIPs, but it's empty now. You can have it."
"Thank you."
She hesitated. "What's your name?"
"Lucien."
"Lucien." She nodded. "I'm Dr. Gale Macones. You already know Karina and Paul." She paused. "You're good at staying calm. Most kids your age would be screaming."
Lucien shrugged. "Screaming doesn't help."
"No," Gale agreed. "It doesn't."
She showed him to the room. It was a decent-sized space, with a bed, a chair, and a window overlooking the parking lot. It was cleaner than the manager room he'd slept in for weeks.
"Get some rest," Gale said. "We'll figure out the rest later."
She left, closing the door behind her.
Lucien dropped his backpack on the bed and sat down, exhaling slowly.
He'd done it. He had a base. And he had access to a doctor who could teach him first aid.
He pulled his wand from his pocket and held it up.
Healing spells. That was the path he was already on. Episkey for minor injuries. Ferula for broken bones. And if he could manage it, the more advanced charms that could handle serious wounds.
The books made it sound simple. Point, swish, say the words. But in practice, it was harder than that. Still, he had time. And a safe place to practice.
He set his wand aside and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, he'd start learning from Gale. Medical knowledge would complement his magic, giving him a framework for understanding how bodies worked and how to fix them when they broke.
And when he was good enough, when he could heal injuries that should be fatal... He'd be indispensable.
He closed his eyes and let exhaustion pull him under.