Cue Celine Dion

"Shut the door," a soft voice says to me as I turn around.  The hand on my shoulder is an ally not a foe.  It takes me a moment before I let the door slide shut -- which silences the murmurs from within.

"There's nothing you can do for them.  Believe me, we tried," she says with sincerity as I step away from the door so that I can get a better look at her.  She's younger than me --  and her skin is much healthier than mine.

"Come," she says and ushers me back towards the stairwell.

"What will happen to them?" I ask as we climb the stairs towards the third floor. 

She doesn't say anything at first, but then -- perhaps to gain my trust, tells me the truth:

"They will die."

We walk in silence for another moment down the third floor hallway; eventually entering into a room that is run by a generator.  My ears are immediately overwhelmed with the beeps and blurs of machinery.  It deafens me at first, but then -- as it has always been, I readjust to the humming as it evaporates into white noise before taking a seat on one of the cots per my new friend's instructions.

"I'm Karen," I say as she prepares my left arm for a needle that will provide the remainder of the combatant medicines I need to restore me to health.  I take a handful of vitamins that someone else hands to me and wince ever so slightly as the needle approaches.

"I'm Donna.  This is Lorna.  And over there is Miguel." she says as the needle enters into my arm. 

I cordially nod my 'how-do-you-dos' to each of them before taking a deeper breath to help calm my nerves.  A moment later the needle is removed; and we are free to exchange pleasantries.

"We've been here for about three weeks or so -- ever since the rains let up.  We do our best to try and help whomever passes by; but the reality is that the further south you were when the disaster happened, the harder it will be for us to treat.  You are lucky," she says with a smile as she readjusts her pony tail.

"Your hair is so...healthy." I say to her and try not to think about my own thinning mop.  She reaches out her hand to my head, pats it and tells me that mine will be healthy again soon enough.  I'm told that I'm welcome to stay as long as I want.  They've been treating the water to avoid contamination; and there is more than enough food.  I ask if they know of the status of people elsewhere -- but she doesn't.  I tell her about the message emblazoned on my phone and that I am planning to travel west as I believe that things are alright over there.

"If that is the case, then why haven't they sent for us?" she asks matter-of-fact as we make our way out doors and cross the street towards what looks like a tavern.

"That's a good question," I mumble under my breath. 

Why haven't they sent the army here to help us? 

The question lingers in my mind a bit longer.  I try not to worry about worse-case scenarios.  For now, my plan is simple.  Stay here.  Rest and recharge.  And then, leave.

As we approach the tavern door, Donna turns to me with a smile and says, "Is that your shotgun leaning up against the door?"

I shrug, and then say the first thing that comes to my mind in an effort to save face.

"Too many zombie movies," I mutter.

"Ah," she says with a laugh as the door opens and the smell of food consumes every hungry cell in my being. 

As the smell of breakfast re-awakens the parts of me that I had long forgotten - like desire, and will; I know that the tide has now shifted. 

A new day has come.