it’s clear to grace that everyone in the rhodes hill care centre has been infected with the t-virus for a reason. from the processing, something she’d rather forget, and the sheer number of infected, she can easily understand there must be some greater purpose.

her eyelids flutter as though they were made of lead, but she forces herself to stay awake. she can’t afford a moment of relaxation, not given the amount of infected in pods.

they line the walls, a distinct red glow radiating onto the floor as she watches them. her ears prick, and she turns to your pod.

it’s clearly special. first, it’s haloed with blue light, and more apparent, your body is…good. not just not infected, but almost enhanced? there’s no necrosis, only a superhuman physique.

it’s little help to her if you’re sedated in there, she thinks, looking up at the oxygen mask fixed over your airways, keeping you asleep.

she’s taking a risk, but how can she get you out? she can’t leave a potentially uninfected human here.