By Linette Voller

The graying gentleman in his brown tweed blazer looked out of place against the cold sterile white room around him.  He was hunched over looking towards his weather beaten hands, his thumb continually massaging the centre of his palm,  but his gaze seemed fixed on some ineffable target miles away.

Looking at him through the two way mirror, Alex didn’t need his years of training to tell him that this was a broken man.  It had been several weeks before they’d managed to track him down, this innocuous and caring GP fending off retirement with his drive to care for others.   In this time the damage had been done, and the casualty rate exponential.

Alex was hoping they’d find a cure for the epidemic in the spindly veins of the man weeping in front of him, but he knew that even protecting the last few survivors would give this man no solace.