The building was surprisingly small for a settlement. There were three levels, a main floor, a second floor, and a basement. Most of the inhabitants lived on the second floor. There was perhaps twenty or thirty of them in total, Dussander hadn�t seen them all and it was difficult to count when he kept crossing paths with the same individuals. There were enough rooms for them on the top floor, and then more, a few of which spilled into the back of the main floor and basement.

By �back� one meant away from the main entrance. There was only one. Normally this would perturb Dussander (what if there was an attack?), but there were several smaller exits all around the building that could only be opened from the inside. So long as no one was caught outside when the infected attacked the main entr�e, everyone was safe.

The second floor was home to an office of sorts. Ms. Hurst explained that that�s where the radios were, as well as the ration information, and the records of everyone who had originally been in the settlement. Further along was a kitchen, adjacent to which was a makeshift green house filled with artificial sunlight. Plants and fruit, no animals. Ms. Hurst said there was a freezer at the back of the kitchen, but there was no way to replenish their meat stocks. Meat, therefore, was not something that was often dished out.

The basement was home to the lab and two other doctors who whisked Armin away without so much as a glance in Dussander�s direction for permission. That he most certainly did not like. But he bit his tongue, asked for names, and followed Ms. Hurst through the rest of the basement, leaving Armin behind to get his nose fixed. As well as anything else that might be wrong with the boy.

The last room was another freezer. Ms. Hurst (he should really attempt to refer to her as Dr., lest he say otherwise out loud) pressed a combination on the lock and the doors slid open, letting out a gust of frozen air. It was dark, leaving only a little flickering light above their heads. It was very weak, but Dussander doubted there would be any use in sticking on the infrareds. It was a freezer, after all. Everything but Ms. Hurst herself would be blue or green.

�We don�t like to keep secrets. It makes people uneasy. So as long you�re staying here you�ll know everything we know,� Ms. Hurst paused and glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes were narrowed a little, judging,� And vice-verse, of course.�

�Of course,� Dussander parroted, stepping into the freezer after her.

At each end there was a glass screen, behind which were the dead, frozen bodies of infected. It was Dussander�s first time seeing them without the infrareds or a blurry screen to hinder his sight.

They were gruesome creatures.

Their skin was a chalky white, loose along the limbs, stomach, and neck, but pulled tight and taunt across the head. Their eyes were wide, the skin stretched to show pink flesh beneath (turned nearly purple from the cold). The eyes themselves were icy blue, with wide, wide pupils. The nose was nothing more than bat-like slits stuck on the edge of a ridge, the mouth wide and gaping, filled with a thick tongue and bloody, jagged teeth. The hands were comically large, with fingers to suit them�spindly, boney, and long, lacking nail but ending in a gruesome, rooty point none-the-less. They were hunched, with ridged backs, with their arms crossed over their chests at awkward angles.

�We don�t know much about them,� Ms. Hurst stepped in front of one of the glass tanks, her nose turned upward and arms crossed as if she were trying to stare the creature down,� They�re difficult to kill.�

�My private shot one down before we came to the settlement.�

Ms. Hurst let out a burst of humorless laughter,� Shot it, did he?�

�Yes.�

�Stunned it, then,� she shook her head,� They�ll drop like they�re dead if they�re shot, but give them five or ten minutes and they�ll be on their feet again. We�ve tried everything.�

Dussander�s brow furrowed,� What works?�

�Grenades, but we�ve run out of them and it was difficult to�get them anywhere where it would kill them,� she turned to face him, stepping away from the glass a little too quickly,� We lost men trying that.�

�Just men?� Dussander arched a brow.

�The Heer still doesn�t accept women, doesn�t it?�

Dussander let out a snort and bobbed his head. She�d won that one.

�How far did the ship crash?�

�A few hours walk, we didn�t have any timepieces on us when we left the ship.�

�Were there any other survivors?�

�If there were, you�re friends got them,� his eyes darted toward the glass,� We did not stay to check.�

�Would there be anything of use left?�

�Metal, shrapnel, weapons from the soldiers that got out in time. Nothing else.� But whatever there was, it would be useful. Whatever was available they could use.

�Any communication equipment?�

Dussander shook his head,� Unlikely.�

There had been radios, of course, but it would have been irreparably damaged from the explosion, if not destroyed all together.

�Would you be willing to lead a party? We have some vehicles, but they�d be dangerous to use with the Infected around. We do have weapons, and you have those goggles�it is imperative that we get whatever equipment we can if we hope to survive.�

�You want us to do this in exchange for using your resources?�

�No one lives for free-.�

�- you cannot afford it, yes.� And they, being strangers, were expendable,� How many men will you lend us?�

�Three�maybe four. And a vehicle, to drag some of the heavier stuff back with. You could do it with that, couldn�t you?�

�Of course.� He would not have a choice in the matter, even if he couldn�t. She talked stoically, stared with hardness in her eyes, and stood very stiffly, even if there were goose pimples rising on her arms. She was their commander, and her people were worth more to her than a few strangers that tried to help her.

�When do you want us to leave?�

�A few days,� Ms. Hurst moved toward the exit,� You�re both dirty and exhausted. You both need medical attention, for possible dehydration and hypothermia, so�not until you�re well enough to do so.� Her hand slipped toward the panel.

Dussander�s caught her wrist and pushed it back. She snapped her head back to leer up at him, eyes narrowed beneath the bright, reflected frame of her glasses.

�I don�t enjoy suicide missions, Dr. Hurst.�

�I�m not-�

He jerked her forward and lowered his head until their brows were nearly touching,� You informed me that the Infected cannot be killed, and told me to leave the only safe place on the island for a day long trek amongst them. What sort of weapons do you have, doctor?�

�Rifles,� she sneered and jerked her wrists, but he didn�t let her go,� Pistols, one or two sniper rifles.�

�Ammo?�

�Enough,� she stopped struggling and glared up at him,� Let me go.�

Dussander released her wrist and stepped out of the way. She pressed the panel and the doors slid open. Her eyes caught his as she stepped between them, narrowed to thin, little slits. She whipped around and stepped through the door. Dussander followed without a word.

It was time to check on his obergefrieter.

Armin watched with wide eyes and a hammering heart and Dussander left him to the doctors with no more than a stern look that said behave. Armin sucked in a breath and turned away from the side, lifting a hand to rub at his brow where the goggles dug.

�Christ, someone certainly did a number on your nose, didn�t they?� one of the doctors, a tall pale fellow with short, dark hair and glasses, swam into view. He was tall, taller than Armin, perhaps as tall (or even taller?) than Dussander. He gripped Armin�s chin and titled it upward to get a good look.

Armin shuffled his feet, fingers flexing at his sides.

�We�ll clean it up for you, but-�

�He�s German, Kemp. You realize that, don�t you?�

The tall doctor jerked his gaze away, eyes wandering past Armin to the other fellow,� Is he?� his eyes fluttered down, landing on Armin�s chest. The bundeswher cross was emblazoned against his chest pocket, silver and blue, as it had always been.

Kemp let out a whistle,� So he is. Can you understand me?�

�Ja,� Armin was catching most of their words, after all. He just hoped they didn�t expect him to speak it back to them.

�What�s your name then? I�m Erik Kemp, kinda German, I suppose, but if I am it�s too far back for anyone to remember.�

The man certainly enjoyed talking.

�My name is Armin Mendel,� said Armin,� I am...�what was his rank in English? ��cadet? Private? First class.�

�Hm,� Kemp nodded appreciatively, grinning a little.

A hand passed across Armin�s shoulder, from behind him. Armin gave a startled jump, hand flying to his gun. He started to spin, but Kemp caught him and held him back with a nervous chuckle. The hand was holding a wet swap and a cloth. Kemp took both of them and let Armin go, ushering him onto a stool.

Kemp leaned over him, dragging the wet cloth across his face. It stung. Armin sucked in a breath and jerked his head back, eyes screwing shut.

�Yeah, I know, but you don�t want it infected and its got to be cleaned up before we can do anything about your nose. Talk to me, take your mind off it.�

�I do not know too much English.�

�Say what you can then. What�s your buddy�s rank?�

�Mein buddy?�

�Your friend, the tall fellow with the bright eyes.�

�Dussander. He is hauptmann�captain.� And stared at him a little too much.

�You shouldn�t make him talk, Kemp. He�s croaking. Probably dehydrated,� there was movement behind him, the sound of footsteps against the hard floor and glass and metal clinking against one another,� Ask him if he has any allergies.�

There were a few words in there that Armin didn�t understand. But concentrating took a bit of the pain away. Kemp was smoothing the cloth across his nose now, and by god it hurt awfully. Armin squirmed on the stool and tried to lean back, but Kemp continued to stroke.

�Got any allergies?�

�I do not know what that means.�

�Things like�food, make you go all red and stuffy.�

Armin�s brow furrowed.

The cloth made one last swoop beneath his nose before Kemp back up, looking sheepish. He pretended to sneeze and rubbed his eyes,� Like that?�

�Ah! Nein.�

�What�s allergy in German, then?�

�Same, only did not � ah!�

The swap was taken out and suddenly shoved up one nostril.

Armin gritted his teeth and let out a wheezing, huffing noise.

�Shh, shh. I know, but you�re all clogged up with blood and it�s got to come out- Piercy, did you find the stuff?�

�Yes, yes, I�ve got it.� Something clinked against the counter behind him, but Armin couldn�t turn to see what. Kemp was holding him in place with one hand, the other working the swab.

Dear god, what were they doing to him?

�Right, good,� Kemp extracted the bloody swab and dropped both it and the cloth in a bin,� Breathe?�

Armin sucked in a breath through is nose. The air was tangy, but clear, and he could breath, �Danka.�

�Don�t thank me yet. Now�s the hard part,� he tapped the bridge of Armin�s nose, sending a little spurt of pain down its length,� We�ve got to set it now. Ready?�

�Will it hurt?�

Kemp shot him an apologetic smile and said nothing. Armin sucked in a breath and titled his head back. Kemp leaned over him, one hand clutching the back of his head, the other gripping his nose. Armin gritted his teeth. There was jerk and his head twisted to the side. A shock of pain went through his face and he let out a shiver.

�Schei�!�

�I supposed I don�t want to know what that means,� Kemp let him go with a pat on his shoulder,� All right?�

Armin gritted his teeth and rubbed his nose. At least it was straight. �Hurt.�

�Better with needles?�

Armin stiffened and swiveled around. The other doctor (short, red-headed, fair skin with a smattering of freckles) approached him, syringe and a little bottle of clear liquid in hand.

�Nein!� Armin stumbled off the stool, kicking it to the ground and hurried backward,� You will not�you cannot.�

�It�s a liquid supliment. You�re dehydrated, not too badly, but you�ve got to-.�

Armin hand fall to his gun. He jerked it out and stepped backward until he felt a wall pressed up behind him. The doctors, both of them, stopped short at the sight of the gun.

Kemp rubbed his chin,� Look, we�re not going to hurt you. We�re helping you. That�s out job. We don�t-�

�Nein!�

�Mendel!�

Armin�s head whipped about. Dussander was standing at the doorway, his face set sternly. He spoke in German.

�Put down the gun. We don�t shoot the people we�re meant to protect.�

Armin�s hand quivered, but he bobbed his head and lowered the weapon to his side.

�If you do that again, there were be repercussions.�

�Yes, sir.�

Dussander turned toward the doctors,� He�s fine.� English, again.

Dratted language.