Red Dawn-The Beginning

Day Two
Virginia
1:20 a.m. EST

Kevin looks over at Mila and blanches. Matt pales and puts his hand to his sidearm as his comrades begin to ready their weapons. He shoots them warning glances, though he doesn't feel quite well either. "Dr. Roth, do you have more of the prototype?" "No. I used it on you.....I have equipment to duplicate it with your blood....but it's in a C-130. There's nothing to be done until we can land. If she doesn't make it.....I'm sorry. I'm not even sure if it was a permanent cure for you." The suspicion is instantly sowed, and Matt is aware now of his comrades eying both of them. The tension was quickly building.

"Don't worry Mila. We'll be sure to keep you safe until we can cure you," he says pointedly, drawing his M4 and laying it neatly on his lap, flicking off the safety. He glances at a map posted on a wall. It was a long way to Texas. Three hours. Hopefully Mila wouldn't be too far gone by then.

Day One
California
12:20 p.m. PST

"They did. We're all alive. We lost some." The soldier stops dead and stares at AJ. He points to a large, gaping shrapnel wound in his side, and yells for a medic as AJ starts to feel woozy. The medic says something, but AJ is already passing out after his adrenaline rush, and the medic starts to apply a field dressing and give him a dose of morphine.

The air dropped by several degrees. Sam turned to face Matt, his face dark. "Put that gun away. Right now."

I cannot believe he just outright told her. I cannot believe it. She's going to panic.

"I made a promise to her. I am responsible. Do not even think you are going to do it. Sir."

"Mila?" Sam said looking back at her again. "You always said you wanted to get out of Florida. It's just a shame we're going to Texas eh? I'd show you my place back in the UK but...eh....it's a bit messy right now. I heard there's some civil unrest. Haha!"

The voices sounded so distant. They were discussing something, but Mila could barely make out the words now. Every noise was pure white pain. Her mouth had gone dry and every so often she would have difficulty drawing breath. Only when she heard the far-off words "cure you" did she open her eyes, which were starting to redden around the whites.

Everyone was staring at her, all looking worried, but for varying reasons. Through hazy vision, she saw several hands on weapons. "Whaa...? I... no... It's just... I'll be fine," she said with accelerating panic. Frantically, she looked between each face, tears welling in her eyes. They were tinged with pink.

Her entire injured leg was now numb, all the way up to the thigh. It was only then that she thought about her scratch. With unsteady hands, she peeled off the bandage and cried out in horror. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, what the hell. No no no no..." she said in a quiet, terrified voice, shaking her head.

The wound itself, which hadn't sealed in the least, had begun to blacken. Around the torn flesh, the edges were a deep purple with lines of yellow and green tracing every vein. Mila rocked back and forth in her seat, really starting to freak out now. "Don't let them kill me, Sam. Please..."

Mike frowned at York's reactions. He looked at Mila and wondered what was up with the animal. Looking at Mila though he wasn't sure if York was the real problem. She said something to him but he merely shrugged, no doubt about the blood from his ears. It wasn't until Matt passed him something did he break his train of thought. He looked down at the field dressing and licked the white cotton to help rub off the blood. "I'm fine," He merely said. He wasn't too concerned with his ears since he could hear fine, perhaps still a little ringing but for the most part fine. It was then did tension suddenly build. Looking at Mila he noticed a tension in her, an anxiety that seemed to be getting worse. He made the connection quite quickly, the struggle on the roof came instantly to mind. Mike frowned hard and cast a glanced at the other soldiers. Matt was freaking, York was scared, Sam was strangely calm (had he settled on what to do already?), and Kevin was attempting to explain to Matt about the cure.

Mike didn't notice, he was still watching the soldiers. Reaching to his belt he clicked the safety off and rested it against his arm, just so happening to be pointed in the other soldiers' direction. He watched Matt as well; he was a soldier and he would follow orders. Mike wasn't and for some reason he didn't exactly have any qualms with shooting someone. He then had another idea, an extremely stupid idea but an idea nonetheless.

He rested the gun pointing at Kevin Roth. Taking a sideways glance at the soldiers he couldn't help but wonder how fast he could pull the trigger before dying. A morbid thought but he found most of his thoughts had been quite dark lately.

Mike made no notice of it but still he fingered the trigger. He looked to Sam and then at Mila. She was scared now, panicking. Mike spoke up, "Mila, hey stay with us." His voice became commanding, "ignore everyone else, you hear me? Nod if you can. Ignore it all. Talk with us Mila, where did you live? Huh? Come on, talk to Sam and me."

Sam nodded in agreement with Mike. "They're not going to hurt you Mila," Sam said calmly. Me on the other hand. I made a promise to you.

Sam took the bandage Mila had torn off and placed it back round her leg, talking slowly. "No one is going to hurt you because you are fine. You have a wound on your leg; yes it might look odd but how often do you see someone's leg cut open like that? I bet they always look like that. Yeah it might feel weird but it's an injury, the body always does that."

Mila was looking wild eyed. Was this what her panic attacks looked like that she had talked about in the car? Probably. Sam would be able to wing this one.

"Mila, look at me. Look at me. You are not sick. All those other feelings? It's one of your panic attacks Mila. Your panic attacks. You've had these before, you know these things. You know how to fight them."

Sam stood up so he was facing her, effectively shielding her from all the guns. "Fight it Mila. Fight it and answer Mike. If you could go to any country, anywhere, right now, where would you go? What would you do?"

A panic attack. It sure felt more intense than any attack she'd ever had. But she wanted to believe him so badly. Wanted to believe that there wasn't poison racing through her veins, turning her blood to mush. Wanted to believe she could some day visit the UK. She'd always wanted to travel out of country.

But no. There were wreakers everywhere, especially in Europe where it had started. Her paranoia told her not to listen to them, but the rest of her needed to be fooled into thinking that everything was alright. If she was going to make it for three hours, it was the only way.

"I...uh... I dunno. You mean in the current situation or if I could go anywhere wreaker-free? Because I've always wanted to see Italy. Maybe Greece or Ireland or something... But maybe Australia would be a better idea right now. Lots of open space..." she said, shaking so badly that her words came out somewhat broken. She bit down on a fingernail the way she sometimes did during an anxiety attack, but she still wasn't convinced. To her, it felt like she had been doused in ice water and then thrown into a freezer. To anyone else, however, her skin would be burning up. Sweat continued to dampen her hair, clinging it to her face and neck.

Frightened more of the change within herself than of the monsters far below, she locked onto Sam's eyes as if her humanity depended on it.

Day Two
Virginia
1:22 a.m. EST

Matt is a little confused by Mila's "support." He keeps a close eye on Sam, though he weakens a little. If the time came, Matt wouldn't and couldn't pull the trigger. He cared about her too much. A stranger he had just met. The world was crazy. For now, all he could do was to help her stay human and pray. "Australia's supposed to be hot," Matt says with a fake laugh. "Tell us about your childhood. Where did you live? What did you like to do? Where were you going to college? What do you like doing for hobbies?" He is rushing her with questions, but the more the better, he assumes. He is conscious of the entire cargo bay now listening in and watching, and he knows a few men will stand behind him. Though Sergeant Knowles and Corporal Mather among others were the by-the-book men. They were loyal....but more loyal to orders than one man. In a way, that was a strength to be praised. But this was different. It wasn't professional. It was personal.

In the military, Matt didn't have to worry about invasions on U.S. soil against his family. Now they were probably dead or among the ranks of the Wreakers. He sighed, tears dropping. If Mila died.....they might as well pull the trigger. He had latched onto this girl emotionally, and her death would mean the end of life for him. He was determined to see her live and to try for her if she survived. It was interesting the end of the world would drive Matt to define his existence for one person in the end. Now it would play out for the best or the worst.

Mila cringed as question after question flooded her. Her brain was working overtime just to process the stimuli from within her own body as it tried to fight off the infection. She put her palms onto her temples again and put her elbows on her knees, resting her head with her eyes closed. Her body kept telling her to sleep, to lie down and give in, but the urgency of the voices around her kept her more alert than she would have been otherwise.

"I'm used to the heat... grew up in Florida... I... University of... of... video games... and... ow..." she panted, her breathing forced. It seemed like someone had packed jelly into the crevices of her brain, because all of her thoughts were getting muddled. A sharp pain in her scalp made her retract her fingers and blink down at them, her vision blurring and then clearing like a camera lens trying to focus. Where her nails had once been trimmed short, they were now pointed and thicker than usual, the ends tipped with blood she had unwittingly drawn from her skin as she'd tried to block out the headache.

From her fingers, she glanced up to Sam again with a glazed expression, which soon turned into a crooked smile.

"Nice hat."

Her body slumped forward but Sam caught her, then gently lowered her to the floor. She looked like she might be knocked out for a moment, but her eyes slid open lazily a minute later, staring into the ceiling of the aircraft with little expression.

Day Two
Virginia
1:25 a.m. EST

Matt raises his eyebrows in alarm. "Help her!" he yells at Kevin. "There's nothing I can do," he says helplessly. He unbuckles his restraints and cradles her in his arms, rocking her gently, ignoring how jerkedly the aircraft is moving and how he could tip over at any moment. He ignores the stares of everyone else and gently rocks on his heels, maintaining his balance by willpower. Obviously questions weren't a good idea. Maybe he should let her just rest. His heart aches painfully. He realizes that he obviously feels he is more familiar with Mila than he probably was in reality. Strange. He was determined that she survive so that they could get to know each other. He realizes she may not even like him in the slightest. He slowed his train of thought. One thing at a time.

"You're okay. You're okay. Stay with us Mila. Stay with us. You're okay," he begins to drone. Gradually his voice becomes a mumbled phrase, and his rocking less fast as he begins to tire, his body needing rest. He however stays semi-conscious, waiting out the long and painful flight, just holding Mila and helping her through it. The minutes begin to drag on.

Sam sits quietly while Matt holds Mila. He appears strangely calm as he holds his pistol; keeping it pointed casually towards her. "Can we have some sedatives for Mila please?"

Sam motioned at one of the medics aboard, "I think it'd be good for her if she could get a bit of sleep for now."

Suddenly his eyes narrowed and he made eye contact with the medic again. "Oh, by the way. You better get the dosage right because if you get a bit over-eager and decide Mila should go to sleep permanently, then your friend Dr. Roth there is going to suffer the wrath of me and Mike. You understand?"

"True that, my friend." Still pointing the gun at Dr. Roth he looked at the other soldiers. "Though I don't think I'd give you the chance Sam. You boys best stay where you are, fasten your seat belts, and enjoy the flight..."

Day Two
Virginia
4:30 a.m. EST

"Sedatives would overload her system no matter how much we gave. It's the equivalent of injecting Formaldehyde into her body as far as her immune system is concerned," Kevin says, stopping a medic who is reaching into his pack. The man freezes and goes back to staring at Mila, obviously feeling as helpless as everyone else.

The aircraft begin to finally reach Texas, and they circle a small base before landing at Shepherd Air Force Base. There is a small garrison there, and the survivors are clearly happy to be joining the main flotilla. As soon as the vehicle lands, Matt stands, still carrying Mila, and Kevin dashes out, yelling for his equipment to be taken out. Tanker trucks drive out and begin refueling the aircraft, and troops pile out to set up a perimeter, and someone yells to put on night-vision gear. Kevin's mini-lab is quickly being constructed by some Army engineers, and Matthew hustles over. Kevin is already taking out some sort of vials out of a cryo-tube. "I knew setting up a mobile lab was a good idea," he mutters, drawing blood from Matt and looking under a microscope. He does something to the blood, mixing it with a chemical, and then pouring it into a petri dish full with some sort of liquid with specks. He quickly shoves it into an incubator and hums absentmindedly, checking Mila's vitals.

After a few minutes Kevin withdraws the incubating dish and mixes it with some sort of chemical, incubating it again for several minutes. Then he pulls it out, putting the liquid into a syringe and jabbing it into Mila's cephalic vein in her arm. He carefully begins monitoring her, and he is clearly muttering a prayer and crosses himself. He steals glances at everyone else and then back to Mila, hoping to see some change. Meanwhile, the aircraft around them are all being refueled and there is some sporadic gunfire and explosions.

The first time Kevin read Mila's pulse, it was at 35 beats per minute, an extremely low heart rate for any human. By the time his concoction was finished incubating, he checked her again and found it at around 28 and dropping. Even after the mixture was injected into her arm, her heart rate continued to plummet, her breathing shallow at best. Dark circles had formed beneath her eyes and her skin was reaching the color of marble.

Kevin suddenly looked at Mila wide-eyed, his fingers around her thin wrist from taking her pulse. His face looked regretful, but he also moved with determination as he began to strap her down to the table. "I'm sorry...but I think your friend is gone," he said with his back turned. "Her heart has stopped."

Finished with the braces, he stepped back and watched her unmoving form, wondering if she would stay dead or complete her transformation. The prototype had only been used successfully once, on Matthew, and Mila had been much further gone than he. "While I was able to successfully recreate the prototype, I fear it may be too little too late. If she turns now, there will be nothing else I can do for her."

The soldiers in the room stiffened and raised their weapons slightly, several of them showing fear in their eyes. Without warning, Mila started to thrash within her restraints, fingers curled into her palms so tightly that her pointed nails drew blood, which ran in rivulets onto the table and then down to the floor. She began to scream, but it was neither shrill like a wreaker nor completely human, either. For the moment, she seemed to be caught somewhere in between.

As soon as the carrier landed Mike holstered his gun and watched the doctor jump out to help Mila. A part of him felt guilty for threatening his life just now but then again, he wouldn't have done it; it was all talk. He followed Mila and the doctor to a mobile lab set up not far away. He kept out of the way but at this point, he had his gun in his hand. He held it leisurely as he watched Mila, but in fact he was watching the soldiers out of the corner of his eyes.

Then Kevin pronounced it and Mike felt his heart sink. Perhaps he wasn't surprised, just a false hope trying to think she would survive but it was too much to ask. He cursed God.

He gave a sigh and was about to turn to leave when he the thrashing began. Mike jumped like everyone else in the room; he wasn't expecting that reaction so quickly. She began to scream and Mike felt his heart jump, the memory of those screamers still haunting him. He looked at the soldiers and shouted over the screaming, "Back off now!"

Once he was sure they wouldn't try anything he sighed and turned to Sam who was standing nearby. Placing a hand on his shoulder he said, "I can do it, Sam... you don't need to..."

It'd all been so easy. He'd woken up, had a shower and discovered the world was collapsing. In a matter of hours he'd manage to find someone he trusted and together they'd already beaten incredible odds. Now the bubble had burst. Sam took a step past Mike, his pistol at the ready. "It's okay. I have to do this."

The pistol placed itself on Mila's forehead, Sam's hands remaining steady. But he did not pull the trigger. Not yet.

He leant forward so his mouth was beside her ear; she might be able to bite him but it wouldn't matter anyway. Sam knew who he was going to shoot after her already. "Mila?" He whispered into her ear. "You were a good laugh. Thanks."

His finger tensed around the trigger.

The frigidity within had been extinguished as quickly as it had set on. Just beneath Mila's skin, cells were being scraped free of the wreaker virus, a microscopic cleaning crew racing through her veins and leaving fire in its wake. It spread from the inside of her elbow down to her fingertips, flaking off the necrotic tissue that had formed over her nails, and up to her shoulders. It sped to her heart first, restarting it just before she had begun to writhe. As it reached her brain, her awareness returned, and the pain was intense, causing her to cry out.

Her screams sounded unnatural, but she was alive. She knew she was alive because she could hear Sam's voice, far off at first, then right beside her ear. It was then that she felt something cold and circular pressing into her forehead, and fear knotted her stomach. With a sudden gasp, she inhaled deeply and opened her bloodshot eyes, staring down the barrel of a gun poised to send her back to the darkness.

"Sam!"

Mila's voice was raspy, but it had still formed a word. Wreakers didn't talk...yet.

"Mila?" Sam said withdrawing the gun slowly. "Mila!"

He threw the gun to the side and grinned, relief painting his face. "Oh my god, I thought that you were...I mean your skin was....hahahahaha!"

Sam began to undo Mila's bonds and kept giggling to himself. "I could swear I was going to have to...you know...hahaha. Haaa. Ahhh."

Sam began to choke as the laughter dissolved into tears. "Oh god. It was so fucking close."

Mila sat up slowly, still quite a bit woozy from her ordeal. Although her head was spinning and she was a good bit shaken from almost dying (twice), she knew Sam was going to take it badly. Especially after what he'd almost done.

"It's okay, Sam. You were doing the right thing. It's okay," she said at a whisper, wrapping her arms around him in consolation. She noticed that her palms were bloody and started to pull away apologetically, not having meant to smear it onto his clothing. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry Mila, for God's sake don't be." Sam turned round, shaking his head to try and clear it. Things were truly screwed up. He grabbed a set of bandages from the side and gave them to Mila. "Now you get to look like a new reincarnation of Jesus. Back from the dead with the blooded palms."

He smiled slightly and wiped his eyes, although they still stayed moist. It had been a very long and disturbing time.

"Perhaps me, you, and Mike should go find something to eat and leave these gentlemen to their war planning?"

Mike sighed with relief and couldn't help but laugh with Sam; what else could be done? Moving by Kevin Roth, he cleared his throat and said awkwardly, "Yeah.. umm, thanks doc. I guess I owe you an apology... about the plane and all. I just... I just don't trust those military types. I hope you understand but... yeah. Sorry again." He walked away feeling quite a bit of embarrassment but let it go.

Clapping both Mila and Sam on the shoulders, Mike gave a broad smile and said, "Yeah, let's get out of here. Our new reincarnation must be thirsty from her ordeal. And I guess a certain four-legged friend of yours will be glad to see you're alright."

A genuine smile crossed Mila's face as she took the bandages, unwrapping them and then rewinding them over each hand. "Huh, and here I thought Jesus was supposed to return before the apocalypse. Sorry I'm late, guys," she joked, slowly moving to get off of the table. Food was incredibly enticing, as she hadn't eaten since her sandwich at work, which had been thrown up anyway.

As her feet touched the ground, she got a mild headrush and her wounded leg stung painfully now that the virus, which had actually numbed the area before, had been eliminated. "Ah, maybe I should rest a second," she mused, bracing herself as she looked around the room. Some of the soldiers had left for one reason or another, leaving only Kevin, Mila, Matt, Sam, Mike, and the medic from the flight in the room. "Where's Daniel?"

"He decided it would be best if his son were out of the room," Kevin replied, stepping forward slightly.

"Ah, yeah. I'm glad he didn't have to see all this. I hope he won't be scared of me... like York was," she said, a little gloomy at the thought of her dog potentially not wanting anything to do with her even though she felt much better.

"The dog should adjust to you once again. I believe he smelled the disease on your skin, and he knew to associate that with danger. Now, if you don't mind, before you leave I'd like to take a sample of your blood. For testing."

"Uh, I suppose. I mean you did bring me back. If anything, you're the real Jesus and I'm just a Lazarus. So, thanks for that," Mila said, looking at her palms and thinking how much she looked like a gymnast or a martial artist or something.

Day 1
Las Vegas, Nevada
11:56 P.M.

The world's gone to hell, that's all there was to it. It was inevitable, with all the advancement of humanity but no peace. After a quite unexciting mission in Philadelphia, Jason was in Vegas; apparently every city was at high risk. The worst part, it wasn’t just the U.S. but everywhere, a virus mutating from a strong strand of Swine Flu. The way he saw it, the whole world was in disarray because some asshole decided to kiss a pig, or some shit like that; he just wanted his sister to be okay. Jason sits at a bar table, he and the rest of his platoon having a night out. He already knew what was going to happen next; most would get completely wasted while a select few got laid. Unfortunately, one of those select few will come back with herpes and the next time they wound up in combat he'd have to fight with an itchy sac. His Marine comrades all laughed and danced around him; Jason simply laughed while looking at the ass of the bartender as she turned to mix him another drink.

“Hey man, I'm ditching this joint; time for me to go get some pussy!” a man cried. The alcohol on the Marine’s breath filled his nostrils, but Jason couldn't say a thing due to fact that he would end up a lot worse by night's end. The Marine looked to be in his late forty’s, graying hair in a neat buzz cut, blue eyes, and a face that looked as though he would burst out laughing any second. Jason turned to a woman standing at the entrance waiting, wearing the skimpiest outfit she could find in her closet.

“Make sure she cleans the cob webs off of your junk before ridin’ ya,” Jason said with a smirk on his face. Ordering another drink, Jason listened to some chant the others were screaming. They finished and all began laughing, but their merriment was interrupted by a shriek. The sound pierced Jason's ears. Next thing, gunfire sounded, and Jason went to the door to see what was happening before finding a spectacle that astonished him. Wreakers, a whole hoard of them, flooded the Vegas Strip. The sound of sirens rang against his ears, and Jason ran back to the bar table, picking up his backpack and SCAR-H assault rifle while the rest of the Marines regained their senses and followed his lead. Jason jumped behind the counter, ready for anything; two of the others did the same while the rest posted near and outside the entrance. The first wreaker leaped through the door landing on top of a soldier. Jason fired along with the two next to him, the bullets burying into its chest. Blood oozing out, the jumper gave a cry of agony; Jason aimed and buried at least five more bullets into the wreaker's skull.

More and more came, two with rifles blasting away while Jason took cover behind the bar table. He couldn’t hold them off any longer, they were too many.

“We have to find an evacuation point, follow-“ Jason stopped speaking as his eyes fell upon the bodies of his two comrades, ”FUCK!”

One, Two, Three! Jason dashed out from the bar table, taking out his last grenade, pulling out the ring and tossing it toward the door. Sprinting around a corner toward the backdoor, a wreaker pounced towards him. Jason ran outside, gaining distance, then turned to face the Wreaker.
“Thanks for taking care of my tab!” Jason cried to it. Unloading a clip on the wreaker, Jason watched as it tumbled to floor in front of him. In the distance, it was beginning to rain, but Jason could make out a helicopter on its way in…

Day 1
Las Vegas, Nevada
12:00 p.m.

A group of soldiers are running to keep up with Jason. A UH-60 Blackhawk comes in for a landing on the Strip, the miniguns blazing away. A small group of the main horde attack but are cut down. Crew members help the soldiers inside, and take off before a group of civilians get too close. A First Lieutenant looks Jason and his surviving men over. "I'll find out later why you had your weapons off-duty. Right now that's good. We're conscripting you for the defense of valuable military property. Get the alcohol out of your system. We're going to Area 51."

Day 2
Sheppard AFB, Texas
4:45 a.m.

Matt looks up from his hands in disbelief. Mila was alive. He had not believed she would pull through, the screaming not reassuring. He embraces her, overjoyed, crushing her in a bear hug. "I hope you won't mind," he says with a grin, looking into her eyes. He gently kisses her, and then walks away, grinning like he had won the lottery. Which in a way, he had.

Mila blinked in shock as Matt came up and kissed her, cheeks gaining more color than they'd had in several hours. Had it not been so unexpected, she might have slapped him. Just because he'd saved her ass and then kept her company as she died, it didn't give him the right to be so straightforward with her. She hardly knew the guy; in fact, all she knew about him was his name and rank. She had no idea where he was from, what kind of person he was, what things he liked, any of that. Hell, she would have kissed Sam before she'd kiss Matt, simply because she'd known him longer. But even that was a very big stretch. It took time to develop such passion, in her opinion.

Why was he so clingy so suddenly? It was a little unnerving.

Starting to walk toward the door with the mind to confront him about it, Mila remembered her agreement with the doctor and went back to the table. "Almost forgot our deal there for a second. I guess you might wanna grab the blood sample quickly, before anything else weird happens," she said with a sigh. "Oh, and what should I do about my leg? Is that thing gonna heal now?"

"Theoretically, it should heal over now, but it will be best if we scrape off the necrotic tissue and then stitch it up to avoid any regular infection from setting in. You wouldn't want to lose your leg at a time like this," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Aw man, this is gonna hurt, isn't it?" she asked warily, reseating herself on the table and unwrapping the bandage on her leg with one hand while Kevin drew blood from her other arm.

The president's brother nodded to the side a little, "It won't be comfortable, but you've been through worse already. Besides, I'm fairly certain we can use a mild local anesthetic on it now without too much trouble."

"Oh good." She didn't sound reassured.

As her wound was cleaned out and redressed, she bit down on a small rolled-up hand towel to keep from filing down her teeth in the process. Even with the anesthetic, some of the deepest tissue that had been affected sat between nerve endings that were only somewhat dulled. A few tears moistened her eyes, thankfully clean of any blood this time. When it was all over, Kevin neatly sutured everything together and then put a fresh bandage over it.

"Thanks," she said, glad that she had enough self-control to keep herself from looking at the procedure the whole time. Kevin said nothing, merely nodding, then walked off to wash his hands and examine what must have been a very intriguing substance to him in the vial of Mila's blood.

Sliding off of the table once more and looking at Mike and Sam, she tested her weight on the leg and found it easier to walk now. "It might take a little bit for my appetite to come back after that, but I'm sure you guys are starving. Let's see if it doesn't return when we get some food. Assuming we don't have to eat MRE's again..." she said, looking at Sam pointedly. The three moved out of the room and into a hallway, Mila looking for any sign of Daniel or the others.