Lindsay sat on the hospital bed, glanced out the window, and folded up the newspaper in his hands.
After falling ill, he had regained his senses with medication. One of his hands was secured to the bed; to prevent another episode, the hospital did not allow them any freedom at all.
In the bed not far from his was a fellow patient who had been brought into this isolation room shortly after Lindsay. He too had been infected with the Reedman Virus and had regained his senses after receiving the improved HX3 Agent.
This was a hard-hit area in Belgium. There were two patients to an isolation room, and with so many patients, the isolation wards were already overflowing. Before a cure was found, this situation would likely continue for who knew how long.
"When do you think a cure will be developed?" Lindsay asked, his voice weary and uneasy. No one could bear these days of waiting to die.
"I don't know." The patient across from Lindsay shook his head. His mental state was not good either. His name was Mode, and he had introduced himself to Lindsay before. The two were companions in adversity. In this sealed isolation room, they had chatted to kill time and had long since become familiar with each other.
"I wonder how long this drug can last," Lindsay said.
"Heh, probably not much longer. I'm starting to feel like something's wrong," Mode said with a bitter smile, then fell silent.
Lindsay snapped back to his senses, his pupils contracting. When he looked at Mode again, Mode was already shaking his head repeatedly, as if trying to fling something out of it.
"Go away, go away!!"
"Ghosts! Ghosts! Don't come near me."
"Go die, all of you."
The moment Mode saw Lindsay, terror appeared