((All godmoding pre-approved))
Bobby listened to Neill and Ray. They both looked tired. "OK guys, you go get some sleep. I'll take first watch. I'll wake you, Neill, in a couple of hours, and you can take over while I get a rest. Then Ray, you can take the last part. How does that sound?"
As his companions for the moment made their way to the sleeping area, Bobby looked around the room. While he was acting as lookout, he could make use of his time. He checked the building, seeing what supplies he could scrounge. Mostly medical stuff. He figured it could come in handy for somebody, even if he wasn't trained to properly use any of it. He grabbed some dressings, gauze, what seemed to be painkillers and anti-biotics, and placed them inside his backpack. He even took a few painkillers from his own supply to help with the ache that was beginning to creep its way from his knee to his whole leg.
Avoiding the corpses that were nearby, he found a bathroom and washed himself. It was good to be able to do something normal, even if it was only to wipe the accumulated grime off his face and hands. He took out his contact lenses as well, as they were starting to sting from wearing them for too long, and stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess, his eyes their natural dull brown, bags were forming under his eyes from tiredness, his clothes were dirty. Alone like this, in the dark of night, he really began to fear for himself.
After a few hours of sitting alone near the front door, his nitrogen spray within easy reach in his pocket still, he decided that he'd had enough. He felt himself drifting, and knew he wasn't going to be any good as watchman for any longer. He made his way to the ward and shook Neill gently.
"Hey. Sorry, but I need you to take over. I don't want us to be caught napping. It's been quiet so far, but I don't want to risk anything. Not after yesterday." As Neill moved to take over, he took his jacket off and hung it on a hook he'd found on the door and clambered, half exhausted, into the bed, and drew the sheet around him tightly.
The next thing he was aware of was the scream of the PA system. The morning announcement. Already? How long had he been asleep for? He shook himself awake and tried to force himself to pay attention. Danya made barely a passing mention of the horror he'd seen between Jackie and Charlotte, but Bobby's ears pricked up at the bit after. Rachel had killed. There had to be an explanation, self defence, or an accident. He wished he was there for her, to help her through it. He wished that Danya gave more details about what had happened. But of course he wouldn't. This was propaganda, pure and simple. Make them afraid of each other.
He missed the last of the names. Hopefully somebody would be able to fill him in later if there was anything pertinent. As their captor moved on, Bobby found himself hating the man, real genuine hate. It wasn't something he enjoyed.
To make matters worse, he named the infirmary as a danger zone. That was enough to let Bobby shake off the last of his morning tiredness. He could worry about breakfast later. Now he had to move. He hurriedly got his shoes back on, grabbed his coat and satchel, and ran for the door. "Guys! We need to move!" Sure, they had to have heard as well, but as he made it out of the building, he didn't look back to check. Not this time. Not after what had happened at the hut. This time, he kept on running.
((Bobby Barron cont'd in Going Round in Circles