Tang Mo saw the unease in their eyes. She got up from behind the desk and walked over to the mattress.
This bedridden middle-aged man was the patient in the worst condition, and Tang Mo prepared to treat him first.
She took out a small stool, sat down beside the man, and then placed her hand on his arm.
Tang Mo had observed that the people brought to her were all men in the prime of their lives, suffering from widespread infections caused by wounds from mutant beast bites or strikes.
Wuxi Village was already isolated and backward, and now medical supplies were scarce.
In the past, this was something that could be solved with antibiotics and disinfected bandages. But in the apocalypse, it had become an incurable affliction, a death sentence.
Getting injured outside meant waiting to die, but staying home meant starving to death. With such a desperate existence, it was no wonder the people of Wuxi Village had lost hope and were just living day to day.
