Max's words hung in the air like a bad smell. The word 'cure' was supposed to be like a holy grail, a silver lining through the endless grey skies, a second chance. Then why did it feel so ridiculous as soon as the last letter rolled off his tongue? For so long, the concept of a cure had been a pipe dream, and that's exactly what it felt like now. It wasn't reality. It couldn't be reality.

"What do you mean he has the cure?" one of the snipers scoffed, looking down at the pale and dying Doctor Saunders with pity and doubt.

"That's what he told me," Max said, belief creeping into his voice by the word. "That's what he told me."

"Well, where is it then?"

Max sighed, "There was a vial... across on the other roof... smashed."

The sniper slipped into a mocking laugh, "So, even if the Wizard of Oz down here has brought us a magical cure, it's now seeping into the roof of a depressing old apartment block?"

Max locked eyes with Lizzie. He could tell that she was thinking the same thing. Doctor Saunders had stayed behind with the Brotherhood all this time to find a cure. The easy way out, the safe way out, would have been to leave with them when they had set off for Novus. He chose to stay behind with those savages to complete his work. Now he finally shows up with a vial of something he claims to be a cure, followed closely by a Brotherhood army. Perhaps this world had made them too cynical. Perhaps the last drop of hope really was clinging onto Saunders' weakening breath.

Lizzie was already ahead of him. She had known Saunders better than anyone and she trusted his every word.

"The cure is in his fucking head you dumb-arse," Max growled as he shoved the sniper out the way and pressed his fingers against the Doctor's neck. The pulse was weak, fading out of existence, but it was there.

"Let's get this man inside!" Max cried, as Lizzie grabbed each of Saunders' feet and helped to haul him back into the hospital.

"Is anyone here trained?" Lizzie barked around the room. "Anyone?!"

A grey and balding old man emerged from the back of the now circling crowd, raising his hand to the air and gulping softly.

"Doctor Hope," he said, his voice cracking.

"Jesus Christ," Max sighed.

"What's your first name, Doctor?" Lizzie asked urgently but kindly.

"Herbert. Herbert Hope."

Lizzie nodded, "Okay, great. Herbert, we need your help. This man is losing a lot of blood, you need to treat him right away."

Herbert eased himself down onto his weary knees as fast as his body would allow before inspecting his patient. Max had already applied a makeshift tourniquet, which was helping to stem the blood flow to a degree.

"I need supplies, my dear," Herbert stammered, as tore away the material surrounding Saunders' gaping wound.

The cut on his leg was now wider than ever, feeling the effects from the trip across the rooftops. The blood was thick, dark, and congealing, sticky to the touch. Lizzie re-emerged with a handful of bits and pieces she had found in a nearby drawer, but they were basic, to say the least, the kinds of things you would find in a children's first aid kit.

Herbert slipped on a pair of plastic gloves and did his best to quickly remove the worst of the gravel and fibres from within the open wound. He then dosed Saunders' leg in some kind of antiseptic, rinsing out the dirt and grime, before slapping a bandage across and tying it as tight as it would go. He applied another layer of dressing to help soak up the blood, but it was overwhelming.

The old man looked up with apologetic eyes, "I'm afraid there is nothing I can do. Not without proper equipment."

"Shit!" Max exclaimed. "We're in a fucking hospital and we're letting this guy bleed out on our floor?!"

He wasn't shouting at Herbert. He wasn't angry with anyone in the room in fact. He knew as well as anyone that all the serious medical equipment was stored down in the labs. They didn't have enough generators or enough power to keep a towering hospital running 24 hours a day, so Novus had chosen their priorities long ago. All power went to the main lab for medical purposes and the kitchen, for obvious reasons.

Any hope of a blood transfusion, surgery, or whatever the hell Saunders needed to see another day lay ten floors or more below their feet.

Right on cue, the last of the Novus survivors burst into the room, panting from their staircase climb.

"We barricaded the front doors, the lobby, and the staircases as best we could boss, but they were already halfway through by the time we left..."

"The kitchen-" Max started.

"They're all safe. Every last one up to the roof and accounted for, with as much ammunition and supplies as we could carry."

Max paced up and down the room, slamming his head in frustration. They had the cure, they finally had it.

"Maybe we could lift him down the back staircase," JJ suggested.

"It's already swarming," one of the survivors interjected.

"Lift..." Max said.

"Lift?" he repeated.

"Lift!" one last time.

"What are you on about," shouted a confused JJ as Max bounded across the room.

"The lift!" Max exclaimed, clawing his fingers between the cracks in the elevator door. "What floor is it on?"

Naturally, they had long since killed the power to the lift. Convenience and laziness weren't exactly at the top of the agenda in an apocalyptic situation.

"You'll never get it running," JJ said.

Max grinned, "I don't need to! I just need to get below it..."

The doors finally gave way to his screaming arms, revealing an empty elevator shaft, ten metres or so of darkness, and the metal top of the lift itself.

"What's that?" Max posed. "One, two, three floors down?"

JJ still wasn't sure what he was agreeing too, but he also counted three floors between them and the lift itself, confirming so to Max.

"Do you have a plan?" Lizzie asked hopefully.

"It's not even close to a plan, but it's something," Max puffed.

That was all Lizzie needed to hear, "How can I help?"

"Lizzie, the room on your left should have a large hunting knife in the desk drawer. JJ, grab as much rope as you can carry from the bridge supports on the balcony. Herbert, grab everything you need. And you two," Max yanked two heavyset guards out from the crowd. "You're with me."

And that was it. No questions were asked. The room burst into life again, a little injection of hope acting like an adrenaline hit straight to the veins. JJ was back with three huge hoops of rope within seconds and Herbert was already good to go.

"I can't – I can't find the knife! Max, I can't find it!" Lizzie cried in panic, the sounds of drawers being ripped out and torn apart echoing through the doorway.

Max sighed, placing his hand into his pocket, removing his wallet, and from that wallet removing a key. He strode up to the door painfully, pulled it shut, and turned the lock.

Lizzie's face pressed up against the tiny window, "What... what are you doing? Max? Max?!"

"You're sitting this one out, kid," Max smiled, before mouthing 'I love you'.

As much as it twisted his heart and wrenched his gut into one excruciating knot, that was all he had time for.

He threw JJ a glance, aware of the boy's confusion and impulse to relieve Lizzie of those four walls.

Max needed only to say three words to ease his conflict, "She'll be safe."

Lizzie's fists pounded at the door, at first begging Max not to leave, before quickly turning to red hot anger.

Max scooped up his weapons and wrapped his arms under Saunders' armpits, with one guard lifting his legs and the other with his gun raised. Herbert followed closely behind as they made their way out into the staircase.

JJ's eyes darted from Max to the door holding Lizzie, and back to Max.

"Look after her," Max ordered.

It felt final.

"And get word up to Rodney to drop everything we have on those clicker bastards out front. We might just win this."