At the moment, he was sitting beneath a large tent in an intersection, its poles armed with disinfectant gas dispensers and bright green lights to alert distant inhabitants about his presence, though rumors of his arrival traveled far quicker than the lights ever did. 

Countless sick, ragged, gray people huddled around the tent, waiting their turn to be treated, some even camping out on abandoned automobiles to pass the time. 

"No need to worry, ma'am, it's a relatively minor infection," he told his patient. "I'm just gonna administer you some antibiotics. Make sure you keep your arm clean and just let the drugs run their course. You'll be as good as new within the week."

"Thank you," the old woman cried. "You're a godsend, bless you."

"Just doing what I can to help. Stay safe."

The next patient was younger, though still on the older side, nothing but skin and bones. Beside her stood a lean youthful man whose concern was expressed through a hard scowl. The gray air made his white skin appear dark, his only clarified feature being a pair of icy blue eyes until he stepped into the green light. 

The woman stepped forward, but the man spoke first. "This is my mother, Mary."

"Nice to meet you, Mary, how're you feeling today?"

"I told my son that this was ridiculous and that you had enough on your plate," she said, giving the man a tired smile, "but he insisted I come to you."

"Well he was right to bring you here. Having a professional look at it is always better than wondering."

"I never had the money to go into the Disinfectant Program and move out of the ghetto, so..." 

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "I understand. Would you mind if I examined the issue you came here for?"

"Please." She lifted her filthy shirt. An amalgamation of corroding flesh and blistering pores covered the midsection of her belly. The doctor's eyes narrowed at the sight. 

"How long as this been going on, ma'am?"

"A couple weeks," she replied ashamedly. "Is it bad? Am I gonna die? I can't leave my son."

"It is quite a serious infection, ma'am," the doctor said as he put on new gloves. "But, it is treatable. Does it hurt if you touch it?"

"Extremely," she said. Doctor Jay nodded and tentatively pressed on the healthy skin surrounding the infection. "Does it hurt around here?"

"Yes, sir."

He took off his gloves and threw them into the trash. "This is a relatively new infection which, believe it or not, is also somewhat present outside of the ghetto. Because of this, we've been able to find a cure for if relatively swiftly."

He reached down below his table and pulled out a canister with a small tube at the top. "Spray this stuff on the infected area twice a day: once when you wake up, once before you go to sleep. But, if it begins to hurt in the middle of the day to the point it hinders your ability tp function, feel free to use it again. It helps with the pain."

The sound of running engines and wheels crushing debris reached everyone's ears. They turned to the noise, at first suspicious, then excited. 

"It looks like the doctor's colleagues have arrived!" someone shouted with. A chorus of hoorays responded to the announcement, all except for the patient's son and the doctor himself. 

Doctor Jay examined the incoming hummers with suspecting eyes. "No..." he muttered. "We don't use those."

Then his eyes went wide. "NO! EVERYBODY GET OUT OF HERE!"

But he was too late. Bullets soared from the vehicles, tearing apart everyone in the immediate vicinity. The doctor's tent got shredded and his lights sparked as they were destroyed. 

The woman Doctor Jay was treating collapsed, a growing red shade permeating her clothes around the chest area. Her already pale skin became almost translucent. 

Her son and the doctor dropped to the ground, trying their utmost to ignore the shrill screams of men, women, and children.