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Abigail Brooks's eyebrows knitted together worry as she ran her hands over Robert's head, making sure all the straps of his gasmask were tight and all the edges  sealed. Robert was fine a few minutes ago, trailing behind him as they did maintenence on this section of the track. Then he collapsed without warning.

"Fuckin' shit on a stick. It's on right, but fuckin' look at 'em Sue. He's fuckin' pale as a corpse." The black fog that surrounded the city of Nomand made things difficult to make out, even at near midday. She could barely see the two other two nearby members of ther crew, Alfred and Susan, who where right next to her, huddled together around Robert's prone form. The fog could fuck right off. "His mask is fuckin' on but it ain't workin' right. It's been less than a fuckin' hour since we've come out."

A moment of indecision passed. They still had work to be done. On the other hand Robert might die.

"Fuck this shit." Abigail reached over to pull Robert's near-comatose form up, draping him over her shoulders "Sue? You mind givin' me a hand?" She nodded her head at the other smaller woman. "I need someone to carry a lamp. We need to bring 'em back." She turned to the faint lantern light barely visible fifteen feet down the track that signified the other two members of her crew. "Alf, you go tell Geoff and Donny they can handle the sleepers on their own. Hell. You go help 'em alright? And... You ain't looking too good yerself, Mind. You two feelin' alright there?"