Eric laid in his bed, staring down at his injured leg. It was surreal to him, having such a wound. He hadn't even so much as broken a bone before this, and just two days ago no one was even sure he would live. But here he is, sitting in bed in middle of the make shift hospital room they had made for him.<br/><br/>Part of him felt angry. Angry at Jack, angry at himself...just angry. Why did this have to happen? Why did everything have to suddenly change? Why couldn't he think of a way to fix it?<br/><br/>Scrap came bounding playfully into the room, pulling the young man from his thoughts. The small dog leapt up onto the bed and dropped the red rubber ball he had found during Eric's coma. "Awe...did you come to cheer me up?" He asked the dog that just wagged his tail happily in response. Eric grabbed the ball and threw it across the room. It bounced off the wall and went around a corner. The dog shot off the bed after it, bringing a smile to the newly crippled man's face.<br/><br/>The others might not understand why he would risk his life to save a dog. But Scrap wasn't just any dog. He was his grandmother's dog, and the last shred of his former life, a reminder of how things used to be...how they should be. The one sane thing in this frightening insane world they have come to inhabit.