All the same, he knew he was in for a rocky road. Famine was something he had only read about. There wasn’t much of it in New York State, and what there was didn’t come stumbling to Xavier’s School for medical treatment. When the first refugees began to straggle back to them – through the auspices of Kurt and Ororo – he had to inhale sharply to keep himself from staring at the severely emaciated adults and children, people he remembered had not been emaciated that morning.
If he ever got his own hands on Apocalypse, however unlikely that was, he’d rip the bastard’s head off.
“Kurt,” He called out to the blue furred student who had just reappeared with two students. “Try and find severe cases, they’ll need us fast.” He knew he was repeating what the boy had already been told, but it needed said again. He bit down at his lower lip, looking towards the stadium and folding his arms across his chest. All he could do was wait until patients were brought to him. For now, the EMT’s seemed to have in hand what they were being brought.
He made his way over to start assisting the EMTs in the meantime, crouching down to help them reassure one of the children that they were in safe hands now.