Shitting bricks

Driving through Dublin in an unarmoured Dacia Logan, with 10,000 surgical masks in the back... Shitting bricks I was.  
I would have rather been transporting cash, or gold ingots, or gems - they are less likely to have you mugged  or maimed  or dismembered  or killed. 
I didn't even have a zombie culling shovel in the passenger seat with me.
In the end all was cool. I delivered them to the Repair Factory. 
I stacked the boxes high in front of the entrance to the main hospital and gathered a few bodies (especially if they were in scrubs) to pose behind them (all maintaining reasonable social distance) to send a photo to the very generous donor. 
As I was putting them back in the Dacia, the CEO of the Repair Factory walked past and marvelled at the donation. 
I asked him for a photograph, beside the last remaining boxes. 
He obliged. I showed him what it looked like, on the LCD screen on the back of my camera. He liked what he saw.
I sneezed on him.