"BORROWED TIME". (3.1)

BY: MAURICIO ESCOBAR

3.1

 

Harper shook his head and looked at the other one with hopeless features.

-       We need to put him back –he said.

-       No.

-       He’s dead.

-       No…

-       Cap…

-       No!

-       Gershon is going to die in there if we don’t put this guy back.

-       No!

Then, suddenly, the bracelet in the man’s hand emitted a electronic whine after which the green led stopped blinking. Immediately, the alarms moaning in the back stopped their chanting.

-       What happened? –said Meyer.

Harper sighed and returned to the computer panels. Meyer observed the ReLoc and noticed the sluggish up-and-down motion of his chest.

-       He’s back –Meyer gasped from the other side of the room.

The defibrillator was showing the characteristic rough, sharp signal as it beeped rhythmically. Meyer exhaled air noisily.

Harper approached the man and placed the stethoscope on his heart; then, he checked the pupils.

-       Goddammit… -murmured Meyer, trying to overcome the excitement.

-       It was his glucose level… -he said. –Hypoglycemic attack.

-       Will he be alright?

Harper didn’t answer. He was still in his diving suit, soaking wet.

He started disconnecting the defibrillator slowly.

-       Wallace… He’s of no good. We need to put this guy back.

-       What?! –Meyer exclaimed. –But you just revived him. Is he going to be alright?

-       Yes…

-       Then what?

-       The damn counterweights, Captain, it’s all messed up!

The sergeant then pointed at the suitcase. Meyer observed the rectangular silver box attached to the man’s wrist with a pair of cuffs.

-       Now that’s the damn problem, Cap?! You didn’t mention that!

-       I didn’t know!

-       Seriously?

He gazed at Meyer coldly.

-       Seriously, Cap? What is in that suitcase, Cap? –he asked in a flat tone.

-       I don’t know, Dylan.

Meyer walked to the body and lifted the pale man’s hand.

-       Are you kidding me?

-       I’m telling you, Dylan…

-       Do you think I’m stupid?! Look at it! –he said. –He is attached to the case. There was no way Gershon could have cut it off; Gershon knew he shouldn’t but still he relocated him –Harper walked towards Meyer until his nose almost touched the other’s. -What’s in that suitcase so as to make Gershon take such a risk?

The other remained silent, unable to counterargument. The medic rinsed the water and sweats off of his face and shook his head.

-       OK, Captain, don’t answer, I don’t want to know, but you know this guy is of no good –he said.

-       What do you mean? –asked Meyer, eyes wide-open. –You said he was going to be OK.

-       Yes, but he’s not good. Whatever is the suitcase –he explained, -the extra load messed up the Planck Factor, Cap. You might not know everything, but you know how relocations work.

Meyer remained tight-lipped.

-       This Reloc is faulty, Cap, and we need to put him back… -he murmured.

There was a brief, tense silence.

-       It’s my son, Dylan… - finally said Meyer. -It’s my son who we are talking about here and… You’re my brother, for Christ’s sake! There must be something you can do!

Sergeant Dr. Dylan Harper put his hand on Captain Wallace Meyer’s shoulder and spoke to him very slowly:

-       Cap, I need twenty-four hours to complete the surgery on your son… This ReLoc is unstable and won’t last even an hour. I’m sorry. There is nothing I can do…

TO BE CONTINUED...

 

"BORROWED TIME". (3.0)

BY: MAURICIO ESCOBAR

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3.0.        RECOVERY

Harper, hands on his head, walked from right to left and back to right, like a lion trapped in a cage. Then, he exploded: 

-       Just what in the fuck is that?! –Harper yelled, irate, pointing at the silver suitcase. -I could’ve been killed! Jesus Christ, Gershon could’ve got killed! –he yelled again, now pointing at The Vault.

Meyer was speechless. The wet body lied stiff on the metallic floor.

-       Is he dead? –Meyer murmured.

Harper headed to the computer panels.

-       Goddamn! –he exclaimed after watching the screen.

-       What?

Harper rushed back and kneeled down next to the pale man; then, suddenly the alarms jumped off again.

-       Shit, shit, shit! No, no, no!

-       What?

-       The medical kit! –ordered Harper. –Quick!

Meyer ran back to the platform. The haste of his hurried footsteps was muffled by the chorus of sirens wailing in all kinds of endless repetitive patterns; the improbability of the events he had just witnessed revolved with the chaos of a swarm of bees inside his head. A man that had just disappeared and another one that had just appeared…

There was water still pouring out of The Vault and it had formed a huge pond next to it. Harper had been able to retrieve the subject at the very last moment of the procedure. Now something else was coming out wrong. Meyer’s heart was pounding furiously behind his chest. He grabbed the kit box and ran back to the Sergeant, panting.

-       Sheez! What’s wrong?

-       The hell if there’s something wrong! –said Harper.

-       Is he dead? –Asked Meyer again.

-       We need to revive him.

The Sergeant looked up at him and handed a small bottle broke in half. The label was still intact. Meyer read it.

-       Insulin? Where did you find it? –asked Meyer.

-       It was in his pocket –said Harper.

-       What did he do?

-       Come on, turn it on! –ordered.

Meyer switched on the small box which immediately started beeping. Harper exposed the chest of the man lying on the floor and glued the terminals around his heart. The suction pads rapidly adhered to the skin forming a ring of red skin around their circumference.

The body was flat, wet, stiff and pale. Meyer couldn’t help shuddering.

Harper acted swiftly and accurately with the mechanic and sound movements of those who have the training and the experience.

Sergeant Dylan Harper had served the last ten years of his life in the Military, where he had won his degree in Medicine and had worked as chief of the medical division of the Marines for the last five years. Meyer remained silent as the doctor prepared the body for the jolt.

-       I’ve seen it before –said the medic.

-        What?

He pressed his fingers against Martin’s jugular and then observed the display in the machine. There was no pulse. Harper continued:

-       The ReLoc sees the death is imminent. They don’t want to suffer.

-       What do you mean…?

-       He gave himself an overdose of Insulin. Wouldn’t you do it if you knew you would die?

The chronometer on the defibrillator started its countdown. The silence of the room was periodically broken by the unbearable intervallic whines coming off of The Chamber and the fuzzy thoughts running wild in Meyer’s head.

Meyer looked back at The Chamber and thought of Major Gershon. One minute ago he was in The Vault. Now he was gone, projected out of existence…

Unlike The Vault, The Chamber was a big coffin-shaped, metallic-colored sarcophagus that resembled those used by the Egyptians to keep the mummies; it was right next to The Vault. It was lit like a Christmas tree, all emergency red leds twinkling all around its surface. Gershon was in it.

Meyer observed the bracelet clipped to the subject’s right hand and saw the led wasn’t still red, but it was green and twinkling.

-       Not a good sign –said Harper when he noted Meyer’s gaze. –Gershon’s in trouble.

-       Shit! –Meyer gasped.

-       Cap… This doesn’t look good –the doctor murmured.

-       You can’t give up, doc…

The defibrillator screamed in a continuous beep.

-       Step aside!

Meyer pressed the red button. They both moved away from the corpse. The machine transmitted the electrical charge and the body arced up and the muscles contracted in a sudden, violent jolt; just for a second Harper thought the big black man was going to open his eyes, stand up and scream; instead, the body just fell heavily on his back, laying flat and unmoving, like a big doll.

Harper remained still, almost as a mannequin, observing the body. The alarms kept howling and the leds of the bracelet flickering. The defibrillator still emitted a continuous beep and showed a flat line in the display. Harper consulted his watch.

-       Charge! Twenty-fifty!

Meyer prepared the new charge with trembling hands. Harper approached the body and started the cardiac massage.

The box beeped again.

-       It’s ready!

-       Clear!

The body arced up again, this time with more violence. Meyer tightened his teeth. The machine still squealed in a single tone and the line on the display was still horizontal. Harper observed the bracelet and its green led twinkling, now more rapidly.

-       Shit! There’s no much time. Three hundred Joules! –he ordered.

Meyer obeyed.

Harper resumed the resuscitation procedures franticly. The seconds that the defibrillator took to recharge itself were charged. Meyer bit his lower lip in tension.

Everything depended on that man being brought back to life.

The defib wailed.

-       Clear!

The body was jolted one more time.

The line was still flat.

TO BE CONTINUED...