ANGEL DOM: The curse of chemical x
Part three
Author's note
I'm trusting that you've read the first part first so I won't repeat myself too much here;
1) I cut this down into four parts after more than a few people (not all reviewed) thought it was a little too long. I realised that it is still quite large but it can not be cut down any further. I ask you to please be patient when reading it. This is Part three of four.
2) Powerpuff girls are property of Cartoon Network.
3) My eternal gratitude and supply of Cherry bakewells to Nicole Sabatti for being such a fantastic friend. This fan fiction would have never been completed without her help. So thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!!! Zoy!
4) I honestly believe that the story goes down hill from here so I'm not going to be surprised if you don't like it. I don't know why I bothered to write that as its completely irrelevant but hey.
&***********************************************************************************&
Nick continued to cry out Adam's name long after the brute had vanished from their sight
John was lost in his thoughts. Adam knew the three men almost too well for John's liking and he found himself wondering over time if Adam had spied on them before the journey began to see what made them tick. He knew that they would never abandon a fellow man, never mind best friend in the desert unlike he would. Now they had to carry Fred over the desert, add the insult of the problem that they could only travel at night, unlike Adam who had a compass and the treasonable theft of all of their water supply bar one had sealed their fate.
The last nail in the coffin had been hammered in.
John didn't know what to do and this scared him. Always before in his life he knew some way, no matter how unusual or unlikely to work. Before he had tended to offer suggestions to Fred who, although not the actual leader, had always been the intellectual centre of the group, but he was far too ill to offer any support now. Nick, all though bright and witty was not leader material, which left him. What made things worse were that the others knew this and were secretly looking to him for advice. John didn't know what to tell them. He had no idea how they were going to trek god knows how long with a man who could barely manage to walk coupled by the fact they had no water, no food and more importantly, no hope.
Adam had won.
There was no way that all of them would get out of the desert alive. It took all of his energy to say it, even if it was in the privacy of his own mind, but if anyone was going to perish, he knew Fred would be the one to do so.
John clenched his fists together as he stared over the sand, inexplicably saddened by the faint orange globe that was rising over the horizon. He stole a glance at Fred and Nick, realising that this may be the last time they would be together as a group. Nick could probably make it out of the desert but John knew he would fall only hours after Fred. It was odd to think that just a couple of hours ago everything was different, that they lived in a blissfully ignorant world. However they were paying for their ignorance now.
"It's alright, Fred," Nick reassured, patting a very pale Fred on the back. He looked on into space, not hearing one of the reassurances given. "We'll get out of here."
"How, Nick?" John asked sadly. "We can only travel at night," he looked at Fred solemnly, already grieving for his friend. "And I don't think he'll last that long."
"Water," he pleaded weakly.
John turned away, scrunching up his eyes at the sight of his best friend's torment. Chemical x, as they had immediately determined upon discovery, was highly toxic and was lethal to living cells. Adam had reacted strangely to this news but John had no idea he was planning this.
Determined to find a silver lining, John ran over Adam's speech, scrutinising it for any weakness. He hit something. Adam's gloating could be his downfall. He had wanted them to suffer by leaving Nick and himself to die in the desert after witnessing the death of their friend. However, although not in top shape they could still make it out of the desert, and they had the energy to take Fred with them. If they had to carry him, they would until they made it out.
Another fact that Adam had let slip was a very important one and could result in their lives being saved. John couldn't help but ponder if subconsciously Adam didn't want them to die and allowed the information to escape before he even realised. He claimed that they had trailed down the south of the desert on the edge, only then did they venture into the centre. If John did his sums correctly, he determined that they mustn't have been as deep in the desert as perhaps they thought and that all they needed to do was go in the right direction to reach the town.
A harsh cough on Fred's part though seemed to shatter all of his hopes. The injection he received should have killed him considering the strength of the poisonous characteristic that they were sure it held. However Fred was still fighting. Granted he was a lot weaker, feeble almost, finding walking and talking an exhausting task. He was sweating heavily and his face was so pale that John thought death would come and claim him anytime now.
He wouldn't let the others know that though.
But he was still alive, and he hadn't entered the later stages associated with poisoning.
They had a little time.
Then again what could cure an unknown disease? They had no idea how Fred would react or what would cure it, but he tried his best to dispel such a negative thought. He scolded himself for thinking it. They would cross that bridge when they came to it, but until then they must focus on leaving the desert.
They couldn't move until night time though.
Nick approached him, silently flopping down onto the ground next to John. His features were also worn by the experience and his spirit had not only been dampened, but drowned in a flood of despair.
They remained blissfully silent for a while, both watching as the northern star slowly faded away.
Nick looked back at Fred, his eyes tearful. "Will he make it?"
Of all the questions John didn't want to answer, this was top of the list. He ran over how he would respond. Should he be optimistic? No, the optimism would be misplaced and Nick would see straight through it like a plain glass window. Honest? How could he be truthful if he didn't even know what the truth of the matter was?
The only response he could find within the mangled messages in his mind was, "I don't know."
"We're not going to be able to get out in time," Nick said, now on the verge of breaking into tears. John couldn't blame him, if anything he almost admired him for it. He wanted to cry too, those emotions were too much for his defences but he held them back for the good of the team. They had to remain calm if they wanted to think logically and therefore have a chance of escape.
"It's day time," John noticed. "We can't get anywhere during day time."
Nick sniffed, proceeding to wipe his nose on his sleeve. "We can't wait for Fred to die either," he told John, his voice choking with tears.
They fell once more into that silence that they had grown so accustomed to. Words could never rely the torture they were facing and both of them were far too despondent to start a conversation regarding how soon they were going to die and which one of them, no matter how obvious it may be, would be the first one to go.
Above all one word they couldn't bring themselves to mention was the Pronoun ADAM. Adam had been subject to a lot of unwritten crimes in his life and to a degree John, despite the hatred he held for the maniac, could understand why. No one had ever cared for him during his entire life and this as well as other cases were a desperate cry for help from a man who only wished to be an equal member of his poor, neglectful family. Whether it was by recognition of his skills, or just for being who he was, Adam wanted someone, anyone to turn around and say; "I care." Of course no one ever had. The things he must have done to get attention must have started at a very early age with just a simple prank or two. However, when these acts failed to get the attention he wanted so badly, he was forced to delve deeper and deeper into evil, increasing the intensity of the pranks he played. Now it had reached the stage where Adam was willing to kill to get this compassion and not only that, but enjoy watching the others suffer as he did so. The once naughty little boy had transformed into a full-fledged killer.
Fred would be his first victim.
Yet John couldn't imagine life without his childhood friend who he had admired since the day they met and was filled with a sudden determination that somehow he would save him.
"You know what started this, don't you?" Nick asked suddenly, his body slumped in sadness. "That meteorite."
John opened his mouth to speak, to tell Nick that the meteorite was just the last straw but Nick cut him off. "When he found that meteorite, he changed. He got what he wanted and the minute that happened we became disposable. If we'd never found that meteorite piece, we'd never be in this situation."
"But…"
"I know he said that he was going to keep going until he found the meteorite, but he claimed that if he fell then he would tell us how to escape the desert and we would have gone home before any of this happened."
Having no intention of popping Nick's bubble, John kept his mouth shut. People always felt better as long as they found someone to blame and without being able to blame it on him or Fred, he was left with the meteorite, which, admittedly, did coincide with Adam's sudden mood swing. What Nick failed to realise was that they would have been injured, meteorite or no meteorite, and that the discovery had only pushed an already precariously balanced Adam into the chasm of insanity.
John shook the thoughts from his head as he picked himself up from the sand. The pounding heat was all ready taking effect and he scowled at the sun in contempt before slowly making his way towards Fred.
At first it was if Fred didn't truly realise that John was there, if in fact he even realised where he was. His face was blank and unmoving, that fire that John had always liked about him had been extinguished by the black poison of chemical x. Being a new discovery he wondered if there was a cure for such an ailment and more importantly if they could get it to him in time.
John placed a quivering hand on Fred's shoulder, sighing when the scientist turned his head inaccurately towards him. He smiled as best he could through the pain to convince them that he was fine but they knew better than that.
He was losing too much water through sweat and they had no water to replace it with. They had to get moving or otherwise Fred would dehydrate even further and in his condition he couldn't afford to do that.
However the northern star had vanished behind the rays of the sun and John couldn't determine which way was which. They could have followed Adam if they'd wanted but there was the possibility that he would have deliberately ventured the wrong way just to throw them off target.
"Fred," John started in a low voice. "Fred, it's me John."
"You…look like…a blur to me…" Fred managed, holding tightly onto the last shred of humour in his body. John admired his bravery so much. That even though Fred was likely to die soon, he continued to joke and laugh at his own situation. He was able to smile at the prospect of death.
Now John felt stupid as he was taking Fred's condition far more seriously than he was, but he knew that his friend was disguising his pain for their benefit.
He wasn't one to give up.
But this time, John felt that he would have to.
"Adam's gone," John explained, suddenly realising that Fred may not have noticed in his state.
"Yeah…I guessed as much…the lack of evil…laughter…told…me…but you …know what?"
"What?"
"I could…still kick his…butt in a fight…"
John laughed, amazed at the tremendous courage that his friend was showing. Even if Fred had to pause after every word to catch his breath, he still had a little life left in him.
John smiled wistfully as he placed one hand deep inside one of his pockets. His fingers came to rest on a warm metallic item and he gasped in surprise. He withdrew the object.
It was his watch.
Suddenly John was struck with an idea. He smiled at Fred and brought his palm next to his.
"Fred," John started softly, staring at the gleaming gold metal in the sunlight. "I'm gonna cut you a deal." He picked it up by the wristband and waved it in front of his face. "Ill give you this," he said, gesturing to the swaying metal, "if you don't die on me."
Fred looked up groggily from the sand, a distant expression on his face. He raised one quivering hand towards the swinging metal. He grabbed it, sealing the promise.
"I…promise you that I'll try my best," he said with complete conviction, "I'll…make…it…but if I don't…you can take your half back."
Above them a star trailed across the sky.
"He didn't leave us any water," Nick told them as if to break their spirits further even if he was just being realistic. "All he left us was that," he said gesturing towards the broken compass. Shards of broken plastic burnt in the sunlight.
Then, to John's surprise, Nick stood up, stumbling towards the broken compass that lay in the sand. He gazed at it for a while before mournfully digging it from its sandy grave, sobbing as he did so.
Fred looked up at John. There was so much he could read from those eyes. The resignation to a fate that they couldn't avoid. The acceptance of death.
John swallowed hard, feeling tears build up in his eyes. He wouldn't, couldn't let his best friend die.
"John," Nick tried, his voice quivering with fear.
John turned idly to see Nick crouched on the sand, hands cupping the compass that Adam had thrown at them before. His features were twisted in shock and on closer inspection his whole body was trembling.
"It still works."
John froze. "What?"
"The compass," Nick breathed, unable to believe it. "It…it still works…"
He rushed over to Nick, swiping the compass from his hands before he had a chance to defend against it. He lifted the compass, and with baited breath, he began to circle slowly.
The needle moved.
"No," John argued almost not wanting to believe it. "It can't work, we saw Adam crush it."
"He broke the casing," Nick explained, a hint of a smile growing on his face as he took back the compass. "The compass itself still works which means…"
"We can get out of the desert." John finished, completely astounded.
They were going to get out of the desert. They were going to escape this hellhole and return to Townsville, and once more, they could save Fred.
"Well what are we waiting for?" John declared, finding an unknown source of energy simply entitled hope. "We have a desert to leave!"
"Yeah!" Nick cried happily.
John didn't waste another second. He bolted towards Fred, practically throwing his arm underneath his shoulders before heaving him to his feet. He then looked at Nick expectantly, waiting for the command. Nick simply pointed to an indiscernible point on the horizon and it was with a squeak of joy that John realised that was the way Adam had headed before.
"We're going home Fred!" John cried triumphantly, eyes sparkling. His only response was an unintelligible murmur but he didn't care. Soon Fred would be cured, and they would be home!
That was all that mattered.
&**************************************************************************************&
Three days passed and Fred's condition deteriorated every time the sun rose.
The first day was the best for all concerned, fuelled as they were by a new found hope. Fred was able to walk and his health, although severely damaged in ways that no one truly understood, held up against the unknown virus. This in itself puzzled John. Chemical x was highly toxic and lethal to living cells. It was a narcotic that acted on the central nervous system, attacking the lungs, heart and other internal organs. Fred had already slipped into weak convulsions as he trembled when he walked. However he had yet to become delusional and that, John knew, would be the turning point for their courageous companion. In all intents and purposes he should have been killed on the spot. If not killed then at least a few hours, at most a day after it had been administered. At that point it had nearly been two days and Fred was still walking, talking and holding his own.
Predictably the second day could do nothing more than get worse. Fred collapsed half way through the day and John was forced to carry him. Not only that but the hopeful high had now vanished and moral had mouldered to an all new low. The town was still no where in sight and he couldn't believe that they hadn't reached it yet, even at the ludicrously slow pace at which they travelled.
The third day had seen an argument between himself and the now edgy Nick, brought on by the piercing rays of the sun. John couldn't even remember how it started never mind what it was about. Minutes later and the fight was forgotten yet it was obvious that the relationship that held Nick and John together had been badly bruised. Fred had started muttering in his sleep to people that John and Nick couldn't see or doubted were even real. He had become delirious. One of the later stages associated with poisoning. It was with a greatly lugubrious spirit that the others realised that they may not be able to escape the desert without all of their members intact, whether it be mentally or physically. Nick continued to navigate but repeatedly looked over his shoulder at the two to check they were both all right.
The night fell soon after, drawing across the sky after a torturous day of hiking. They had got no further it seemed as the desert continued to roll on as if it never intended to stop.
John was surprised that he was still managing to walk himself. He was the only member of the team who hadn't collapsed so far on the journey and it was with a morbid humour that he joked about his situation now.
Fred was slung over his shoulder so John was unsure if his friend would hear his witticisms, but he said them anyway if not for Fred's benefit than for his own.
"You make a fantastic weight," he sighed as he jolted Fred into a more comfortable position on his shoulder, "You should apply to the Olympics. You could be the final weight in weight lifting."
His only response was a sickened groan that could have been from the horrible joke, Fred's nausea or a mixture of the two.
Fred was eerily silent only offering a faint groan every now and then as a sign that he was still alive at all much to the others concern. Yet he was still alive. Chemical x hadn't claimed him yet.
"He's fading," John whispered.
Nick stopped ahead of them, waiting for the two to catch up. He realised that progress would be hindered by Fred's injury and was not bitter for it. After all it was not Fred's fault that he was as he was, or his fault that he no longer had the energy to continue. The poison that coursed through his veins was sapping his energy at a frightening rate. Sometimes John thought he was doing nothing more than carrying a corpse.
"I know it's hard," Nick offered kindly when John finally came to rest alongside Nick, "but we have to keep moving. We can't waste any more time."
"I know," John puffed, exhausted. "We'll make it out yet."
Nick looked up at the sky checking the northern star even though they no longer had to. It was almost as if Nick didn't truly trust the compass and relied much more heavily on the glimmering star. The compass did come from Adam and it was this reason that John believed Nick didn't trust it. That or he was just paranoid that something would go wrong. John couldn't blame him for that. Everything that had happened so far had proved him right.
On his back, Fred groaned once more.
With an unspoken agreement they started walking again, side by side as they trudged through layer after layer of sand, fighting hard against both the desert and their own weariness. John decided to cut down conversation to a low, only speaking when he had to for fear of the energy that it demanded to perform. He offered reassurances to Fred, forcing him to speak despite that he could only reply with the sole groan he held in his vocabulary.
It was another half-hour before John realised he wasn't going to make it.
Even if they did get out of the desert, and even if they did find a hospital, they still didn't know how to cure Fred of his sickness. This was a completely foreign virus. It would be wrong of them to assume that a human medicine would work for such chemical.
But they didn't know that for sure and as long as there was a small chance no matter how insignificant it may seem and how farfetched, they had to at least try.
As they reached the peak of a sand dune, they both stopped for a little breather to calm themselves for the next leg.
Nick couldn't help but collapse onto his backside and John followed his example, gingerly lowering Fred down as he did so. They would break for a little while before moving on again.
Nick swept a hand over his forehead, flicking off the sweat from the hands afterwards. His breathing was panicked and shallow as he tried to restore the natural balance to his body.
"The stars are nice," John said for no particular reason. He had thought this since the first night that they were beautiful and he still held that belief. Nick on the other hand, snorted at the glittering gems, turning his head from them in a saddened revulsion.
John turned to him, confused at his reaction. "Nick?" he prodded.
"The meteor came from up there," he snapped, looking at John sharply.
"You don't still blame the meteor do you?"
"And why not?" he asked, hands on hips, "if it wasn't for the meteor we wouldn't be in this situation." he took a little time to gaze at Fred. "He wouldn't be in this situation."
"But look at them," John argued, "they're beautiful."
Indeed the stars had not lost any of the elegance that they held on that very first night. They appeared to be like scattered gems against the velvet fabric of space. The moon was pulsing with a soft radiance that lit every curve and grain of sand with an unadulterated white. The stars were all different colours too, varying from the beautiful red, to a more tranquil blue, then to a natural green before turning red again. John followed the lines the stars formed. "The Northern star may have saved our life," he whispered to himself, knowing that they had made excellent progress whilst using it. It seemed almost an eternity since he had last done this. It was the night that they discussed having children in the middle of their journey. At that time he held nothing but despair. Now they had hope.
On the very horizon there were a few glittering stars that throbbed with a yellow, almost synthetic light unlike those above. John squinted as he tried to focus on them. If he wasn't mistaken those stars were peculiarly low and they seemed to line up in perfect order. They were very weak though, unlike the shimmering giants above. Some were cut in half.
The intensity of John's gaze had gradually caught Nick's attention and he too turned to look at them. He gasped.
"John…look…"
"I am looking," he replied indignantly. "They're weird."
"No, John," Nick tried again, and, for some strange reason, he started crying. "They aren't stars. That's the town!"
"What!" he cried, snapping his head so he could see Nick. He only nodded, tears of joy streaming down his face and his lips tugged into a genuine smile of joy.
"That's the town. Look. Those are the lights. Remember? They put lights on the edge of the desert."
Then the realisation of what Nick said truly struck home.
The town.
They'd made it.
No longer could he hold back the emotions within him, and he openly welcomed the return of the positive ones in place of the negative. John too began choking with sobs, flicking his gaze back and forth from Nick to the lights. That's why they seemed synthetic to him, it was because they were.
A swelling, bulging cry exploded from his lips before he could stop it. Not even he could tell if he was laughing or crying, he couldn't care less. He was being exposed to such a dizzying amount of emotions. Fear that the town was not really there. Disbelief that they had found it so quickly. Hope that they would return to normal. But most of all happiness at seeing other human beings.
He suddenly wrapped Nick in a bear hug and the two laughed joyously, congratulating themselves as they did so.
Fred.
"We have no time to lose!" John declared with renewed vigour as he quickly jumped up and grabbed Fred. "We're getting there tonight."
He heaved the man over his shoulder, silently hoping that it wasn't a mirage and that his sleep deprived mind wasn't playing tricks on him.
Nick couldn't contain himself and he rushed to John's side, helping him lift Fred.
"Home time!" Nick called.
&**************************************************************************************&
The town was miniature compared to the colossal Townsville but it was a very welcomed sight. The town primarily consisted of a few run down houses that wove in a peculiar pattern over half a mile of land. There was very little electricity and technology present but those that were stabbed the darkness and shouted their presence to all who saw them.
The duo was almost surprised to notice that the town was still in one piece, and more importantly, exactly the same as before. Their time in the desert had seemed like an eternity when in fact roughly 10 days had passed. They didn't have time to ponder such thoughts. They didn't know the lay about very well but John knew that there was a hospital, although not a very good one, very near them.
As they darted throughout the maze of back streets, John recognised some of the spots from before his journey began. Each filled him with a silent wonder and a heavy sadness. So much had transpired since then.
"The hospital has a helipad," Nick informed him as he sluggishly jumped over a fallen chair. "We'll be taken to the hospital in the big city. It's Fred's best chance."
John nodded. They had, at Nick's insistence checked out the local health care facilities because Nick refused to shut up until they did. They had had to practically drag Adam along at the time, but they found that the hospital or a building with a cold compress as it was more accurately described, had a helipad where many patients, especially severely injured ones such as Fred, were taken. It was something they had noted with more than a little panic. The guide had merely laughed at them, proceeding to inform them that there was usually a helicopter pilot on standby and that the actual journey to a far superior hospital in a near by city would only take up to half an hour.
The hospital was their only chance. That they both knew.
The desert may have seemed endless, but the town was just as bad as the labyrinth of back streets continued to break into smaller and smaller pieces. No longer did an endless, unchanging sea of sand confuse them instead the intricate passages that circled every single home did. Luckily Nick knew the way, at least that's what he claimed. John couldn't get to that helipad soon enough.
None of the surrounding area looked particularly familiar. He recognised a few odd places but none of the new areas where they were now running through inspired any memories. John didn't want to ask his companion if he really did know the way or if he was just saying that to make him feel better but he felt that he would have to.
Nick disappeared behind another sand-damaged house. John followed him, preparing to ask the question when a very welcomed sight stopped him.
The hospital.
It was only a small building in reality with a very worn Red Cross above the door. However, to the very left of the building lay the sand-coated helipad. At that moment in time the most beautiful thing John thought he would ever see was not just that square slab of cement, but the helicopter on top of it. The stars, a newborn baby, the sunrise or set had nothing on that helicopter. It was beautiful.
Seeing the opportunity, Nick sprinted ahead practically running into the door. He immediately began hammering viciously upon it, screaming to the high heavens as he did so.
"Open up!" he screamed over the pounding as John came to a stop close to the door.
"Emergency! Open up!"
John joined in just for the hell of it. Even Fred who was massively delirious by this point and had regaled them on theories regarding why the triangle cities had to hide the royal sponge from him had a go. Although immediately after he demanded to know why Nick wouldn't tell him the secret and then proceeded to ask John if he was the butler to the castle.
"Hurry up!" John cried, now very worried about Fred and not particularly wanting to be called a butler again.
They heard a faint voice from the other side door. Eventually the door was clicked open causing a still thrashing Nick to almost punch the poor home keeper in the face. Instead he had to settle for falling in through the door and landing with a nauseating thud on the ground.
The person was no one they had ever seen before from the last visit to the crumbling building and did not look like a resident of the town. It was a man with a very stubble chin and short grey hair that stuck out from underneath his leather cap. He was not dressed in typical desert attire but instead was dressed in light denim jeans that had been warn down over the years. He wore a very loose fitting leather jacket and atop his head was a pair of goggles.
"WHAT!" he screamed at the fallen Nick, bending down especially so he could yell it in his face. Nick quickly picked himself up, spitting out sand that he had swallowed.
"We need to get to the big hospital in the big city, pronto."
The uniformed man yawned extravagantly. "Not again."
He turned to look at Fred and John, not seeming to care about their predicament. "Do I have to?"
They all shot freezing looks towards the man. Even Fred managed to scowl although if it was aimed at him or a figment of his imagination was another matter.
The man sighed in annoyance. "Alright, I'll get the helicopter started."
He nudged his way past them and headed towards the helipad muttering bitterly as he did so. "Honestly, that's the second time I've had to come out tonight. I wait all year for something to happen and then it all comes raining down in one fair swoop." And then they couldn't hear him anymore.
Nick turned to John, signalling that they should follow him. After a few hesitant moments they did so, clumsily navigating around the outer wall of the 'hospital'. John noticed with concern that Nick was using it for support.
"He's tired," he whispered to himself.
&*************************************************************************************&
The helicopter was the most beautiful thing that John had ever, and was certain, would ever see in his life. He didn't care if the blades were a bit rusted, or that the door was held on by a piece of string. Neither did he care that there was barely enough room to fit in the patient as they discovered when Fred was lay down to rest on the cold, metal surface. Nick and himself were forced to squeeze in on the sides, cramming themselves painfully against the jagged edges. He didn't care that the helicopter was struggling to start and that the strange man warned them they could plummet to the ground at any moment. None of this he cared about. If this was the only way to get Fred to the hospital than they had to take it.
Then they both heard one of the most beautiful words in existence.
"There's some water back there if you want it."
Nick and John had never moved so fast as they both rocketed, albeit rather clumsily as they tripped over the rubbish and assortment of tools on the helicopter, towards the dripping water sack that was tied on one of the more evident metal protrusions. They seized it, proceeding to open the water skin then thirstily drink as if it was an intoxicating wine that they had to have more of. Both of them drank heavily, slurping the precious water in heavy quantities. They didn't care that they must have looked like pigs in front of a trough, they just wanted that water.
Suddenly John stopped drinking, as the water skin became low. He put a hand to stop Nick advancing any further also, proceeding to then grab one of the discarded cups, cleaning the inside of it with a piece of cloth. He then dipped the cup into the water and turned back to Fred.
"Here you go, buddy," John said as he dripped the water into Fred's mouth. He drank the majority although a little was spilt.
"Triangle cities," he murmured and then drifted off to sleep.
John sat back against the cold metal, suddenly pensive. The run from the desert to the hospital then to the helicopter had been frighteningly fast. It was true that just over a few hours ago they were still stumbling blindly in the desert with quickly fading hope. Now they were on board the helicopter and just half an hour away from the hospital that would save Fred's life.
An overwhelming sense of exhaustion washed over John then. He looked up at Nick who also seemed exhausted and was now cuddled up against the wall, listening to the beating of the propellers above.
"Nick," he said slowly, "we did it."
"I know," he replied in the same way. "We beat the odds."
John turned his head to the side, gazing out of the cracked windows. The sand dunes of the Toman desert were fading slowly away as the helicopter soared away from them. "Goodbye desert," John whispered. "I won't miss you one bit."
The desert faded away in the darkness.
"We'll be at your precious hospital soon," the man called from ahead of them, shifting his head ever so slightly so he could see at least one party member.
"Good," Nick sighed.
They were really going home. All the torture they had faced was officially over. They had endured the desert, challenged fate and won.
"We' re safe."
Suddenly the helicopter jolted to the right, knocking all of them off guard. They could physically feel the helicopter descending at a frightening rate. The unmistakable noise of a rapidly falling helicopter confirmed their fears. John and Nick screamed.
Then they were brought back level again, leaving a deeply breathing Nick and John, wide eyed with fear, shaking in the back. The man chuckled in the cockpit. "Well, I wasn't expecting THAT! But nothing to worry about hey?"
He turned to see two very frightened men staring back at him.
"Don't worry, it does that ALL the TIME!"
"I didn't hear that," Nick tried to convince himself, clamping his hands over his ears in case he were to continue. Thankfully he finished with a ridiculing laugh before returning his concentration onto the matter at hand.
Despite the scare he still felt tired. They hadn't really slept for a while now. Taking one last look at the town below him, John watched all of their troubles disappearing into the darkness.
In front of them the helicopter pilot merely scoffed, ramming another doughnut that had fur growing on it into his mouth. He smiled as the thing touched his tastebuds.
"Yep. We'll be there soon enough, mark my words, that's if this baby can make it that is."
When no one replied, he was forced to take a quick glimpse at his cargo. The others were now fast asleep, or in a coma, he couldn't tell. He snorted in disgust "God. Aren't you people rude!? You're just as bad as my last patient. Didn't get a word out of him."
Again no one replied but that was the last thing John heard before a luxurious sleep claimed him.
&****************************************************************************************&
A strange light was burning the back of Johns' eyelids and he turned his head to try and escape it so he could return to his peaceful slumber. However the light seemed to follow him and it was with a rather annoyed growl that he woke up.
At first the light blinded his vision and it was rather hazy from the sleep, no matter how little, he had received. He rose his hands to his eyes, rubbing them with his fists. He blinked several times as the world slowly came into focus.
Gradually he sat up in his bed to get a better look at his surroundings. A needle was implanted deep within his arm and a tube ran snake like onto the floor and to a metal stand where a huge bag of liquid hung. An IV unit he realised with a start. He was in hospital. Another thing he noticed about himself was the lack of any desert clothes. Instead he was in a considerably thinner gown that, to his embarrassment, felt more like a dress than anything else.
He was staring at a light bulb, which would explain what woke him. It ran in a tiny trail over a dotted, blue roof that was very high above him. He turned his head to one side, surprised to find this simple task rather difficult. There was another wall, no a curtain of deep blue hung from a silver railing. He followed the curtain discovering that it surrounded his entire bed. He could hear the soft murmuring of voices from one side of his curtain, and from the other a constant beeping which he presumed to be from a heart monitor. For a panicked moment he wondered if that was Nick, or Fred. Now he had thought it he couldn't get it out of his mind. He had to know who that person was. He lifted the heavy white cotton sheets from off himself as he pulled himself into a sitting position. He dangled his legs over the side, carefully lowering his feet onto the cold tiled floor. He struggled, managing a few paces before his legs buckled underneath him and he collapsed. The needle tugged at the sudden jolt causing him to cry out in pain.
Immediately the front curtain was thrown back. John looked up to see a very dissatisfied nurse glaring at him. He smiled sheepishly. "Um, little help?"
She obliged although it was obvious by the rough way that she helped him back into bed that she didn't care too much for him at this point. She quickly threw the covers back over him, tucking in the odd bits and ends.
"Um, miss?" John hesitated as he nursed his arm, which still stung from the fall. "I came here with some friends and I was just wondering…"
"Friends?" she quizzed, uninterested. "Oh them. Yeah. They're in the next ward."
Something in her tone got to John on a level that he didn't like one bit. "The next ward?"
"Yeah," she replied.
"Well are they ok?"
She looked at him, tired of the game of trivial pursuit. "I don't know."
"Well can I see them?"
She sighed, annoyed that she now had to go and do another pointless task. "What are their names?"
"Frederick Dom and Nicholas Morlon."
"I'll go see, shall I?"
She disappeared behind the curtain and John allowed a short but uncertain sigh of relief. The person to his right didn't seem in such great condition. The constant noise of the heart monitor revealed as much and luckily it wasn't one of his friends. However he had no guarantee that Nick and Fred weren't in the same situation in the other ward. And why were they in separate wards anyway? Fred he could understand, but Nick...
Was something wrong?
Minutes later the same nurse appeared, this time incessantly chewing some bubble gum. She returned to her previous activities, fluffing the pillow and checking the IV unit before she even realised that John was staring at her intently, patiently waiting for the answer to his question.
"Oh yeah," she replied when she noticed his stern gaze. She pulled out a piece of paper from her blue dress and simply read out whilst still chewing the bubble gum. "Nicholas Morlon is in ward 7, you're in ward three and he's been treated for exhaustion, malnutrition and some other stuff the same as you…"
"Then why are we in different wards!" John demanded. The Nurse looked up, thoroughly annoyed at the question. They held a brief staring contest before the nurse gave way. "Bed shortages," she said simply. "And the other one, Fre Dom."
"That's Fred Dom," he corrected.
"Yeah, him," she replied nonchalantly, quickly looking up from the scribbled writing to monitor his reaction. His features remained unchanging still locked in that expectant, demanding stare.
"He's was taken to ward two to be treated for poisoning and the other stuff that you were."
"Is he alive?"
"Probably."
"What do you mean, probably?" He snapped.
"Alright he is. Look, Mister," the nurse seethed angrily. "We've got a lot on right now. We've had all sorts of people come in here. Scientists like yourself…"
"And what happened to them?" He interrupted.
She humphed at another rude interruption. "Everyone knows what happened to them. You went with them after all."
"Well actually we went on our own separate expedition," he said, wondering what on earth could happen to a group of scientist who were both well prepared and had an experienced guide on their side.
"That worked didn't it," she scolded, gesturing towards the bandages and the needle that stuck out of his arm. She walked to the bottom of the bed, grabbing the clipboard that hung from there as she did so. She then pulled out the small visitor's chair from besides his bed and sat down on it as she ticked unseen boxes on the clipboard.
"Anyway these scientists got lost in the desert didn't they, and in the middle of a sandstorm too. We've got about 30people of your sort stuffed in here. Most of em we don't even know their names. Didn't have any name tags you see. The one next door to you is a prime example."
"He was caught in a sandstorm?" He asked in disbelief. She paused, looking at the curtain as if she could see through it. She hushed her voice. "No. Someone attacked him. Got stabbed quite a lot. An odd case considering all his valuables like money and things were left untouched. Strange that no one bothered to take his stuff." She sighed, annoyed. "No one even knows his name. He had no I.D on him so we just put him in here."
"He sounds pretty ill."
"His plight is none of your concern," she scolded.
"Then why did you tell me…"
"Enough questions!" She shouted. She sat up from the chair and tied the clipboard back to the bottom of his bed.
"Can I see my friends soon?" he asked hopefully, realising that the nurse had finished her job and was going to make a run for it.
"I'll go fetch one of them if I have to."
"You mean Nick?"
"Yeah."
"He's awake."
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
"Whatever."
She once again vanished from behind the curtain then in a cry that made him cringe she yelled "Get Nicholas Morlon here!" then he listened to her footsteps trail away.
&*****************************************************************************************&
Whilst waiting for his friend to arrive, John busied himself with studying the ceiling for some reason fascinated by the lines and dots above him. He followed them with his gaze, trying to make out some sort of picture. Unavoidably his thoughts returned to what the Nurse had said and something struck him as confusing.
The nurse had claimed that the scientists had been caught in a sandstorm. They had never encountered one and they were in there for over a week. If they other scientists had been exposed to it then surely they would have been also.
Another thought struck him soon after, once again about Adam. He had blamed Nick for missing the guide when truly he was the one who made the decision to head back to town and get more water. Adam could hardly kill an entire group of thirty odd people now could he? He must have been planning to miss the guide and go with the bulk of other scientists. Nick was just a lucky coincidence and it gave him both the opportunity to venture on his own and take Nick's water supply without any arousing any suspicion.
He was crafty; John had to give him that.
He heard the curtain being drawn. John was practically euphoric when they trembled. He looked down, expecting to see Nick standing there with a smile on his face but was met with an unfamiliar doctor and a wheelchair.
"You wanted to see your friend."
Oh no, John thought. They hadn't bought Nick; they were taking John to him. Nick couldn't walk? Was he in a coma, or worse? Oh god no…
The doctor approached John, wheeling the chair in as he did so. He stopped gesturing to the open space. John couldn't help but stare at the wheelchair in fear wondering why his friend couldn't come to see him. The other nurse claimed he was awake, but then again she didn't know the difference between a living person and a dead one. What mediocre nursing course did she attend?
John struggled into the wheelchair with the doctor's assistance and was left feeling hollow and empty inside.
He might have lost Fred and now Nick too.
He couldn't handle that.
Indeed it was with great effort that he contained his queries, deciding that it would be best to remain calm. This in itself was a difficult task for the scientist who couldn't get the image of himself attending his friends' funerals out of his head.
He smacked his forehead with his palm in an attempt to rid himself of these images and was rewarded with a speculative "hmmm" from the doctor.
"You ready to go?"
John stilled his breathing, fighting so hard against the swelling fear. "Yes," he said with conviction. "I'm ready."
&***************************************************************************************&
The numbers three and seven were relatively close together considering that there were wards 30 and 34 to contend with. However John felt that he might as well have been on the opposite side of the world as he was pushed through the hospital. Apparently ward seven was up one floor. So they had travelled in the lift only to resume the indeterminable path once more, squeezing past the odd abandoned patient now and then. John did see a pattern emerging from his travels and this was what severely worried him. As each ward number increased, the amount of beds left just outside of the ward increased with it. One corridor outside ward six was practically clustered with beds and they were forced to find an alternate route to get to their desired location.
If ward six was bad, ward seven was even worse.
The corridor was choking with beds. There was no room what so ever for the wheelchair to make it through so John suggested to the doctor that he walk the rest of the way. However the doctor refused, condemning him for even thinking of leaving his hospitality before disappearing with a complacent John in tow through another darkened corridor.
What should have been a ten-minute trip, according to the doctor, became a half-hour trip instead, mixed with the irritation factor of having to detour in every corridor. John wondered whether many of these people were scientists just like he was, but dispelled the thought as soon as it came. There were far too many people here for that and he only thought around fifty at most would come.
The corridor narrowed as they were forced to weave around even more beds and rubbish. Eventually though they pulled into the ward.
At fist glances it looked identical to his own. In many respects it was just another corridor except this time it was much larger. The row of curtains acted as walls and at the end of the corridor was a small desk where a couple of bored doctors were throwing darts at the board. John even had to duck as one of the less observant ones continued to throw the darts when he wheeled past. The doctor looked at him as if it was his fault before resuming the game again. It wasn't hard to believe that this hospital had its fill of problems when the doctors played darts across a busy walkway.
Eventually they drew to a halt alongside the middle curtain. The doctor swept it open.
Again it was exactly the same as his own except one important detail.
Nick was the one in the bed.
John sighed with relief, happy to see that his friend was alive. Better than that, he was awake.
Nick looked up from the book that he was reading. When he saw John he smiled, quickly slapping the book closed.
"John!"
The doctor wheeled John into the cubicle before drawing the curtain, probably to go off and play darts with the others whilst they waited for them to finish.
John wheeled himself forward until he was directly opposite the bed. Nick, like him, had a needle protruding from his arm. However the ginger haired man was disturbingly pale. John wondered if he looked as bad as that.
"John, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied, smiling. "I thought I might have lost you. This weird nurse told me that you were coming to see me."
Nick nodded, his lifeless hair falling limply across his shoulders. "I wanted to, but you can't be guaranteed that someone won't steal your place, so I asked if you could be bought up here. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course I don't mind!" John insisted strongly. "I just thought you might be in a coma or something."
"Nah, all though we've both been out of it for a while."
John stopped. He hadn't put much importance into the time since they had arrived at the hospital. But when did he arrive there? He didn't remember. The last memory he had was being in the helicopter, the next thing he knew he was in hospital.
"How long?"
Nick smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Two days."
"WHAT!" John cried so loudly that he almost fell out of the wheelchair. He sat back again, worried that he couldn't risk another fall and therefore more injuries.
"I was out for two days. You were out for two and a half," he paused, then gave a soft chuckle, " I always said you were a heavy sleeper."
"Two and a half days?" John admonished then snapped out of it. "What about Fred?"
This time Nick became silent. He slowly unwound his arms from his smug position. His face became downcast and his eyes turned away from John.
No…Fred couldn't be… Please god no…
"I have to be honest with you John,"
Here it comes, he thought, the news that I never wanted to hear.
"I don't know."
He allowed himself a sigh of relief. Not knowing at least had the possibility of a good side.
"Did you ask the doctor?" He said trying to hide the relief.
Nick shook his head, still refusing to look John in the eye. "I asked a couple of doctors about him, but none of them will tell me anything. They keep jabbering on about how I should worry about myself right now."
John shakily stood up from the wheelchair. "Are you alright? Is something else wrong?"
"No. They say I'm weak. That doesn't mean I can't see my friends."
Nick watched John's attempt to stand fail when he collapsed back into the wheelchair.
"You're still weak too," he observed.
John allowed himself a few deep breaths; the exertion on his body had been too much.
"I want to know if Fred's alright," he said stubbornly, still panting as he did so. "I've had the same nonsense thrown at me as you have. One nurse didn't even know if he was alive or not."
"You mean he's dead!"
"No!" John shot, realising he should have explained a lot better. "This nurse doesn't have a clue. I can't seem to get any sense out of anyone here."
Nick leant back in his bed uncertainly as if he was expecting John to make some radical announcement that would need him to be up and running again.
"You're talking about Doris someone aren't you? Yeah, she doesn't really know what's going on but you can't blame her. I don't know whether you've noticed how many people are in this hospital."
"She told me they were scientists," John told him, raising a hand to his head to still his headache. "They were the ones we were originally going to go with. They got caught in a sandstorm apparently, but we were in the desert and the sandstorm didn't effect us."
"Maybe we avoided it," Nick contemplated.
"Either way neither of us know what happened to Fred."
John looked away to the curtain in an attempt to hide the pain he knew was so evident in his face and voice. "He could be…" he turned back to Nick, determined. "We have to find out what happened to him."
"But how?" Nick asked, "if no one will tell us anything?"
He ran the question over in his mind. They could hardly force the doctors to tell them where Fred was and even if they asked they probably wouldn't get the answer they wanted.
"It's not like we can just go to see him. We don't even know where he is."
"That's right, we don't know…wait a minute." He amended. "Yes we do."
"What?"
"That nurse," he clicked his fingers together in an attempt to remember her name, "Doris. She told me that Fred was in ward two."
"That's miles away," Nick complained, sinking back into his bed. A scolding look from John changed his mind. "So we'd better get up and go!"
The curtains were thrown open suddenly and the nurse, Doris was standing with a petulant look on her face.
"So much for that."
"You can see your friend later," she replied harshly, eyeing both of them suspiciously. She grabbed John's wheelchair and began pushing him away before the two could concoct more schemes.
"I guess I'll see you later then," John called as Nick disappeared behind the folds of the curtain.
"Later!" he cried.
&***************************************************************************************&
During the long journey back to his room, John was subject to some very boring droning from the nurse Doris. He wondered why she had come to collect him when the doctor was the one who had brought him up in the first place. However this question was answered when they were wheeled past the front desk and the doctor from earlier was tied with the one who had almost stabbed him before and were facing off for the title of darts champion. It really disturbed him to think that Fred was at these peoples mercy and he began to wonder if perhaps they should have stayed in the desert after all. The incompetence of the doctors so far had been nothing less than frightening. As Doris continued to twitter on about some unknown topic (John was no longer bothering to pretend to listen) he thought about the way people had been towards him since his arrival. He had to admit that he had seen no sign of medical incompetence if you discounted the corridors full of patients. His injuries had been expertly tended to as had Nick's and it seemed like a good enough hospital. It was the doctors' personalities that upset him. They were so unsympathetic towards him, but they probably had thousands of cases like him and were bored of it. Why should they make a special exception juts for him?
Why?
Because their friend had been poisoned with an alien virus.
Doris wheeled him into the lift, positioning him at the back whilst she tapped the floor number. She didn't seem bothered that people were signalling her to hold the lift, if anything she increased her speed. John didn't particularly want to stop her either. He wanted to get back to the solitude of his cubicle to mull things over.
They were acting awfully cagey about Fred. John was even beginning to think it was some sort of conspiracy. Wouldn't they have asked John and Nick about the strange substance to see if they knew anything about it? Partially he was glad that they hadn't as it wasn't an easy thing to believe never mind explain. Yet surely such a foreign virus would be detected?
The lift door pinged open and once again Doris began pushing the pensive scientist throughout the hospital. In fact he was so deep in thought that he didn't truly wake up until he was back at his own ward. Doris had silenced, finally, and was now currently clicking her tongue as she gazed from curtain to curtain.
"Which one was it, again?" she asked herself. She stopped in front of one of the curtains. A soft beeping was coming from behind it.
John realised that this was the wrong cubicle and was about to voice this discovery to the ever-docile Doris when she snapped open the curtain.
As John suspected, it was not his room, but the one to the right of his that held the stabbed victim. A heart monitor was beeping weakly. John was shocked at how much equipment was littered around the bed. So much so that there was barely enough room for a very thin person to fir through to see to the actual patient.
"So much equipment."
"It's keeping him alive," Doris explained icily.
John leant forward in the wheelchair, using the armrests to get a better view of the actual patient. A family of wires ran up to patient and the face was almost half-covered in bandages. John also noticed that one machine was helping the man breath, keeping him alive as Doris had so elegantly put it.
He dared to raise himself higher, drawn by an inexplicable curiosity.
To think that just a few machines was all that was keeping the man from death, such a weak link to life.
And then John's face visibly paled as he finally got a good look at the patient's face.
The man didn't look alive at all. The only thing that suggested otherwise was the mechanic rising and falling of his chest.
"We think he's not going to make it. Came in a day before you did."
John sunk to his chair, a thick nausea sweeping over him. He could once again taste the vomit rising in his throat and he swallowed it back, fighting against the shock and horror of the spectacle ahead of him. The nurse noticed, ducking down so she could see his face.
He ignored her.
After a few hurried breaths he trembling, raised again. He continued until once again he could see the man's face.
"Oh my God, " John whispered, "Adam."
&******************************************************************************************&
Doris had wheeled John out of the cubicle pretty quickly when she realised that something was wrong. She had coldly prompted him to tell her what was bothering him but the man in his shock filled state could only murmur that he knew the man in the bed before silencing and reverting back to the sanctuary of his thoughts.
Now he was alone in his cubicle, the muffled noises of the hospital drowned out by the constant beeping of the heart monitor next door.
In all honesty he didn't know why he had reacted so badly to discovering Adam next door when he should have been more concerned about his best friend. Part of him told him to be happy, perhaps even relieved that Adam was now hospitalised, fighting for a life that was slipping away. Another part defended him to the very end, screaming that it wasn't Adam's fault and that he should forgive him for what he'd done to them. These conflicting emotions were battling fiercely, pulling him from one excruciating length to another until he no longer knew which way to turn. He dreaded to think how he would react to seeing Fred, his best friend, if he reacted this badly to his supposed enemy.
He swayed back and forth in his foetal position. His eyes stared blankly at a point only he could see, far beyond that of the sterile blue mattress where they lay rest.
Adam.
He tried in vain to chase the memories from his head but failed miserably as they regrouped and came back more powerful than ever.
His mouth had become dry like the desert. His eyes haunted. His mind numb. The only thing John Utonium could focus on was the relaxing rocking of his body.
He told himself to get a grip, to take charge of the situation. He didn't. He couldn't. He just sat, rocking, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
Adam's room was so devoid of life.
So empty…
except for the stacks of confusing machines that loomed over his body. Beeping. A pathetic simulation of a heart beat. It was so synthetic, so unnatural, so weak.
It was his only hope of survival.
Adam may have left them for dead in the desert, he may have tried to kill them and may try it again. But Adam was a human being and he wasn't solely responsible for the way he had turned out.
To think that just a simple flick of a switch could end Adam's life just like that.
One switch.
That's all it would take.
And what about Fred? Was he all right? Was he even alive? What if he was in the same condition as Adam? A machine, no longer a human but at the mercy of the competence of the metal lumps that surrounded him. Would he survive?
And Nick? Should he tell Nick that Adam was alive? That Fred may not be? That the potential murderer of his best friend was lying helpless next door?
His darkened cell was lit up as the curtains were forced open and an unfamiliar doctor stepped into his space. He closed the curtains behind him. He turned.
"You know him," he said bluntly, not wasting any time.
John agreed. The doctor sat down.
"How?"
John looked towards the doctor, his eyes shimmering as he heard the arguments from long ago.
John continued rocking, fiercely scolding himself for lacking any confidence and restraint towards his emotions. This only succeeded in making him feel even more insecure, and steadily his rocking grew more violent.
"I…" he started, managing to cease the swaying if only for a moment. "His name is Adam Smith. He was one of our team, but we got separated in the desert. What happened to him?" John didn't notice at that time but he spoke in a monotone, detaching himself as far from this plane of reality as he could in order to escape the pain. He didn't care about Adam he told himself. He didn't care period.
The doctor shuffled a little in the old plastic chair as he leaned closer in order to hear the lifeless words of his patient.
"He was stabbed," the doctor told him. "We don't know who by but we think it was intentional."
The doctor waited for John to pick up on the hint. He didn't. "Aren't you interested in Adam's welfare?"
"I'm more concerned about Fred," he replied, eyeing the doctor with hatred. "How is he?"
"We'll take you to him after we sort out this little mess."
John thanked him.
"Now about Adam." He paused. "He's in bad shape as you've seen."
"What's the damage?" John asked. He didn't care about the answer. His mind was working on automatic. The only thing he could truly hear were the words "Let them watch their friend die, let them mourn for him, and then let them wait in the desert with the knowledge that they were about to go the same way."
The doctor didn't notice. He had too many things on his own plate. "From the nature of the stab wounds it doesn't look self inflicted. He was stabbed in the back, almost severed his spine."
John expected bile to rise in his throat. Instead he felt increasingly hollow.
The doctor continued. "We know that someone took him to the helicopter pilot that lives on the outskirts of the desert…"
"Honestly, that's the second time I've had to come out tonight."
"You're just as bad as my last patient. Didn't get a word out of him."
"No one knows who did this." The doctor turned to the curtain. "We had to fight hard to save him. He lost a lot of blood, but," he paused, "not that much. He should be healing but it's almost as if he doesn't want to come back. He doesn't want to fight for his life."
He turned back to John who blinked. "He won't get better if he doesn't fight. We nearly lost him on more than one occasion. The others have been told to keep his situation a secret, but considering that you know him."
"Why keep it a secret?" John asked as he stabbed a gentle finger on the mattress.
"Because it was an odd case. We found claw marks all over him. Cuts, bruises, knife wounds, everything you can imagine. They went all out against this guy but who did it and why we don't know."
"No. Someone attacked him. Got stabbed quite a lot. An odd case considering all his valuables like money and things were left untouched. Strange that no one bothered to take his stuff." she sighed, annoyed. "No one even knows his name. He had no I.D on him so we just put him in here."
Strange that no one bothered to take his stuff.
"No one…took his stuff?" John asked, a little feeling now pulsing through him. "His backpack. There was a meteorite that we found in there. It's still there?"
The doctor looked down at his lap. "A witness said that he was attacked by some sort of lobster creature wearing a pink tutu and a human." He paused. "He must have been mistaken. Anyway. The witness saw this man search Adam's body and backpack. He ran off with some water containers and a huge rock apparently. Now I can understand the water containers, especially considering water is the gold around here, but why they would take a stupid rock is beyond me but the guy seemed pretty happy."
"Did you catch him?"
"No. He escaped and the witness took him to the helicopter pilot to bring him here for treatment."
He didn't notice John's sudden retraction into himself at this news. "We'll take you to see your friend Fred soon," he continued, oblivious. "If that's alright with you?"
John couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stared in a silent challenge at the doctor for a moment as he fidgeted with the pens in his pocket. John couldn't believe it. Someone attacked Adam to get the meteorite and the chemical x? But that was impossible, wasn't it? They were the only ones who knew of the discovery and the importance of the chemical so how did this other person know that they had it? They attacked for the chemical x and nothing else. But why? Of course it was a new discovery but surely it wasn't important enough to kill for.
"Can I…can I see him now?"
John looked up hopefully, wanting to be anywhere but trapped in the ward where he would be subjected to that beeping. To hide for only a moment. It was time to see Fred, the person he hadn't seen for days, and possibly would not see again.
The doctor picked himself up from the seat. He pushed it back to the side.
"I'll get the wheelchair."
&*******************************************************************************************&
John was too lost in his thoughts to worry about the patients that passed him by, groaning in pain at the injuries that had yet to be treated by the badly overworked staff.
The doctor had a lot of trouble getting John into the wheelchair simply because he had yet to truly recover all of his strength. His whole body felt numb. It was almost as if he wasn't in his body anymore and it was a pleasant sensation to be in a place where the pain, torment and anguish could no longer reach him. It seemed like this was happening to someone else entirely. Not him. Someone else who could cope with these emotions. But not him.
His eagerness to see Fred was his only empowerment as he stumbled towards the old fashioned wheelchair. The doctor seemed quietly impressed by his strength but had kept quiet about it, as he did now as they slowly reached ward two.
John's heart slowed to a cold, dreadful, pace. His fists clenched tightly around the armrest as he travelled through the ward. He caught the odd glimpse of a patient hidden beneath a copious amount of bandages, scowling as they fought their pain with very little success. Unlike his ward there were people everywhere and it was unnaturally silent. Not a word was spoken between the doctors in a sign of respect to the suffering patients like they were already dead. The air was intolerantly noiseless apart from the odd choking sobs coming from an indeterminable place within the ward.
He held his breath when the wheelchair came to a shuddering halt outside one of the cubicles. The doctor walked around the chair.
He pulled the curtain back.
"No…"
&******************************************************************************************&
John would have yelled at the doctor for taking him around in circles had it not been the worn "Ward 2" sign that hung loosely on the opposing wall. The room was identical to Adam's in every conceivable way. The machines, the lack of any sign of life, the small space left for any human to get near. It was just like a replay of only a few moments ago except this time he knew the person he was coming to see.
The doctor silently stepped back.
John rolled himself forward. He stopped in front of the bed. He stood up. Steadily he picked himself up from the wheelchair, grabbed a hold of the railing that raced around his bed and gingerly wove his way through every machine. He paused when he reached the top of the bed. He looked down at Fred. Fred didn't respond.
Gently he reached a quivering hand forward, intending to take the cover from his face. He stopped just short, his heart racing; beads of sweat forming on his brow. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He moved forward.
He pulled back the sheet.
John was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions. He half sat half fell onto the chair that had been crammed into the room. He raised a trembling hand to his forehead. He couldn't take his eyes off of Fred even though he wanted to, drawn by some morbid curiosity.
Fred.
He was in the same condition as Adam, but worse. His face was almost hidden by the multitude of tubes, each one transporting unknown materials to his body. His chest rose mechanically. His eyes were taped shut. The heart monitor beeped irregularly.
Fred…
The doctor shuffled his feet uneasily, scraping his boots against the tiled floor. He glanced up towards John, watching as he silently gazed at his friend.
"We don't really know what's wrong with him," the doctor confessed looking up apologetically.
"We found a foreign virus in his bloodstream. It's highly toxic from what we can tell but for some reason it hasn't finished him yet."
John choose to ignore the comment. He silently placed a hand on top of Fred's, inwardly shocked at how cold and lifeless it felt. So limp…
"We're not sure what's happening, but if we don't find out what soon, we'll lose him."
Again his chest rose and fell to the rhythm of the life support machine. The doctor looked around uneasily.
"I'll, uh, leave you with him."
The doctor took one last look at the scene before sweeping the curtain back and leaving.
John sat alone.
He leant forward, tightly entwining his fingers around Fred's as if he could will him back to life. Fred remained unchanging, stony, and lifeless. John closed his eyes tightly, as if by doing so the man in the bed would transform to some stranger. No, he already was a stranger. There was none of that life that John adored. He was empty of laughter, devoid of happiness, he was hollow, a shell of his former self.
John couldn't help but think of the good times they had had together. The time they were arrested by the police for lewd conduct or the time they entered sports day and came last in everything, but laughed at it at the end of the day not to mention when they were eight years old they ate ice cream until they threw up. Those were some of the happiest times in his life. However they once were happy memories, close, and cheerful. Now they were distant, masked by the power of death. In a word, lost, like Fred.
A soft breathing awoke his attention. He slowly turned to the doctor, eyes burning with unreleased tears. He stood with a clipboard and a complete apathetic expression on his face. His wispy white hair was like a wrinkled curtain on his face, which had sunk with wrinkles.
"John Utonium?" The doctor queried, briefly glancing up from the unseen scribbles.
John remained unnaturally silent, hearing those tones in the doctor's voice. They were so heavily implicative, so, certain of the course of action which had yet to be revealed.
The doctor stepped forward. "I apologise for my colleagues ineptitude. We need to ask a few questions."
"What?" he replied quietly, voice muffled by the blanket his head was buried in.
"Frederick Dom. Does he have any living relatives?"
His stomach churned. "No."
"Brothers? Sisters? Par…"
"I said no!" he cried, his misery making him aggressive.
"Of what relation to this man are you?"
"I am…" he tightened his grip on Fred. "I am his best friend."
The doctor scoffed at the remark. He clicked his pen.
"As you know your friend has been poisoned for several days now. We've tried every anti venom and cure we could get our hands on but none have worked. His condition is deteriorating as you can see and we are left with only one option." He paused, taking a deep breath. "We need your permission to turn off the life support machine."
"You…what…"
"We're sorry Mr Utonium," he apologised, ignoring the choking cries from the man opposite. "We believe it is the kindest thing we can do. The poison administered to him has caused irreparable damage. Even if he does manage to wake up I really don't think his life will be worth living."
"You're going to kill him. You're going to kill my best friend?" his voice was dripping with depression, with desperation but mostly with a lost hope.
"We believe it is the kind…"
"You don't know what the kindest thing to do is," John interrupted, glaring coldly at the aged doctor. His breath heaved as he spoke and as he waited in silence. "You want me to decide whether my best friend lives or die? You want me to sign his death certificate? You want…"
"His life is over, Mr Utonium," The doctor snapped, "he has nothing left to offer."
John shook his head in disbelief, fighting and losing against the urge to cry sorrowful tears. "He can't die…"
"Excuse me but he can and he will." He turned to look at Fred. "You can free him now before the real suffering occurs or you can wait and watch him suffer." The doctor leant forward. "You can free him from the torment."
The doctor pushed a small piece of paper towards the distressed patient. "You'll need to sign this. You can have till tomorrow otherwise we'll find someone else to take on the burden."
With that the doctor hastily left the room.
John picked up the piece of paper, crumpling it when he gripped it too tightly. He stared at it as the silent tears dripped onto the paper and made the ink run. This tiny piece of paper was all that was sustaining Fred. That was all that was keeping him alive. They wanted to sign away his life as if it was nothing.
He looked towards Fred, wondering where his friend was. Was Fred suffering as the doctor had claimed? What if he wasn't? He seemed so peaceful as if he was just asleep and was about to wake up, not in the deep coma that was inches away from the line that crossed into death. They wanted him to push him over.
His friend.
His childhood friend.
No, Fred was more like a brother to him.
Could he live with himself for killing that sole ray of light that lit up the dark in his life?
Could he live with himself if he knew he was the one responsible for truly ending his life?
The answer was…
John didn't know what his friend was seeing if anything or what happened if it came to the very end.
He couldn't say anything to his friend. He couldn't find the words even if Fred wouldn't be able to hear them; he had to say something.
"Fred," he started, donning a synthetic smile that screamed fake under the unbridled tears that flooded down his face. He hesitated. "Nice room you got."
Pathetic.
He tried again.
"Look," the word caught in his throat making it seem nothing more than a harsh cough. Again he found that he couldn't follow up the word with any coherent sentence. John didn't have the strength.
He swallowed hard, his head sinking with an abstract misery. The memories from the past few weeks were flooding over him now in dangerous quantities. His warn spirit was at the mercy of them. The emotions he had locked up in the desert were braking out of their hastily built and fragile prison and were running riot with his thoughts. He took a deep, shuddering breath as he looked up at the ceiling, tears flooding in his eyes. He closed his fists, his eyes, his heart.
Fred…
They had no idea what was going to happen on that early summer morning when Adam first approached them in the university refectory. They had no idea that they would be lost in the desert, an intentional wish by that man, and they had no idea that by the end of it all two of their members would be on life support with the other two unconscious for two whole days.
All of the suffering, all of the pain was amplified now. The result of a science expedition could not just lose them a few days at university as originally intended, but a very life if not two.
John couldn't help either. He was helpless to aid his dwindling friend from where he sat. The sad thing was that no one could. Chemical x was a foreign virus that no one knew of.
It was too complex to understand.
Maybe Nick was right after all? Maybe it was the meteorite's fault?
He shut of the thoughts from his head. The frightening tangle of questions were becoming more muddled, if that was possible, and he told himself to focus. However, when he tried he could only focus on the pain, the grief, everything.
The fact that he had to pick whether his friend lived, or died.
He looked up at Fred once more. How he wished that he would wake up, just open his eyes, pull out all of the wires and claim "fooled ya!" Fred had done that once and a smile crept across his face when he remembered it. It had been April Fools day and he had poured ketchup all over his leg and pretended to be hurt. John had taken him deadly seriously much to everyone's amusement. But this time Fred wouldn't wipe away the injury and laugh at him. He would gladly pay the expense of humiliation if he could just see his friend smile once more.
Then he knew what to say. "Remember your promise, Fred."
With out any more words to be found within his heart, body, mind or soul, John allowed himself one tiny privilege that he had so far denied himself.
He cried. Freely.
He continued to cry steadily, slowly but most importantly silently.
All those emotions were flooding out now, onto the paper that would seal a loved one's death, onto the hands that were knotted together by only one's strength.
It was about half an hour before he cried himself out and the doctor came to take him back to his own cubicle.
Yet as John was wheeled out of Fred's cubicle, that piece of paper hanging loosely from his hand and sitting heavily on his mind, he took one last look at his friend.
Unknown to him, that was the last time he would ever see Fred.
&*********************************************************************************&
To read the rest please visit part four.
Thank you for reading part three.