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Angel 6
by David Wainio |
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Mercy Rose Hospital Complex
Roseville, Tukayyid
24 May 3052
It was almost 23:00 local time when Dr. Paolo finished his paperwork and took a last walk through the wards. The human spirit was an amazing, complicated thing. Some people could come through the direst of experiences and move on again almost untouched. Others might seize on a reason to go on such as revenge. A few simply folded and let the attached body wilt away. As he gazed through the door at the still form of Terry Quina the doctor feared he was seeing one of the latter.
Once he finally healed enough to understand his surroundings, the patient had been able to discover the fate of his friends. Then he had simply shut down. Classic extreme survivor guilt. And maybe something more? Maybe some guilt for cowardice? Feelings of failure? With the patient unwilling to talk it was impossible to dig for the root causes or try to help.
“Poor kid,” said the night nurse from behind the doctor. “His vitals are getting worse again. I’m afraid we’re going to lose him after all.”
Paolo looked back at her. “Did he say anything at all during his recovery so far? Anything I can use to try to help him?”
She shook her head negatively. “He was mostly out, and when he was conscious he couldn’t really talk. I think someone said he said something about thanking angel four or five the night he coded and almost choked to death. That’s all really.”
Paolo rubbed at his chin in thought. He’d searched the patient’s records and Terry didn’t have any indication of an outside faith attachment other than his reverence for the teachings of Blake. The ‘Angel’ reference seemed unusual. Perhaps it was someone’s radio call sign. He’d pull the records of the engagement, find out what the unofficial name for his unit was, and see what he could find out.
The pair turned to walk away when the nurse paused.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
“See what?”
“Uh, never mind. There’s nothing there. I’m just over tired from double shifts and seeing things.”
The nurse rubbed at her eyes as she returned to the station desk. Maybe she could catch a few winks and wake with a clearer mind.
Terry had no way to tell time but he waited for what he hoped was at least fifteen minutes after the shrink and the nurse had left before opening his eyes. Maybe he would slowly waste away and die. Or maybe they’d pump him full of drugs as their trophy survivor and keep him alive anyway. He didn’t have enough medical knowledge to know if ripping the drip tubes from his arms might prove fatal but he figured it sure wouldn’t help his survival chances to pop them out. It figured they had to be there for the purpose of making him better after all.
He loosened the armband monitor they had attached to him to see if anyone would come running. Nothing happened. It was time he decided. Tears filled his eyes as he thought of his lost friends. All killed because of him. With a trembling hand he reached for the tubes.
Terry
He paused in surprise. He knew that voice. But it couldn’t be.
“Lisa,” he croaked in disbelief as he turned his head. The shadowy form of Angel Two knelt next to his bed in the dark room. “They told me you were dead!”
“I imagine they would,” she replied softly. The ghost of a wry smile was barely visible on her shadowed features.
Pinpricks raced along his limbs as the hairs stood on end along the back of his neck.
“Then…you are dead. Are you a ghost? Or just my imagination?”
“Yes,” she smiled again.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he started to wail. “I tried so hard. I really tried. I didn’t want to fail you…”
“You haven’t,” she cooed lightly. “Yet. But you’re about to.”
Terry paused and took in a deep breath. “But…but I was…”
“Coming to join us?” she suggested. “We can wait Terry. Professional soldiers are good at waiting.”
He felt his eyes getting heavy again. His limbs were growing slack. He knew the signs. They had slipped something into him again to make him sleep. To keep him docile.
“What…do…you…want?” Terry managed to sound out as he slumped back into his bed once again.
“For Angel Six to live. We want you to live.”
It seemed to Terry that she faded from the room before his eyesight faded to darkness but once he was unconscious again it was a moot point. Terry Quina would live to see at least one more sunrise. After that it would be up to him. |
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