Color code: Captain Edward Wong; Lieutenant Marius Rains; Lt. Anatol Decker; MD Oscar (Oz) Wellington; Dr. Samara Frazer; Crewman* Proto Septimus;
I look at my bandaged hand in the unnatural green light of the exam room. Nasty… That’s what I would say if my mouth would do its job. Lips and tongue are swelling and numb. I try not to be too suspicious by licking them. I bet, if you eat a swarm of angry hornets, it would feel the same. Not the regular ones, but the big, Japanese ones, with a mean attitude.
Oz is smiling at me like he always does when I get into trouble. It’s an equally patronizing and cheering smile, reserved for fuck-ups like me. It’s the smile of a big brother I never had. I’ve seen him do this with his patients too.
Oz jumbles on his sterile gloves. The elegant trick, how his long slim fingers do the opposite of striptease. Now comes the folding, his fingers clench into a praying gesture. I call it The-praying-Oz.
Hibernation unit. Ate my hand.
My mangled palm leaks through the bandages. The black stain seeps through the cloth I wrapped around the hand.
I hate this part. The peeling away of bandages, the revealing of hurt, skin, muscle and sinew, maybe bones. The heavy lid traps not only fingers and palm, but the momentum of damage. The will to destroy, the idea to kill needs dear payment. Maybe I pay with more than my blood and my fine motor skills. My breathing is fast, but not because of pain. I switch my pain sensors off when I’m about to pull a stunt. To pull a stunt… That’s what Oz calls getting into trouble. Breathing. Fast and shallow, which is a problem. I feel the swelling starting down my throat.
This is bad. I sure hope Oz tries to get me to speak, so he’ll notice. Come on Oz, do your magic! I cheer him on mentally.
How did you hurt your hand? Tell me!
Oz’s eyes lock on mine. Guided missiles…
I’ll pull the footage afterward.
They just look like laser guided death on a mission. Thank God, my mouth is out of function, or I might be telling him the truth.
Ah, yes, the perks of drug allergies. Not having to care about the tension in your voice, when you are lying.
My pen is safe, don’t worry about that… Of course, I won’t tell him that I was meddling with the security protocol of that hibernation tank.
I swallowed codeine beforehand and brought a broken ampule. I already swapped it with the one on the table he did not give me when I stumbled in.
What? Why are you talking so funny?! Epinephrin. Now!
Oz jumps out of my field of view. Better hurry…
He slams the epipen into my thigh. There they are, the angry hornets with attitude flooding my leg, or is it my lungs? Feels like drifting…
Look at me! Focus!
I don’t think so….
pic: Call of Duty
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