The wailing of sirens filled the air, painting the once peaceful morning with angered shouts and screams. The red and white ambulance blasted down the street, bobbing and weaving between slower moving cars.
In the passenger seat, Emry clutched the armrest till his knuckles went white. He jerked in his seat as his sister swerved again.
"I know you're supposed to be fast and all bit do try not to kill anyone else on the way—”
"Oh hush you. This is an emergency."
"Aren't they all?"
She shot him a hard stare before jerking the wheel again, sending him cheek first onto the window.
He peeled himself off with a soft groan, "OW! That was unnecessary!"
"You know you can walk if I'm driving too crazy for you—”
"No no it's fine." He interjected with a sigh, "I've faced worse."
“Good,” Samantha answered. “Now shut up so I can focus.”
Emry obliged. This was serious; lives were at stake. If they didn’t get to the hospital, a friend would bleed out.
For all his bravado, Emry couldn’t make himself glance backwards. The bullet wound in Raymond’s torso would have been fatal if he’d been left alone for two minutes longer, and Emry couldn’t afford to watch another friend die.
He’d lost too many already.
Macabre thoughts overtook his mind as they continued their frantic drive to the hospital. Gory, sadistic thoughts of what he’d do when he got his hands on the person—no, the monster—who shot Raymond.
Burning flesh, crushing bones, severing fingers and toes. He’d gouge out the sniper’s eyes and force them down the evil man’s throat.
No mercy. Only carnage.
Emry shook his head vigorously, forcing himself to prioritize. Vengeance was secondary. Ray needed help.
They arrived at the hospital, and Raymond was rushed to the emergency room. Time went by in a panicked blur for Emry. He didn’t know whether his friend would live or die.
He sat in the waiting room for what felt like ages. He idly wondered about how his mentor figure, an immortal shapeshifter named Gauntlet, managed to stay even remotely sane after centuries of living.
Emry pondered that question for a while. Maybe Gauntlet wasn’t sane after all, and who could blame him? Centuries’ worth of loss and regret would shatter any living being that wasn’t completely apathetic.
Cracks were bound to be concealed beneath his calm surface. So many wars, so many dead, if he wasn't insane he was certainly in dire need of help.
Within the operating room, doctors and nurses rushed around like bees. Their movements were quick and practiced. Tubes were inserted, blood was drawn, tests were run. All the while Raymond lay half dead, slipping in and out of consciousness.
His head lulled to the side, his eyes staring dazedly at the wall.
After a few moments, the EKG flat lined.
The air went cold. The doctors, nurses, the trauma staff, all of them for the briefest of moments stood still. Then they jumped into action. They ordered blood transfusions and immediately began resuscitation procedures.
The air was charged with hope and righteous determination to bring him back.
Raymond meanwhile felt empty. He stared down at his lifeless body, broken and bruised, with nothing but sadness. He felt a pull towards what he could only describe as peace.
The promise of a life of no more suffering.
A siren’s call, if you will.
He was tempted to drift off, to leave this world behind but the sight of the medical staff straining themselves to save him; the thought of Ga-Eul subjected to that same crippling loneliness he swore to keep him from; the possibility of never seeing those he cared about again…it kept him from passing on.
He felt an assurance flow through him and with a quick shake, he returned.
Raymond's back arched as he drew in a massive breath. His eyes widened and his body ached. He was alive.
He was alive.
A resounding cry of relief swept through the room, the fear that once ran rampant dashed by the hope they'd held. Doctors hugged nurses, trauma surgeons hugged anesthesiologists, everyone felt proud.
A few minutes later, a lone doctor approached Emry. He sat across from him, a barely contained smile on his face.
Emry eyed him warily, dragging himself from his thoughts. He swallowed, "Is he ok doctor?"
The man nodded,his smile breaking through, "He's alright. He'll live, we only have a few tests to run, but he'll live."
A wave of relief flowed through Emry, his eyes immediately pricked with tears and a smile pulled itself across his face, "Really?" He asked.
"Really. He is ok, or as ok as he can be given the situation." The doctor said as he stood, giving Emry's arm a gentle squeeze, "You have a strong friend there bud. He's a fighter."
The man walked away, his white coat billowing slightly. Emry watched him go, "You have no idea." He said to himself.
He pulled out his phone, texting Ga-Eul the news.
Almost immediately he responded, expressing his happiness and joy. Emry chuckled softly to himself.
'These two.' He thought, 'These two are made for each other.'
Pocketing his phone, Emry grinned with pure relief. Raymond was going to be alright.
After a brief conversation with a nurse, Emry left the hospital. Now that his friend was stabilized, there was another objective to complete.
Revenge.
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Bit of a shorter chapter today, but trust me, loads more is coming soon!!
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The Phantom Killer
Short StoryA single action can lead to a million different futures. A single event can be a catalyst for a thousand different scenarios. That's what the shooting of Raymond Ortega was. A catalyst. The hospitalization of the city's beloved unpowered supe spark...
