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My drawing of Essence. :)
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The second Kendall saw the boy being wheeled into the room on a metal table, she knew it was the last one.
The boy looked like he had no chance of survival. He was bleeding on almost every inch of visible skin, bruised all over, though mostly on his head, and his neck was bent the wrong way.
But Kendall knew he would survive. Once a guy with his intestines torn apart had made a full recovery in this hospital. The boy's injuries were nothing compared to that.
Kendall was watching from the corner of the surgery room as the eight surgeons proceeded to rip off the boy's tattered military outfit to see any other injuries. Oh look! There they are, right underneath his shirt! The injuries were a combination of bullet holes, scratches, bites, and two knife stabbings. Another doctor forcefully pried the boy's fingers off the trident he was tightly grasping.
The rest of the doctors were hooking him up to monitors, IV's, and an oxygen and anesthesia solution to keep him drugged in case of the unlikely situation if he ever woke up. Believe it or not, that actually happened once during a stomach surgery. It was a very messy situation for the doctors, but a very frightening experience for the patient. The team quickly learned after that.
Kendall stared at the heart monitor. Slow. Extremely slow. She sighed. This one couldn't die. It was strange, since it was planned that he would live. Somebody had stepped out of line and sent a bunch of mutts after him.
"Commander, I thought we wouldn't get any more." A voice said from behind.
Kendall turned, seeing her assistant, Missy, standing next to her, looking like a giant in her heels. Kendall shrugged. "Something went wrong."
Missy's jaw hung open at the sight of the boy. "Oh my God..."
Kendall held her arm in front of Missy, blocking her path to the doctors. "Don't even think about it."
Missy stepped back, respectfully dipping her head. "Yes, Commander. What number is he?"
"#3,679." Kendall answered. She was unsure who had come up with the crappy numbering system. It shouldn't even be in the hundreds.
Missy wrote it down on her clipboard. Kendall was sure she would soon see that number tattooed onto Missy's arm.
Missy then left the room, heels making the loudest sound as she went.
Kendall leaned back against the wall and stared at the boy as the doctors tried to replace the damaged cartilage and bone in his neck. She felt like she would get bored watching this surgery go on for hours, so she pushed open the door and decided to watch the progress of the assination plot that was happening.
