All your dreams will come to life. So will all your nightmares. ― After narrowly surviving the car crash that killed his best friend, Andrew King is left to grapple with his loss and nurse a traumatic brain injury. With his injury comes a crippl...
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THEY HAD PUT ANDREW in a room different from the one he was in last night, and he sent quiet gratitude to whatever God was responsible for that. Twenty four hours later he had landed himself back in the lab, but the sight of that peeling paint and the smell of that cot would have been a sensory overkill he wasn't sure he could bear.
He set his hand on the wall beside him, fingers splayed and palm flat against the cool limestone. Andrew wasn't sure if any of the others were on its other side in the adjacent room, but he kept his hand there anyway, in weird hopes that it was providing someone comfort as his own heart began to still.
They had come here for a purpose. It didn't matter if it were hours from now, a day, or a week; he decided they were going to get out. They had already dodged too many bullets for this one to actually collide. It sounded like a sick cosmic joke, a deity consistently pushing them out of harm's way only to smite them himself.
Andrew sat on the edge of the makeshift gurney, hands folded in his lap as he waited to cheat death for the fifth time this year.
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"Eliza!" he called out, moving to intercept the blonde before she could turn into her break room. "Why the hell haven't you paged Ramafrin?"
"I have," she said. "Three times already. He isn't answering."
Quentin grit his teeth, the tendons on his neck contracting.
"It's almost two AM," Eliza said. "He's probably home sleeping. Why can't we start in the morning?"
He shook his head vigorously but she continued, "It would be better for the doctor to be rested, anyway. It's a very sensitive procedure, the one you have in mind. We don't need him making any slip ups to cost us everything."
"No!" Quentin boomed, and he took in a sharp breath to steady himself before he spoke again in a more hushed tone. "We need to move now, before they get the chance to play their little game."
Eliza sighed. "Sir, the guards have their eyes peeled. They are powerless without sleep, and they're not getting any here."
"Five a.m. sharp. You need to have Ramafrin here by then. Not a minute later, or it's both of your asses."
