The Breaking Point

Chapter 11

Mark sat, chained to his seat, his bare feet sweeping the floor. If Hurly forgot the clothes, did he also have to forget the shoes? His stomach rumbled. And the chips? He didn't mind too much though, and as if arguing would get him somewhere. He opened his eyes and glanced at the double doors: Nothing. He sighed. They must have been waiting for hours and yet there was nothing, absolutely nothing.

Hurly had gone to the bathroom nearly six times only because he found that more interesting than this ugly place. Kevin stopped almost every doctor and nurse who passed by and complained about how long they'd been waiting. Mark couldn't blame them; he was sick and tired of this place too. Besides, what could those doctors possibly do in there? Throw a party? A festival? A parade? This was crazy!

Mark had lost track of time ages ago and he didn't feel like craning his neck to look at the clock behind him, half because he had very little energy left, and half because he thought that time would play its usual trick on him and he'd find out that all that waiting was a mere five minutes.

But he also didn't want to stay stuck in the waiting room for eternity. He decided to walk around, because was there anything else he could do? He stood up and stretched. He had been sitting down for so long that his legs had gone numb. He yawned. "I'll be back," he mumbled to.......nobody. He blinked in confusion as he eyed the empty seats. "They're probably doing their stuff," Mark thought as he walked away. He couldn't blame them for ditching him either. They had gone before and they must have thought he was asleep anyway.

Mark let himself wander freely, not bothering to concentrate on staying in one direction so he'd find his way back. The doctors and nurses and sometimes even visitors he passed gave him some weird stares. Whether they were staring at his newly-made 'shorts' or his bare feet barely mattered to the goalie. If any of the starrers had gone through what he had, it was almost certain that they'd look even worse.

He walked on, turning millions of rights and millions of lefts. All of a sudden, his surroundings changed. As if he had been standing on stage with a flowery background behind him, and without warning, one of the backstage assistants dropped an 'Invasion of Earth' background. Almost identically, the wide, well lit, pale-blue corridor transformed into a scary, narrow, dimly-lit, dark blue hallway.

Mark's head turned from left to right, slowly and anxiously, as if he was scared something might jump out at him. Nothing did. Nothing could. Unlike the previous hallways, this one lacked doors. Also, it was abnormally cold. Mark preferred to imagine that someone was feeling hot and cranked up the AC, or maybe the place was always this cold and Mark would not have felt it if he was wearing some proper clothing. It seemed much better than assuming that some suspicious behavior was going on.

As Mark moved on, doors implanted themselves on either side of the corridor. The doors were all ten feet apart and held circular windows that were four inches taller than Mark's nose. Mark glanced over his shoulder; the welcoming part of the corridor reflected in his eyes. This was his last chance to turn back. But he didn't. He faced forward and walked on, cautious yet confident.

With every step forward, he felt the corridor grow darker, as if it was trying to take over him. The thought scared him so he shook it out of his head. The last thing he wanted to do was scare himself. The windows were practically the only source of light in the entire corridor, and not even all of them emitted the static blue glow.

"Beep."

Mark froze, his eyes anxiously scanning his surroundings for a sign of danger. Nothing. He continued forward as bravely as he could. He tried his best to convince himself that he was just imagining things.

"Beep."

There it was again. Mark's heart nearly stopped. This time he turned his entire body around to make sure he wouldn't miss anything. Still nothing. Mark swallowed and continued. "There's nothing unusual. Just a couple beeps," he muttered. He had given up on convincing himself that the noise didn't exist.

"Beep."

The third one caught Mark by surprise.

"Ahh!" he screamed, and then covered his mouth to stop any more noise escaping.

"Ahh!" his echo screamed back at him.

At least now he was certain the hallway was empty.

He walked forward, sweat trickling down his face, even though he was freezing. It got darker and darker and colder and colder.

"Beep."

Mark got caught off guard and fell backwards. Anxiously, his eyes darted back and forth, right and left. There was nothing, no one. "The sound's coming from a machine, just a random machine," Mark reasoned with himself. But what would someone do with a machine in here?

He took a deep breath and walked on. One of the round windows seemed to emanate an unusual twinkle. It was far enough for Mark to be unable to see it as anything but a distant spark, yet close enough to illuminate an inch of the distance.

Mark forgot his fear, he ran towards it. The closer he got, the more he could make out. Slowly, the sparkle transformed into a steady shimmer, and then a glow. By now, he was close enough to see that he had reached the end of the corridor. Mark stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath. He stood on his toes and peeked through the edgeless window. He couldn't believe it.

The room was large and mostly empty. It was barely lit in fact, except for a large, rectangular, overhead lamp which illuminated strongly above the room's centerpiece: a large metal bed. There was clearly a person sleeping in the bed, even though the blanket covered him completely. 

Machines surrounded the bed's inhabitant from every side and every corner; on the nightstand, on the small table, and on every rack of the food cart. The machines were large and scary with endless switches, buttons, screens, and monitors, all extending their spidery wires under the blanket. Mark shivered at the thought of being connected to those horrifying strings.

Slowly and silently, he pushed the door open and slipped inside. The room was colder than Antarctica, at least negative one billion degrees Fahrenheit or else absolute zero on the Kelvin scale. Mark was in great danger of having the blood in his feet freeze. He inched towards the bed carefully. Pushing aside the food cart to make way for himself, Mark suddenly realized he was trespassing. For all he knew, some nurse or doctor could burst through the door any moment and probably get him arrested, or worse: not let him see Nathan. It was better to leave now before anyone saw him. But he had come a long way; it would be such a waste if he decided to leave now. The solution was simple. He'd have a quick look at the mysterious patient and leave.

Slowly, Mark inched towards the bed's inhabitant and clutched the edge of the blanket. To him, it seemed too thin to keep anyone warm, especially in this temperature. He took a deep breath and threw the covers off. 

His heart nearly stopped. 

A tanned boy lay in the bed, wearing the hospital's cyan colored uniform. He had spiky platinum blond hair that Mark recognized immediately. His eyes drifted off to the heart monitor on the table to the right.

"Beep."

The straight line hopped up and down.

This was unbelievable.

This was incredible.

Axel Blaze was alive!

"Axel!" Mark cheered. "Axel's alive!"

Mark didn't know which to hug, Axel or the monitor. He was so happy that every other worry in the world disappeared into thin dust. Axel was OK and the heavy load on his shoulders was lifted. The team would be fine. Everything would be fine. Everything was fine. Nothing, absolutely nothing could upset Mark now.

Almost nothing.