Two security guards were waiting impatiently.
The tallest one watched the illuminated numbers that indicated the floor the elevator was on. He was a little surprised that one flickered for a few seconds, but then it continued on its normal sequence. The number three turned from white to red, and a short ding announced their imminent arrival. Before the opening cycle was complete, a stretcher with a man thrashing about on it shot out from inside the elevator. A brown-haired woman in a white lab coat, her face full of worry, pushed it from the head of the bed.
“Straight ahead, Doctor,” said a guard, taking hold of one of the metal bars on the side of the bed to help her on the short journey. “The unit is clear and the door is open.”
The other guard took his place on the opposite side and the three of them pushed the stretcher down the hallway. The patient appeared to be in terrible agony. One of his arms was jerking about uncontrollably. His eyes had rolled back in his head and drool was running out of the corners of his mouth. Every now and then his back would arch so much it had to be excruciating.
They went into the operating room and the doctor quickly let go of the stretcher.
“Hold him down,” she said, looking all around. The guards held down the patient’s shoulders and chest. The doctor reappeared at his side a second later with a syringe in her hand. “Uncover his arm and keep him still.”
One of the security guards pulled back the patient’s sleeve and, with all his strength, held his arm still. The needle disappeared into his skin and the plunger was depressed, injecting the patient with the liquid. Little by little, the convulsions let up and the body of the man who’d evidently been about to die was finally still.
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“Is he going to make it, doctor?”
“I’m checking his vitals,” she answered. She leaned over his chest and began to check him over. “His heart has stopped! Tear open his shirt!”
The doctor spun around and rushed over to a small, rectangular plastic table on wheels. She pushed it over next to the stretcher. She pressed a couple of buttons, then picked up two paddles, one in each hand, and rubbed them against each other.
“Charging.” The doctor never moved her eyes off a panel covered in lights until there was a ringing sound. “Clear!”
The two security agents took a step back and the woman placed the two paddles on the patient’s bare chest. His body rose up as if someone was pushing up on his back. He seemed to hang suspended in air for several seconds, then he fell back. The doctor pulled back the paddles and examined his neck for a pulse.
“It’s beating again,” she told them, relieved.
The guards, who’d been holding their breath, both let out a sigh.
“That was quite a scare,” said the short guard. “Incredible. This afternoon I was at his house, eating with him and his wife and kids. We came to work together and now it turns out he almost kicks the bucket from a heart attack.”
“You know what post he had assigned to him tonight?” asked the other guard. “One of us should take his place until his replacement arrives.”
“He was assigned to guard Captain Northon’s room,” said the short guard. “He’s the guy who crossed the portal, you know. I’ll take care of it. You fill out the report.” He left the operating room and headed for the elevator.
“Do you need me for anything else, Doctor?”
“No, thank you. I’ll stabilize him and will stay just a little while longer to make sure he’s out of danger.”
“Oh, I need your name for tonight’s incident report, Doctor.”
“Susan,” she replied.
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