24991124 | 2137

  Hapi Clinical Research Hospital | Maadi | Free City of Cairo

  29°57′24″ N

  31°15′18″ E

  Adam opened his eyes.

  Not with a jolt.

  Not with a gasp.

  His mind gradually regained awareness.

  His hearing picked up sound again.

  A steady blip—measured, patient.

  Air moving through a room.

  Fabric brushing skin.

  The faint antiseptic sting at the back of the throat.

  The sterile scent of hospitals.

  His senses returned.

  An overhead fan.

  White ceiling.

  Faint hairline cracks.

  A patch where paint had been touched up and never quite matched.

  Hospital lighting, softened for night shift.

  Not glaring.

  Easy on the eyes.

  Someone considerate had dimmed it.

  He swallowed.

  His mouth tasted flat.

  He attempted to rise.

  “Easy,”

  A voice.

  A man.

  Calm. Unhurried.

  A voice accustomed to care.

  “You’re awake. That’s good.”

  Adam turned his head a fraction.

  The movement felt heavier than it should have.

  The physician stood at his right, mid-forties perhaps.

  Olive skin.

  Close-cropped hair already surrendering at the temples.

  Glasses worn from use.

  His badge.

  Adam tried to read it.

  Dr. Karim El-Masri

  Attending Physician

  “You were under for some time,” the man continued gently.

  “Take a moment. No need to speak yet.”

  Adam breathed in. Out.

  He felt his body regaining acumen.

  Heart steady.

  Lungs rising.

  No tremor in his hands when he lifted them an inch from the sheet.

  “How long?” Adam said.

  His voice came out hoarse, but audible.

  “Eighty-eight hours since Shanghai, complete resuscitation at the ninety-first hour.”

  Adam groaned softly, massaging his stiff joints.

  “All four of us?” he asked.

  “All four,” Karim nodded. “Clean. No complications.”

  Adam turned his head further.

  The room was square, unadorned.

  Functional.

  Hospitals looked the same across the world.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Four beds arranged two by two, separated by enough space for equipment and movement. Curtains pushed back.

  No privacy accorded.

  Across from him, Zora and Gideon lay motionless but alive.

  An oxygen mask across their faces.

  Chests rising, monitors humming softly at their sides.

  To his left.

  Harbinger 03.

  His face almost peaceful.

  The ghosts were not there.

  Not haunted and distant.

  Almost human.

  Alive.

  Adam exhaled slowly.

  “My thanks, doctor.” he said softly.

  “That’s what I do.” Dr El-Masri smiled faintly.

  That’s what I do.

  Vicki’s cold smile came unbidden.

  A nurse passed quietly, adjusting a drip, checking a line.

  She gave Adam a reassuring smile.

  Nodding to the doctor, she went and checked on the others.

  An attendant wheeled a tray in not long after.

  Metal rattling softly.

  Covered dishes.

  Steam that smelled of nothing.

  Hospital food.

  Adam looked at it, then back at the doctor.

  El-Masri anticipated the look.

  “I’m afraid it’s still bland,” he said apologetically. “But it’s nutrition. We’ll keep it simple for the first twelve hours.”

  Adam accepted the tray with a nod.

  Lifted the lid.

  Pale rice.

  Steamed vegetables, bland and saltless.

  Boiled chicken meat.

  He ate anyway.

  Slowly.

  Methodically.

  Karim watched him, waiting.

  “What day is it?” he asked.

  El-Masri glanced at the chart tablet in his hand. “November twenty-fourth,” he said. “Year twenty-four ninety-nine. Local time is eight-thirty p.m.”

  Adam paused mid-bite.

  He did the math automatically.

  Time lost.

  Time preserved.

  Acceptable margins.

  The doctor watched him with professional interest, not curiosity.

  “You were briefed,” Adam said.

  “Yes,” Dr El-Masri replied. “Extensively.”

  “From Shanghai,” Adam stated.

  Dr El-Masri hesitated just enough to acknowledge the name before continuing.

  “Dr. Vicki Shi. Shanghai. Er Lang Sheng Medical Institute. She forwarded your profiles, the specific resuscitation procedures, and… contingencies.”

  Adam’s eyes lifted fully now.

  “Your team was briefed?” he asked.

  Dr El-Masri inclined his head.

  “As foretold. You were awaited, my lord.”

  Adam looked at him.

  “Selected. Cleared. All of them my trusted aides.”

  Adam nodded and continued eating.

  The doctor tapped the tablet once, bringing up another set of notes. “Your ceremonial armor and weapons remained sealed within your med-pods. We will take you to them once you are all awake. Three floors down. Revival Theatre Level Three.”

  Adam’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Ceremonial weapons.”

  Dr El-Masri blinked.

  Not following.

  “I meant no offense, my lord. I assure you would find everything exactly where you left them.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Adam said, “yes, the weapons and armor were gifted to us by our Chapter Master, they… means a lot to us.”

  “I understand, my lord.”

  Silence settled again, broken only by the machines.

  Outside, somewhere beyond the thick glass.

  Cairo breathed.

  Traffic.

  Voices.

  “You’ll experience some disorientation,” Dr El-Masri said after a moment. “Fatigue. Hunger that doesn’t quite match your intake. That will pass. Your vitals are exceptional, considering.”

  “Considering,” Adam echoed.

  The doctor met his eyes.

  “They prepared you well for the journey,” El-Masri said.

  Prepared.

  Journey.

  He stared at the puncture wound upon his elbow.

  Long faded.

  Adam set his utensil down.

  Folded his hands on the blanket.

  “Thank you, doctor” he replied, “for everything.”

  Dr El-Masri nodded, satisfied.

  “Rest for now. I’ll have someone return shortly. If you need anything—”

  “Perhaps a little sleep,” Adam said, a wry smile, “going under and coming back is hard work.”

  Dr El-Masri actually laughed at that.

  Another pause.

  Then, softer, “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Dr El-Masri smiled, just a little. “You’re welcome.”

  He stepped away, leaving Adam with the soft chorus of machines and the quiet presence of his companions breathing in unison.

  He returned a moment later.

  A small clear bottle in his hand.

  Clear white tablets within.

  He placed it upon Adam’s bedside.

  “For you and your companions,” he said. “if required.”

  Adam looked at the bottle. Didn’t reach for it.

  “What is it,” he asked.

  Dr El-Masri considered the question.

  “It helps take the edge off,” El-Masri said. “keep it from flaring.”

  “Edge,” Adam smiled, “I assure you I am on edge.”

  “It suppresses the symptoms,” he said finally.

  “Or perhaps… the expression of them. That was Dr. Shi’s phrasing.”

  Long enough for you fulfil your quest.

  Adam’s eyes lifted to the doctor’s face.

  “She told you?”

  He did not flinch. “Of course.”

  The words landed without drama.

  No alarms followed them.

  No masked staff appeared at the door.

  The machines beside the beds continued their patient, rhythmic accounting of life.

  “Of course,” Adam echoed softly.

  “My lord, I assure you,” Karim said hesitantly, “we didn’t know.”

  “It’s all right, doctor,” Adam said.

  “Had I known –“

  “Makes no difference,” he replied evenly.

  The machine blipped on.

  “Side effects?” Adam asked at length.

  “Mild fatigue. Metabolic dulling. Nothing that impairs cognition or motor function in any meaningful way.” A pause. “You’ll notice it, but you’ll have to trust your instincts.”

  Adam glanced to his right.

  Harbinger 03 shifted slightly in his sleep, brow tightening as if listening to something only he could hear.

  “How many?” Adam asked softly.

  El-Masri rolled the bottle once between his fingers.

  Plastic against skin.

  “Dr. Shi advised continuous suppression. Two or three dosage per day. However, I would recommend you take it only when you deemed absolutely necessary.”

  “Is it… a cure?”

  “No,” El-Masri said.

  Then, after a heartbeat, “I am sorry.”

  Adam nodded.

  He reached out and took the bottle.

  It was warm from the doctor’s hand.

  He turned it once, reading nothing on the label beyond dosage numbers and hospital codes.

  “You’ve administered this before,” Adam said.

  Dr El-Masri met his gaze evenly. “Yes.”

  Adam’s mouth curved, faint and humorless. “would you humor me?”

  “The terminal cases,” El-Masri replied. “Cold comfort.”

  Adam looked at the bottle again.

  “And if we decline?”

  El-Masri didn’t answer immediately.

  When he did, his voice was unchanged.

  “Would not have made a difference.”

  Adam gave a quiet breath of something that might have been a laugh.

  He twisted the cap, shook two tablets into his palm, and swallowed them dry.

  “Could you see to the dispensary of these meds? One for each of my companions.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “You may bill Dr Vicki Shi for our stay, if you so wished.” Adam smiled.

  “Perhaps I will do that, my lord.” Dr El-Masri replied, smiling.

  “If I may, ask one thing of you” he said as he put the bottle back bedside.

  “I like you to keep the last part of our conversation between us.”

  Dr El-Masri nodded. “Of course.”

  The doctor turned to leave.

  He headed for the door.

  “Doctor.” Adam called.

  Karim turned around.

  Adam extended his hand.

  Bandaged and worn.

  “For what it’s worth,” Adam said, “you have my thanks.”

  Karim walked back.

  They clasped wrists.

  Brief. Firm. Strong.

  Adam nodded.

  Dr El-Masri bowed and turned to go.

  The door closed softly behind him.

  Adam lay back, listening to the monitors, feeling nothing yet.

  He lay back.

  Ceiling. Light. Time drifted.

  He fell asleep to the soft breathing of his companions.