Will. Time. Fate.

by Andrew Yake

  It is dark, but unlike the previous buildings it smells of bleach. This building was recently cleaned. I quickly reach a T-intersection of hallways. There is a room off to the right of me that has a double swinging doorway into what seems to be an operating room. The hallway to my left leads to a series of what seem to be offices. I decide to wait on the exploration of the building until after I find a way to stop my blood loss. I enter into the operating room and see that there is a sink and a mirror above the sink. I get my first look at my own face. My pale blue eyes stare back at me and I feel as if I am looking at someone else’s face. Dry blood streaks the side of my face along with dirt. My hair seems to be a reddish hue and has been cut short, not a stylish short either. It is buzzed. I can see that I am actually very beautiful even with the blood stains and bruising. Now is not the time for vanity. I use the antibacterial soap and wash my hands and arms.

  I turn toward my dog. “Orion, I hope you can understand me boy.” I look at my dog as he cocks his massive head to the side slightly and studies me. “I need you to watch the door and keep me safe.” Orion whines slightly and turns toward the door that we just entered and sits. He cranes his neck so that he is looking back at me momentarily. “Good boy.” He returns his gaze to the doors. I grunt as I put my crutches to the side and slide off my jacket laying it to the side. I limp to the cabinets and drawers. It seems like most other medical offices right down to the examination table in the middle of the room, but it is slightly bigger and the there is one of those high powered bendable lights next to the table.

  It occurs to me that I probably do not have long before I am no longer alone and I am not sure, given what I just saw, that this would be a good thing. My mind races as I think of what to do next. There are no windows in this room and this means that I cannot take a look outside to ensure that I am alone and it also means that I have no escape from this room if I need to leave without going through the door. Screw it! I flip on the light and place my gun on the table next to where I intend to seat myself. I find sutures and a large curved needle. I find iodine and latex gloves. I also find gauze and other necessities for operating. I have no clue how to use any of these things properly, but I suppose now is as good a time as any to learn. I find some local anesthetic and hypodermic needles. I gather the supplies and place them on the metal tray next to the table. I unlatch my belt and start to disrobe. I take off the field dressing that I had made prior to my trip here. Blood has continued to ooze and now flows freely again. I feel cold again. I remember my reflection and realize that I am becoming anemic and may not be able to keep from passing out from blood loss before patching myself up. I put on the gloves.

  I wonder if the bullet nicked something after all. Damn it! My hands shake as I get the syringe to numb the area. I have no idea how much of this stuff to use, so I simply fill it half way and jab myself with the needle next to the entry wound. Pain rips through my body. My vision darkens. I push the plunger and feel the sting of the Novocain enter my bloodstream. My vision continues to darken I feel my head getting lighter and I become dizzy. I fall back onto the table, syringe still stuck in my leg. As darkness starts to overtake me. I hear Orion start to growl again. The operating room door opens. I hear a man’s low gravelly voice say, “mother fu...”

  Then, nothing. I hear nothing. I see nothing and, mercifully, I feel nothing. At least I know that I will not be able to experience the next set of torment I am sure that this world has in store for me. I think to myself as I drift from this consciousness.

  I see a familiar face while in this state of flux. It is a memory of someone I knew or still know. She is beautiful. She is of Native American decent. Her jet-black hair is long and beautiful. I see it hanging around her delicate face. I remember the smell of her perfume. I am in love. I know this. I remember it. I experience it again. I feel my heart quicken as she reaches out to cup my breast and kisses my face. I brush a strand of my own hair out of my face. I am laying down and she is over me.

  Her body is pressing against me. Our clothing is somewhere off to the side. Her skin is perfect and the warmth of her nakedness pressing against mine makes me swell with desire. I desire her like I have never desired anything else ever. I desire her more than life itself. I know the feeling of bliss, it seems, for the first time. I pray that this is not a dream. I want her. I want to taste the salt of her skin. I kiss her deeply. I run my hands down her back and touch the cleft of her perfectly rounded buttock. I feel her skin twitch slightly under my light touch. I seek to kiss her once more and she presses her body against mine once more. I shiver in anticipation and moan “Aiyanna.”. Aiyanna presses her soft lips to my neck and starts to move down.

  Once she kisses a trail down to my navel, she lifts her head and lays her body back on top of my own. She whispers into my ear. “I will always love you my beautiful Jane.” This is my name. I know it is the name I go by, but it seems foreign to me at the same time. I am distracted and I become uncomfortable with this closeness with another person, but I crave it.

  I then see someone standing over us. It is a well-dressed man. I cannot make out his face, but I feel angry that he is invading my time with my lover. My anger quickly turns to fear as I see him raise a spear that is tipped in silver. I recognize the spear. I cannot see the face of the man, but in some way, I know that I know him. He is posed to strike with the spear above his head. My horror grows as I see him, as if in slow motion, begin to bring the spear down on us. Aiyanna is on top of me and I am unable to move. I am unable to shift us out of the way. I feel helpless.

  My memory fades here. I do not know what happens because I am flooded with pain. I have another sense of loss as I attempt to hold onto the memory, try to reach it again. I desire to know what became of the man, of what became of Aiyanna. What became of me. The pain does not stop. There are flashes of light crossing my vision. I am disoriented. I hear myself screaming Aiyanna’s name and crying out for her. I know her. I miss her. I need her, but she is no longer with me. I am alone.

  5

  Allison Broken

  I continue humming the tune to “Carry On My Wayward Son”, the song that me and my dad had been listing to, as I walk down the corridor of the well-lit hospital. I almost feel like skipping as I move toward the area where I will be working with cadavers for today’s lesson. I am in a good mood. I always have enjoyed days when I get to work with the human body and not simply read about it is some text book. Not that I dislike the books, but there is something to be said about the smell and feel of the human body. Some of my peers at school think that I am a bit morbid for this, but I do not mind that they feel this way. As I think on these things, I continue down the hall humming and smiling.

  “Hey Ally, wait up.” Ronjeet calls out to me. He is one of my class mates and I can tell that he likes me, but that he also has conflicting feelings about this due to our age difference. This makes me happy, due to some perverse pleasure I receive knowing that he likes me and cannot have me. Well, that and the fact that I am out of his league in so many ways. He is in his early twenties and I, well, I am nowhere close to his age. Regardless, I enjoy the attention and know that he is safe to be around. He is also smart and an extremely capable lab partner. As far as I can tell, the only time he has judged me for my age has to do with his own set of morals about attempting to have more than a simple friendship with me. Sure, he makes fun of my age when it comes to my youth and being a doctor, but he also respects me and I know that it is all in jest.

  “Hi Ron.” I smile as Ronjeet approaches me from the way I just came. We continue to walk down the hall together now. I toss Ronjeet another smile, this time with a bit more of coy innocence. “Are you ready for the fun to commence?” I love to tease him and enjoy seeing him grimace. I know that he dislikes working with dead bodies. He told me once that he thought that it was creepy and then went into some esoteric reason about their lives being cut short and all of the possibilities that their life could have amounted to becoming a hollow d
ream.

  “I still say that it is creepy how much you enjoy cutting into dead people.” Ronjeet gives me a sideways glance as we continue to walk.

  “Hey, it is a learning experience and I find that the best way for me to learn is through hands on experience. Would you rather volunteer for me to explore your insides?” I say this with the sweetness of a young girl even making my words and tone mimic baby talk for that last question.

  Ronjeet smiles and raises his hands as if in defeat. “No thanks. I have dinner reservations and I don’t want to have someone accidently put a Barbie where my stomach should be.” Ron teases me back.

  Like I said, I hate it when people make fun of my age, but with Ron I was never offended because I know that he doesn’t mean it. I know that I have his respect. “Barbie? Think again buddy. I am going to make sure to put my ‘personal massager’ in there and then I will sew you back up. But don’t worry I will set it to maximum vibrations prior to closing you up so that way you feel really good all the time.” I use finger quotes while I speak of the vibrator and flip my ponytail as I look at him sideways. We both start laughing at the absurdity of our pretend argument while we walk into the room with the cadavers.

  “Mrs. Morgan. Mr. Candahri. Nice of you to join us so early.” A heavy set older man, Dr. Andrews, gives us a slight smile. He is wearing his usual- lab coat, white shirt, and an ugly tie from the 1980s reject collection. His balding gray head seemed to shine in this light in a way that gives him the appearance of having a halo.

  “Good morning Dr. Andrews.” Me and Ronjeet speak in unison. There are four others in this class. Tom, a tall blond guy that is average in every other way besides his height. Richard, a man in his late 20s to early 30s with black hair and a very narcissistic attitude. Joe, a short younger guy with a crew cut and goatee and the body of a runner. Alan, the epidemy of a person using their rich parent’s money to coast along, smart and totally unmotivated to push himself any harder than absolutely necessary to get through school. He is also the only other person here that seems as if he is in his late teens. Despite his youthful look, he is also built like a Greek god. I cannot help checking him out from time to time. Ronjeet also notices me doing this from time to time and when he catches me he teases me mercilessly about it.

  I am by far the youngest and as it also happens, I am the smartest in my class. True, I am biased toward self-promotion, but I have always had the highest grades and shown the most confidence in all of my studies. I am the best. Ronjeet and I take our place at the only empty station available. Our cadaver is a black male approximately 50 years of age. I take a quick look over him to see what I can deduce. I see some yellowing between his right index and middle fingers. I also notice that his belly is slightly distended, but that his face and legs are gaunt and slightly sunken in. Hum, I think to myself as I look at the toe tag. This man’s toe tag says that he was 52 at the time of death. I am getting better at guessing their ages and I think I may even know what killed him. I smile and put my back pack on the table behind us and grab a lab coat as well as examination gloves. Ronjeet does the same.

  “What do you think we have?” Ron says absentmindedly as he put on his gloves.

  “Lung cancer with a side of cirrhosis of the liver.” I say this almost distractedly as I also notice that one of the man’s eyes is slightly open. I reach out and close the eye lid.

  “Really, well I think we got a case of pancreatitis.” Ron says with certainty. This, of course, made me smile. I know he is guessing and I also know that he must have noticed that the man is thinner than he should be. Thus, his guess is not completely without basis. It is still wrong and I know this too.

  “Oh? How much do you want to bet?” I speak in a low tone so that only Ronjeet could hear me making such a morbid bet.

  “Same as usual?” Ron speaks with a similar tone as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a one-dollar bill and placed it on the table.

  “You’re on.” I smile and use my shoulder to bump him as I reach into my own pocket and pull out a crumpled dollar bill and place it on top of his dollar bill. “Looks like I will be getting two nice cold sodas today.”

  “Whatever girly. You are going down.” Ron grabs a scalpel from the tray next to our table. I cross to the other side of the table so that I am directly opposite from Ron and place the protective goggles over my glasses. I move the overhead light and focus it on the center of the man’s chest so that we have the best lighting possible to see once we get elbow deep in viscera. Ronjeet positions the tip of the blade over the man’s manubrium and I make sure that the clamps are ready to pull the skin back after the incision is made. I pick up the surgical saw after these quick preparations. Now I am ready to start getting to work as soon as the skin is pulled back enough for me to get in to the chest cavity with the saw.

  It is at this point, when my attention is completely on the task at hand and less on body as a whole, that it happens. The room cools slightly and the man on the table reaches up and grabs hold of my wrist. I cannot help it. I scream and try to pull away, but the man holds tight to my arm, just above my wrist. His milky eyes, now wide open and staring at me. They seem to be peering into my soul. He speaks with a thick accent that I cannot place. “This is a dangerous path you have chosen.” Again, I struggle to break free and this time I lash out with my other hand and attempt to cut the man with the saw that I am holding.

  “GET OFF ME! RON HELP ME!” I scream in a defiant rage. I continue to struggle against my attacker. The man’s grip tightens and I feel as if the bones in my arm will break with the amount of pressure that this man is exerting. “HELP!” I yell again, but this time my yell comes out more of a crying whimper. I sound like the frightened little girl that I know I am right now. The harder I fight against this man’s grip the tighter the grip becomes. Then I feel my bones start to give under the pressure of the man’s grip.

  “Listen to me.” The man says. There is a sense of urgency in his voice as if he too is panicking about what is to come. “You are going to die.” Now his tone and demeanor change and his eyes, milky and dead become full of another stranger emotion, Compassion? “Give in. Come back to the world of the damned. This is where you belong.” He pulls me in closer. Now I can smell the decay on his breath. I struggle again and this time I hear my arm snap and feel extreme pain as the bones in my arm pierce through my skin. The pain is unbelievable, but I remember similar pain during the car crash. I lash out again because I know soon I will pass out from the pain. I cut the man on his arm once. I attempt to slash him once more hoping that the pain of the saw will cause him to release me.

  I turn it on this time and strike out attempting to sever the artery in his arm. Right as I bring the saw down toward the man’s arm he moves my arm in the way. I am committed to the strike and unable to stop myself. I cut into my own arm. This, unfortunately, is the beginning of my hell as I see my blood spirt and hit the ceiling. The man pulls me in again one last time. This time his mouth is at my ear. “You… have been warned.” He releases me and I fall to the ground.

  ******

  “ALLISON! ALLISON!” Ronjeet was yelling. “Dr. Andrews!” The doctor rushed over. Blood was everywhere.

  “Ronjeet, what happened?” Dr. Andrews quickly put pressure on the long laceration running up the inside of Allison’s left arm that appeared to be self-inflicted. “Never mind. Call the nursing staff to get in here now!” Andrews reached up and grabbed a metal clamp and opened the tool slightly. He then opened the skin of her arm to expose the atrial bleed. The cut was deep and had nicked the artery in her arm. He quickly went above where he saw the problem and used the clamps to clamp down on the artery. The blood that had been spurting out immediately stopped. Allison continued to scream and struggle against her perceived attacker, but Dr. Andrews held her arm down tightly and managed to keep the arm relatively immobilized even though the surrounding area was slick with blood. Andrews looked up and saw that the spray had hit the ceiling and walls and had
gotten over much of the nearby surfaces.

  Ronjeet went to the phone and made the call then he returned. The other students were gathering now around Allison and were staring in disbelief. It was only Alan and Ronjeet who attempted to help Dr. Andrews as Allison continued to flail on the ground. Alan went to the opposite side of Dr. Andrews and held Allison down so that her free arm did not swing out and strike any of them. Ron, also got down on the floor with Allison. His face was full of concern. He held her head and neck still. Dr. Andrews quickly worked on her exposed wound.

  Ron continued to answer Dr. Andrews question. “We were about to start on our project when she started screaming like you heard.”

  “Yes, I heard her, but she was telling someone to get off of her and then she yelled for you to help her.” Dr. Andrews did not even look up from what he was doing.

  “Yeah, she did yell for me to help, but then she took the saw and started slicing up her arm. She dropped the saw right when I yelled for your help.” Ronjeet was clearly upset and disturbed by what he had witnessed and was worried for his friend.

  “What were you too talking about right before this happened? Did anything seem off to you?” Allison stopped struggling now. The nursing staff burst through the doors and rushed to assist. They picked her up off the floor and put her on a gurney. The doctor barked a few orders at the nurses and the returned his attention to Ronjeet.

  “No, she seemed fine. We were guessing at why this man died. She said that it was cirrhosis and lung cancer I guessed that it was pancreatitis.” Dr. Andrews looked at the table and noticed the money next to the cadaver and raised an eyebrow.