by Michael Bray
“Life is unfair. You will find that out very soon.”
Colleen lurched for the knife block, and pulled out the carving knife, holding it in front of her. “You stay away from me.”
Ashba made no effort to approach, nor was he intimidated. He folded his hands in front of him and smiled. “This isn't some low-rent horror movie. I'm not about to attack you. Despite what you have done, I’m still a respectable man.”
“Then why have you come here?”
“To ask you a question.”
“What question?”
“How do you feel?”
The question was unexpected, and she hesitated. “What do you mean?”
Ashba shrugged. “I mean how have you been feeling? Anxious? Lethargic perhaps.”
She didn't answer, even though he was right. Ashba went on.
“How do you feel right now? After all, there is an intruder in your home. A man with nothing to lose who could well hold a grudge. You’re facing off with him, knife in hand, alone and with no help. Surely that would get the adrenaline flowing, cause the heart rate to increase in tempo. Not for you, though, you feel calm. Your heart rate is still at its resting pace, isn't it?”
It was the revelation she had been waiting for. That was why she didn't feel right. Under the circumstances, her heart should have been thundering, but was only beating at its regular tempo. “What have you done to me?” she asked, lowering the knife.
Ashba smiled, enjoying the moment. “Remember in my office, before you ran away to the police and told them what you had found, how we were talking about your new pacemaker and all of its wonderful abilities?”
Colleen nodded.
“Well, as with any software driven piece of equipment, it can be manipulated if someone knew how to do such a thing.”
Colleen dropped the knife on the floor. “What have you done to me?”
“Two days ago, I uploaded a firmware update to your pacemaker. Its programming routine was quite small. Gradually, over a predetermined time which I won't disclose to you here, your heart rate will be brought down, decreased by the machine in your chest until it simply stops beating.”
Colleen didn't know how to react. She was frozen, desperate to find some kind of lie written on Ashba's haggard face and seeing none.
“Don't bother trying to seek help from another doctor, only I can change it. The rest of your medical records have been purged from the hospital records, which means new tests will have to be done. Lengthy tests which far exceed the timeline given to the new firmware. There are backups of course, but by then it will be far too late.”
“Liar. That’s not possible.”
“A test, then. Listen inwardly, listen to your natural rhythm.”
She did as instructed, focusing inwardly, trying to sense her heartbeat. She tried to take her own pulse, but couldn't find the right area of her wrist.
Ashba lunged towards her, throwing his arms into the air. Colleen involuntarily moved back, knocking cutlery from the draining board onto the floor.
“Did I startle you?” Ashba said, glaring at her from across the room. “Or did your heart not react to the shock?”
She knew then that he was telling the truth. Her heart rate should have leaped into her throat when he lurched for her, but it was just as stable as if she were relaxing in front of the TV or with a good book. He saw the recognition on her face and smiled.
“Now, at last, you understand how it feels to know that soon enough, you will lose everything.”
“You wouldn't do that. It’s cruel.”
“And what you did to me isn't?”
“So that’s it, you’re just going to leave me here to die?”
“Leave you?” Ashba said, flashing his grin at her. “Why on earth would I do that? I'm going to stay here and watch it happen.” He walked over to the door he had forced and pulled it closed, then approached her.
“You back off, you leave me alone,” she said, but her voice was weak and without threat. Ashba stood in front of her, dead eyes glaring.
“You know you’re going to die, don't you, Colleen? You do know you’ve seen your last sunset.”
Her legs shuddered, and she slid down the counter top and sat on the floor.
“It’s okay,” Ashba said. “I'm trained in grief counselling. Not everyone is as lucky as you, Colleen. Some people are too late for a pacemaker, or are too weak for surgery.”
Ashba pulled a chair from the table, wood legs scraping across the wood floor and tracing a line through the puddle of spilled milk. He set it in front of her and sat down, crossing his legs. He checked his watch then looked at her and smiled. “Within the next hour, you will start to feel a shortness of breath. It’s your body’s natural instinct you see. It might recognize that your heart rate is slower than normal, but will sadly be powerless to rectify it.” He leaned over and picked up the carving knife she had dropped on the floor earlier. Colleen stared at the dull blade as it caught the diffuse kitchen light. “Do you believe in the afterlife?” he asked. Colleen didn't answer, her eyes were fixated on the knife blade. Ashba went on regardless. “I’ve often wondered about if anything comes after. If people like me, doctors, paramedics and the like are doing good or evil.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if an afterlife does exist, then you have to accept that God does too. As do Heaven and Hell. If that is the case, then are we not going against his will by saving lives that he has chosen to join him in the kingdom of heaven?”
Colleen looked towards the door, then back at Ashba.
“I wouldn't run if I were you,” Ashba said. He pointed at her chest with the knife. “Your heart is already operating below optimum tempo. Any exertion, any activity will cause catastrophic failure of the system and result in instant death, so please, get comfortable. You won't be going anywhere for a while.”
She relaxed again, leaning the back of her head on the cabinet behind her.
“Good, now back to my original question. What do you think?”
“I can't remember what you asked,” she moaned, then started to cry.
“The afterlife. Heaven and hell. Do you believe in it?”
She shook her head. “I won't answer that.”
“What harm would it do? I mean, soon enough you will find out. I just wonder what your thoughts are on it. Could it be true that when your heart slows down and stops, that you will see a tunnel of light, and at the end of it those who have already departed will be waiting? Or are you more of the opinion that when we die, it's over. A flick of the light switch, an eternal dreamless sleep.”
“Why are you doing this to me? How is it even possible?”
Ashba smiled. He was cutting a notch out of the seat between his legs with the knife. “A question in two parts. The why should be fairly obvious, even to you. The how is not as complicated as you might think.” He looked at her, waiting for a response that never came. He went on. “The pacemaker inside you is run by software. The software itself at its most basic is code. A computer language made up one ones and zeroes. Remarkable really to think of all the people out there who are able to live because of those numbers. Pacemakers, dialysis machines, x-ray machines, almost all modern technology is powered by those two little numbers.”
He grinned and leaned closer. “Your pacemaker, as you may recall, was a new model. I was one of the doctors involved in developing the product for maximum efficiency. During the early days of testing, several software patches, or firmware were sent to me by the product manufacturers to use in our static models. There were patches to simulate everything from arrhythmia to high altitude exertion. The idea was to test the unit under every conceivable condition. All I had to do was go into the archives and find the suitable software patch for my needs and overwrite the default settings.”
“Without operating?” Colleen said, unable to take it all in.
“Without operating,” Ashba repeated. “It’s not that difficult. Cardiologists all over the world wirelessly
transmit software updates to pacemakers all the time. It’s routine.”
“So somebody could re-overwrite what you did to me,” she replied, seeing a flicker of hope, which Ashba shot down.
“Sadly not. As a precaution against such a thing, yours has been set to read-only. Unfortunately, only the installation of a brand new unit will help you now, which we both know is never going to happen.”
“You’re a monster. I'm glad I told the police about what I saw.”
“And in doing so have ruined innocent lives.” Ashba fired back, his eyes alive with hatred.
Although she knew she shouldn't, the anger exploded from her. “Innocent? You’re not innocent. You’re a disgusting excuse for a human being. Soon you’ll be a killer as well as a paedophile. Don't try to tell me you’re innocent.”
“I wasn't referring to me,” Ashba said, standing and walking towards where she sat. He was pointing the knife at her, the blade inches from her eyeball. “You think I don't know what the consequences are of my actions? You think I’ll allow them to put me on trial, send me to prison?” He shook his head and crouched so they were now face to face. “I’ve made my contingency plan, don't you worry about that. You will go first but I’ll be right behind you. I know my life is as over as yours. The innocent people I'm referring to are my family. My wife. My children. How can they live with what you did? How can they get over the pain you've caused?”
She could see the fury in his face, and he was speaking through gritted teeth. A tear rolled down his cheek. His grip on the knife was turning his knuckles white, and she was sure he wasn't going to wait for the pacemaker to slow her heart down. He was going to kill her right then and there. She reacted without thinking, instinct taking over. She batted the knife arm away from her face with her left hand, at the same time bringing her right hand up into his face, palm first with as much force as she could muster. In the quiet of the house, the noise was deafening as his nose shattered and blood ejected out of his face. He tried to lean on the chair behind him for balance, but it slid across the wood floor and he went down hard.
Colleen scrambled to her feet, waiting to see if she would be struck down by the defective machinery in her chest. The front door was down a long, narrow hallway and seemed like it was a thousand miles away. She started towards it, but could already hear the enraged grunts of Ashba behind her. She realized that the news crews that had been hounding her for the last week could well now be her saviours. She didn't think about what was going on behind her, or even that she might be wasting her time. All she was sure of was that she didn't want to die, and she was determined to fight as long as she could. She fumbled with the keys which were still in the lock. She was sure something would go wrong, that they would break or fall out, but the key turned smoothly and the door unlocked. She wrenched open the door and stepped outside, much to the surprise of the half dozen or so reporters and camera crew who were waiting. She screamed out, but it was cut short. Ashba grabbed her from behind and pulled her back into the house, kicking the door closed. Even so, the reporters had seen it. One crew had even got it on film. By the time Ashba had dragged Colleen back to the kitchen, the police had already been called.
FIVE
The hour hand on the clock made two more full rotations before either Ashba or Colleen spoke again. He had barricaded the back door where he had broken in and leaned the upturned kitchen table against it. The front door had been locked and the keys were in his pocket. Both of them sat in the kitchen watching the television coverage of the siege. For Colleen, it was surreal to see her own house from the outside illuminated by the flashing blue of the dozen police cars. The press too had increased its presence. The news report was replaying the footage of the moment Ashba had pulled Colleen back inside the house and they were now speculating on what would happen next.
“They’ll kill you, you know,” Colleen said. Everything was harder now, breathing, thinking. Everything seemed slow and lethargic.
“Save your energy. You’ll need it.” Ashba snapped, still watching the television screen. He glanced over at her. “By now, you will feel like the equivalent of a mountaineer halfway up Everest. Breathing will be a struggle as your heart begins to slow. The natural response of the body is to slow down other motor functions. It won't be long now.”
She didn't answer him. She knew it was pointless to try and argue anymore. It was clear that the decision had been made and they were both tied to their fate. She looked at the TV screen, which was now an aerial shot from a helicopter of the house ringed by police cars, a growing crowd behind tape some distance away. The ticker at the bottom of the screen said armed police were making preparations to go in.
She knew she should save her energy, but could see the fear on Ashba's face as he watched the screen. “I hope you survive and they arrest you. I hope they hold you responsible for everything you’ve done.”
“They won't,” Ashba said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a gun. “This is my insurance policy.
“You could have used that on me at any time,” she gasped, struggling to breathe. “But you let me suffer.”
“I'm not proud of it,” Ashba said, glancing at her. “None of this is personal, you understand. It’s just necessary.”
“What if you don't see it coming? What if they take you down without you having the time to kill yourself? What If they take you out before I die? Won't that ruin this for you?”
Ashba considered. He looked at the gun, then at her. “You’re already dead. That’s irreversible now. I'm not worried about that, it’s just a case of when. As for the police, well, thanks to the media and the real-time coverage, I’ll know when they are coming.”
She again chose not to answer. It felt as if someone was sitting on her chest. Every breath was a huge effort, the spaces between them growing longer as her body systematically shut down. She thought about how cruel life was, how the botched operation back in ninety-eight resulted in her having to live life with a pacemaker. This would be her fourth and last one.
Whumph.
Still there, still ticking. Still fighting.
The power went out.
Ashba had already prepared for that, though, and the candles he had lit meant that it wasn't too much of a hindrance. He turned away from the now dead television screen and looked at her. “Won't be long now. They’ve cut the power.”
Whumph.
She drew in precious air and glared at the twisted, deranged man perched on the edge of the sofa. He had checked that the gun was loaded again, and flicked off the safety.
He caught her staring and locked eyes with her. “You don’t know how tempting it is to put an end to you now and avoid the pain of such a slow demise, but you know I can't do that. I have morals, principals.
Shouting from outside, then an impact on the door as they started to force their way in. It was all real now, all actually happening. There was something surreal about it, something utterly unbelievable which almost detached her from the situation.
Whumph.
A beat, a whisper of spent breath which Colleen Cassidy thought might be her last. She was only forty-six, too young for this, too young to be staring down the grinning, twisted face of death as he waited for her.
Another beat, and with it another breath.
A reprieve, then, although who knows how long. She flicked her eyes towards Ashba, although he didn't much resemble a doctor anymore. He looked ghastly in the candlelight, a ghoul, a monster dressed in human flesh. His eyes were wild and flicking between her and the door. His hair was sticking up in the back and he had blood smeared on his face from where she’d punched him. The sounds at the door were becoming more and more urgent as the police tried to force their way in. Ashba grinned a yellow cheese wedge smile which scared her because there was no fear in it.
“There’s nothing they can do,” Ashba said, looking at the gun in his hand. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Your time is almost up.” He was psyching himself up, preparing to do
what needed to be done.
Colleen would have answered, but she couldn’t move or breathe.
Whumph.
There it was. The pacemaker did its job, and for now, she took another precious breath. “Why me?” she asked as she sat there waiting to die.
Ashba looked at her with something close to sympathy, then shrugged his shoulders.
“Please, Doctor Ashba....”
Whumph.
Another breath, the spaces between them growing more distant. “Please....” Colleen gasped.
“No. This is how it has to be. You brought this all on yourself. None of this is my fault.”
Colleen closed her eyes and waited to see if another breath would come. She thought back to when it began, surprised that it had only been a week. It felt like a lifetime ago, and now the hope for a future that she had been given had been snatched away by the very man who had given it to her.
Splintering wood, more shouting. Torches, harsh white lights coming through into the living room. She looked at Ashba, who was breathing quickly, puffing his cheeks and psyching himself up to end his own life. She could finally see the real him, the one behind the anger and the bravado.
He was scared. She watched as he put the gun to his head, then changed his mind and put it under his chin instead, then settled for in the mouth, clamping his teeth around it. He was paying her no attention now. He had his wallet on his knee open to the photograph of his family.
He was going to get away with it.
The thought became the only one that mattered. It was the only thing she could think about, even more than the death which was coming to her.
Whumph.
One more breath, one more chance to take action.
With the last of her energy, she lurched for Ashba, grabbing his gun arm and pulling it away from his mouth. At the same time, the armed officers burst into the room. Gunfire exploded from Ashba’s weapon, so loud next to her head. She felt warm blood land on her, then was on the floor. She couldn't see Ashba or the police, but she could hear them shouting. She was face down on the floor, head to one side. In front of her, Ashba’s wallet lay open, the photograph of his wife and children spattered with tiny droplets of blood. She waited for her heart to beat again, but it didn't come. Darkness swallowed her, and with it came silence. Colleen Cassidy had taken her final breath.