Read a Chapter Month 4

 Medical fantasy/thriller

EBOOK

Is she willing to pay the price?

Remi's chest painfully constricted as she struggled to breathe. Rushed to the hospital, she received a mysterious treatment due to a medical error, which miraculously stopped the asthma attack and restored her breathing. While she felt healthier than ever before, along with this shocking recovery came strange abilities, and this miraculous treatment may have a price that she’s not willing to pay.

“This book contains no AI‑generated writing. All text was created by the author.”

Read a Chapter

The flashing lights of the ambulance illuminated the night as it came to a stop at the entrance of the bustling hospital. The doors flew open, and they wheeled in Remi on a stretcher.

A kind-looking nurse with blonde hair approached them with a warm smile. “Hello, dear, my name is Anna,” she introduced herself before leading them to Bed B.

With gentle hands and a sense of urgency, they carefully transferred Remi onto the bed as Anna immediately began assessing her condition. She listened intently to her lungs, checking for any signs of distress.

As Anna worked, the paramedic gave his report, and she quickly started an IV line in Remi's hand. Meanwhile, a nurse's aide unhooked Remi’s oxygen tube from the tank, connected the tube to the central connection, and attached the cardiac monitor electrodes to her chest.

The heavy curtain that separated the beds was suddenly pulled aside with a loud swoosh. In its place stood a tall man with thick, salt-and-pepper hair. He swept his gaze across the small cubicle before fixing his attention on Remi. Introducing himself as Dr. Schwarz, he took note of the discarded nebulizer pipe lying on her bed before directing his piercing blue eyes to her face and hands. “Let me listen to your lungs,” he said in a no-nonsense tone, holding out his stethoscope.

Remi nodded weakly and struggled to sit up, wincing at the sharp pain in her chest. The doctor placed the cold metal against her skin and listened intently to her lung sounds, his brow furrowing in concern. After a moment, he asked, “How long have you been dealing with asthma?”

“Since...as far back as I can remember,” Remi gasped out between ragged breaths, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. “I take preventive medications and usually use my nebulizer during sudden attacks, but I didn’t have any solution and the inhaler didn’t help.”

The doctor's expression turned sympathetic as he nodded understandingly. “We'll get you taken care of,” he assured her before turning to the nurse.

“It’s my fault!” Emily informed the doctor with tears in her eyes. “Remi is staying with me while her parents are in South America with Doctors Without Borders, and I didn’t know she’s allergic to cats.”

“It’s okay,” Dr. Schwarz spoke in a soothing voice. “We’ll make her better, but I’m afraid, you need to get rid of your cat.”

“It’s not mine, just cat-sitting for a friend, but I’m going to call my other friends right now. I’m sure one of them will take the cat,” Emily said and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll be in the waiting room,” she flashed a nervous smile at the young girl and hurried out of the room.

The doctor turned to the nurse. “Anna, let’s give her 125 Solumedrol, hook her up for continuous nebulizer, and get a portable chest X-ray as well.”

The nurse nodded and left the room. The doctor smiled, pulled the curtain that separated Remi’s room from bed C, and greeted the patient. “Hi Konrad, are you ready?”

“Yes,” sounded a young boy’s voice.

The doctor stopped for a second, thinking, and then turned back to Remi. “Do you speak German by any chance?” he asked.

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Remi hesitated before responding. Despite having learned the language from her nanny since she was a toddler until high school, she decided against admitting it upon seeing the doctor's peculiar expression.

“No, but I speak French,” she replied.

“Never mind, I just thought... because of your last name, Hansen,” he mumbled, stepping out of the room and pulling the curtain closed behind him.

That was strange. Why did he ask me if I speak German? Perhaps he doesn’t want me to know what they’re talking about in the next cubicle. Remi wondered, listening to the conversation coming from behind the curtain.

“Are you sure you want it done this way?” Dr. Schwarz asked, speaking in German, and continued. “Don’t worry, the girl in that bed doesn’t understand the language.”

Remi heard a boy's and an older-sounding man’s voices answering, “Yes, we definitely want the treatment.” And the older voice continued. “My son is sixteen, and with cystic fibrosis and a rare blood type, finding a cure or donor is close to impossible. He might have a year left. But with your treatment, he could live a full, healthy life.”

She heard the doctor’s sigh, as he said, “I want to make sure you understand what will happen after the treatment.”

Konrad assured the doctor, “We thought it over very carefully what you said, and I fully understand the benefits. And...” he hesitated. “And I accept the obligation that comes with your treatment as well.”

“We took the necessary precautions as you instructed, and his handler will arrive tomorrow to discuss more details with us. Everything is ready,” The older man said.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute,” the doctor replied.

Remi wondered what that treatment was. Poor Konrad. He’s my age, and it sounds like he doesn’t have long to live. That’s terrible. Remi thought, feeling so much empathy for the boy. But why didn’t the doctor say medication or something specific? He repeated the German word behandlung, which means treatment. And because we’re in the hospital, it must be medical treatment.

***

The nurse felt sorry for Remi. Poor kid, only sixteen. She knows what it means to gasp for air. And the boy in bed C... why must young kids suffer like that? she thought bitterly, entering the med room. She pulled the drawer open, grabbed a syringe, and then took out a small box from the medication cabinet that was labeled Solumedrol 125 mg. She poked the needle through the rubber cap, drew the liquid from the small bottle, and then injected it into the other bottle with white powder in it. She mixed it well and drew the clear liquid back into the syringe.

***

Meanwhile, Dr. Schwarz entered bed C with a prepared syringe in his hand. "You never told me why a simple IV injection couldn't be administered at home," the boy’s father said, his voice laced with worry.

Dr. Schwarz sighed, his face a mask of solemnity. "As I told you," He began, "his heart will stop for a few seconds after I give him the treatment. Therefore, I will turn off the alarm to prevent any unnecessary commotion from the code team rushing into the room. Ideally, his heart should restart on its own, but there is always the possibility that it will not, and we will have to restart it. This is why I need the code team close by, and this is why I need to do this in the hospital."

A tense silence hung in the air as father and son processed this information. The steady beeping of the monitor seemed to grow louder, filling the small hospital room with an eerie sense of fear and anticipation as the doctor reached up, turned the heart monitor off, and picked up the syringe.

“Doctor Schwartz to bed A STAT!” The urgent voice through the intercom stopped his movement. He put the syringe back on the bedside table, wrenched the curtain between the cubicles, and nearly knocked the nurse off her feet by pushing the table out of the way. “Sorry,” he yelled, and to get to Bed A faster, he ran across Reni’s cubicle, yanking the curtain that separated her bed from Bed A.

Anna's hand trembled as she clutched the syringe, her heart racing. With a sharp inhale, she dropped the syringe onto the table, not caring about closing the curtain between the two beds. She didn't waste any time as she sprinted after the doctor.

“Hi,” the skinny, sick-looking young boy with an Oxygen tube coiled over his face smiled at Remi. “What a commotion, huh? I’m Konrad by the way.” He greeted Remi in English.

“Hi, Konrad, I’m Remi. Yes, typical ER buzz,” she smiled back.

“You’re not from around here,” he said. I haven’t seen you before.”

“No, I live in the Bronx. I’m just staying with my aunt for a few weeks.”

“Nice to meet you, Remi,” Konrad said. Maybe we’ll see each other again. It’s such a small town, I’m sure we’ll bump into each other.”

“Yeah, it’s small, but I love it here. The mountains are so beautiful.”

“See you around,” Konrad said when he spotted the nurse walking toward Remi’s bed.

“Are you ready?” Anna asked Remi as she reached for the bedside table and picked up the syringe. She closed the curtain between the beds.

Remi was familiar with the effects of steroids. When Anna injected the medication into her IV line, she was expecting a headrush and a feeling of warmth all over her body. But this time she felt something different. As soon as the medication entered her bloodstream, she felt a pleasant tingling in her body as it spread. She was curious and followed the spread of the drug from her hand to her arm then to her chest, head, belly, and then her legs. She felt warm, but not as much as other times.

Before she could ask why it felt different than other times, they heard another urgent intercom call and Anna ran out of the cubicle. Remi felt drawn and tired. The tingling passed quickly, and she started to feel better. Taking a careful deep breath, she happily noticed that the tightness of her chest had completely eased up, although it was unusual for the medication to take effect so fast, she was happy to feel the almost instant relief.

“Is everything all right with that patient?” Remi heard Konrad’s voice from the next bed, speaking German.

“He’ll be okay, don’t worry,” the doctor replied. “Let’s get your treatment going. Are you ready?”

“I’m as ready as I’d ever be,” Konrad said, his voice sounding cheerful but with an undertone of worry.

Remi heard the light rustling of bedsheets and the doctor’s voice. “All in. Now, we wait. It takes a few minutes before your heart stops. Don’t worry, it’s not going to feel too bad.”

Emily entered the cubicle and plopped down on the chair. “How do you feel?” she asked Remi.

“Surprisingly well,” Remi mused, taking off the nebulizer mask, smiling. “I don’t even need this anymore; my breathing is so good that I could run a marathon.”

“Thank God!” Emily sighed. “I was so worried and so sorry. It was my fault.”

“Please don’t worry, Aunty Em! You didn’t know. Cat dander is not on my allergy list because we didn’t know either.”

“Well, there is some good news. Cathy, from my volunteer group, is picking up Midnight today. She will care for the cat until Marley is in the hospital, and we’ll stay in the guest house until I arrange a thorough cleaning of the main house. The cleaning company is great, they will get rid of every piece of dust and cat dander in the house.”

Thank you!” Remi smiled at her aunt when suddenly, she felt a painful thud in her chest as if her heart flipped and bumped against her ribs. Everything turned dark in front of her eyes, and her mind sank into nothingness.

The loud alarm of the monitor made Emily jump, and she frantically scanned the screen which showed a flat line instead of the rhythmic heartbeat. She pulled the curtain open and screamed. “Help! Somebody help us, her heart stopped!”

More from the author

Book Sunday #OurAuthorGang

 Today's recommendation

A chapter from the upcoming novel of R.A. "Doc" Correa

We are brothers, before the masses we stand together. No matter what issue may exist between two members of this brotherhood, all brothers will be united against all others. To ensure our members are joined in unity, we declare the following as the bylaws which we will live by.

- The declarative statement of the Bylaws of The Brotherhood -

 

Prologue

Steve Baker walks into the lobby of the Galactic Geographic building. He strolls towards the lifts, stopping for a moment to take in the paintings on the walls. Over the last century the institution has accumulated an impressive collection of artworks depicting the scenery and creatures of hundreds of worlds from renowned artists throughout human space. His favorite has always been the one of the dragons from Sigma 5 Omega. It has been hanging in the lobby for as long as he can remember, at least twenty-three years. That is when he was transferred from London to Sydney.

     He walks up to the painting. It is a meter wide and two meters high. The tortured landscape, and the orange and red sky, are brilliantly depicted. The subject of the portrait spreads its massive wings as it roars towards the heavens. Having been on an expedition to study these creatures early in his career he can feel the passion the painter felt as she captured the essence of these reptilians and their primitive world.

     In all the years that he has admired this painting he has never looked at the painter’s information so Steve glances at the artists signature, Jennifer Anne Sebring. He gazes at the artist photo on the information plate, Wow, she could be Kathy Masters older sister, they are almost twins. The information plate says she lived on Safe Port. Hmmm, I wonder if she survived the Chinese attack.

     Steve goes to the lift and rides it to his offices on the thirteenth floor. He walks past his new receptionist giving her a perfunctory good morning and continues to his office. What is her name? he asks himself as he enters the room.

     Steve crosses the floor to his desk, as he does, he realizes there is someone else already in the room. He turns to face the big leather chair in the corner near the window. A man sits in the chair sipping tea. "Good morning Mr. Baker," the man says.

     Steve carefully looks him over. He is in his sixties perhaps a little older. Very athletic. The man wears an expensive dark gray three-piece suit and black Italian leather shoes. He has a black leather briefcase sitting on the floor beside the chair.

     "What the hell are you doing in my office?" Steve demands.

     The man simply holds up an ID wallet. Steve at once recognizes the Planetary Law Enforcement Agency badge. He gulps nervously, What the hell is he doing here?

     "I love that painting too. In case you didn’t know, she traveled to Sigma 5 Omega, spent three weeks photographing the dragons, then studied those photos for six months before she painted that dragon."

     "Really?" Steve replies, somewhat intrigued.

     "Did you know that Jennifer Anne Sebring is in fact the first Mrs. James Ulysses Black?" the man asks.

     "You mean she was married to Commodore Black of the Rapier?" Steve queries.

     "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. And the answer to your musing is no, her and their four-year-old daughter were killed the night the Chinese attacked. That's the main reason Commodore Black became a privateer."

     "How'd you know I was wondering about that? Do you have implants?" Steve asks.

     "No, and the only way that would work is if you had implants as well. That is something we learned during our examinations of Kathy and Cindy Black. It is just simple deduction Mr. Baker; the fact you spent so much time looking at the information plate shows you were wondering about something. Because it tells you the artist was from Safe Port leads one to speculate you were thinking about whether or not she survived the attack. Like I said, simple deduction," the man in the suit replies.

     "What do you mean by the first Mrs. Black?" Steve asks.

     "Ah, I take it you haven't heard yet. Our dear Miss Masters married Commodore Black just before he died. I am sure it will all be explained when you open the package that came for you in the morning post," the man in the suit says, as he takes another sip of tea.

     "What package?" asks Steve.

     "The one your receptionist will bring to you in about," the man looks at his chronometer, "five minutes."

     "How do you know all this?" Steve asks.

     "It's my job to know these things. More specifically, I have a number of contacts, on and off planet, whose jobs are to keep me informed on things of importance," says the stranger.

     "You mean spies, you run a massive spy ring," declares Steve.

     "That's one way to put it," the man in the suit states. Then he takes another sip of his tea.

     Steve changes the subject, "Then it's confirmed, Commodore Black is dead."

     "Yes, it's confirmed. A shame really, I truly wanted to meet him," the man says with a touch of sadness.

     "Really and beside putting him in prison why would you want to meet him?" demands Steve.

     "Mr. Baker, most men that enter his profession are truly pirates, like Bartholomew and his crew. Others, the privateers, border on being pirates just barely holding onto their humanity. But Commodore Black was a man that kept his humanity despite all that happened. Yes, he came close to losing it but somehow, he did not. I think Kathy may have been the reason, her, and Cindy. He made sure the captains and crews that served under him also kept their humanity, a remarkable accomplishment. And he was a man of honor, even knowing his story you do not seem to see it, but I do, and that Mr. Baker makes him a truly exceptional man. I meet all kinds in my profession, but very seldom do I meet a truly exceptional man," replies the man in the suit. There is a short pause, then he says, "She's pregnant again."

     "Who's pregnant?" Steve asks.

     "Kathy Erin Masters-Black of course," he replies.

     Steve looks surprised then asks, "Is that important?"

     "It could be," replies his unexpected guest with a grim expression on his face.

     There is a knock on the door, then it opens, and Steve's new receptionist walks in with the morning post. Again, he asks himself, What the heck is her name? She lays out the letters on Steve's desk and sets a small package next to them then walks out the door, closing it as she leaves. Steve walks to his desk and sits down in his chair. The man in the suit picks up his briefcase and moves to a chair in front of Steve's desk. He sits and sips more of his tea. "I suggest you open the package," the man in the suit tells Steve.

     Steve unwraps the package, it holds a small box. Inside the box is a holographic projector. He sets it on the desk and turns it on. It projects an image that grows to about a meter in height, the image forms into Kathy.

     Steve looks closely at Kathy's holographic image. The gray streak in her hair has turned white. She wears a sixteenth century blue skirt with a white blouse and blue vest, that cover a slight baby bump. A black tricornered leather hat with a white ostrich plume on its right side sits on her head at a slight cant. There is a rapier on her left hip and a laser pistol slung low, gunfighter style, on her right. The leg strap for the holster goes through two slits in the skirt and around her right thigh. She has a twentieth century slug thrower on her belt by the buckle over the baby bump. It is holstered for a left-handed draw. Though her eyes still sparkle he can tell they are filled with a deep sadness. "Hello Steve," the image says.

     "Hi Kathy," he replies.

     "I take it someone from planetary law enforcement is in your office," Kathy's hologram states.

     "Yes," Steve answers.

     "That's okay, he can stay," Kathy says.

     "Thank you, Mrs. Black," the man in the suit says.

     "You're welcome," the holographic image of Kathy replies. "The recorder only has limited response capability, so I won't be able to answer all of your questions, especially yours Mr. Aimes."

     "Ah, so you know who I am," the suit says.

     "It is wise to learn all you can about those that pursue you,” Kathy's image responds.

     "So true,” Mr. Aimes states.

     "I'm sure by now you've heard about the death of Commodore Black," for a moment she chokes up, "and the extinction of the nanchiks." A tear runs down her cheek. Steve finds himself wondering, Is the tear for the commodore, is it for the nanchiks, or is it for both? "Then of course there's the rebellion of the houses of Chan, Zhu and Yi against the Chinese Prefecture. So much has happened since we left Earth Steve," Kathy's hologram declares.

     "Yes, it has," Steve agrees.

     "Well Steve, I've got another exclusive for you. A story that will tie it all together, so it makes sense. And I'm sure the suit in your office would like to hear all that I have to say on this," the holographic image says. Mr. Aimes nods his agreement.

     "If you agree to the same terms as last time place your thumb on the scanner," Kathy's image instructs.

     Steve looks at the suit for a minute, he turns on his transcription bot, then places his thumb on the scanner of the holographic projector. It reads his thumbprint, and the hologram continues.

     "We were in Reavers Cove for a couple of months buying and upgrading a ship, then recruiting a crew. For the record Mr. Aimes, the ship has advanced nanchik tech, one might say two generations more advanced than what we traded for our freedom. While we were doing that Lien was taken to Xerxes Major by her grandfather to present herself to the emperor. As soon as we were ready, we left aboard our new ship, the Razor, and made best speed for Safe Port..." 

R. A. “Doc” Correa

https://www.amazon.com/stores/R.A.-Doc-Correa/author/B073R82QC5

A retired US Army military master parachutist, retired surgical technologist, and retired computer scientist. He’s an award-winning poet and author. “Doc” has had poems published in multiple books and had stories published in Bookish Magazine and Your Secret Library. His first novel, Rapier, won a Book Excellence award and was given a Reader’s Favorite five-star review.