Chapter 2: Deathly Encounter

Zayne hasn’t left the ward for several days.

The battle rages on with the wounded being sent in one by one. Just as Zayne releases soldiers who arrived for treatment earlier that day, three bloody stretchers get pushed in. Mosy can’t handle the long hours and stress. Four people already collapsed from his medical team alone.

Taking over yet another exhausted colleague’s patient in critical condition, Zayne leaves instructions before he adjusts the ventilator. He makes two rounds around the ward, and after confirming everything it as it should be, walks out of the tent for a breather.

**********

The freezing air in his lungs wakes him. It’s late, and the giant searchlight covers the snow. In the dark, Mt. Eternal looks like a sleeping beast.

“Are you still working, Dr. Zayne?”

A passing soldier carrying steel greets him.

Zayne nods, “Captian Xander.”

Zayne helps two soldiers under the Captain’s command, amd they became friends.

The Captain stomps his snow-covered boót. “It’s cold out here, Dr. Zayne. Why don’t you go in and rest? I haven’t seen you take a break for days.”

“I just woke up,” Zayne says. In truth, he can’t even remember when was the last time he closed his eyes. The continuous resuscitations and surgeries are like and endless marathon. He’s so exhausted that he doesn’t even have the energy to have a nightmare. Besides, the reality he is in right now is far more real, bloody.

“What’s the steel for?” He changes the subject.

“They said we don’t have enough wards, so we got asked to get a couple more tents up.” Captain Xander wipes the snow off his head. “It’s weird. There have been many rescue operating before, and they even gave us new equipment. But somehow, more people are injured. Damn, it’s almost like there are endless waves of Wanderers.”

Remembering the recent anomalous Evol reports, Zayne ruminates.

The sharp sound of an alarm pierces through the calmness, and Zayne is back inside the ward almost instantly. A nurse rushs to him and reports that a soldier is in cardiac arrest. As Zayne listens, his heart sinks. It’s the same one he discharged the day before.

“Administer one does of adrenaline intravenously.”

“Got it.”

“Where’s the defibrillator?”

“Almost here!”

The soldier, who bid him farewell with a smile not long ago, is pale under his oxygen mask, showing hints of blue. One doctor is performing CPR while another holds the soldier’s chin and pinches the breathing bag. A nurse rushes over with a defibrillator. She nimbly slathers the conductive gel on the padsand hands them to Zayne.

“360 Joules,” Zayne mumbles.

A muffled bang resounds. The heart monitor continues to beep loudly.

“Steady. One, two, three.”

“Beep beep. Beep beep.”

“Again.”

“Beep.”

**********

The sky slowly brightens. Snow falls once more, sitting atop the tent.

William brushes snow off his uniform and enters the ward. He sees Zayne giving instructions and waits by the side.

“Give him two blood bags.” When Zayne finishes, he walks to William. “Are you here for the death cerfiticate, Will?”

“Yeah. Hewas in our team.”

Zayne walks over to his document-littered desk and opens the drawer. “Twenty-three, time of death is 5:47 A.M.”

William sighs. “He was too young... His father was also a soldier, killed during that disaster. Followed in his footsteps and joined the army. Who know...”

Zayne is silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” William forces himself to smile, trying to lighten up the mood. “You’ve worked dayim and day out without sleep. Everyone knows you tried your best.”

Zayne doesn’t reply, his eyes revealing no emotion.

William pauses for a moment. “Zayne, it’s normal to want to save everyone since you just started here. But as long as we try, it’s okay if we don’t save them. We did what we could.”

He pats Zayne’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself too much.”

“Thank you, Will. I’m fine.” Zayne’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out. “I still have a surgery to attend. I’ll take my leave now.” He gives William a nod and hurries off to change.

Zayne is once again in that world of ice and snow.

But this time, a white figure stands in place of the corpses and blood. Under the raging blizzard, Zayne walks toward him, dark crystals forming on his hands once more. The figure doesn’t move. It’s waiting to die.

The moment the crystals soar, the wind stops. In that split second, Zayne sees the other man.

It’s him in a white coat.

Zayne opens his eyes.

The inside of the tent is dimly lit. His tired colleagues are al nestled in their own simple beds, sleeping soundly. Zayne props himself up with one arm, wipes sweat from his face and neck with his sleeves, and slowly slows his breathing.

Reaching under his pillow, he feels for his notebook. Zayne’s fingers hesitate for a moment, then he takes it out. The cover’s indents now form a complete tally mark, one of which is from today.

Since coming here, three patients died under his care.

He strokes the carved marks. For each one, he vividly remembers every dose of medication, every surgery, and every harrowing resuscitation.

Yet they still died.

It’s impossible to save everyone. He knows this better than everyone else. Yet he still insists, persists. The Grim Reaper in his dreams mock him for his folly, futility, incompletence. It wants to kill his desire to save everyone.

But he’s not planning to give up.