Flatlined

"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at anytime." - Mark Twain

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“He’s crashing!”

Two doctors and a flurry of hands were working on Carter Reyes, handpicking a dozen bullets out of him. Everything was red. Life blood being pumped into a body that had lost much already.

“We’re losing him!” shouted a doctor as 360 joules of energy surged through his heart, desperately trying to kickstart itself against a gripping arrest.

Arrhythmic waves displayed on the cardiac monitor began to pick up pace, within moments first peaking sharply with an elated blip before abruptly flatlining into a deafening halt. Exhausted, the medical staff slowly stepped away from their patient as one of the doctors sighed and looked up at the clock above him.

“Time of death…11:11 PM.”

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Carter Reyes was dreaming… or at least he thought he was. The crisp white sheets oozed crimson as medical professionals swarmed around him, their gloved hands prodding and digging through the bullet holes that littered his body. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have such realistic dreams, he usually startled awake when he realized he was still asleep. However, this dream or nightmare continued to play out in front of him. In an anguished attempt to return to reality Carter tried pinching himself.

Nothing.

Finally, the sound of a long monotonous beep caught his attention. The medical staff slowly stopped what they were doing and stepped away from him, a chill running down his spine as the time of death was called. Carter watched in silence as the hospital staff exited the room one by one, blood coating their gloves and gowns as the bright theatre lights flickered off, leaving him alone. Very carefully he slid off the gurney he had been laying on, his attention solely focused on the cardiac monitor that had just gone off. Reaching out a trembling hand, his fingers made contact with its cold surface, his body reeling with surprise.

It was real.

Staggering backward, Carter turned around, a sliver of dread piercing his being. A body lay on the bed he had just gotten out of.

His body.

‘What the hell?’ his mind caved in on itself, a torrent of thoughts crashed against his brain, fleeting connections forming and disappearing within fractions of a second. Under normal circumstances, seeing a dead body wouldn’t scare Carter too much, but these were not normal circumstances. The lifeless body that laid on the sinewy hospice bed belonged to him. Sealing his eyes shut tightly he pinched himself again.

‘Wake up… wake up… wake up damn it!’ He slowly opened his right eye and then his left. The body was still there. Cold. Unresponsive.

Blotches of red were still seeping through the gauze that was securely wrapped around his head, the same went for his shoulder and leg wounds. Carter walked up to the body and carefully poked the right shoulder. It felt real. So real.

He was dead…

Stepping away from the corpse, a sudden chill swept across the room. The fluorescent light above him flickered on and off, a low buzzing sound indicating it was on its last limb as darkness crept along the corners of the room. Something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.

Is this hell?

He didn’t hear it but he could feel someone laughing. Laughing at him.

“Tsk tsk, no need to be so paranoid Carter” a voice filled his mind. It was as if he could feel someone talking to him but couldn't actually hear or see anyone. Carter opened his mouth to call out to the voice when he noticed his breath escaping his mouth in hot puffs of air.

He didn't want to, but something compelled him to turn around. A dull spark peeking through the darkness as a tall figure began to take shape.

“Being murdered is a fan favorite eh Carter?” the voice jeered.

To be continued…

Joanna.