Chapter 12
42%
Dr.Jamal was under huge pressure after unsuccessful outcome of his unconventional and yet not approved brain transplantation. Face to face with dilemma, he did all his best to treat the poor boy who couldn’t stand darkness of the night. Something went wrong and the patient – one and only son of Azerbaijan billionaire fell into deep coma without any slightest chance of waking up anytime soon.
After patient’s mother died, he was afraid to encounter his angry father, who could use his business and political connections to put an “X” sign to his medical career once and for all. But now hearing the shouting of male adult in front of his office, and his assistant wearing headscarf - Zuleykha trying to interfere by telling “doctor’s not in his office right now” which escalates his temper tantrum instead, he decided to tell the parent truth and nothing but a truth.
“I said his not here” she said in threatening tone.
Dr.Jamal calmed himself down and opened the door.
“Thank you Zuleykha I’ll take it from here” – he said showing Haydar Hasanov – the very oil magnate – inside the room. The latter didn’t say anything just stared at him with angry eyes for a moment then entered the room taking a seat by the desk.
“ I don’t consider myself religious man, doc. But what you’re doing is so mean and heartless”
“I understand your anger and frustration janab. It’s not like I’m avoiding you for no reason, we didn’t fail, everything went quite well at first, it was a major breakthrough in brain transplantation. However he fell into deep unconsciousness”
“And when you think he’ll wake up”
“Let me make myself clear. We invited research team from University of Copenhagen to define the true status of your son. They scanned his brain using PET technology, PET stands for positron emission tomography- ok never mind with that, it is used to detect emission of glucose in brain in order to determine whether it is normal or low brain activity.The better glucose metabolize the more chance he’ll get up soon ”
“when did they carry out those scanning you say”
“last Thursday”
“And you didn’t bother to tell me about it”
“please don’t interrupt. I’ll return to that. So, 42 percent. Its unique threshold – for level of cerebral energy turnover, any less than that and you can consider him brain dead with one in a million probability of gaining consciousness. I’m sorry to say your son’s brain operates beneath this threshold, we cannot heal him”
“You mean his brain’s dead”
He lowered his head ashamed ,gazing at a golden pen donated him by giant pharmaceutical company for promoting their ineffective and unconventional medicine among patients, and didn’t respond.
Everything happened very fast. It was so abrupt, that he couldn’t notice how this fat cat type businessman jumped on him over his desk and grabbed from his purple tie hidden beneath the jacket, complicating his respiration.
“You son of a bitch, you convinced me to opt for this unconventional pioneer shitsurgery of yours, let all those money I spent be your Halal, but you are responsible for his life. Even if any slightest thought about turning of his life support machine come across your mind, any slightest thought, I’ll find you and cut your balls myself, understood.
“Ok…but it’s useless spending so much money…His brain is dead, you must let him go.”
“F…k the money, he’ll stay in life support as long as it takes, do you get that” he shouted loudly shaking him and spraying out tiny spits from the edge of his lips, right onto his face.
“Yes….Sure”
He loosened the grip but didn’t let him go yet.
“I’ve written my directives and will about that, if something happens to me”
“Ok. I said ok. Why your shaking me again.
“I’m not shaking you. The whole building is shaking” he stared at a ceiling light swinging back and forth. “It’s an earthquake”
Both of them stood stumbled and shocked, spending last moments of their lives, gazing ceiling crack and huge concrete pile collapse and smash them into jelly.
*** *** ***
In the meantime,
I woke up to a strong vibration, still on the battlefield surrounded by 3 Ottoman soldiers who survived by pretending to be dead, just like me. I couldn’t hear any canon fire or sound of an ongoing shooting, yet the whole ground was shaking. Two of them were arguing over something in a low voice, the third- the older one with deep scar on his right cheek, was checking my wounds, yet carefully listening to what his companions had been discussing. Facing the midnight sky, I saw crazy, surrealistic things happening up on the air. Twin moons coming into one, stars buzzling up-and forth, dark separate clouds rolling like a ball. And the most interesting thing, I was only person who gave a damn about it.
I think they – the two of them, hammered out a deal to sneak out. Third didn’t pry but shook his head in a disapproval. Out of a sudden I jumped into my feet like somebody just hit me with electric charge.
“Where’s my flag….I need to find my flag” –
No response from him, who looked astounded
“Did you see where they took the flag”- he didn’t say anything and just pointed to British fort rising kilometers away on the hill.
He showed me his tongue cut in half to indicate that he can’t speak. Despite him being mute as a result of savage mutilation by enemy, he didn’t bother to somehow give out indistinct sounds that would make me feel sorry for him. Good thing was, he could hear me.
“So you can hear me?”
He nodded to say yes
“Are you deserter?”
He shook his head angrily and almost took out his big hunter knife from his leather belt insulted when I stopped him.
“I’m sorry, I believe you. I was testing you whether you hear and understand me well. Ok then. How do we sneak into that fort unnoticed? Do you thing its good time for breach?
He nodded. Then put his hands together under his ear to indicate that most of them were sleeping.
“Yeah…I know. Are you sure you want get involved. Believe me odds of survival are just too low.”
This time I was too late to respond, he took out his knife and slid the sharp blade of his left cheek, without blinking and wincing. He moved his lips
“Ammntt kuvavv”
“Ok you’re not coward. Damn!. I get it. Look what you’ve done. – blood was pouring in a thin stream. I was looking for a cloth to stop his bleeding, returned and saw no sign of red liquid, just oldage scar on the same spot, like it had been cut at least decade ago.
Nothing to be surprised, it was just a lucid dream. Everything was possible. First wanted to test whether swiping-and-strolling in between memories, as told by human face dog, could be applied in this battlefield. Cos’ back in a train, mystery man didn’t tell me anything about it. So I scouted for a pole or a stick, in order to turn the imaginary page.
With his hand gesture he wanted to know what i was doing, crawling on the ground in the dark.
“I’m looking for a stick or something piece of an long iron…something like that”
He took the long rifle off his shoulder and handed to me, still curious of my real intentions.
“What was I thinking, Yes… much obliged. It would do, I guess”
I swiped the ground with it and turned the page as I was instructed previously, in the meantime thinking about him standing behind me, I couldn’t see hum but was sure, he was thinking of me as crazy person.
As soon as it touched the ground, huge transparent bubble appeared expanding every next second gradually opening a view to dimly lit room, with 3 men sleeping inside. It was a chamber of enemy barrack. I was entering the wormhole with rifle on my left hand when he grabbed me from my shoulder and didn’t let me through.
“Fayyyr wwwuuullll saan” –he said showing me the rifle
“Oh, you’re damn right, what was I thinking. We need to eliminate them by blunt force or…”
He didn’t let me finish my point and took huge hunting knife out of his sheath . But before giving it to me, he handed round shape package made of thick animal skin holding some butter or something.
“Goot ft”
“Goat feet?”
“Goot ft”
“Oh.. a goat fat, a tallow? And why would I need that?”
He didn’t answer this time just, dipped his three fingers to a semi-solid cream then sliding it around each side of knife. Funny thing was in this lucid dream I recalled a particular dream when I was spreading a spear with butter and piercing the heart of somebody –I can’t remember whom - and realistic experience of smoothness of flesh-metal collision while stabbing him.
He handed to me the ‘ready-to-go’ knife once again as we travelled through the wormhole.
Two of Brits were sleeping on the bare ground, the third - high ranking officer - comforted himself on a bed matrass sitting high off the floor and snorting like a pig. I spotted the “Red” placed under his pillow. But it was impossible reaching his bedside and taking it out without being noticed by soldiers who could raise an alarm.
One of them instantly jumped to his feet after he heard rustling noise under my feet. I kicked aside his rifle so he couldn’t shoot us from close range, but it didn’t relax his vigilance, he grabbed a stone and threw it at me so I drop the hunting knife. But he missed. Second soldiers woke up to his companion’s war cry who was screaming and charging on me- and jumped like a cat on to my mute friend.
First one, tried to grab the knife out of my hand and wrestled me to ground using hip throw, being pretty stronger than me, he gripped my right wrist with his left, firmly pushing my veins with his long thumb nail. I unpreventable loosened my hold of a knife. But I exerted all my strength and gave him a strong head-butt as soon as he lifted it. I took advantage of his dizzy state, grabbed the knife one again and poked it right into his throat. I threw his dying body off me and didn’t bother to pull out the knife to fasten his bleeding.
With my mute companion, the case was much easier. I turned to see him strangling the enemy soldier and the latter burning last sm3 of oxygen left in his lungs, his eyes popped out and face swelled all in red.
The high ranking military officer awake, staring at us with anger that could melt a steel. He blew a whistle to alarm nearby unit, with other handing reaching for his rifle.
“Hey…he’s getting the gun” – I warned my companion
Mute Turk, jumped onto him with a thunderstorm punch, but couldn’t evade the fatal shot, I rushed to help him, and saw him already poking a bayonet right into officers heart, but himself bleeding badly. He grabbed the Ottoman flag and handed it to me:
“Rannnnn!” - he told me to run.
I took it and thanked him for his help. He was dying and I couldn’t do anything other than paying tribute to this imaginary hero resident of my lucid dream. I heard the footsteps of running soldiers. There was no way I could escape from the one and only front door, leaving me no choice but swipe and stroll. So I poked the bayonet on ground and generated another wormhole opening to the creek that would serve my exit plan. I tried desperately not to make a sound while escaping the bloody chamber. I barged in and out in a split second, and found myself standing on the bank of the river in the early morning dawn. I was not confused though, to an abrupt time zone change, taking into account 10 years of supersonic flight experience to beat the time those days. Worrying part, was that wormhole didn’t close, leaving me prey to the enemy soldiers. They would chase and stab me one by one, raged by our “treacherous raid” on chamber, before I crossed the river. I was aghast at the very thought of it. Opening another dreamgate was of no use as well. The first one did not disappear from sight.
“Think fast…work brain work.” – I grumbled slapping my forehead. “I must take my chances” . I tried to think of any particular memory that could help me block their exit from the first wormhole. More of a physical obstacle.
I remember back when I was six, entire house could have burnt to ashes if not stopped by Mom in time. Out of kiddish interest for matches and flame, I put a handful of cotton on fire behind the bookshelf, what flared up instantly. I dropped it on the floor abruptly, not to hurt myself. But then I was mesmerized by the view of burning carpet and poured a whiskey from father’s Black Jack bottle. Poor mother first panicked, but then rushed to the bathroom for water. She put down the fire with 4 buckets of water before father came and gave me “greasy” slap right in my right ear. It was so painful and my ear did become swollen and deformed from the bottom part permanently. I still feel the pain as I recall that incident.
“Now I have an exit plan.” I said to myself. I swiped & strolled to that particular memory block, but this time I was involved in this incident as more of a third person, observer if you will, other than first person – 6 year old dumb and naïve kid.
“Hey kiddo give me that” – Younger me, winced to see me emerge out of wormhole through the wall and steal box of matches and bottle of Black Jack from my father’s sweetheart collection. Younger me ran away crying and calling for Mom. I was happy for him. At least he won’t get punished for being naughty. After I returned back to river bank, I checked out my right ear to see whether it would turn back to normal state, you know, after some kind of time reaction like in Back in Time movie. But then realized that I was having a lucid dream so no need to waste a precious time. “Whom are you kidding”.
The last wormhole opening to my childhood home didn’t close as well. I saw dozen of heavily armed soldiers crowding inside the chamber checking their fallen comrades, yet bedazzled by the sight of transparent bubble on the brick wall. It didn’t take long for soldiers notice me running towards them, with Molotov cocktail on my hand, which took me less than a minute to make.
“Curse. It’s a curse” – one of them ran out of chamber.
Other one recited some verse from Bible inaudibly, marking himself with the sign of a cross. But most of them drew their long barrel guns and aimed at me, ready to face the imminent danger. I aimed and threw burning bottle right inside the wormhole. Dreamgate bubble somehow boosted the aftereffect as I saw Molotov cocktail explode like a napalm strike . Those on the front row caught on fire immediately, screaming and running chaotically, bumping their heads to the wall. They got no save. It was dramatic moment but I didn’t snap, they were not real after all. There’s no way they pass the dreamgate engulfed in fire. Now it was time to cross the river of escape, with Ottoman flag in my hand as I was told to by a stranger from a train of no return.
“What are you doing be careful with the wires…” It was again creepy voice of a badass woman, piercing through the morning sky. Then I heard muffled sound, chain of a words I couldn’t understand, but … “layyf supppot”
I rushed to the edge of the river, fit the flag around my neck like a scarf as I felt something was not right. The surface of water wasn’t flat, it was a streaming jet. I took a deep breath and plunged into water swimming toward the other side of the river, bobbing up and down through the stream. After a dozen of strokes I almost reached the other side of the bank. While swimming half a head above the water something brushed my leg. I tried not to panic first even though my heart was pumping tons of black blood. But seconds later there was another contact. It was not a bite of crocodile or some other predator, for sure. It was touch of human being. Someone grabbing from my right foot and pulling back to the bank. There was nothing left from a professional swimming technique and I was twirling and spinning unable to resist the strong pull of unknown.
“Where are you going, come here” – I heard a familiar voice as I turned my head. Unknown was Herman in person. My “bad will” organ donor my “savior” .This rascal wouldn’t let me wake up from comma as Tural, trying to bury me in his own mean memory blocks in order to invade my personality. He pulled me out of water to a dirty bank. Out of a sudden, Herman the weakest person in the world, became a strong man with enlarged biceps.
“Let me go, asshole”- I screamed
He bend over me, grabbed my hair and hit my face with elbow and double punch, knocking me out of “power grid”. Then put some metal rod in my hand and hit the ground with it, using my hand like some kind of tool, or glove, in order to open the alternate dreamgate to a deeper memory block. I felt sort of dizzy and ready to throw up anytime, unable to see the contents of a new wormhole. This time he kick me right in my stomach. He picked my half-dead, half-alive body cradled it in his arms before throwing it to the other side of dreamgate.