There was that familiar feeling of both ease and sadness accompanying facing one"s fears—especially, in Samuel"s case. The music box playing around Charlotte"s clock tower had been deeply engraved in his mind, tracing back to the time he was a child. His sister, Samantha Albrecht, was just a teenage girl when the car crash had occurred. Both of their parents died, and Samantha was diagnosed as brain-dead—on a vegetative state, barely even called "living".She was sustained by machines and numerous medical whatnots to serve as her life support. Her brain had been disparaged from the crash"s impact to the point that the doctors told Samuel it will take a powerful miracle to have her recovering to normal. She was on a state of having her brain"s cognitive function impeded, and was growing weary at each pa.s.sing time. Her brain activity also suggested no sign of hope. She wasn"t dreaming, and she wasn"t responding to any stimulus. Samantha was in the position of a stagnant body being thought of as someone alive.
Samuel, growing up, had seen his bedridden sister turning as sleeping beauty to a miserable lady doomed to sleeping forever. He grew up with her slumbering—deep asleep and unconscious, that he initially thought she was always like that. But when Samuel eventually grew to understand, he immediately came to realize that his sister was on the brink of death. She barely breathed and got by, but she was surviving. She was at death"s door, but he was pulling her away from entering.
The doctors were telling him it would be a matter of time before she gives up and disappear completely. It might be another year, another month, or perhaps maybe tomorrow or today. But Samuel continued to be with her nonetheless—giving her fresh lilies, holding her hand as he takes a nap beside her hospital bed, and telling her how his life had been for the past 13 years.
Berthold usually accompanied him to the hospital; he knew them both very well, especially Samantha. She was supposed to be almost Berthold"s age, probably having a degree now or two. She was supposed to be married to someone now, or perhaps on the prime of her career. Although Samantha had been slumbering for thirteen, long years, the time she had lost never reflected back to her face. She still looked young—no more than fifteen. Samuel sometimes thought that she ought to go back to high school at some point, making him the older one if that ever happens. But then, such daydreams disappear as quickly as they had come.
Samantha"s state had pulled Samuel back to reality; she looked weaker and weaker each pa.s.sing day. Dreaming of her studying again looked nothing more than pipe dreams to the hopeful.
"Any longer and her muscles won"t recover enough resulting in atrophy," Berthold stated, peering below the girl sleeping soundlessly against the white mattress of the hospital bed. He was holding a clipboard with the list of the results and impressions about her brain activity. Berthold was a surgeon - or more specifically, a neurosurgeon. He also had studied several branches of medicine, making him credible for interpreting almost anything. Berthold"s specializations caught UHE"s eyes, which is why they had appointed him as one of the members of their task force.
The dextrose"s contents dripped like an endless loop of beads joining into one. It had no sound, but the ripples suggest that there is a minuscule amount of reverberation even inside its tube. Samuel had seen this setup for many years growing up. He had occasionally stared through the hospital equipment without discretion for as long as he could remember—and the next thing he would know; he was fast asleep. However, this time he couldn"t fall asleep. There were so many things he had in his mind, and Berthold"s update to Samantha"s condition couldn"t exactly calm Samuel"s nerves.
"She also would have cognitive deficits, Samuel," said Berthold after he conveyed the technicalities of the findings. "At this rate, she"s only suffering."
"Do you think I don"t know that?" Samuel a.s.serted, leaving Berthold in silence. Samuel thinned his lips, looking straight to the ground.
"My sister"s been like this for as long as I know, and I"ve been getting the impression from the doctors, as well as YOU, that everything is for naught," Samuel blurted with a sharp slick on his tone. "I know that. You don"t need to tell me Samantha"s long gone, and if she lives, she"ll be in h.e.l.l. No, you only had to explain the update, Bert. You didn"t have to tell me everything from the past 13 years keeping her alive was FUTILE."
"That"s not what I said, Sam," Berthold articulated calmly. "What I"m saying is that—she will have an immense disadvantage if she would awaken. She might now even walk, or even speak. She might just be conscious, but she will not recognize you anymore."
Samuel huffed. ". . . you people really want her to die, huh?"
"Sam! That"s not what I said." Berthold frowned, walking towards Samuel as he held his shoulders. "I"m just telling you the possibilities so you could be prepared. It will be tough if Samantha would wake up. And I want you to be ready for those complications you"ll have to face."
"No, I"m h.e.l.la not," Samuel uttered. "I"m not."
"Sam . . ."
". . . I"ll pull off her life support the moment we come back here." Samuel murmured, sending Berthold looking at him in complete surprise slowly easing in a painful grasp and understanding. "The time we complete the task on ANDROMEDA, I"ll be . . . I"ll be letting her go. If it"s like that, if even waking up would not help her, then I"d be hoping that heaven is indeed real, and she would be there."
Samuel glanced back to Berthold, who was looking at him with a solemn stare. "we"re leaving to Peru tomorrow, right?" Samuel asked.
"Yes," Berthold said, standing up as he eased the wrinkles on his lab coat.
"After we return, I"ll be . . . pulling the life support off." Samuel said. "Until then, I don"t want you to bring up Sis."
Berthold nodded. "Alright."
"Well . . . I"ll be outside. Just call me if you need anything, alright?" Berthold stated. "Take a rest, Sam."
Samuel nodded slightly, as he glanced back to his entwined fingers. And with a pat on Samuel"s shoulder, Berthold left with the door shutting gently behind him. Samuel stood up and sat beside Samantha"s bed, examining her face.
She still looked like how she would when the accident took place. The doctors told Samuel she was aging, but to Samuel, she looked as young as ever. If the two of them will stand side-by-side, they would be mistaken as fraternal twins. Samantha, after all, had very black hair complementing the bridge of her nose down to the shape of her chin, which she had inherited from their father—Erwin Albrecht, unlike Samuel who had platinum-blond ones he inherited from his mother. But then again, they both had sharp, electric-blue eyes. They were unmistakably siblings.
Samuel couldn"t remember a single memory he spent with his parents, but with Samantha, he could recall some. The accident happened when he was five, and his sister, fifteen. He couldn"t evoke anything other than the impact of the crash and the day he had woken up to the hospital bed. At that time, Samuel understood that he could no longer see his parents . . . but Samantha, he could still take her back. She could still come back. And as soon as Samuel realized that, he had the growing fear of losing his sister as well. This was why he decided he won"t let her die no matter what.
A fingertip reached the dark hair of the girl fast asleep, and then Samuel"s lips pressed unto her cold forehead. He tried to evoke a smile from his lips, which came out as a slight curve quivering to crumple into a rueful smile.
"Sleep tight . . . Sis."
**
"We won,"
"Yeah,"
Samuel wiped the tears streaming down his face. He wiped them off with his sleeves, but they continuously kept on coming, like a bottle of water bursting from being too full. Samuel was able to wipe the tears away and stop them finally after a few minute of silence. But then, the red swelling on the corner of his eyes spoke lengths - a mark he couldn"t hide.
Ephraim ambled towards him without a word. Samuel thought about several excuses for he was tearing up. He thought about telling Ephraim there was dust in his eyes or lame subterfuges such as having a bug causing his eyes to swell. But then, one look from Ephraim with his usual smile, Samuel knew that he had seen everything. He couldn"t make excuses for someone who knew the truth.
"Pathetic, right?" was only the word Samuel could say. He was still on the ground, stooped down, and couldn"t get up.
"No," Ephraim said.
"What a cruel dungeon," Samuel said. "Making me do what I don"t want to."
Ephraim propelled an arm forward, extending his hand to Samuel.
"What an odd partnership we formed," Samuel exclaimed, accepting Ephraim"s offer as the two of them stood into the light. "Lame leader."