Leavened

| Chapter 3 |

I could barely see, neither could I hear. But as I guided myself on the flat, cold bed, I could hear someone, a man maybe, say, "She should be stable in a few hours. Then, probably, a procedure would be commenced."

His voice seemed calm, almost like a soft wind. Those winds that brush past with a feeling of euphoria and essence in the early nights. Those ones whose presence when felt brings relief despite the terrible effects of the society we all are bound to witness.

There was another voice. Although, far and tense, I could automatically visualise the speaker. A female, it was, due to the hight pitch and fluidity of words and weight of emotions the words carried. And so my imagination continued: small nose, thick lips and meticulous. As I thought of these, I was reminded of Jones. His whereabouts and present conditions were my thoughts.

"A few more tests and she's approved," the man said. "But until the basic criteria are met, we are left with an unsolved hypothesis," he ended.

I heard another voice. "An almost impossible thesis would defy all doubts. This is almost becoming a possibility for MH and its history. It is also be definitely a great honour and respect to Dr. Lyles' legacy in the advent of this project." It seemed like they were two men in the room.

I thought of Zoe. I imagined her in one of those house block parties at the street down the campus' building. I envisioned she was in a bright red dress, two solos cups of expensive wine and strangers flirting here and there - boys and girls alike. Because, of course, with such irregular traits, her elegance and astonishing beauty creates a hue - black or grey - to contrast the feisty rationale.

Still in the midst of this situation, I didn't feel scared. Instead, still reminiscing about my close friends, anticipating for the next things bound to happen and realizing and loosing myself to this happenstance.

Gripping unto the cover cloth, I jerked my legs upwards. Immediately, the two men whom were furiosly striking each finger against the buttons of the keyboard, turned briskly towards me. I felt my heart thump between its ribcage. The pit of my stomach growled in fear, yet I had enough resistance to remain comport. I released the tension my eyes held, spread my fingers free and decreased the rate at which my chest and stomach moved.

They kept their eyes on me. One hand removed from the keyboard and transferred onto the mouse. In a bid to get rid of the hard feeling I had in between my buttocks, I took a look at the computers. I had intended to make it a quick glance, but on noticing the strange site they were on, it was a shocking sight to behold. I was infuriated. Perhaps, it was an understatement that the state government had a mutual understanding with the Federal government - which is meant to be - but here in Ohio, it was not the case.

According to the newspaper I read few years back and an oral/first-hand information from my dad, the then state and Federal rulers were regional staff workers who attended the great college of Foreign Diplomacy together. It was said, still regarded as a rumour that both had discovered their wives as separated sisters, yet, there was nothing changing in their relationship. It was until the 80's that after both men had been opportuned to run for office that a certain level of beneficial relationship occurred between the two.

To cut the long explanation short, the two outstanding men remained at logger heads and quite shockingly had similarities in personalities - gauche and toxic.

But still, as I relied on my past experience of the foul play the government involved itself in, the men found themselves gazing at my frail state and the white plasma screen by the upper right corner of the room. I sensed a bit of somberness in their faces. The apparent anomaly of those plagent smiles and stares that sneaked out of nowhere on their pale faces.

It was so topsy-turvy when one of them stood up to me, and walked quietly beside me. He reached out to my face, but at the second his index finger lingered on my chin, he let them land on the window blinds behind me. His body was inclined above me, his left hand against wall and a saddening expression written all over his face.

I swelved my eyes from the tall man to the other man seated like he had been reassured of being headlined in a Gazette. There was a thin line across the screen. As fast as it came, same was how it went off the screen. Each men had a worrisome look all over their faces, and yet instead of developing an panic attack due to the description their faces had, I let out a deep chuckle but when borg eyes turned to face me, I feigned an attack.

Within those few seconds of switching from mocking their saddened faces to faking a sudden twitch in my actions, I was wheeled in and out of three different rooms. As I was being wheeled recklessly, the air felt violent and as my head shook as violently as the wind, the doors almost became invisible in my eyes. Eventually, the wheels of the bed hit a tile against the dark wall and a slight move from the tile forward caused my head to hit the bed. All these while, the actions that began and ended the result of my supposed-to-be joke, were filled with chaos and violence.

The lights came on. The window blinds were flipped open and trolley was pushed to my side. There were series of small metal equipment lined in a tray. I looked adjacent the bed. There was a heart monitor and a plotter just by its side. Those moments were like plagues - emotions filled with exaggerated pains and agonies. As the two men rummaged through the trays and moved their hands on my face and arm, there was an addition of three women and a screeching bed.

On the bed laid a grunting man almost twice my age from the grey hairs that roamed here and there around his face and a section in the middle and sides of his head. I loosened up a bit and stretched upwards, placing my head against the bed's headrest. Scattered in certain places - head, arms and legs - were light red spots. They seemed rooted in his pores as pus poured out profusely with splashes of blood surrounding it. As the sores bled, his hoarse gnawls and agonizing cries escaped his quivering lips and slipped into my ears. Instantly, I was covered with goosebumps and my hairs glared up in irritation and pity.

As an oxygen nose mask sat in between my face, the two men whom were attending to me hurriedly walked towards the man. A huge file was picked up by one of the women and she peeled through each page, tracing the lines and words with her finger. In anticipation, the others spread on each sides of the bed. The grunting continued. Those sounds became a portender of sadness within my soul. My soul broke as his head moved up and down, slamming the bed. His legs twitched in pain and suddenly, it became silent. I thought that he had died and had finally decided to rest from the struggles.

And as my strain of thoughts wandered to and fro, a loud beep sounded from the heart monitor. I realized it was mine and the heart rate had increased. From beneath my eyes, I could see my chest heave with great force. It seemed that didn't notice because they were solely focused on the man. Dead or not, he still compelled so much attention, even mine.

The woman finally stopped at a page after turning and returning to each page after another. She read out his biometrics and other significant information. It was then that my soul drowned within me. It was when she said his name that I felt what he had felt - Death.

And his name was Jones Jefferson.