The Surgeon

The Surgeon 36

While all three of them remain absorbed in scrubbing up with their backs to me, I put my protective head cover back on.

“You need to know that I ate earlier, shouldn’t I have fasted for at least 24 hours before a surgical procedure, particularly one as major as this,” I ask, my eyes wandering over the surgical apparatus positioned next to the girl.

“Ideally, yes. But time is of the essence, so we’re just going to go for it today,” she answers.

I look at the instruments neatly arranged on a table next to the girl: scalpels, scissors, swabs, a surgical hammer and other assorted tools. Then I look at my so-called ‘make-over’ team standing with their backs to me.

I’m highly familiar with all surgical paraphernalia; I’ve been invaded by most of the items I see around me. In fact, I could almost be a Surgeon. I ponder this fact as I walk toward the tools that will remove this young girls face.

“You three have a long, intense day ahead of you,” I say, picking up a scalpel. The blade glistens in the intense light of the space and I promptly put it back when I realize the bouncing light might distract my make-over team from their scrubbing – and my intentions.

“We sure do; we estimate the whole procedure could take up to 24 hours,” she says.

“Really, that long?” I ask, picking up the hammer. It was one like this that The Surgeon used to break Thomas’s nose and transform it into the petite ski-slope that I now have.

“Yes – this will be one of our most testing make-over’s. But we’re up for the challenge, aren’t we guys,” she says, looking at her male colleagues.

“We so are,” they answer in a rehearsed like response.

Then I pick up the jewel in the crown of these theatre tools, the nasal/mouth mask, used to gently send the patient to sleep before the anesthetic is administered intravenously. I check that it’s effectively attached to the gas supply before I say, “You know, 24 hours is a long time to be on your feet, operating. I suggest you all have a little rest before you begin.”

“That won’t be necessary,” chortles the woman, still absorbed in her pre-surgery scrub-up.

”Oh, it’s essential,” I say, whilst checking my isolation helmet is air tight. Then – I slam the gas release button on the mask and thrust it in the air.

All three of my make-over team spin around when they hear the hiss of escaping gas, “What are you doing…” is all she manages to say before a mouth full of pre-op gas fills her lungs and makes her wobble unsteadily on her feet.

 I smile wide, “Enjoy your induced sleep team, you deserve it: one, two, three, four…”

 …all three hit the floor before I reach five. 

..... 

I estimate they’ve had enough gas to keep them floored for a fair few hours. I undo the girls restraints and use them, along with ripped sheeting to tie up my make-over team – securely.

I arrange the scalpels neatly on the table by the girl and put the hammer in her right hand. I remove her head cage and using the surgical pen write on her hand ‘When you wake, do whatever you have to do – to save yourself.’

......

I managed to prise the panel underneath the operating table open just enough to get my body through. The head helmet got stuck, but I released it, and left it wedged in the space in order to escape from underneath the bus. It was like being born again, backwards, lol.

......

Now to deal with The Kade and Kelly.

I squat and take cover behind one of the busses huge wheels and remove the cell from my inner thigh strap – trust me, he’s gonna get a major tongue lashing before I flee from this warped theme park – for good.

Eurgh, the cells sopping, covered in sweat – GROSS!

The screen’s black, blank. I force the ‘on’ button – it’s as sparked out as my make-over team and the Kelly look-a-like.

Shoot – maybe Kade’s messages were silenced by sweat. That is a cautious maybe. I have to be realistic, I can’t let my heart rule my head.

I look towards the underground living space... ‘there’s nothing for you back there,’ said Professor Merton.

Maybe she’s right, maybe she’s wrong?

I check the coast is clear and make an Olympian sprint toward the place I’d began to consider home.

As I slow down and recover my breath at the entrance to the underground dwelling, my last words with Kade return to me...’get back down there and get ready to act your socks off...’

Are Kade and his kind words all part of this elaborate act?

There’s only one way to find out and that’s underneath me.

I pull open the heavy gate of the elevator and enter.

......

I walk hesitantly into the chill-out area. It has been cleared of all its furnishings;  all the fixed appliances and computers are sealed in airtight plastic sheeting.

“Hello!” I holler.

All I hear is my ‘hello’ echoed back.

The silence and emptiness are unnerving. This place that once gave me a sense of safe security now gives me a fearful heart thump.

I look at the monitors; they remain active, yet the outside scenes they convey are as still and silent as this interior.

......

I walk with slow measured steps towards Kade’s room. My ear pressed against the door picks up nothing; I knock gently.

No response.

The door handle emits a soft squeak as it turns and the door makes a sudden click as it yields to my push.

I’m hit with a sudden waft of Kade; his sweet, soapy smell floods from the room, engulfing me in warm memories.

I sweep away the misguided memories and peer inside; everything is sealed in plastic sheeting, like the contents of the room have been sealed off  – abandoned.

As I scan the space I realize Merton’s right – there’s nothing here for me – I must flee, NOW.

“DO NOT MOVE!” The voice behind me is hard and heavy with aggression.

I freeze.

“OK, put your hands on your head and turn slowly, I am armed,” the agressor instructs.

I do as requested.

“TANYA! What you doing here?” Shouts Kade.

“I’m looking for you, what are you doing?” I ask, focusing on the three syringes he has aimed at me.

“I was about to go start looking for you! Why didn’t you acknowledge any of my messages, like we agreed?”

His breathing is heavy and on his face I see an undeniable look of relief.

I tear up and smile at the same time, “I didn’t like my wedding make-over. And I think I might have completely jeopardized our strategy for The Wedding.”