Dracula: New blood

Chapter four. Dying but not dead.

The next time I wake up, something is different. A subtle change is evident. The noise from the medical devices sounds the same but yet there's an unmistakable shift in the air today. I smell at least three other people in the room besides my family and the usual medical personnel. There's an intangible tension, an almost palpable anxiety that hangs like a delicate veil. Unfamiliar fingers trail along the soles of my feet, testing for some elusive response, followed by a series of gentle prods and nudges across my skin—more vexing than painful. Then, an unexpected sensation as my eyelids are lifted, allowing a sudden burst of light to permeate the darkness. Somebody opens my eyes and a flashlight shone in my eyes. After that much darkness, there is light! Not that I appreciate it!

Before me, a pair of icy blue eyes, set behind a pair of glasses, lock onto mine. His voice mirrors his gaze—cold, clinical.

"I regret to say, I believe she might be beyond our reach," he remarks coolly. "Naturally, we must adhere to scientific protocols. An EEG will be conducted to ascertain any trace of brain activity—if present." The quickened pace of my father's heartbeat is unmistakable, and a soft exhalation escapes from Kim. The man hesitates, registering the pain his words inflict. "I understand that this wasn't the reason for flying me here from UCLA. Regrettably, there's little if anything I can offer at this juncture."

His tone changes to a softer one in the face of the tragic news. So, I am dead. Did I just laugh? How could I be dead but still alive inside? What are my options? I am again in the dark as his light goes away..

"I'll arrange for the EEG in the next hour," one of the Romanian doctors confirms a minute later and I hear her discussing the details with Kim.

Beside me, my father grapples with the weight of the revelation. His voice, once steadfast, now wavers, a sign of the inner turmoil. His voice doesn't sound like himself anymore. But he smells the same as before. What is it with me and the smells recently?!

"I appreciate you coming on such short notice..."

"The Chief of Staff woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that a car was awaiting me downstairs in fifteen minutes and I was flying to Romania in the next hour...I knew you were a wealthy man but I didn't know you are this very influential man, too, Sir..." the man remarks with a trace of amusement in his tone. "I sincerely wish there had been something within my capabilities to help her this time..."

My father's grip upon my hand intensifies, as though attempting to obliterate the very reality of the situation. "Are you absolutely certain there is no remote possibility of her returning to us?" he inquires, his voice threaded with a sense of desperation that yearns for a positive response. He waits for the answer that's not coming. "There are all kinds of reports of people waking up years after being in a coma...all back to normal like nothing ever happened..."

His hope, palpable and tinged with bittersweet nostalgia, rings familiarity within me. I know where his hope is coming from. It's the past, he hopes for. Yet, I recognize the stark reality in the present. This is no longer an echo of the past or a tale of the paranormal. It is the truth of an illness, a virulent assault of meningoencephalitis that has taken hold.

"Sir, I fear my expertise is limited... I'm not the right man if we are not talking about science..." he confesses, a declaration that holds no truth.

He lies and my father knows it, and somehow, I know it too. There are a lot of ears listening to their conversation, for sure. A heavy silence fills the space as my father releases my hand and I hear him leaving the room. Suddenly, I remember those eyes watching me in the past. This man is known to me. He was friends with my mother, and he saved me before, in the past. My father summoned him here to save me again. Only if the situation would have been the same....