It was long past visiting hours. The hospital was manned by a skeleton crew of nurses and the doctor on call. They wandered the hallways to make sure the overnighters were still asleep, and that no one in intensive care was taking a turn for the worse. The rooms were all dark as the patients slept.
The ICU was still noisy. Dozens of machines beeped and hissed as they kept comatose people alive. The ICU was a long hallway, with beds on each side separated by only curtains. A door might have taken too long to get through in an emergency.
In one of those ICU beds a girl in her late teens was dying. Her organs were giving out one at a time, but unfortunately for her none of those organs were in her ears. All night she lay awake listening to machines breathing for her roommates. Sleep was one of the only things she could still do, and it was being taken away from her.
Down the hallway walked two men. The man on the right was wearing a tailored suit but no tie. His hair looked as though it had been cut at a salon five minutes earlier. His leather shoes made no noise while he walked.
On the left was a man in a tank top. No two tattoos on his arms were alike. They were a museum of different styles: metal tube, bamboo handle, ta moko, rake and strike. Up close there were clear distinctions, but together they managed to fit together like puzzle pieces into a singular vision.
A nurse stepped out of one of the rooms with a clipboard in her hands. It took her a moment to look up and realize the two men were there. She wasn't expecting anyone to be walking around the hospital at three in the morning.
"Excuse me, do you work here?" she asked, fully expecting the answer to be no. The question was more to gauge whether she needed to walk or run to security.
"I'm buying this property," the man in the suit said. "We're going to turn this establishment into a gym. This man will be the lead personal trainer."
Sometimes people say things with such confidence that it takes more work not to believe them. The nurse suddenly felt that she was in the wrong for stopping such important visitors, never mind the time. Rich people had full schedules. If they had to wait until three in the morning to tour a property that was their business.
"I'm sorry, please let me know if you need anything," the nurse said. She hurried down the hallway. The next day she prayed that no one checked the security footage.
The two men walked through the door of the ICU. The man in the suit began to walk past all the beds on the left, while the man with tattoos walked to the right.
Tattoo man stopped at the foot of one patient's bed. "What about him?"
"No diabetics," the man in the suit said. "This one?"
Tattoo man scoffed. "Heart disease? I want someone who didn't put themself here."
The girl sat up. She opened her mouth to say something but both men turned toward her before she could take a breath. In an instant they were at either side of her bed.
"What does this one have?" Tattoo man asked.
"Organ failure. Is that agreeable to you?"
"It wouldn't be my first choice, but she's already seen us."
"Then we should leave it up to her." The man in the suit took a step toward the girl. "Do you think you're going to get better?" he asked her.
She shook her head. "I know I'm not."
"We can help you get better. But it'll cost you a year."
That same confidence that made the nurse turn away was at work in the girl's mind. These two men could make her better. Of course she wanted to get better.
