Flatline

Chapter 1

Rick Carter
1 in 100.
That's the probability of a psychopath being born.
Which could possibly mean you walk past 7 psychopaths a day. They could be driving in their car, buying groceries, walking down the street; just doing normal things.
Yet, they're a psychopath.
MAOA-L
That 's the gene psychopaths carry .
That's the gene I carry.

Blair Walker
"Code blue!" I yell while hitting the button. Doctors and nurses flood in whilst I surpress
the artery burst on his neck. The noise of the quickened heart rate beeping and the shuffling of physicians feet against the floor become louder and louder making it hard to concentrate.
"Prep an OR" Jackson yells.
Oh god...this can't be happening. Not chris. My favourite patient. His eyes are dull as he glances at me. I try to comfort him, but my head is pounding from the stress. It was just yesterday when we were talking and I was laughing at his witty jokes. But now he's almost dead and my hands inside his neck covered in blood .
Suddenly he begins to shake violently.
"He's having seizure!" The words barely escape my lips before my eyes tear up.
More blood spurts out and I try to cover it.
"Walker, its too late." Jackson Softly says.
"No!" The tears are streaming down my face now. I swallow hard.
"Time of death 9:56 pm."
Everything happens so quickly. Death shouldn't be so quick. Not for a 25 year old. He was too young. Too fucking young.
I stumble out of the room wiping the tears away. 
"Blair" I hear Jackson call out. His voice is muffled by the pain aching in my head.
"You should go home, get some rest." He continues.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
I turn around stopping him on his tracks. Then I stare into his dark brown eyes that are gleaming from the hospital lights.
"Chris was a patient and I am a doctor. I should have seen this coming. So thank you, but I'm fine." I say in a harsh tone then I storm off leaving him puzzled in the hallway.

Rick Carter
"Seeing as you are retiring in a couple of months, I'd like to be Chief of Surgery." I say confidently. Dr Brown shifts around in his chair with a slight smile on his face.
"That's excellent Carter but-"
There's always a 'but.'
"-Walker has applied for it too." He continues.
I nod, trying not to show my frustration.
"So, you two will have to prove to me why you deserve this job. Try your best and excel to the fullest in surgeries." He smirks.
"Of course." I smile.
Slowly, I rise out of my chair then he points his finger up.
"But remember, don't let the competition over rule you. This has happened in the past and has not ended well for the doctor nor the patient."
"I understand." I reach out to shake his hand.
"You're a great surgeon Carter and I believe you deserve this role."
"Thanks." I say, warmly.
He opens the door and gestures me out and the aseptic smell fills my nostrils. I sigh and look at my watch. I narrow my eyes.
Blair Walker is applying for Chief of Surgery. She's a great surgeon, smart and a fantastic communicator. But I need this job.

I wonder down the halls - I should be going to the lockers, my shift ended 20 minutes ago. But instead I'm going to room 27 on the second floor, left wing. And as I walk a small bottle jolts against my leg in my pocket.
I walk into the elevator and press the second button. "Wait" I hear a yell as the door starts to close. I see someone running towards me carrying folders with loose papers flying around. I put my arm between the censors as she slips through.
"Thanks!" She pants.
Oh shit.
It's Blair Walker.

I can't believe it. This is the surgeon that's applying for Chief? I've seen her a couple times in surgery, she's great but here she looks so disorganised. This might be easier than what I thought. She smiles while tightly gripping the papers. Subtly, I roll my eyes.
"How are you?" She asks.
"Good." I say staring at the door, impatiently waiting for it to open. I need to get to room 27.
I don't have time for this small talk.
"Hold on, you must be Rick Carter! The guy that's applying for Chief." She cheerfully says.
"Yes, that's me." I say quickly while glancing at my watch. One of the sheets falls out of her hands as she picks it up her smile fades. My eyes gaze on the sheet, it reads "Chris Garret." The elevator dings and I step out ignoring her optimistic 'goodbye.' I turn left and walk down the hall to room 27.

A 15 year old boy lies there with tubes coming out of his mouth and nose. He was supposed to wake up two days ago, but he hasn't.
And I can't wait any longer.
I peek out into the hallway, there's only a nurse working at the desk, munching on a chocolate bar. Nothing unusual. I close the curtains and walk over to him.
"A car accident, how tragic." I whisper.
"This is a quick way out, beneficial for you and me."
I pull out the bottle and fill a syringe with the toxin. Then I raise the needle to his arm and slowly inject him.
"Goodbye."
I watch his heart rate slow down until it flatlines. I unplug the monitor to stop the constant beeping sound. His chest stops moving and his body finally relaxes.
I smile.
10 minutes pass before I plug the monitor back in. Silently, I open the door and carefully slip away into the hallway.
How satisfying.