Dr Anderson's POV
I drove into MEDCORP at exactly 08:00 PM later that night, and as earlier agreed, Mr Crawford was waiting at the reception.
"Ah, Anderson." He said in a friendly manner once he saw me from a distance, and before I could get close, he walked hurriedly down the hallway, leaving me to decide whether to follow him or not.
I increased my pace at once and followed behind to keep up with him but the distance between Mr Crawford and I stretched with every long stride he took.
When Mr Crawford got to a door, he stopped walking, finally giving me a chance to catch up with him.
I charged forward, going as fast as my legs could carry, and in no time, I was standing beside Mr Crawford, who had just inserted a strange-looking key into the keyhole which was just as strange.
The door opened to reveal that it was an elevator, and not an office as I had presumed.
A private elevator!
It had no buttons, only a keyhole which was similar to the one at the door.
Where could it be leading to? I found myself asking within me.
The clicky sound made by the key as it turned in the keyhole forced me to look more closely at Mr Crawford.
I saw him pull out the key from the keyhole, just as the elevator kicked into motion. The elevator had just one destination, and it was controlled by the strange-looking key Mr Crawford carried protectively.
The elevator stopped after some time, and Mr Crawford led the way out while I followed behind.
The hallway in this part of the building was unusually narrow so we could not walk side by side with each other.
I noticed also that there were very few doors within these walls, and not a single person was in sight.
Mr Crawford pulled a door open, after a long walk, and I stepped inside, right after him.
The brightness of the hall dazzled my senses for a few seconds before I got used to it, giving me a chance to examine my present environment.
This room was no hospital ward. It was way bigger and more equipped for the award.
The medium-sized tanks which were placed in strategic positions in the ward caught my attention the next instant.
A closer look at the tanks showed that some of the tanks contained... Children, teenage boys, and girls.
Stuart isn't the only specimen. I noted, disheartened.
"Yes Anderson, as you can see, we have other donors aside from Mr Johnson." Mr Crawford replied as if reading my thoughts.
I could feel my face wrinkling in irritation at the word 'donor'.
Like who the fuck gives a child out as a donation for an experiment?
I did not notice Crawford walking down the hall-like ward till he called out to me.
"This will be your concern, for now." He added the last part on second thought, after a brief pause.
I walked over to the end of the ward, where Mr. Crawford was standing over a tank that was slightly different from the others.
Unlike the others, this tank was wired, and connected to a life machine which beeps with every passing second, disrupting the stillness of the ward.
As I moved closer towards it, I could see the tank very clearly. As I expected, it was not empty. A teenage boy lay stoically inside.
It was Stuart.
Once I stepped in place beside Mr Crawford, I could see him. Like the others in their respective tanks, he was stark naked and very much unconscious.
"He's strangely been like this since we brought him here." Mr Crawford informed me.
If I didn't know better, I would think it was a worry I saw on his face, but he is Mr. Crawford, the CEO of MEDCORP, and the brain behind Stuart's experiment as with many others. He is never worried.
"Did you try giving him any medication?" I asked him, subduing the panic I could feel rising within me.
"No, I was told by my experts to allow him to come out of the coma on his own." Mr Crawford replied in a manner that showed just how unaffected he was.
"Well, it is past the time to wait. We have to intervene." I replied calmly. The knowledge that if left for a few hours more, Stuart would die rested heavily on my shoulders.
And the fact that Crawford didn't know this made me doubt if he should be practicing medicine.
"So, when do you intend to start working on him?" Mr Crawford suddenly asked.
"I don't know exactly what I will be doing with him," I replied, with my brows narrowing.
"Sofia didn't tell you?" He asked, visibly surprised.
I shook my head in response.
"I only know that there is an experiment and that I would see to it, but I don't know what the experiment is about," I explained when it seemed Mr Crawford wouldn't take shaking my head as an answer.
"Sofia …" Mr Crawford called in a manner that showed more loathing than pity.
"Speaking of the bitch, how far have you gone about what we discussed?" Mr Crawford asked, turning to face me.
"I have placed the cams in strategic positions in her office," I replied.
"How did you manage that so soon?" He asked. I could tell just by looking at him, that he was impressed with me.
"I have my way," I replied, tapping lightly on the tank which housed Stuart's almost lifeless body.
"Can I start working on Stuart right now?" I asked once I remembered how close to death Stuart currently is.
"Can you not wait till tomorrow?" Crawford asked, dismissively.
"No sir," I replied, showing urgency in my tone.
"Alright, what do you need then?" He asked resignedly.
Somehow, the resignation I felt in his voice excited me. It showed just how different working for him will be, compared to working for Sofia.
"I will need some bottles of empagliflozin and some packs of syringes," I replied, watching Mr Crawford as he narrowed his eyes in surprise.
"Did you say empagliflozin?" He asked, bewildered. His voice was unusually low as though he worried that he would be heard by one of the occupants of the tanks.
"Yes, empagliflozin, and some syringes," I repeated.
"Even though I bribed my way through med school, I remember what the drug is used for." Mr Crawford replied, and I wasn't surprised in the least.
"We forced him into a coma ourselves, we can only force him out," I explained, restraining myself from pointing out his near-death situation to Mr Crawford whom I'm sure wouldn't care.
"I will be back with it soon." Mr Crawford replied, heading towards the exit.
"You should stay back." Mr Crawford added when he noticed me walking closely behind him.
For a slight moment, I couldn't help but panic. I am the only conscious person on this floor. What if Mr Crawford doesn't come back as he said? How do I find my way out of here?
I mustered enough courage and pushed those fearful thoughts out of my mind.
I moved around the room, looking from one tank to the next, to observe the occupants. They were all of the same age range, and very much in a coma.
I walked back to Stuart's side, feeling tired, and beginning to feel scared.
Just when I thought Mr Crawford was taking more time than necessary, the door pulled open, and Mr Crawford stepped in.
Speak of the devil! I exclaimed within me.
He looked closely at me for a moment, and then he asked,
"You weren't scared I was going to leave you up here, were you?"
Not sure if I should come clean or not, I replied, settling for the latter.
"Of course not. I only felt bored." I told him.
Mr Crawford didn't hide his disbelief as he handed me a plastic bag that contained some packs of syringes and two familiar bottles that contained empagliflozin.
Without wasting time, I drew 10ml of the drug into one of the syringes and I injected Stuart with it.
I repeated the process three more times, while Mr Crawford looked on cluelessly.
"How long will it take before he regains full consciousness?" Mr Crawford asked.
"A minimum of eight hours," I replied.
I kept the near-empty bottles in the plastic bag and followed behind Mr Crawford, who was walking towards the exit.
I studied the elevator closely this time, but I found nothing new.
By the time we got to the hospital's garage, it was a few minutes to midnight.
I stepped into my car, just as Mr Crawford stepped into his, and only then did my appointment with Sonia come to mind.
I tapped on my phone to wake the sleeping screen and saw tons of messages from a disappointed Sonia. Each message was well-flavored with angry emojis, and at the moment, I didn't care.
A single honk from Mr Crawford's car brought me back to reality, and in a single movement, I dropped my phone and kicked my car into motion.
Once we drove out of the building in our respective cars, Mr Crawford rode straight through the direction I suspected led to his house, after honking me goodnight.
With a slight honk, I rode towards the opposite direction, which led to my house.