"I am sorry, but we can't save her."
Dr. Edward McGonagall said, his British accent clipped and somewhat apologetic.
Standing underneath the bright, sterile lights of the Moonrise Hospital and Medical Centre, Arthur looked at the doctor in front of him in a stupefied daze.
"What?" He stammered.
His lips were dry and sticky, and the grey of his eyes were floating inside red streaked white. Arthur's mouth opened and closed, breath escaping in gasps, but no words came out. Not even one.
The doctor placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Miss Maria, she…" he paused, as if prying for the right words, "…she has suffered extreme trauma. Psychological trauma. Whatever it was, her nerves were overwhelmed, and she went into a coma-like state."
"But you just said…" Arthur looked up, his brows pinched, "…you said you can't save her."
"Well, yes…but, well it's complicated." The middle-aged doctor pinched his glabella and tapped his forehead before slipping his hands inside his white formal coat. "Thing is, she has suffered almost 0 physical impact or trauma. Which is strange, given this level of psychological trauma is only possible in patients who are tortured for days…months even."
The doctor let out a breath. His brown eyes darted from the circular glass window of the emergency room to Arthur's pale grey ones. He sighed. "What I am saying is…if—and that's a big if, she recovers, it would be no better than a corpse."
Suddenly, the doctor felt an instinctive urge to take a few steps back. Arthur's hands were balled into fists and there was a rather furious look on his face that seemed to scream 'how dare you say that!'
"Elaborate." Arthur's voice was a stark opposite of his outer composure. His tone was flat, and his words seemed to lack the overwhelming rage his eyes carried.
The doctor exhaled through his nose. "She has fallen into a living coma."
He paused and tried to gauge his reaction. After around 3 seconds, he talked again. "She can walk, see, hear—but…well, the medical term we are using right now is akinetic mutism, but what it is in simpler terms is a persistent vegetative state with motor function."
"This is a phenomenon that has been occurring quite a lot in the recent years, especially hear in Las Vegas, Mexico, Ibiza, Miami, Amsterdam and Bangkok."
"While technically speaking they are alive, their existence is nothing more than an empty, lacking thoughts, emotions, urges…purpose."
Arthur pursed his lips. "Is there a cure?"
"None. As of now. A lot of talented doctors are researching it. But as of now, there has been no development. Part of it is because…well, the research would require opening the patient. And not many volunteer on the patient's behalf. But that is nothing to concern yourself with." The doctor sighed and patted Arthur's shoulder and turned around, ready to leave.
"Doctor McGonagall?"
"Yes?" He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"Can I take her…home?"
"By tomorrow, yes."
"Can I meet her?"
"By tomorrow, yes. It is better if we leave her in the quarantine, just for today."
Arthur looked through the circular window. Inside the blonde girl was tied to different tubes while the apparatus showed blue, green and red flat lines with minor, round bumps here and there.
"Alright." Arthur replied, his tone flat but behind his eyes was a maelstrom of conflicted thoughts and emotions.
Just as the doctor was about to leave, he turned back around. "And Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"Please, get some rest as well."
Arthur tried to smile, but the heaviness in his heart turned the smile down into a frown. Simply nodding his head, he placed a hand on his heart as Doctor McGonagall offered a somewhat consoling smile before flipping his stethoscope around his neck and following the nurse who had called him to the surgery room.
Arthur walked silently. He was wearing a warm and soft grey sweater which was tucked in black pants and black boots. On his left wrist was a cheap digital watch and golden and silver rings in his left ring and index finger respectively.
He turned to the left and then took a lift to the basement where his car was parked. Once he was in the basement parking, he walked up to B2 and unlocked the car that he had recently purchased.
Opening the door, he sat and closed it behind him. He touched the steering wheel and felt the furry, pink cover. Arthur sighed and placed a head on the steering wheel. For a moment, everything was still, the distant sound of lift going back up the sole sound.
However, suddenly, tears started to roll down his eyes, hitting the three-point star logo enclosed inside a circle. He lifted his head and gently hit it against the soft cover of the steering wheel.
There was no hitch in his breath, just a seamless discharge of tears from his eyes that had turned blood red while he clutched at his medium-length blonde-brown hair.
The car was something he had bought for themselves since it was Maria's favorite.
"Haahhh…" He sighed.
It had happened a few hours ago. After he was done delivering some of the materials required for his latest shipment that had just arrived from Iceland to Varn Corporations in Summerlin. He had received the call from Maria—his girlfriend—to pick her up after her evening classes.
Once he was done delivering the packages and finishing the paper formalities, he decided to go and pick Maria up. But on his way there, he saw a voice note from her which was sent around fifteen minutes ago.
The voice note was short. It had Maria's cry for help with extremely shrill and extremely heavy ecstatic laughters behind her. While Arthur did his best to reach there as soon as possible, much to his sadness, she was already lying there, unconscious in the middle of the road, a mile away from her tuition.
Her body was completely unharmed, save for the irises of her eyes that were unpresent. All that was left was the milky white in her sockets.
Sniffling, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and then took his gray sweater off, revealing the black T-shirt underneath. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he started his car and began to drive, driving out of the parking space.
Entering in the location of Maria's tuition academy, he pressed his foot on the gas pedal and weaved through the traffic dangerously. Due to Maria's condition, the usual law abiding, calm Arthur was breaking almost every traffic rule. As for the traffic lights, he had to wait at them, no matter how agonizingly long the wait was.
Once he was there, he got out of the car and paid $5 for an hour of parking. Going towards the boot of the car, he opened it and took out the new MR73 Gendarmerie with 4" barrel. It was a French-made, double-action revolver.
It had a custom "AM" initial inscribed in titanium on the handle.
It was a revolver that he had bought recently for $3,300 at Beretta Arms Galleries.
He took out his long coat and a holster. He wore the holster by his side and then wore the long coat over it. Taking out his leather wallet, he checked for his concealed carry permit.
He looked at the card:
Concealed Carry Weapons Permit
State of Nevada
Clark County Sheriff's Office
Permit Number: NV-CCW-2025-013579
Name: Arthur J. Solomon
Date of Birth: May 4, 2000
Address: 142 Neonvale Avenue, Las Vegas, NV 89109
Issue Date: July 30, 2025
Expiration Date: July 30, 2030
Description: Male, 6'0", 180 lbs, Brown Hair, Grey Eyes
Authority: Authorized to carry concealed firearms in the State of Nevada and reciprocal jurisdictions, pursuant to NRS 202.3657.
Issuing Office: Clark County Sheriff's Office, Techspire District Branch, Las Vegas, NV
Signature: Sheriff L. V. Shader
Note: This permit does not authorize carry in restricted areas (e.g., federal buildings, schools) unless otherwise specified.
Once he was done checking everything, he took off towards the academy.
The academy was called Princeton Reviews. It was located inside a moderate sized building. Taking the lift to the fifth floor, he took a sharp right and then entered the wide space with the name plaque of the academy.
"Hello…good evening." The receptionist greeted, mildly taken back by the appearance of someone at this hour. She was a little intimidated as well as Arthur's appearance suggested he was high on some kind of drugs. "We were just closing…"
Arthur cleared his throat. "I know."
The receptionist and Arthur looked at each for a long while, before the corners of the woman twitched and she let out an awkward laugh. "May I help you…?"
"Yes." Arthur's forehead creased, as if he was trying to shake off a headache. "Do you know Maria Olsen?"
The woman seemed to know exactly who he was referring to. Then, covering up her surprise, she wore a mask of utmost formality. "I am afraid I cannot disclose information like that. Unless you have a way to establish any legal relationship—a close and legal relationship, I don't think I can answer that."
"I know she studies Medical Genetics, Neuroscience, Biochemistry and Anatomy here. Also, your question more or less indirectly indicated she studies here anyways." Arthur pinched his glabella before sighing. Taking out his phone, he showed the woman his wallpaper with Maria hanging on Arthur from behind. "She is my wife. I want to know when she left here. And if it's possible to see who she left with as well."
The woman's eyes went wide. "Isn't she too young to have a husband?"
Arthur pursed his lips and deadpanned at her. The woman shook her head and coughed awkwardly. "Well, I suppose I can let you know. As you already know she studies here. Batch number 36, from 4 to 7 pm." She booted up her laptop and started to type something.
Looking over her round, black framed glasses, she glanced at Arthur. "Why are you looking for her anyways? Are you one of those controlling husbands who restrict his wife's every movement?"
Arthur was looking around the giant space. There was a giant projector screen, a lot of seats, a door that led to the laboratory that had a giant table with chemicals over it. Another room led to the toilet and the last one looked like another laboratory with incision tools littered over it and different human muscles' replicas.
"She is in ICU right now." Arthur replied with a flat tone.
"What?!" The typing on her laptop ended as she looked up at him with a stupefied look.
"Can you kindly stop talking and tell me what I asked for?" Arthur's jaw tightened, but he didn't look at the woman.
While being extremely offended at his words and the lack of basic etiquette from him, her worry towards a girl who she knew made her work. Soon, she let out a smack of her lips and an "Ah!"
"Here you go." She turned the laptop towards him. "She left the anatomy laboratory at 7:15 pm. I am assuming she had doubts, so she had stayed some extra 15 minutes to clear out those concepts. She's diligent."
The woman threw in a compliment and then continued talking. "She then left with the professor."
She fast-forwarded it to show Maria leaving with the bald professor while carrying three notebooks in her hands and a heavy backpack.
A pang of pain went through Arthur's chest as he saw the same infectious smile on her face which he fell in love with.
"Who is this professor?"
"Umm—" She looked closely at the recording. "—Ah, that's Professor Steve Wolfe. He lives down the road, across the casino district." She replied and then looked up at Arthur. His hair was messily resting on his pale grey eyes. She felt his jaw tighten as if he was grinding his teeth.
"So um, can you tell me what happened to her? Why is Maria in the ICU?"
Arthur's grey eyes met her green. "I…am not sure myself." He looked down at the paused footage. "But I am trying to find out."
"Can you tell me where she's admitted?"
Arthur looked at her from head-to-toe before softly shaking his head. "No. But thanks, for your help."
Much to his surprise, the woman showed a look of anxiousness. Realizing he was too rude to someone who was just worried for Maria, he sighed. "I am sorry, I mean, you can meet her, later. She's quarantined, for now."
"Oh…" The woman's words drawled as Arthur bit his lip.
"Well, I will be leaving then."
"Sure…" As Arthur turned around and started to leave, she raised her voice again, "…have a good night."
"You too." Arthur greeted, without turning back.
*********
Arriving at the Casino District, Arthur soon tracked the professor's house. It was located on the second street, and the house number was 97.
The house had a silver plaque, on which his name and designation were imprinted.
'Steve Wolf, MD, PhD
Professor of Anatomy
Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, Baltimore MD'
'Baltimore?' Arthur mused before ringing the bell. There was quick, melodious chime of a bird that echoed inside the house and then back outside.
No answer.
Arthur reached out and ringed it again. However, the result was the same. And again.
After three times, Arthur sighed and ringed it again. Letting out a frustrated grunt, he kicked the door lightly before turning around.
"He's not home today." An elderly voice spoke from behind.
Arthur turned around and smiled, but the tiredness in his features made his smile look awkward.
"Oh… would you know where the professor might have gone? I had some urgent business to share with him."
"Aw man, I don't know, maybe he's out in the Casino District, you know, gambling and stuff."
Arthur bit the inside of his lower lips before raising his hand, pursing his lips and then gave a thankful look. "Thanks. Appreciate it."
"No problem, son."
"Good night."
"You too."
Once the man was gone, Arthur sighed and took out a box of cigarettes. Taking out one of them, he ignited it, the end glowing in light orange light inside the dimly lit ambiance of the colony. He breathed in, and then puffed out, a small plume of smoke billowing in the air that was carried away by the winds.
'I guess I have to come tomorrow. It is quite late as well.'
Just as Arthur turned around, an extremely frigid wind blew, and he felt his feet grew cold. Not the usual cold, but instead icy cold. Like he had submerged his feet inside a freezing apparatus.
He looked down and he saw white powder forming on the tip of his boots and an extremely thin, translucent layer of white creeping on his entire leg. He looked back, and his heard suddenly seemed to drop into his knees.
While it was just a door, he felt as if there was a demon standing right behind the door. And from underneath the door, he could see cold wind blowing that was slowly turning his boots to ice.
Arthur gulped, reaching out for the inside of his holster and unlocked his gun from the strap that held it in place. He flicked the chamber, removing the shell that had been left empty—for safety reasons—and loading the one that had actual bullet in it.
He kept his hand on the gun and walked towards the door. His hand had removed the safety from the trigger as he reached out for the handle and slowly turned it.
It was left open!
Arthur's breath caught in his throat as he felt the cold intensify.
Slowly walking inside, he took out his revolver and placed it close to his thigh. Once the door was fully open, he finally saw inside.
It was totally dark inside the hallway that led to the main hall. However, even at this distance, he could see a thread made of silver shining in the near distance. Suddenly, the threat curved into a U shape and then parted, revealing rows of yellow teeth as two crimson eyes locked on his.
Before Arthur could raise his gun and fire, a light-blue hand with bubbling blisters stretched several metres and reached for his throat, pulling him in as the door behind him closed with no noise and he was flung inside as he crashed into a full speed ceiling fan.