I never imagined myself behind the wheel of an ambulance, racing down the city streets with the wailing sirens creating a cacophony of urgency. How did I even end up here? This was a question that lingered at the edges of my mind as I gripped the steering wheel, navigating the bustling traffic with a strange blend of focus and bewilderment.

In the passenger seat sat the doctor, an enigmatic figure seemingly unaffected by the chaos around us. He reclined back, seemingly at ease, as if he was on a leisurely drive.

In the rear-view mirror, I managed to catch glimpses of the patient, who was lying on a stretcher, with their face and body veiled by a thin sheet. The rhythmic rise and fall of their chest provided a reassuring sight, prompting the question, WHY ARE THERE MULTIPLE POLICE CARS CHASING US? Ordinarily, a police escort is intended to be ahead of us, guiding us through the traffic.

Are we fleeing? I'm just as baffled as you are. All I can recall is... well, actually, I can't remember anything. My name? Why I'm at the wheel of an ambulance? Or the identity of the man sat in the passenger seat?

The doctor's eyes snapped open, as though he had sensed my questioning. He broke the silence, instructing me to take the upcoming intersection that led toward a tunnel.

Entering the tunnel, glancing back and noticing that the police had come to a halt. They weren't tailing us anymore. Ah, we’re screwed. It's likely they've sealed off the exit - we've fallen right into their trap. We're caught, not entirely certain of the charges, but undeniably screwed.

And then, as abruptly as we had entered, we emerged from the tunnel into an uncanny silence. The symphony of sirens and engines had vanished, leaving only the hum of the ambulance's engine. There were no police waiting for us and the ones tailing us vanished.

The road stretched out ahead, devoid of any landmarks or distinguishing features. We were in the middle of nowhere, alone. The ambulance's speed gradually decreased, and I eased my foot off the accelerator, allowing the vehicle to come to a gentle halt.

The doctor pushed open the passenger door and stepped out. His white lab coat fluttered in the still air, a stark contrast to the landscape that surrounded us. With an air of nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it, the tiny ember casting a warm glow on his features.

"Let's get the patient out," he declared, his voice carrying a hint of detachment that contrasted with the situation's absurdity. I followed his directive without hesitation, I don’t know why I’m following his orders but that’s the only thing that feels normal to me.

Gently, I wheeled the stretcher out from the back of the ambulance, the wheels gliding smoothly against the road's surface. The doctor positioned himself beside me, his hands buried in his coat pockets. Together, we began to make our way down the desolate road.

The doctor's steady pace and casual demeanour were a stark juxtaposition to my inner turmoil. The little thoughts and memories, there was something that suggested I ‘worked’ for him. So, I followed his orders.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

As we continued down the road, the oppressive silence was gradually broken by a distant sight that emerged on the horizon—a surreal, out-of-place scene that was both inconceivable and unsettling. Before us stood what appeared to be an open surgery theatre, incongruously placed in the middle of the road. Bright lights illuminated the scene, casting an eerie glow.

My heart raced as I gazed upon this bizarre spectacle. The surgical equipment, the gleaming metal surfaces, and the sterile surroundings created an atmosphere of clinical precision that was entirely at odds with the reality I had known. Nurses, adorned in full surgical scrubs, moved about with a deliberate and practiced demeanour, their faces obscured by face masks. Their presence exuded an ominous aura that sent shivers down my spine.

The doctor walking beside me showed no signs of concern. Instead, he greeted them scene with a sense of familiarity that was disconcerting. He even extended a faint smile toward the nurses, an acknowledgment that only deepened my unease. It was as if he was in his element, as if this surreal operation theatre was a place, he had visited many times before.

As we drew nearer to the theatre, the bright light from the portable examination lamps began to reveal more details. The surgical table, its surface glistening, was positioned at the centre like an altar.

I relinquished control of the stretcher to one of the shorter nurses who came trotting along, her brisk footsteps echoing in the unnatural quiet that surrounded us. The stretcher, now under her command.

As the patient was lifted onto the surgical table, a sense of dread gripped my chest. The imposing figure of the doctor remained calm, observing the proceedings. With each passing moment, my fear intensified, the knot in my stomach tightening as the realization of my helplessness settled in.

The nurses arranged themselves around the patient, their gloved hands moving with accuracy as they prepared for a procedure. Their faces remained hidden behind the masks; their expressions inscrutable.

I stood there, a spectator. As the surgical theatre became the stage for an enigmatic performance.

One of the nurses who was short and had an oddly joyous demeanour around her despite the grim surroundings, sliced through the tension like a discordant note. "Unless you want to watch, you better turn around," she announced, her words carrying an air of authority. I turned away, my gaze shifting from the surgical theatre to the desolate road ahead.

The respite from the unsettling scene was short-lived, as a tap on my back caused me to jolt slightly. Startled by the unexpected touch, I turned around to find the nurse before me, "We’re done” she said, her voice maintaining her joyous aura.

I found the surgical team in the process of breaking down the theatre. Wipes were being used to clean their hands. The instruments were now being packed away with leisure. The patient was back on the stretcher in which he had rode on.

The doctor stood there, conversing with one of the nurses as he took of his surgical cap before handing it off to him. Another nurse, tall in stature walked up to him and assisted him in putting on his lab coat. After all was said and done, without saying a word or even a glance, he walks past me; heading back towards the ambulance. I swiftly made my way to the stretcher, taking charge and wheeling the patient away. Catching up to the doctor who had left me in his wake. Without turning around, he put his hand up and did a slight wave back to his surgical team.

...

Now back in the ambulance with the patient safely back in the back. Well, I think it’s too presumptuous of me to say ‘safely’. “Where now?” I asked the doctor, for the first time in this entire ordeal I have no direction.

“Hira.”

“who’s that?”

“Not who, but where’s that.” He replied. “It’s town in the outskirts.”

“What are the directions.”

With an ominous grin on his face, he replied, “Just drive, you’ll know the way.”