“Shit!”
Jack leapt out of bed, tossing the sheets aside without any heed to whether his wife was still coveres as he stormed through the dark, otherwise silent room, his gaze fixated on the digital clock, which read 4:59. He flipped through his iPhone as he struggled to put on his scrubs with his unoccupied hand. He muttered curses under his breath as he dismissed several missed alarm notifications before opening his messages, seeing multiple texts from one of his colleagues:
[4:25] Jack, you on your way? You’re usually here by now
[4:35] Jack? Where are you?
[4:45] This isn’t funny, Jack. Come on. I was supposed to be off 15 minutes ago. Ryan and I are supposed to drive Kenzie down to Disneyworld today. Where are you?
“Shit, Laura’s gonna kill me.”
He shoved his phone in his shirt pocket, grabbed his keys, ID badge, and an old, beaten kombuskini - a gift from his old residency mentor - before bolting out the bedroom door, glancing back just long enough to see his wife pull the blanket over her exposed back. He hurried through his house, dodging creaky floorboards and furniture corners, and bypassing the kitchen on the way to the front door. He grabbed the backpack hanging from the coat rack and slipped out the door, locking it behind him.
He looked up at the sky. Thick stormclouds had rolled in overnight and were blocking what rays of the sunrise’s light would normally be visible, casting his driveway in an eerie, preternatural darkness. Emptying the contents of his hands into one of his many pockets, he ran to the car parked closest to the end of his driveway, a new, silver convertible, picking up his speed as he heard the low rumble of thunder roll across the horizon.
Once in the driver’s seat, he started the car, backed out of the driveway, and set his phone in the dashboard mount.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Siri, call Laura Graham.”
Calling Laura Graham.
The phone rang for a few seconds before an angry voice answered. “JACK! Where the hell are you, man? You’re 45 minutes late. Ryan’s waiting on me, trying to wait till I’m home before waking Kenzie and surprising her with the news.”
“Shit, Laura, I’m sorry. I overslept.”
“Yeah, yeah. Save it for your review. I’ve already given Tom the heads up. This is the fifth time you’ve ‘overslept’ in the last month. You went too far this time. What gives? I told you I needed to be out on time. I thought you had my back. I guess everyone else was right.”
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘everyone else’?”
“The group, Jack. You’ve burned your last bridge. Everybody thinks you’re a selfish, entitled douchebag and you really showed your ass today. Where are you anyway?”
“Turning on to 15th. I’m almost there.”
“Hurry up. Last time I ask you for a favor.”
Beep. The phone call ended.
“Laura…” Jack grasped at the air with one hand, keeping the other on the steering wheel. Over the course of the drive, the storm had worsened. Lightning arced across the clouds as the thunder grew closer, sharper, and more frequent. Jack sped up as he raced towards the hospital, ignoring the honks of the cross-traffic as he ran a red light, only to see a white flash in his periphery.
“Damnit! First, my marriage is falling apart. Then, I pissed off my colleagues and broke my contract. Now, I’ve got a ticket for running a fricken red light. What next, I get hit by lightning?”
Jack slammed his fists against the steering wheel, punctuating his rant as he pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. After finding a parking space, he gathered his things and stepped out into the storm. Within seconds, the whole right side of his body was drenched by the torrential downpour, hitting his body in sheets, driven by the pulsating wind. He drew his arms in tight across his body, cursing his lack of foresight to bring a jacket, as he ran across the lot towards the staff entrance to the emergency department, weaving between the parked cars in an attempt to take the most direct route to the door.
When he had reached 20 feet from the door, almost to the edge of the ambulance lanes, Jack’s vision suddenly lit up white. In an instant, his entire vision was filled with a whiteness so bright it left spots and afterimages dancing through his periphery. Searing pain ran from his right shoulder, through his body, to his left foot. A smell of burnt hair, cotton, and meat filled his nostril as his muscles locked in a series of twitching spasms, his back arching from the force of the contractions. Then, just as suddenly as it flashed into white, Jack’s world dropped into a deep, merciful darkness.