Richard Stephenson - Collapse

“Captain, I don’t know my blood type,” a young private said from the back of the room.

“Check your dog tags, jackass!” another private yelled.

The ones who had forgotten their blood type checked their dog tag. Less than a minute later, only one soldier stepped forward.

“OK, Doc. We got one. I can donate as well. What else do you need?”

“Someone needs to locate the biggest pot they can find and start boiling water. I need towels and bed sheets.”

“I’m on it!” A sergeant looked at one of his team members and they started working.

“Shit! I was afraid of this!”

“What’s wrong, Doc?”

“I can get the bullet out, but it tore his small intestine. I’m going to need to stitch it up.”

“Are you sure?”

“You see that? Do you smell that?”

“Yes.” Captain Butler leaned forward and winced at the smell.

There’s bile mixed in with his blood. If it’s not stitched up, he’s going to die of sepsis.”

“How long do we have?”

“Put it to you this way, sir, I’m amazed he’s not dead already.”

“Can you perform surgery?”

“Yes, but I’m going to need every single source of portable light over here. I saw a lot of battlefield surgeries in Iraq when I was a private. I’ve never performed it, but I’m confident I can get the job done as long he holds out and doesn’t die on us.”

Captain Butler looked at another NCO and nodded. The sergeant grabbed two privates and they started gathering up every lamp they could find.

Howard Beck looked at the monitor and hung his head. The injured soldier didn’t have a broken leg or a flesh wound. He stood a real chance of dying in his guesthouse.

“Hal, what do you think?”

“Sir, I think you know what I am going to say.”

“I know, I know, we need to move him into my lab so you can assist with the surgery.”

“Yes, sir, the poor man has precious little time.”

“Invite our guests inside, Hal.”

“Yes, sir.”

Staff Sergeant Willis was hooking up an IV to the injured man and cleaning the wound when a voice came over the intercom.

“Captain Butler, if I may, I feel that I must intervene.”

“Yes, Hal. What can you do?”

“Inside the main residence is a lab that would be better suited for the surgery you are about to attempt. We have resources that will give your injured man a much better chance at survival. I would ask that you only bring the number of people required to tend to his needs.”

“Doc? Is it safe to move him?”

“If we take it slow and steady, yes.”

“Let’s get moving. Hal, where are we going?”

“Exit the guest house and head right on the path. Enter the door and the lab is the first room on the left.”

“Thank you, Hal.”

The injured man was loaded onto a stretcher, and four men carried him very slowly up the path to the main residence. They entered the building and walked into the massive lab. Along one wall was a workbench that was home to all sorts of electronic equipment. It looked like a computer graveyard. In the center of the room was a solid steel table large enough to accommodate six prone men with room to spare. The far wall was solid white, most likely a gigantic monitor. The four men carrying the stretcher placed the injured soldier on the table. Staff Sergeant Willis got to work. Captain Butler turned as an odd looking man entered the room. He was wearing a bathrobe and slippers. He was tall and skinny with long, white hair that spilled down over his thin, gaunt face. He was fidgeting nervously and his beady eyes were darting all over the room.

“Hal, I’m Captain Jackson Butler with the Fourth Regiment of the Unified National Guard. I want to thank you for your help.” He extended his hand to the man in the bathrobe, but the gesture was not returned. The man wouldn’t look him in the eye. Something was very familiar about this man. Captain Butler was sure he had seen him before.

“I’m not Hal. My name is Howard.”

“Howard, it’s nice to meet you. Will Hal be joining us?”

“He’s already here. Hal, anything you can do to help?”

Captain Butler was startled by the voice that came out of nowhere and filled the room. “Yes, sir. My preliminary scans detect that his blood pressure is low but steady. Staff Sergeant Willis was correct in his assessment. His lower intestine is perforated. He will require a blood transfusion.”

Captain Butler was confused but focused on the task at hand. “Uh, yeah… we..uh.. we’re already working on that. PFC Boone and I are ready to donate blood. I’m sorry, Hal, where are you? I would like to meet you and extend my gratitude to you in person.”

Howard was starting to calm down. He said sharply, “This is my house. Hal is my digital assistant.”

“He’s what? You mean I’ve been talking to a computer this entire time?”

Howard nodded his head.

“Holy shit! You’re Howard Beck! The world’s richest man! I can’t believe I’m in your house!” PFC Boone had a look of shock and wonder on his face.

“I knew you looked familiar! Sir, it’s an honor to meet you. Thank you so much for all your help.” Captain Butler was smiling and couldn’t take his eyes off Howard.

“Captain, I need you to get started on the blood donation.” Staff Sergeant Willis snapped everyone out of their reverent stupor.

“That’s right, Doc. Yeah, let’s get going here.”

Howard walked over to the company medic. “Staff Sergeant Willis, whatever you need from Hal, just say the word. He can hear you. He can provide a real time 3-D internal holographic image of this man’s injury.”

“Uh, wow. Okay. Hal, I need to see his gastrointestinal perforation. And, uh…any suggestions on how to proceed, if you can do that.”

The projectors in the ceiling beamed a holographic image of the inside of the injured man’s abdomen. The perforated intestine was clearly visible, as was the resulting hemorrhage.

“Holy shitballs, that’s cool.” PFC Boone was seated next to the table getting his blood drawn.

Hal addressed the nervous medic. “As you can see, the damage is quite extensive. You can supplement your instruments with tools from the workbench if you require anything else. I trust that you have sterile equipment to open him up and close the incision. I will be happy to guide you during the surgery.”

“I think I have everything I need in my bag. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.” The medic began to prep for surgery. Staff Sergeant Willis didn’t know if he should address the computer like a person, but did so anyway. “Thank you, Hal, I would appreciate the help.”

Howard walked to his workbench and spoke to Staff Sergeant Willis. “Will you need anything else for the surgery? If I have it, it’s yours.”

He looked over at his assistant, Specialist Hanson, and saw that he was done drawing blood. He motioned him over. “I’d like for everyone to clear out of the room. Captain Butler, if you would post a runner outside the door I can get started.”

“You got it, Doc. Williams, post up outside the door and be ready to come if the Doc calls for you. Everyone else, back to the guesthouse. Sergeant Wilson, tell Top I need to see him on the double.”

They all shuffled out of the room. Private Williams stood sentry at the door. Captain Butler was the last out of the room and waited for Howard.

“Mr. Beck, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. That man on the table is my XO, Lieutenant Christopher. I don’t know if he’s going to make it, but at least he has a fighting chance. I can say for sure that if you hadn’t let us past the gate, he wouldn’t have made it.”

“Yes, I know. It was the only reason I let you into the house. I was monitoring the situation from my kitchen. When your medic said he needed surgery, I knew I had to let you inside.”