Inside Operating Room 1, the atmosphere was controlled chaos. Dr. Julian Sterling worked on Malcolm, suturing the renal artery to the new organ. On the adjacent table, the lead cardiac anesthesiologist monitored William.
“Kidney is perfused,” Julian announced, his voice tight. “It’s pinking up. Malcolm is accepting the graft.”
Suddenly, the rhythmic beeping of William’s monitor changed to a shrill, continuous tone.
*Beeeeeeeeeeep.*
“We have V-Fib!” the anesthesiologist shouted. “He’s coding. Charge the paddles to 200!”
In the darkness of the anesthesia, William was drifting. It was cold and quiet, like the “Silent Winter” after the avalanche. It would be easy to stay here. No noise. No fight. No legacy to uphold.
*William.*
The voice didn’t come from the room. It came from the memory of a storm. It was the voice that had screamed for him in the Alps, the voice that had hummed to his son in the garden.
*Come back.*
“Clear!” The jolt of electricity slammed into his chest.
William gasped in the void. The image of Victoria standing in the garden filled his mind. He couldn’t leave her to handle the storm alone. He grabbed the lifeline of her voice and pulled himself back from the edge.
*Beep… Beep… Beep.*
“Sinus rhythm restored,” the doctor exhaled. “We got him back.”