"Committed" by A.R. Kirby -- Episode 02: 'Christian meets his destiny'

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hinking back, Christian remembered the car did not movean inch in more than 20 minutes, and it appeared thatinertia had set in for the duration.“How far are we from the hospital?” Christian asked.

“Oh, maybe four or ve blocks, I’m not really sure,” Ivan

replied. “Why?”

“I can’t wait for a bunch of dumbass students to wise up

and get out of the rain,” Christian said as he pulled on the door handle. A gust of wind blew a sheet of water into the passenger

side as he stepped out of the car. “I’m going to run for it,” heshouted. “Call me later, Ivan.”

The storm was at its heaviest as Christian ran down thestreet, passing a number of dazed students. He wondered why they

looked as if they’d been beaten, but the thought quickly left him as

got closer to the hospital.

He nally turned a corner and skidded into the lobby-turned-triage area of the KBC Hospital. He cringed a bit as he passed the students waiting for treatment, then nally found thecharge nurse. She told him quickly and curtly the demonstrationhad turned into a full-edged riot; she was far too busy to talk about his father; and that someone would be with him when they

got to it. She then directed him to an empty chair in the waitingroom.

COMMITTED

by A.R. Kirby

Episode 2

Chrstian, meet Destiny. Destiny,this is Christian. Play nice.

2

Committed

by A.R. Kirby

Some day, he thought, and waited.

“Gospodin McKenna?”

Christian looked up abruptly to see who had spoken hisname, slinging a deluge from his hair onto the face of the doctor

who’d just come into the waiting room to talk to him. The doctor removed his thick, black-rimmed glasses and wiped them on thesleeve of his white jacket with a practiced ease, as if patients were

forever slinging water into his face, then continued speaking.“Yes, yes,

Mister

McKenna,” the doctor said, his accentthick and heavy. “Forgive me, please. My English is not so good.We don’t get many English-speaking patients here in the hospital.In any case, I am Dr. Rushkin, and I am in charge of caring for

your father.”

Christian stood, and stify shook the doctor’s hand. “My pleasure, doctor. I only wish it were under different circumstances.

What can you tell me about my father?”“Come with me, please,” the doctor said, and led Christiangingerly through the emergency attendees through a door outside

the lobby and into a quiet hallway. The doctor turned to Christianand began ipping through the thick sheaf of papers on the

clipboard he carried. Christian stared down impatiently.“Your father,” the doctor said as he consulted the pages,

“suffered a major heart attack. It was extremely serious, and did

much damage to his heart. He is stable at the moment, but hiscondition is very – how do you say – touch and going? We are

doing everything we can to make him comfortable, but I cannot

say whether he will make it through the night.”Christian hissed a curse under his breath, then focused his

attention on the doctor. “What’s the prognosis, assuming he makes

it until morning?” he asked.

“Well, as I said, it was a massive heart attack. We still don’tknow exactly how much damage was done, and until he is morestable, we won’t be able to tell. A bypass may be necessary, but atthis point, it’s still too early to…”A soggy, mufed buzz – sounding eerily like the chorusof the Foo Fighters’

“All My Life”

, but a version performed

Episode 2

3

underwater – struggled out from Christian’s suit coat andinterrupted the doctor’s prognosis. Christian reached inside and pulled out his cell phone like he was holding a dead sh. Hetentatively ipped it open and heard a static-lled voice come from

the soggy speaker.

“Ivan, I can barely hear you.” Christian pressed the phone

hard into his ear. “What do you need?”

“Did you make it to the hospital? Do you know anythingabout Seamus?” Ivan sounded as worried as Christian had ever

heard him.

“Yes and yes,” Christian said. “I’m here, it’s a war zone,and Seamus is just about dead.” Christian looked closely at the

doctor, searching for a sign that would contradict his statement.

There was none. “He likely won’t make it through the night.”“I’m so sorry, my boy,” Ivan said. “I’ve known your father for a long time. I’ve known you all your life.” Ivan’s voice broke briey, then the familiar rasp returned. “You’re like a son to me.How can I help?”Christian thought for a moment and looked briey at thedoctor. With a sudden ash of inspiration, he turned his attention back to Ivan.

“There are a few things,” Christian murmured. “We need

to keep focused, Ivan. With my father out of commission, thingscould get rough for the company. We’ve got too much invested inthe new Robotics Division to let things get out of hand.”Ivan didn’t have to respond for Christian to know how wellIvan understood what he meant. McKenna-Montenegro Enterprisesspent billions over the past decade to get the state-of-the art

robotics facility off the drawing board and into reality. Scheduled

to start production in a mere six weeks, delays at this point could prove to be a major setback.“What’s our next step there, Ivan?” Christian asked. Hewas well-versed with the plans for the Robotics Division, havingtraveled most of Eastern Europe to get investors (some of whomwith less-than-glowing résumés), but he was not part of the day-to-

day details.

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