Rapidly Pat ran as the lone criminal came after him with handgun in one hand, rifle in the other. Pat’s sweat and heavy panting were clear indications of fear. Without hesitation the gunman cocked the rifle and through the scope aimed and fired the rifle. Time slowed down to the point it looked like it was being suspended in the air; within a flash the bullet struck his back. In ice-cold bold the gunman silently oversaw Pat lying still and pulled out the handgun. He quickly delivered a raspy “die” and fired three more bullets on the helpless Pat. For another twenty minutes the earth around Pat laid still…
Paramedics came in loaded him on a strecher, blurred he saw the concerned hysteria around him as the Police gave some breathing room so the medics could load him into the ambulance. The surgery couldn’t repair the damage to the nervous system and he slipped quickly into a coma. That’s when the “doctor” came in. Young yet wise beyond his years he looked upon the comatose Pat and gently smiled. Pat was near death and would prove to be a perfect specimen for his latest project.
“You’ve withstood what many would consider something toilsome to live through,” He commented “I need you to do a favor for me. Play dead.”
Undetected he pulled out some mechanism and started to play with it, the monitor playing sentry over Pat started to make it look like his vital signs were dropping. Like a roadrunner on a scorching July road the doctors and nurses bolted in and tried their ultimately futile attempts to revive the “dying” patient. In the background the enigmatic doctor thwarted their attempts with his mechanism. It was too late for him wiping his brow the doctor in charge of reviving Pat reluctantly gave up.
“Time?” He asked
The nurse looked at her watch and looked the other way, “19 50 hours, god not another one.”
“I’ll never understand why teenagers want to kill each other,” That doctor commented, “Tell the family the Patrick B. Mains has died on October 11, 2001.”
Hours later in the Hospital Morgue, the doctor that was an enigma came back and opened up the compartment and looked for any vital signs. He hovered his device over Pat’s “dead body”…
“Brain activity is at a tolerable level and breathing barley detected.” He remarked as he pulled out his communicator, “Adams to 59, subject still alive and ready for Experiment Delta transport now.”
Again he looked over Pat with a smile; “According to this one Patrick Mains died some 4 hours and 39 minutes ago. You’ll need a new name…”
The transport beam locked and took both away.
“Doctor Gregory Adam’s Medical Journal
October 12, 2001
Yesterday I begun the transplant process which will finally bridge humanity to it’s brothers in the stars. The patient already shown rapid improvements in his condition with a brand new nervous system and spinal cord. The other doctors renamed the boy Phoenix for the legends of the ancient Eygptian bird who rose from it’s ashes we hope these alien organs will give our patient new life.
October 14, 2001
Four days into the operation and an unexplained abnormality occurred when we put the Millenian DNA sequence in. All brain activity stopped and we found an embyro inside the patients abodomen