It’s that loud sound again!
Armand winced, his eardrums painfully violated by blaring music from the loudspeakers behind him. He made a mental note to give the whole system to the nurse: she lived in the province so she would make good use of it amid the great wide spaces.
He saw the trio observing him from a distance. His lawyer and the doctor, as usual, were in a huddle, leaving the nurse separated but near to listen to any variations in the conspiracy.
“Hey!” he shouted forcefully. “Turn the damn system off! I am already awake!”
The doctor gave the nurse the go signal. She ran to the console and turned it off. Before going back to her spot, she passed by Armand pretending to check his pulse.
“I have the substitute injection. I think you’ll like it.”
“What’s in it?” he asked, trying not to open his mouth.
“You’re supposed to be weakened. Act like it!”
Armand was astounded by her calmness, her presence of mind has been fine-tuned to near perfection.
“My friend, the doctor here told me that your health is deteriorating. I am confused why are you not responding to medications.”
Attorney Abad looked more like a cobra to Armand, the lawyer’s head swaying from side to side, judging the distance of his prey before spitting his venomous words.
“Perhaps, I need a change of scenery.” Armand replied. “Somewhere far from you.”
The lawyer hissed with laughter, the sound completed the human copy of the dreaded reptile.
“That’s a good one! I think you’re absolutely right!”
“He cannot travel. He’s weak.” Doctor Aran did not want more complicated games. If his patient has to die, it was right there in the chair.
“Can I talk to you outside?” the lawyer gave the doctor the eye. “Excuse us. Armand. I believe I need my persuasive skills flexed.”
“Oh, you are very good at that! Work on him. I know he will see the light.” The sarcasm in his rejoinder was not given due attention.
“Doctor, should I give him the second dose?” the nurse interrupted.
“How is he?” Attorney Abad asked.
The nurse shook her head repeatedly. Her verdict appealed to the lawyer.
“Give him the dose!” he ordered.
The conspirators exited the room with confidence that their plan neared fruition.
The nurse, who Armand coincidentally called an angel and originally christened Angela, did not waste time to give him the dose.
“What is it?” Armand was suddenly afraid that she was discovered and turned against him.
“It’s an adrenaline boost,” she said, her hands steady.
“You’re amazing me with how you deal with this situation. It is as if you’ve done this before.”
“I am a professional, sir,” she reminded him, “and as I promised you, no harm will befall you.”
“Thank you, Angela.”
She pinched him again in the neck without warning, this time twice for more pain.
Armand tried hard not to laugh even though he was in great pain. She has done it again. Her role playing kept the minute yet important details in place.
The door suddenly opened, unexpectedly.
“Is there something wrong?” Doctor Aran looked suspiciously alarmed.
Nurse Angela approached him and whispered, “Doc, he might not make it tomorrow.”
“That’s very sad!” countered the lawyer, his lively tone the reverse of his sentiment.
Armand could not win an acting award for his performance but it was enough to convince everyone, even himself, that he was terminally ill.
“I need fresh air,” he coughed up and added some gibberish moans.
“Good news, Armand!” the lawyer announced. “You’re going for a ride.”
(to be continued)