Ch.45: The Overdose

"Fire!" Petrova screams.

The room erupts.

The bullet punctured the main oxygen line. Gas hisses out, a high-pressure jet that fills the air with pure, combustible potential.

Aris drops the bone saw. It clatters to the floor, the motor whining as it skitters across the tiles. Sparks fly from the metal casing.

*Flash.*

The sparks meet the oxygen stream.

A fireball erupts near the wall. It isn't an explosion, not yet. It’s a rapid, terrifying ignition. The surgical drapes catch fire instantly. The curtains blaze.

"Get her out!" Petrova yells at her guards. "Secure the asset!"

The guards rush the table. They don't care about the fire. They care about the fifty million dollar face strapped to the bed.

Aris is frozen. He is staring at the flames licking the wall of his perfect, sterile kingdom.

"My lab," he whispers.

I don't look at the fire. I look at the syringe in my hand.

**EPINEPHRINE. 1:1000.**

A full milligram. A dose for a dead heart.

I am not dead. My heart is beating fast, fueled by terror and the residual adrenaline of the last hour.

If I take this...

It will be like pouring jet fuel into a lawnmower engine.

My heart will race until it vibrates. My blood pressure will spike until my vessels threaten to burst.

I might stroke out. I might arrest.

But for a few minutes... I will be a god.

A guard grabs my left arm. He tries to unlock the restraint.

"Hold still!" he barks.

I look at him. I smile.

I raise my right hand. The free hand.

"Get away from me," I say.

He laughs. "Or what? You'll poke me?"

He reaches for the syringe.

I don't stab him.

I stab myself.

I jam the needle into my chest. Right between the ribs. Directly into the intercostal muscle.

I slam the plunger home.

The guard freezes. "What did you do?"

Aris turns. He sees the empty syringe in my hand.

"No!" he screams. "Stop her! It's adrenaline! She'll ruin the heart!"

It hits me.

Not like a wave. Like a train.

*THUMP.*

My heart contracts so hard my body arches off the table.

*THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.*

The world sharpens. Colors become hyper-vivid. The flames on the wall are no longer orange; they are a spectrum of red, yellow, blue, white.

The sound of the hissing oxygen slows down. *Hhhhiiiiisssssssss.*

Time dilates.

I feel every muscle fiber in my body tense. The Rocuronium is gone, burned away by the chemical storm raging in my blood.

I am strong. I am invincible.

I look at the guard holding my left arm.

I pull.

The leather restraint snaps. Not the buckle. The leather itself tears.

My left arm is free.

I sit up.

The guard stares at me. "She broke it. She broke the strap."

He reaches for his gun.

I grab his wrist.

My grip is iron. I squeeze.

I feel the bones grind together.

He screams. He drops the gun.

I backhand him. He flies backward, crashing into the IV pole.

"Elena!" Aris shouts. He is running toward me, a scalpel in his hand.

I look at him.

My heart rate monitor is screaming. A single, high-pitched tone that pierces the chaos.

**200 BPM.**

**210.**

**220.**

I am vibrating. I am pure energy.

I rip the remaining straps off my legs. I stand up on the table.

I tower over them.

Petrova's second guard raises his weapon. An MP5 submachine gun.

"Don't shoot the face!" Petrova shrieks. "Aim for the legs!"

He fires.

*Rat-tat-tat.*

I jump.

I don't just jump. I launch myself.

I clear the instrument tray. I land on the floor, crouched, like a predator.

The bullets chew up the wall behind me.

I grab the bone saw from the floor. It’s still running, spinning wildly on its side.

I pick it up.

The vibration feels good in my hand.

I look at Aris.

"You wanted to cut me?" I ask. My voice sounds strange. Distorted. demonic.

I step toward him.

"Cut this."

I swing the saw.

Aris dives. The blade slices through the air where his neck was a second ago. It hits the metal leg of the operating table. Sparks shower the room.

The oxygen concentration is rising. The sparks are dangerous.

The fire on the wall flares up, feeding on the enriched air.

"Get out!" Petrova screams. She is retreating toward the door, her guards shielding her. "Leave the girl! The place is a bomb!"

She runs. The guards follow, abandoning the fight.

Aris is on the floor. He looks at the door. He looks at me.

He scrambles backward, crab-walking away from the spinning blade.

"Elena, listen to me," he begs. "Your heart... it's going to explode. You need a beta-blocker. Let me help you."

"Help me?" I laugh. It’s a manic, terrifying sound. "You helped me enough."

I advance.

My vision is starting to tunnel. The edges are white, not black. My chest feels like it’s being crushed by a vice.

The overdose is peaking. I have maybe a minute before my heart gives out.

I have to end it.

I raise the saw.

But then, the room explodes.

Not the fire.

The sound.

The heart monitor on the wall. It was beeping fast, a frantic rhythm.

But now, it changes.

It emits a sound so loud, so piercing, that it shatters the glass of the observation window.

*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.*

It isn't the machine.

It’s me.

My heart rate hit 200. The alarms shattered the glass.