Chapter 6 - The Harvest
At 1:30 PM, Nolan was wheeled into Pre-Op Suite B on the third floor.
He wore a hospital gown, his broad shoulders barely fitting within the narrow frame of the gurney. An IV line was taped to the back of his right hand, dripping saline into his veins.
Mara stood beside the gurney, holding his left hand tightly. Jack sat in a chair in the corner, eating a chocolate pudding cup that Grant had brought him.
The anesthesiologist—a cheerful woman named Dr. Patel—was preparing the syringe of propofol.
"Alright, Mr. Cross," Dr. Patel said warmly. "We're going to take you back in about five minutes. The procedure takes about an hour and a half. We'll make two small incisions over your hip bone and draw about a liter of bone marrow. You'll wake up in Recovery feeling like you got kicked in the lower back by a horse, but you'll be fine in a couple of days."
Nolan didn't care about the pain. "How soon after the harvest does Evie get the marrow?"
"It goes straight to our processing lab for filtration, and then up to her room by 4:30 PM," Dr. Patel assured him.
Nolan looked up at Mara. Her eyes were filled with worry.
"Are you scared?" she asked softly, leaning over the gurney rail.
Nolan offered a faint, dry smile. "I've been shot twice, Mara. I've been stabbed in a docks warehouse in Hamburg. I don't think a needle in the hip is going to break me."
"You're a idiot," Mara whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek, though she was smiling. "A brave, arrogant idiot."
"I'm your idiot," Nolan murmured softly.
Mara froze for a fraction of a second, the old memory of their past together flashing through her mind—nights in Bel-Air before the secrets broke them, when they had laughed in the dark and talked about buying a ranch in Montana away from the world.
Before she could respond, the surgical doors swung open.
"Time to go, Mr. Cross," the orderlies said, unlocking the gurney wheels.
Nolan squeezed Mara’s hand tightly, holding it until their fingers slid apart as the gurney was pushed down the hallway.
He looked back once, seeing Mara standing in the doorway with Jack holding her hand, before the double doors closed behind him.
Inside the operating room, the lights were bright and surgical. Nolan was flipped onto his stomach, sterile drapes placed over his back.
Dr. Patel placed the oxygen mask over his face. "Count down from ten for me, Nolan."
Nolan breathed in the sweet, cold gas.
"Ten..." he muttered.
He thought of Evie’s small face, the yellow smiley-face sticker on his cuff, and the sound of Jack calling him 'the quiet man.'
May you like
"Nine..."
The darkness swallowed him whole.
