Football singularity

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~~~

"May! Step back now!" Dr. Lui ordered, already donning a pair of sterile gloves.

The automatic whipped open, and within seconds, the room filled with a half-dozen figures in protective suits—two nurses and a trauma doctor wheeling a crash cart. One of the nurses dragged May gently but firmly away from the bed as the lead doctor took Dr. Lui's place, barking rapid instructions.

In the chaos, no one noticed the tall and lean man standing behind the see-through glass next to the entrance. He was dressed in comfortable yet luxurious clothing, accentuating his dark-brown hair touched with silver at the temples. But the first thing one noticed was sharp, grey-green eyes that were locked onto the figure of Rakim receiving treatment.

His eyes held a cautious worry in them, almost unsure of whether he was allowed to be here, which was a new feeling for a man of his stature whose world quite literally revolved around his every whim. "Neck swelling—possible angioedema—his airway is constricting! We need to intubate now!"

"Adrenaline injection—NOW!" Dr. Lui called out, grabbing a syringe from the tray.

A nurse jabbed the auto-injector into Rakim's thigh as another quickly cleared the area around his mouth. His whole neck was swelling grotesquely, veins bulging like cords under the skin as the oxygen mask fogged with panic.

"Bag-valve mask! Let's get some air in him before we lose the window!" one nurse called, slapping the AMBU bag into place and pumping manually.

The lead doctor yanked open the laryngoscope. "Get ready with the tube—pushing 20 of etomidate and 100 of succinylcholine."

Rakim's limbs jolted once—violently—before going limp. His breathing stopped entirely. May screamed.

"His airway's almost closed—we're losing him!" A calm yet deadly urgency filled the air as the doctor inserted the laryngoscope blade and angled the light down Rakim's throat. "I see the cords—tube in—inflate cuff—connect oxygen!"

Another nurse handed over the ventilator tubing. "Tube secured!"

"Check breath sounds—left and right."

"Clear on both."

"Capnography confirmed. Tube's good. He's stable—for now."

A dull silence fell in the room as the mechanical hum of the ventilator took over, the only sound besides May's muffled sobbing into her sleeves. The beep of the monitor returned, steadier now, but no less ominous. It was no longer Rakim's body doing the work—the machine was breathing for him.

Dr. Lui backed away, her hands trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to wear off. She turned to May, her voice tight. "He… he had a sudden inflammatory reaction—his airway closed up fast. We call it a cytokine storm, but that was too fast. It's like his immune system just… snapped."

May wiped her eyes, voice breaking. "Is he going to make it?"

~~~

Rakim, who had just returned from fetching water from the river, suddenly felt a bout of weakness. The feeling was so sudden that it overwhelmed him, and before he could even react, he crashed to the ground, powerless to respond. It felt like he was drawing from the air; the very thing he needed to live was killing him.

For three minutes, he felt himself dying as his lungs clawed at nothing—air thick as wet cement. The jungle colours drained to grey, and then to white, until only the river's rush remained, echoing as though from under ice. Rakim found himself barefoot on a polished corridor floor that reflected pale light from nowhere. Tall mirrors lined each side. In their fractured glass, he caught flashes of his own life:

— a baby held in the arms of a loving mother whose face he couldn't see

— The early years of torture at the hands of his relative until the eventual sale.

— The deciding moment when he chose to escape towards freedom, finding his family

— A 6-year-old boy dribbling on different pitches, expressing his brand of football.

— The year he played in Santos in a youth cup in Brazil, meeting the prince of modern football.

— When he mustered the courage to finally ask May out. Their dance at prom melded with many other beautiful memories.

— Different family holidays, events, birthdays, both sweet and sad, flash by as he continued walking up the golden steps.

— He was roaring when images of him scoring various goals and dribbling past players flashed by.

— {Wake up}, a familiar voice appeared in his mind, stopping him in his tracks just as he was about to step into the gate of light.

His sudden stop seemed to trigger something, and his world went black; he found himself waking up gasping for breath. His blurry vision took a moment to clear up, but when it did, a figure dressed in a navy boarding-school blazer appeared leaning against a tree. "Wow, that was close, almost lost you there, buddy."

"'hic hoof' W'what 'hic hoof', the fuck 'hoof' was that," He caughed out as he glared at the ghost that took on the image of his friend.

"Hmm, haven't you realised it yet?" Liam simply asked with a tilt of his head, enjoying the fact that his childhood friend was struggling for once. "I guess you have been here too long, but even I expected better from you."

"No, but I tried everything and know that this is real," Rakim retorted, obviously understanding what Liam was insinuating, but no matter what, he was unwilling to believe it now. It was one thing to lose hope after realising that there wasn't any, but the story became quite different when you realised that there was hope after all.

"Is it though?" was all Liam said, looking genuinely confused as if waiting for him to give the answer to the question. "Or, hear me out, or is it that you want this to be real so bad that you made it so?"

"Why would I even want this nightmare to be real when I spent most of my life trying to forget this?" He questioned, feeling as if Liam was simply saying to blame the victim. "Ok, let's say you're right for a second, and that's a big if. What do you want me to do?"

Propping his chin on his hand, Liam seemed to be deep in thought, seemingly trying to come up with an answer. As if coming to a conclusion, he smacked his fist on the other hand as his face visibly brightened. "Just let it go."

Silence was what followed his words. "Huh, did you just say to let it go?"

"Yeah, just let it go," Liam simply nodded, head bobbing for emphasis.

"How the fu#£ am I supposed to let it go, ...don't you think.... you..." After an outburst of explosives and a string of curses from Rakim.

"Imagine you're holding a pen — before you go too far, not a special pen with your initials engraved on it that will make this next part really hard," Liam confidently explained in all seriousness without a hint of joking, almost looking like a teacher handing out instructions to a student.

"Did you just.." Rakim stammered in befuddlement. "Actually, never mind, just shut up since you're basically useless anyway, I'll figure it out on my own."

~~~

[Location: Eastern DRC | Abandoned Schoolhouse | Time: 06:43 AM | Date: 29 April 2020]

The last of the embers from the morning fire hissed beneath the cracked metal pot Kosongo had used to heat the ration stew. Steam curled gently toward the broken rafters above as the squad stirred sleep from their bones. Rakim stood by the window, with a serene expression as he gazed at the horizon that was illuminated by the morning sun.

He was processing the surreal interaction with the ghost of his friend and seemed to understand what was going on. He came to the conclusion that part of him had unfinished business with his past life and was unwilling to let go. For that, it had created a world or a dream that lived along the lines of what would have happened if he had survived.

It made sense and also explained Liam's presence here, since if this had been his true life, he would have thought that someone much closer would be haunting him. No offence to Liam, who was his boy and the closest thing to a brother he would ever have, they are not as close as they used to be as kids.

That didn't mean he didn't have love for him, but if this was his fucked up life, then he expected someone with more impact on his life to haunt him. For that, only five people came to mind: his parents, his sister Emma, May, and, of course, Eva. "Looks like what they say about being your own worst enemy is true,"

"Huh, did you say something, brother Rakim?" Kwame asked after having just woken up due to the tantalising scent of the food.

"Not important, let's just eat out. It doesn't seem safe to stay here longer than we have to," he responded with a bright smile as he turned to take a seat, not bothering to mention the fact that he spotted Abu meeting with someone suspicious just past the tree lines.

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To Be Continued...