Rebirth Into My Second Chance

It felt like once I picked up the scalpel, there was no putting it down again.

After finishing the elderly lady's surgery, a steady stream of patients, young and old, kept coming in. It was a non-stop marathon of surgeries, feeling like time and hunger had been forgotten.

It wasn't until darkness enveloped us and the rumble of the generator kicked in, lighting up all the lights above the tent, that I completed the last surgery. Only then did my body feel utterly drained, a wave of dizziness hitting me as I leaned against a bed and slowly slid down to the ground.

"Dr. Floyd, you should clean up," a nurse said, helping me off with the blood-stained gloves and surgical gown, then handing me a bottle of glucose water. "Food's scarce. Have this for now. It'll keep you going."

I downed the glucose water in one go, and the sweetness was overwhelming. That was when I remembered Max, who often had glucose after performing surgery. I wondered how he could stand it.

Looking around for him, I saw he had removed his surgical gown, and a nurse was handing him a bottle of glucose, which he drank without hesitation. Backlit, his Adam's apple worked as he swallowed.

I bit my lip. It was no wonder Max earned the nickname Grim Reaper. He was harsh on himself but gave his all for his patients.

After finishing his glucose, Max looked around, seemingly searching for something. Our eyes met, and he walked over with his glucose bottle.

Against the light, his face was unclear, but his presence seemed to radiate brilliance.

He knelt before me, tapped his glucose bottle against mine, and smiled lightly. "Cheers."

Right then, I understood the meaning of finding joy amid hardship.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

"Max, how long have you been here?" I asked.

He frowned slightly, thinking. "Lost track. I've been here since the day of the big storm."

That was the day I got dragged into Elmwood Springs. But he didn't ask why I was in Elmwood Springs. It seemed he already knew.

His gaze dropped to the electronic ankle monitor on my leg, and his previously relaxed expression turned cold and hard.

"Claude did it?" His tone lost its usual detachment, and his eyes blazed with anger.

Then, he scooped me up and walked out of the tent in front of all the medical staff. We reached a solitary tent, where he laid me on a cot. "This is my tent. Stay here, and don't go anywhere," he instructed before leaving.

Kon

Before I could react, he returned with someone in tow, who immediately knelt by my ankle to inspect the electronic monitor. "If we force this off, there could be an electric shock through Dr. Floyd's body. It's too risky to remove forcefully.

"Find a way!" It was the first time I heard Max lose his composure, almost sounding murderous.

I didn't know who he had brought, but the person dared not refuse. After connecting my ankle monitor to a laptop and tapping away, there was a click, and the light on my monitor went off.

He glanced at me and then at the monitor, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and let out a sigh of relief.

Turning to Max, he said, "I've reprogrammed it. I can cut it off now without danger."

As he spoke, he took a pair of bolt cutters from his toolkit and snipped open my ankle monitor.