Neon is the Colour of Vengeance (Flappers and False Gods)

THE CLINIC

Evan was getting tired. Hugo had stopped breathing several minutes before, and he had been performing CPR ever since. But he was starting to feel the strain. His arms and back ached as he counted the beats.

“Come on. Stay with me,” he muttered under his breath.

On Hugo’s orders he had managed to contact Dr Chowdhury, who had agreed to send a transporter and some staff to collect them, but it hadn’t arrived yet, and Evan was starting to worry that it might be too late for Hugo.

As the pain in his arms had moved to his shoulders, a gust of wind blew over him. He looked up to see a medical transporter and two Medicus disembarking into the living room via the open window.

“You Evan? You’re a surgeon, right? What we got?”

The Medicus who spoke was a stocky White person, with a bald head and full lips. They wore blue glasses and gave off an air of being perpetually unflustered. The second Medicus, a petite Latina woman with a shock of curly black hair, gently nudged Evan aside so she could take over compressions.

“Eh…Hugo…” Evan realised he didn’t even know his last name. “Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Multiple injuries. He’s been down for over ten minutes. He has penetrating traumas to his chest, side and abdomen. He might have other internal injuries. His lung collapsed.” Evan sat back and ran his hands through his hair. Hugo might be a killer, a villain by all accounts, but they had made a deal and in spite of it all, Evan found he sort of liked him in an odd way.

“When? Some of these injuries look days old,” the woman asked.

“Uhm…four days now?”

“He should have been brought to a medcentre immediately. It’s a miracle he’s still alive.”

“I—We...”

“Help me get him into the transporter. If we don’t get him to the doc soon, he’s done for.”

Dr Rishaan Chowdhury’s clinic was one of the only free medical centres in the colony. Funded by donations, it was beholden to the generosity of those who frequented it. Evan had volunteered there in his intern year, but he hadn’t been back since. It had been a slightly harrowing experience.

Tenebrium was an unforgiving place, and nothing had made that clearer to Evan than his time working with Dr Chowdhury. The doctor did his best, but the sheer volume of those in need had forced Evan to acknowledge just how broken the city truly was. He wasn’t sure he had ever really recovered from the realisation.

As the transporter landed on Blanchard Avenue, Evan was gratified to see that the clinic looked in better condition than the last time he had seen it. A new sign outside the small building proudly proclaimed: ‘FREE MEDICAL CARE’.

Evan watched on somewhat helplessly as the Medicus unloaded Hugo and carried him into the clinic. He dawdled reluctantly behind them. What if he just ran for it? He had fulfilled his oath as a surgeon, Hugo was going to get the care he needed. The man’s life was no longer in his hands. He could live his life never knowing what happened to his uncle, couldn’t he? He wasn’t sure. And then there was a life on the run to consider, he didn’t even know where to begin. More than this, there was a tiny part of him that was worried about Hugo, and not because of the deal. He wanted to know that the man was alright.

Taking a deep breath, and refusing to acknowledge what it meant, Evan entered the clinic. Dr Chowdhury was already giving orders to the Medicus to take Hugo into one of the operating rooms. He was an Indian man in his early fifties, with a rounded face and glossy moustache. He was stocky and kindly, with an excellent bedside manner and sharp eyes.

It was as though they had forgotten Evan was there. The clinic staff moved around at top speed following the doctor’s orders.

“It’s good to see you, Evan,” Chowdhury said, turning back at the last minute. “Are you coming? I could use a good pair of hands.”

Evan hesitated, then nodded.

Chowdhury led Evan into a scrub room facing a small operating theatre where nurses were prepping Hugo.

“A job gone wrong?” Chowdhury asked as they both meticulously cleaned their hands and arms.

“You know him? I mean, you know what he does?”

“Oh yes. Very well. I provide care here, not judgement.”

Chowdhury was the kind of surgeon that Evan dreamed of being. He was more like an artist as he tackled each problem, with care and finesse. He was fast too, his hands moved in a blur as he worked through Hugo’s injuries. When they were finished, it felt like the operation had taken no time at all, but in truth it had been over four hours. That was what Evan loved about surgery. The Zone. Being so focussed that time became irrelevant.

“Go sit with him,” Chowdhury said as Hugo was wheeled away into a recovery room. “And change your clothes. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Evan looked down. He was still covered in blood from the apartment and then the operating room. He grabbed a pair of dark red scrubs and changed quickly into them before moving off to wait for Dr Chowdhury.

The recovery room was all chrome and dark wallpaper. The equipment looked new, and sterile, but there was something just a little shabby about the décor itself. Hugo had been moved onto a hospital bed. He was covered in a thin white sheet and connected to several machines that were monitoring his vitals. He looked oddly angelic.

Too uncomfortable to sit in the chair by Hugo’s bedside, Evan perched on one of the many counters laden with drug cabinets. He didn’t have to wait long before Dr Chowdhury joined him.

“He’ll be fine now with some rest. We’ll need to keep an eye on him, but I think our handywork will hold. The CO2 laser closures should see him on his feet in a few days. He’ll need to mind his broken ribs though; I don’t have the equipment here to fix that. Perhaps see to it that he avoids anything violent or strenuous for a while.” Evan nodded slowly, and the doctor went on, “I was very impressed with your skills in the OR. You’ll make a fine surgeon. You’re already a fine surgeon.”

“I would have been fully qualified in a few months.” Evan couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Would have? Doesn’t seem like you’ve lost your passion for it.”

“I’m not sure. It all feels hopeless sometimes. There are always going to be people in need. You can’t make a difference when the problem is never ending. This city brutalises people, you know?”

“Can I offer you some advice?”

Evan nodded.

“You’re thinking about it wrong. Focus on the person, the people. You’re saving lives not the world, just someone’s world.”

“I think that part of my life is over.”

“What do you mean?”

Evan didn’t know what to say. He cast around the room for a way to explain and found his eyes resting on Hugo.

“Ah.” The doctor nodded sagely.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How do you do it? Work with people like him. Killers. Criminals. You said you know him, right?” Evan hoped his tone didn’t sound judgemental.

“Life is complicated.” Chowdhury smiled. “I left a job that had me living in the Gold Ward to be here. I wanted to help people and I do, but the clinic needs money to function. So yes, I help criminals, gangsters, thieves, the occasional murderer. In short, people who are willing to pay for discretion, because their money allows me to help people in need. That’s how I sleep at night. Knowing I’ve made a difference. ‘Do no harm’ doesn’t only extend to the righteous.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know. I do not condone Hugo’s lifestyle or his actions. But he is a product of his upbringing, and he is capable of being so much more than the Conti family has turned him in to.” A wistful smile played across the doctor’s lips.

“You sound like you care about him.”

“I do. I knew Hugo long before he was a killer, and it breaks my heart to see what he’s become.”

“I don’t understand him. He’s a monster and I don’t think he has any plans to change that, but he also seems so normal. He’s funny and honest…I think. He’s not…What I expected.”

“If he’s such a monster, why did you save him? Most normal people don’t want to get involved with the mob.”

Evan had no answer. Hugo scared him and infuriated him. Morally, they couldn’t be further apart; yet, there was a small part of him—one he pretended didn’t exist—that was excited by Hugo.

“I met Hugo when he was just a street kid. Scrappy and hungry. Barely seven years old. He needed patched up every second day. He would have gotten into a fight over food or been given a good beating by a shopkeeper who didn’t appreciate his sticky fingers. This city is cruel to kids like him. I would patch him up and he would be on his way. He never asked for help. I offered to house him here for free, he was just a child, but he offered to work. He was proud even then. I couldn’t say no. It was so clear the other adults in his life had failed him and it was a long time before he trusted me.

“I would have adopted him if I had the chance, but things got complicated, and it wasn’t possible. But he never forgot that I helped him. As soon as he had money of his own he became a regular donor. He even volunteers here from time to time. There is darkness in him, it’s true. Samuel Conti didn’t raise a son; he raised a wolf. But there is also heartbreaking kindness in him—if he was only allowed to let it show. I know he’s a killer, but I believe in my soul, that he is capable of so much more. He can be better. He just needs someone to show him how.” Chowdhury gave Hugo a long, sad look before turning to the door. “I’ll be back to check on him soon.”

“Wait. He’s supposed to meet his boss.”

“Let him sleep a while longer. We can administer Verve before he needs to go. But you’ll need to keep an eye on him. The up is like nothing you’ve ever experienced, but the down could kill him.”

“That drug is dangerous. I’ve seen the aftereffects at Tenebrium Metro.”

“He lives a dangerous life.” Chowdhury shrugged.

Evan didn’t know what to make of the information the doctor had told him. He felt sadness for the child abandoned on the streets and turned into a killer by a mobster. But he still felt contempt for the man who had ruined his life and shown that he could kill as easily as he could breathe. The Hugo that had burst into his apartment some days ago now had been truly terrifying. Yet that image didn’t quite tally with the man he had spent time with or the man lying a short distance away on a gurney.

In his sleep his features had relaxed and for a moment, Evan thought he could see the ghost of that lost little boy.