“See, he’s still responsive,” Jim noted. “We need to wait for the reflex to die out and his brain to regain control.”
“It’s already been about thirty six hours, now. How much longer can this go on?”
Jim looked down at her and sighed. “He will die in about two more days… give or take twelve hours, or he’ll be cured of this terrible illness and move on to the transplant series.” He tapped the button on the control panel and the screen flickered red again. He sang, “only time will tell.”
As soon as Iggy recognized the red, his eyelids pulled up and he couldn’t force them back down. An empty, silent sob pulled his diaphragm in and out, causing his abdomen to quake with desperation, because he was now certain that he was going to die there.