Read Jericho Johnson: The Gauntlet of Time Page 40
Dr. Cross was leaning back in his desk chair with his fingers laced behind his head when the recording ended. He sat like that for a while afterward lost in thought.
Klaus had indeed been killed not six hours ago by the very explosion that almost killed Jericho Johnson. Standing, the doctor crossed to thick window and once again peered out over Flagstaff.
Klaus wasn't the only collateral damage from the bombing. Chloe Sparks had also been killed. Beck and the Viking girl hadn't been accounted for yet but it wouldn't surprise him if reports came soon of their bodies being found in the rubble of what was left of the southern precinct.
"Ritu, report," He said suddenly and the nurse's face materialized on the window.
"He's dying." Was all she said.
"How long left?" Dr. Cross asked, walking quickly to his door and exiting. The image of Ritu followed him down the hallway on the plexiglass walls as he jogged to the elevator. "Minutes, sir. We've tried everything but his body is still rejecting all of our medications."
"He can't die," he told her, pushing a button as the elevator descended at an alarming rate to the bottom level of his building. "He mustn't."
When the doors opened he stepped out and jogged to the end of the hallway, entering the door on his right. Ritu was standing beside the bed with a few other white-coated men and they instantly moved out of Cross's way.
Dr. Cross peered down at the man he now knew so much about.
Or what was left of him.
His right arm was gone from the elbow down, most of his hair had been burned off and he was missing an eye. Not to mention that every inch of him was covered in horribly grotesque burn. The only things keeping him alive were the needles riddled over his mutilated body pumping medications (that weren't working) inside of him and an oxygen tube that normally would've went down a patient's throat but was running through a gaping hole in the chest to his lungs.
Then the corpse in front of him screamed and tried to sit up.
"Hold him," Cross shouted, putting his hands on the shaking man's shoulders and feeling the heat from the burns instantly. One eye locked on Cross as the other two men helped him shoved the thrashing man down. "Sedation," Dr. Cross shouted again. "Now!"
Ritu hit a few keys on the holodesk beside the bed and in seconds the screams turned to moans then his only eye closed.
Cross cursed when the heart-rate monitor flatlined. Running to one side of the lab he tore into a cabinet and in seconds found what he needed. Rushing back to the now dead man, he stabbed the adrenal shot hard through his burned chest and into his heart.
The next scream to escape the parched throat was positively primeval and ear-splitting. The screams only lasted a minute after that before he lost consciousness. His heart-rate wasn't the best Cross had seen on a holograph but at least it wasn't plained out.
"Dr. Cross," Ritu said from behind him. "I've never questioned your reasons behind anything but this man is suffering the worst of pain. I don't know who he is but--"
"His name is Jericho Johnson." Cross said while washing the charred flesh from his hands and forearms at a sink in the room, "His body, although a little worse for wear at the moment, is perfect host for Z-90."
"Sir, Z-90 is impossi-"
"Enough," He said, watching the brown water swirl down the drain before turning back to her. "And I'll say it again--he can't die."
"Why?" Ritu asked, perplexed.
Dr. Cross glanced back over Jericho's completely burned body.
A left index finger moved slightly.
"Because he's not done yet."
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