Early the next day, Austin was stirred awake by the persistent ringing of his phone. Groggy and disoriented, he fumbled around on the disheveled bed sheets before finally grasping the device. With his eyes still heavy and barely open, he answered the call.
"Austin, this is Doctor Moreau. Are you there?" came the authoritative voice on the other end.
Startled, Austin abruptly opened his eyes and sat upright, his heart racing. "Good morning, Doctor Moreau," he greeted, wiping the remnants of sleep from his eyes.
"Good morning, Austin, although I must remind you that it's already noon," Doctor Moreau replied, a slight chuckle hinting at his amusement.
Austin let out a soft sigh and glanced at the window; the sun blazed high in the sky, bathing the room in a warm glow. "I'm really sorry about that. I just woke up," he said, feeling the weight of embarrassment.
"No worries, Austin. Your body has been through a lot; it deserves some rest," Doctor Moreau reassured him in a comforting tone.
With a slight tremor of apprehension, Austin asked, "So,
Doctor Moreau, what's the reason for your call?"
"Well, I have some news, and I wanted you to hear it first," Doctor Moreau stated, his tone shifting to one of gravity.
"What news?" Austin inquired, the sense of uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"Would you prefer the good news or the bad news first?" Doctor Moreau asked, his voice serious yet compassionate.
Austin's heart began to race, anxiety pooling in his stomach. Bad news? What could it possibly be? He felt a cold sweat trickle down his brow and hastily wiped it away. After a quiet moment of contemplation, he made a decision. "Let's start with the good news," he announced, trying to steady his voice.
"Alright, the good news is that we can begin comprehensive research on your condition. Additionally, we've discovered a new variety of drugs that have the potential to help sustain your vitality for an extended period," he explained, his tone hopeful.
Austin inhaled deeply, momentarily buoyed by the information. "That sounds promising! How do these new drugs work?"
"They function like supplements," Doctor Moreau elaborated. "As long as you consistently take them, the progression of your cellular degeneration will slow down to a more manageable pace."
Austin nodded, feeling a flicker of hope. "That's encouraging, but…?" His expression shifted, concern knotting his brow.
Doctor Moreau hesitated, sensing Austin's unease. "In statistical terms, what's the effectiveness of this new drug?" Austin pressed, a lump forming in his throat.
After a long pause, Doctor Moreau's voice dropped, heavy with gravity. "The tests were conducted on healthy individuals, showing effectiveness between seventy to ninety percent. However, in your particular case, I estimate it might only be as low as fifteen percent. It's risky—definitely a gamble," he admitted.
Austin's heart sank at the news. "Oh, that's something," he murmured, processing the implications. "And that's not the bad news?"
"No," Doctor Moreau replied, "the bad news relates to the research itself. It can indeed be conducted, but only with the explicit consent of the participants and a signed declaration from both them and their family. This isn't typical research; it requires extensive legal processes that can be quite cumbersome."
"Is there no other way?" Austin urgently probed, a sense of desperation creeping into his voice.
"I attempted to initiate some preliminary research on my own, but when I reported the findings to my superiors, they insisted on launching a full team for the study. Since you weren't part of the original plan, I need to bring you in, which necessitates the usual legal documentation to ensure your safety as the subject—meaning you, Austin," he clarified, his tone a blend of authority and concern.
"Doctor Moreau, I have another question," Austin said, furrowing his brow tightly.
"Of course, go ahead," Doctor Moreau replied, his tone inviting and attentive.
Austin took a deep breath, formulating his next words carefully. "In your professional opinion, what are the chances that this research will produce any tangible results?"
Doctor Moreau's voice lowered to a near whisper. "Austin, listen closely. We must explore every avenue to save you; you have to believe that yourself. You need to cling to at least a sliver of hope," he urged sincerely.
"I understand that, Doctor Moreau, but I can't help but prepare for my potential demise. It's less than two years now. Just level with me: what do you honestly think will happen?"
"Alright, Austin, if you want the truth: your condition is extraordinarily rare and largely uncharted; no one has encountered anything like it in the field of medicine before. I am doing my utmost to comprehend it, but it's immensely challenging, especially when I'm working alone. I still hold on to the possibility of this research, but it is indeed very hard," he confessed, his voice tinged with frustration and determination.
"Thank you for your honesty, Doctor. But what if I propose something?" Austin ventured, an idea forming in his mind.
"I'm listening. What do you have in mind, Austin?" Doctor Moreau encouraged, intrigued.
"Well, you mentioned that the major issues were funding and fulfilling all the necessary legalities, right?" Austin asked, gauging the doctor's response.
"Yes, that's correct," Doctor Moreau replied thoughtfully.
"Then what if I were to fund the research?" Austin proposed, his mind racing with possibilities.
There was a brief hesitation from Doctor Moreau before he responded, "That's an intriguing idea, but are you certain you could manage the financial aspects?"
For the first time, Austin smiled, a sense of determination lighting up his eyes as he replied with mild amusement, "Leave the financial concerns to me. Your focus should be on assembling a team of dedicated scientists and professors. We need to kindle some hope now, don't we?" he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Alright, then. However, I want to warn you that finding a suitable location may prove challenging. We can't conduct this research within the confines of the hospital," Doctor Moreau cautioned.
Austin waved away the concern with confidence. "Don't worry, Doctor. I'll handle all of that. Just send me everything necessary to get the research rolling, and I'll start organizing it immediately," he assured, a renewed sense of purpose coursing through him.
"Alright, Austin, let me send you the details, but keep this in mind…" he paused, letting the weight of his words build the tension in the air. "If we embark on this, there's no turning back. Once you're in, you're in—no matter the cost." The energy in his voice crackled like electricity.
Austin's lips curled into a determined smile as he replied, "I'm ready, Doctor Moroeau—till the end." The conviction in his tone matched the strength of his resolve.
"Good. Now go grab something to eat; your body needs fuel for what's to come," Doctor Moreau reminded him, his concern evident.
"Thank you, doctor. Goodbye," Austin said, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.
"See you," Moreau replied before the line went dead.
Austin took a deep breath, attempting to calm the storm of emotions swirling within him. He flashed a wry smile, then quickly left the small, dimly lit room, the faint scent of antiseptic still hanging in the air.
As he stepped into the bright living area, the warmth of home enveloped him. Laughter echoed through the space, pulling him closer to its source. He recognized the voice and smiled, glancing around until he spotted the familiar figure—his father, Mister Dermot Dre.
Mister Dermot stood tall and commanding, his physique a blend of strength and warmth. His features, marked by years of experience, bore both an intimidating presence and a welcoming demeanor, accentuated by a joyful smile that seemed permanently etched on his face. He was seated comfortably on the sofa, animatedly sharing stories from his recent journey with his wife and younger daughter, their faces lit up with interest.
As soon as Austin stepped into view, Mister Dermot sprang to his feet, his joyous expression broadening even further.
"Son! I heard you came back!" he exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement.
"Dad," Austin called out, feeling an immediate rush of affection.
The two men embraced tightly, the warmth of their bond palpable as Dermot slapped Austin's back in a display of exuberant paternal pride.
"Good to see you, Dad," Austin managed, pulling away and taking in his father's proud stance.
"You too, son. I heard about the Clay family and what they did to you after everything you've done for that woman," Mister Dermot said, his voice simmering with barely contained anger.
"It's okay, Dad; I don't want to dwell on it. Honestly, this was all self-inflicted. I can't blame anyone but myself," Austin admitted, his tone heavy with self-condemnation.
"No, son, you just trusted the wrong person," his mother interjected, her eyes filled with concern as she stepped closer, wanting to offer comfort.
"It's alright now; I'm planning to live by my own principles moving forward," he assured them, trying to lighten the mood.
"That's great to hear! How about we have dinner later? I know a fantastic restaurant downtown that you'd love," Mister Dermot suggested, his enthusiasm infectious. "Yes, Austin!" his little sister chimed in, her eyes sparkling with the thought of a family outing.
Austin's heart warmed at her cute smile. He crouched down to her level, speaking softly, "I would like that, too."
"BUT?" his mother piped in, raising an eyebrow and already anticipating his response.
Realizing his mother could read him like a book, Austin rose to his full height and sighed, "Yes, Mom, I'm sorry, but I have other plans."
"Uh!" Mrs. Dre nodded, slightly disappointed but understanding.
"Is it a girl?" she teased, a playful grin spreading across her face.
"Oh, Mom," Austin groaned, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.
"Okay, okay, son, go and enjoy your 'date,'" she said jokingly, her laughter a welcome sound amidst the tension.
"It's not a date, Mom," he replied, trying to keep his voice light.
"Alright, son, get yourself ready," Mister Dermot said with a nod, casting a sharp look at his wife. She responded with a playful frown, both understanding the playful banter that defined their family.
As Austin observed the scene, a heaviness settled in his heart. He felt a twinge of guilt rising within him at the sight of their happiness. What would they think if he suddenly revealed that he was living on borrowed time? The thought of breaking their hearts was unbearable, and he wasn't prepared to subject them to such an ordeal. If there were any way to turn the situation around, he would do so before involving them in his struggles. He hoped he was making the right decision.
"I'll head out first," he suggested, walking towards the kitchen, his mind still preoccupied with the weight of his secret. His parents exchanged glances, their pride in their only son apparent in their eyes, while he tried to reconcile his feelings of responsibility with his desire for freedom.