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Chapter 82 - Alan Aquila
🕑 Added 2024-11-09 23:38:35 +0000 UTC- Oliver -
As soon as they received the news about Alan, the group departed immediately, using one of the York family's exclusive teleporters. In a matter of hours, they were already in the heart of Italy.
Everything seemed like a whirlwind of new information, people, and places for Oliver. Not even before the war had he visited that country, and although much had changed, he could still see various historical structures of Rome. The ancient ruins contrasted with the futuristic buildings, creating a unique landscape where the past and future intertwined.
'How did all this survive the bombings?' the boy thought as they walked through the streets.
However, his brief contemplation was interrupted. The path they took upon leaving the teleport station led them directly to the Rome General Hospital.
Upon entering the reception area, an attendant approached them cordially.
"How can I help you?" she asked, her soft voice echoing in the spacious lobby.
Oliver felt uncomfortable. He knew he was hearing Italian instead of English, but his gauntlet translated the communication in real time. His brain had not yet become accustomed to ignoring what his ears picked up and focusing on the holographic subtitles projected before his eyes.
"Um... we're... looking for..." he began, speaking word by word as he tried to follow the words that appeared in the hologram.
Noticing Oliver's problem, Isabela intervened naturally.
"We're looking for Alan from House Aquila," she explained to the attendant, who looked at Oliver with a slightly confused expression.
"Right, one moment," the attendant replied, searching her hologram for the boy's location. "Are you family?"
"Friends from the Academy," Katherine responded promptly.
As soon as the results appeared on the attendant's screen, the trio noticed her expression had become more serious.
"I see. You may go up. He's in the North Wing, on the fifth floor," the attendant pointed out where the elevator was.
The tension was almost palpable as they walked in silence. The elevator ascended slowly, each floor increasing their anxiety. Given their expectations, the enclosed environment seemed even more claustrophobic.
Finally, the doors opened on the fifth floor. They walked through the corridors searching for the North Wing but didn't have to look far. Turning into one of the long corridors, they saw a room with several beds. A glass wall allowed them to observe the patients inside. In one of the beds, still intubated, was Alan.
The boy lay unconscious, an oxygen mask covering his pale face. They couldn't see if he had regained his legs, as a blanket covered them. However, the monitors beside him indicated stable vital signs.
Near the glass, a young woman kept vigil. She didn't look much older than they were, with short hair and intense blue eyes. She wore the uniform of an NEA officer, but what drew the most attention was her tear-streaked face. The sunken and reddened eyes betrayed sleepless nights.
She looked exhausted but didn't take her eyes off Alan's bed. The three didn't know her but imagined she must be some relative of their friend.
Oliver stepped forward, his soft voice breaking the tense silence of the corridor.
"Excuse me. Sorry to bother you." Even he, usually so direct, knew he needed to be careful at that moment, especially upon seeing the girl so frayed. "Are you Alan's family?"
The young woman seemed to hear but didn't react immediately. She was lost in thought, her gaze fixed beyond the glass that separated the corridor from the hospital beds.
Isabela, perceiving the girl's fragile state, approached gently. "Sorry, are you okay?"
"Huh?" Finally, she made a sound and turned to the group. "Who are you?"
"Hello. We're friends of Alan," Katherine explained, stepping forward.
"We'd like to know how he's doing?" added Oliver, trying to sound reassuring.
The girl observed them with a mixture of surprise and weariness.
"Who would've thought? The shitling had friends," she commented, wiping the tears with the back of her hand.
She took a deep breath before introducing herself.
"Nice to meet you. My name is Sophie. Sophie Aquila," she said, shaking each of their hands firmly but shakily. "I'm the older sister of that little brat lying there."
She pointed to the bed where Alan rested, still unconscious. The three exchanged worried glances.
"Pleasure to meet you," they responded in unison, in low voices.
The girl walked over to one of the chairs near the wall and sat down before continuing. "About how he's doing. He's stable," she said, looking at her hands clasped in her lap.
"But... but how did he survive?" asked Oliver, the disbelief evident in his tone. For him, it was almost unimaginable. He would have lost all hope if he hadn't gone through a similar experience.
"Were you at the test?" Sophie inquired, raising her gaze to them.
"Yes. Alan was on our team. He tried to hold off the Red Ork before we were captured," Isabela explained.
"Ha." Sophie gave a bitter laugh. "He tried to face a Red Ork. What a stupid idea."
"Unfortunately, when we were captured, the last thing we saw was him bleeding," Isabela said, her voice faltering slightly.
"I don't know the details. However, another recruit found him and managed to keep Alan alive long enough for rescue to arrive," Sophie explained. "He was placed in a VAT, but he's been like this since then."
"But what's preventing him from waking up?" Oliver asked, frowning.
Sophie clenched her fists, frustration evident on her face.
"A new weapon from those Ork bastards," the girl spoke with hatred. "They invented some kind of virus that survives on their weapons. When they cut someone, the virus starts to spread, constantly hindering the effect of the VAT. Every day, they have to use the tank just to keep him alive, but he can't recover."
The revelation shook the three. They felt a tightening in their chests at the gravity of the situation.
"B-but the NEA must be working on a cure? Isn't there any boon that can heal him?" asked Isabela, the wavering hope in her voice.
Sophie shook her head slowly.
"So far, no gift has affected him or any other infected person. As for a cure, they're researching, but there's no clear progress," Sophie said, her voice almost a whisper.
They stood looking attentively at the boy's bed, not knowing what to say.
Silence settled among them. The rhythmic sound of the medical equipment was the only thing filling the void.
"He was always strange, you know? Since he was little," commented Sophie, looking at the floor. "After our mother passed away, he stopped playing war, stopped fighting, anything like that."
The tears began to stream down her face again. Oliver felt powerless, not knowing how to comfort her. Isabela sat next to Sophie, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Alan always wanted to be a pacifist. He didn't want to join the NEA. Our father forced him to enlist, and as punishment, he was sent to the second battalion," she continued, her voice choked. "Before he was taken, I even told him that if he didn't take it seriously, he'd come back in a coffin."
Sophie broke down, her silent crying turning into deep sobs. Isabela enveloped her in a comforting embrace, allowing her to release her pain.
Katherine and Oliver exchanged glances filled with concern and sadness. Alan's story added an even heavier weight to the already delicate circumstance.
"I'm so sorry," Oliver finally said, his voice low. “If we can do anything to help..."
Sophie raised her gaze, her blue eyes shining with tears.
"Thank you. Just you being here already means a lot," she replied, striving to muster a smile.
They remained there for a few minutes, sharing that moment. On the other side of the glass, Alan remained motionless, enveloped in machines that kept his life suspended in limbo.
The group remained in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The war against the Orks had left deep scars, not only physical but also emotional.
They exchanged contact information with Sophie in case anything changed in Alan's health.
As they left the hospital, the sun was already beginning to set, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink. The ancient buildings of Rome cast long shadows over the streets, a silent reminder of the stories of resistance and overcoming in that place.
Oliver took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs.
"I'm going to visit my parents. After that, Kath, can I come back to your house?" Isabela asked. "In Area 55, there's no one I can train with."
"Of course," Katherine replied. She had never taken friends to her house before but had gotten used to these two.
"I'll take the opportunity to visit a friend. But Kath, if you don't mind, I'd also like to return to your house. I believe it would be the best way to train these next fifteen days," Oliver said, determined to pass the upcoming tests.
Katherine nodded.
The war was still far from over. For them, it was only just beginning; however, the effects of the last mission were still unfolding before them. But now they had a renewed purpose.
