Chapter 7 - Breaking the Paralysis
The injection sent a searing fire through Ethan’s bloodstream.
He gripped the edges of the cot until his knuckles cracked, throwing his head back as an agonizing heat radiated from his lower spine down into his calves. For eight months, his legs had felt like hollow wood, distant and detached from his will. Now, every dormant nerve ending woke up with a vengeance, shrieking as if dipped in boiling oil.
""Breathe, Ethan! Breathe through it!"" Elena commanded, her hands holding his shoulders pinned to the cot. ""It’s neuro-regeneration. The blocking agent is detaching from your receptors.""
Ethan clamped his teeth together so hard a trickle of blood escaped his lip. ""It... it feels like knives...""
""Pain means the pathway is intact,"" Thomas said, his aged hands gently wiping Ethan’s forehead with a damp cloth. ""Fight through it, son. Remember who put you in that bed.""
The image of Evelyn Vance smiling as she smashed the antidote across the marble tiles flashed across Ethan's mind. The memory of her silk-gloved hand stroking his hair while whispering that he would sign over the estate or die in an asylum burned through him.
The pain reached a deafening crescendo—and then, suddenly, snapped.
A deep, heavy thrum replaced the fire. Ethan gasped, chest heaving, drenched in sweat.
""Now,"" Elena whispered softly, kneeling beside his feet. ""Move your left big toe.""
Ethan closed his eyes, focusing every shred of consciousness into his left foot. For three agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then, the worn leather of his shoe shifted. The toe curled upward.
Thomas gasped, tears welling in his aged eyes. ""God be praised...""
Ethan stared at his foot in disbelief. He focused on his right leg. The calf muscle twitched, flexing beneath the torn fabric of his slacks. A choked sob broke from his chest. ""I can feel the floor. I can feel the cold metal of the bedframe.""
""You have twenty-four hours before the compound wears off and requires another dose,"" Elena said, helping him sit up. ""You won't be running a marathon, but you won't be dead weight either. Can you stand?""
Ethan leaned on her shoulder, placing his bare feet onto the concrete floor. The cold sensation shocked his nervous system. With a low, guttural roar of sheer human will, he pushed upward from his thighs. His knees shook violently, buckling twice, but Elena and Thomas caught his elbows, anchoring him until his spine locked straight.
Ethan Sterling stood on his own two feet for the first time in nearly a year. He stood tall, towering over Elena, his broad shoulders squared despite his exhaustion.
Before they could savor the triumph, a dull crunch of tires on gravel sounded outside the workshop doors.
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High-powered searchlights cut through the dust-streaked windows, crisscrossing the cavernous room in blinding white beams. Over a megaphone, a distorted voice boomed through the coastal fog:
""Elena Ramos, Ethan Sterling. You are surrounded by Vance Security under emergency state warrant. Exit the building with your hands raised, or we will breach with lethal force.""
