Flashing lights flew down the city street and the siren blared, warning other cars to get out of the way. And even so, it still had to stop in congested areas.

The city was too big, and too busy.

They were running out of time.

An urgent call had been placed needing a patient needing to be pushed up on the donor list.

All the hospitals in the city scrambled to go through their archives and patient database to see if they could find the match they needed.

It took longer than they would have liked, but someone came forward and was willing to come in for a donation.

As soon as that was finished, everything was loaded up onto an ambulance to be rushed to the private doctors office.

A phone rang in the cab of the vehicle. "Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"Almost there, we had to detour because of an accident."

"Please hurry, we are losing him."

The driver cursed and slammed his hand against the horn several times when people refused to get out of the way.

When they finally reached the building in question, one man ran inside carrying a cooler and was greeting by a surgeon.

No pleasantries were exchanged, just a quick hand off.

The surgeon hurried down the hall and past a waiting room that housed two blonde-haired men holding each other for support.

"H-H-He has to m-m-m-make it..." One sobbed. His face was buried in the thinner man's shoulder and his entire body shook.

"He's s-strong. We h-have to have faith that he will b-be ok." The other said, trying to contain his tears as well.

A tall man stood in the corner, eyes fixed on the floor and forehead creased with worry. His large arms were crossed over his chest and he leaned against the wall as if it was the only thing keeping them upright.

The surgeon ran a little further until he reached an operation room that housed several pieces of equipment, which other people were monitoring while prepping all the tools they needed for surgery.

"Doctor! It's here!"

"Thank God. This is it, everyone get ready to go."

"Administering anesthesia."

"Blood pressure is dropping."

"Quickly, we need to hurry."

Every movement was quick and precise, but there was still a level of control that needed to be given otherwise everything would be ruined.

"Careful! Slowly." The lead surgeon snapped when one of his nurses almost tripped.

"Doctor, I don't like the erratic pattern..."

"I know."

Several beeps sounded from one of the machines, but in an uneven pattern.

"We are losing him. Quickly!" The doctor snapped.

Tension was high in the air. No one wanted to see anything bad happen to their patient, but the prospect of having a successful surgery was getting less and less.

His cancer had erupted and started to take over everything.

"Doctor..."

The beeping was getting slower.

"I know. Get the machine ready, I won't give up on him."

The transplant continued and silence fell over the room except for the beeps of the machine and short commands from the doctor.

They even got as far as being able to sew the patient in front of them back up before the beeping slowed even more.

"It's too low, we are losing him."

"He's not breathing. Up the oxygen!"

"Defibrillator ready!"

"Get him on his back, gently."

The beeping continued to slow.

"Easy."

Suddenly the beeping stopped.

"Clear!" One of the nurses pulled the machine forward and placed the device on their patient's chest.

His entire body jolted off the table.

They tried a second time.

One long, continuous beep sounded in the room.
"Doctor, I think we need to call it."

"Do it again!"

"Clear!!"

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.