When Rufus had emitted his final angry scream, he’d fallen back, lifeless onto the bed. To any onlooker, he was dead. Marcus was no doctor, but it was clear to him the boy was dead; the machine had seen to that. It worried the ruthless old man not. A life for a new life, his.
What he neither knew nor expected was that life might just hang on in the boy. Rufus had so much angry life in him, it would take a lot to completely snuff it out. Blood still pumped, very slowly. He was in a hibernative state.