Chapter 5 - Race Against the Clock
Inside the back of Tactical Ambulance 4, the air was a chaotic storm of flashing LED indicators, the hiss of pressurized oxygen, and the shrill, frantic beeping of the cardiac monitor.
"Blood pressure is bottoming out! Sixty over thirty!" paramedic Marcus Davis shouted over the roar of the diesel engine as the ambulance rounded a sharp turn on two wheels. "Pupils are sluggish! Clara, stay with me! Clara, squeeze my hand!"
Clara couldn't squeeze his hand. Her fingers were limp, ice-cold, and pale as chalk.
She was floating somewhere between the physical world and a suffocating ocean of darkness. Through the plastic dome of the oxygen mask, she could hear the chaotic sounds around her—the rhythmic thump of the manual ventilation bag, the snap of latex gloves, the harsh tearing of medical tape.
*My baby,* she thought, the words echoing weakly through her slipping consciousness. *God, please... take me, but save my baby.*
"I’ve got no fetal heart tones on the Doppler!" the second paramedic, Sarah Jenkins, yelled frantically, pressing the ultrasound probe deep into Clara’s swollen abdomen. "Wait—I’ve got it. It's bradycardic! Fetal heart rate is sixty-two! The cord must be compressed, or the placenta has completely sheared off!"
"Call Metro Trauma!" Marcus shouted, plunging a massive bore IV needle into Clara’s external jugular vein after both of her arm veins had collapsed from severe hypovolemic shock. "Tell them to prep OR 3 for an emergency crash C-section! We need the neonatal intensive care team scrubbed in and waiting at the bay! If that baby isn't out in six minutes, we’re calling two codes tonight!"
Outside the rain-streaked windows, the city was a blur of neon streaks and midnight shadows.
Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity. With every beat of Clara’s failing heart, the oxygen supply to her unborn child was dwindling.
In the passenger seat of the hospital SUV following inches behind the ambulance, Eleanor Sterling had her phone glued to her ear.
"Dr. Vance is not to set foot on hospital grounds under any circumstances," Eleanor spoke with lethal precision to the Chief of Hospital Security. "Every entrance to Metro Valley is on total lockdown. If Julian Vance or Evelyn Vance approach the perimeter, detain them immediately for criminal trespass and hold them for the city police."
She paused, listening to the voice on the other end.
"I don't give a damn about his surgeon privileges!" Eleanor snarled. "I have just signed an emergency administrative suspension under Bylaw 12. As of three-fifteen this morning, Julian Vance is no longer an employee of this healthcare system. Now get the surgical team ready in OR 3! I am arriving with the patient in three minutes!"
Back in the mansion, the grandfather clock struck 3:35 AM.
Julian Vance stood in the foyer, staring at the front doors that had been left wide open, letting the freezing autumn wind whip into the house. The rain was beginning to fall harder now, splattering onto the marble floor where Clara’s blood still marked the path the paramedics had taken.
"Julian," Evelyn said, her voice shaking with an unfamiliar tremor of fear. She reached out to touch his shoulder. "Julian, look at me! We have to call Harrison. We need our defense attorneys right now. We need to go to the private airstrip—"
"Shut up!" Julian yelled, slapping her hand away with a vicious snarl.
His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and wild with the mania of a cornered predator.
"Do you think an attorney is going to save us if Clara wakes up and testifies?" Julian spat, pacing across the foyer like a caged beast. "If Clara survives that C-section, she will hand over the research logs. She will tell the grand jury that I locked the door! The board will seize our offshore accounts! Everything we’ve built—the prestige, the endowment, the foundation—gone! All of it gone!"
"Then what are you going to do?" Evelyn cried.
Julian stopped pacing. His gaze turned toward his medical bag resting on the antique console table by the door.
Inside that bag was his master surgical badge. His titanium credentials that granted him unfettered, biometric access to every operating room, every clean corridor, and every sterile supply closet in Metro Valley Hospital. The security codes wouldn't update until the administrative shift change at 6:00 AM. Eleanor thought she had locked him out, but Julian knew every blind spot in that facility—he had helped design the surgical wing.
"She hasn't reached the OR yet," Julian whispered, a terrifying, psychotic smile creeping across his lips. "And as long as she is on an operating table, anything can happen. Surgical accidents occur every single day."
May you like
He grabbed his coat, snatched his medical bag, and sprinted out into the pouring rain toward his sports car.
***
