Chapter 24 - Blood on the Snow
The descent from Blackwood Ward was a running firefight through two miles of frozen logging roads.
Our convoy consisted of two heavily armored SUVs and an unmarked tactical ambulance outfitted with intensive care equipment. As we loaded Ethan into the back of the medical rig, a specialized paramedic took over the ambu-bag, hooking Ethan to portable monitors and starting a fresh infusion of balanced electrolyte fluids.
"His blood pressure is sixty over forty," the medic reported grimly, shining a penlight into Ethan’s dilated pupils. "He’s severely malnourished, chemically sedated with high doses of midazolam. We need to administer flumazenil to reverse the benzodiazepines, but doing it too fast could trigger massive seizures."
"Keep him stable," I ordered, my hands smeared with soot and Ethan's saline. "Just keep his heart beating."
Behind us, headlights cut through the swirling snow. Three black heavy-duty pickups, modified with steel bull-bars and high-intensity light bars, were roaring down the logging trail at reckless speed.
"They aren't trying to capture us," Marcus yelled from the passenger seat of our escort vehicle over the shortwave. "Arthur knows Ethan is a liability now. They have orders to ram and incinerate!"
"Return fire," I said coldly.
The back doors of our armored SUV swung open ahead of them. A heavy machine gun mounted on a swivel spat a tongue of orange fire into the dark. The lead pickup took a barrage of armor-piercing rounds directly into the engine block. The hood crumpled, the radiator burst into a cloud of steam, and the truck swerved violently, clipping a towering hemlock tree before rolling three times into a snowy ditch, bursting into a fiery ball of diesel.
The remaining two trucks braked hard, tires screaming against the frozen slush, before turning back into the trees.
I turned back to Ethan. The heart monitor beeped with a slow, fragile cadence. *Fifty-eight... sixty-one... sixty-four.*
His eyes cracked open.
They were clouded, milky from months of dim light and pharmacological fog, but when they shifted toward me, a spark of absolute consciousness cut through the haze.
His lips moved, dry and cracked. No sound came out, only a dry breath.
I leaned down until my ear touched his mouth. "Ethan? I’m here. What is it?"
"The... the bridge..." he rasped, every syllable an agonizing battle against paralysis. "...Leo... Maya..."
My heart stopped beating in my chest. "Ethan, the children... the crash..."
May you like
His scarred hand tightened with sudden, miraculous strength around my wrist, his fingernails digging into my skin.
"Not... not in the car," he breathed, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime on his hollow cheeks. "Claire... Arthur took them... before the drop."
