Chapter 5 - The Sabotage at Room 408
My phone vibrated violently in my pocket. A panic-stricken text from the hospital’s head of security popped up on the screen:
“MR. VANCE, EMERGENCY! THE POWER TO THE ICU WING WAS JUST CUT BY AN UNKNOWN HACKER. MARY'S LIFE SUPPORT IS RUNNING ON A BACKUP BATTERY THAT IS FAILING!”
My heart dropped into my stomach. Victoria hadn't worked alone. She had a failsafe. If she went down, she was taking Mary with her.
"Marcus!" I roared, grabbing Lauren and sprinting back toward the exit, ignoring the hundreds of reporters thrusting microphones into my face.
We tore through the streets of Chicago, blowing through red lights with police sirens escorting us. Lauren clung to my neck, her tiny voice whispering over the roar of the engine, "Is Mommy going to heaven?"
"No, Lauren," I sobbed, pushing the pedal deeper into the floorboard. "I lost her once. I am not losing her again!"
When we burst into the hospital, the lobby was in complete chaos. Emergency backup lights flickered in a ominous red hue. Elevators were completely shut down.
"She's on the fourth floor!" I screamed, taking the stairs three at a time with Lauren in my arms. My lungs burned, my legs felt like lead, but the fear of losing Mary spurred me forward.
We reached Room 408. The electronic heart monitor was emitting a flat, continuous, high-pitched tone: EEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
"Mary!" I crashed through the door.
Two nurses were frantically trying to perform manual CPR while a doctor tried to hook up a manual oxygen bag. "The backup generator in this wing was corrupted with a malware virus!" the doctor shouted over the chaos. "Her heart stopped thirty seconds ago! We can't clear her airway without power to the main ventilator!"
"Use the emergency manual pump!" I yelled, dropping to my knees beside her bed. I grabbed Mary's freezing hand, pressing it against my cheek.
"Mary, please," I wept openly, tears streaming down my face onto her motionless hand. "I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I left! I came back! Look at me, please! Our daughter is here!"
Lauren stepped up to the edge of the bed, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out the small, soft piece of paper folded a dozen times—the last item from her bag that I hadn't looked at.
She unfolded it gently and placed it over Mary's chest.
It was a drawing done in crayon. A drawing of a man, a woman, and a little girl standing together under a bright yellow sun, holding hands in front of a small house. Written at the top in messy childish letters were the words: “PLEASE COME HOME, DADDY.”
"Mommy," Lauren whispered, her voice echoing in the dark, silent room. "Daddy's home. You can wake up now."
A agonizing silence stretched across the room. The nurses stopped. The doctor lowered his head.
Then, against every law of medical science, the monitor flickered back to life as the main power grid rebooted.
Beep...
Beep...
Beep...
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A soft, ragged gasp escaped from Mary's lips. Her fingers twitched against my face. Slowly, painfully, her heavy eyelids fluttered open, revealing the brilliant, familiar green eyes that had haunted my dreams for six long years.
She looked at me, her voice barely a whisper through the oxygen mask. "Arthur... you're late."
