Sophia didn’t answer, just pressed closer.
I turned back to Dutch, checking his pulse one more time. Strong and steady. The old man would probably try to get up and start giving orders within the hour if I didn’t keep a close eye on him.
Nolan’s voice crackled through the radio on the supply table. “Preacher, we’ve got transport ready. How’s our patient?”
I picked up the radio. “Stable enough to move. Give me five minutes to get him ready for transport.”
“Copy that.”
I moved to the supplies table to inventory what we’d need for the transfer. Gauze, antibiotics, portable monitor. We’d loaded most of the critical equipment into vehicles already, but Dutch would need monitoring during the flight.
The familiar ritual of checking and rechecking supplies helped center me. Medicine had rules. Clean procedures. Clear outcomes. Not like the messy chaos of everything else.
“Dr. Shaw?” Mrs. Longfield’s voice again, closer this time.
I turned, already reaching for another supply kit. “Yes?”
The older woman stood just inside the doorway, still holding Sophia’s hand. But something in her posture had changed. The gentle curve of her shoulders had straightened. Her soft brown eyes had gone flat.
Recognition hit me a split second too late.
Her free hand came up holding a small pistol I hadn’t seen her carrying. The barrel pointed directly at my chest.
The shot cracked through the air before I could move.
Pain exploded through my left side, hot and immediate. I staggered back, my shoulder hitting the supply cabinet. The impact sent instruments clattering to the floor.
“I need the child,” Mrs. Longfield said in a voice stripped of all warmth.
My legs gave out. I hit the ground hard, the concrete floor cold against my cheek. Blood spread across my shirt in a warm, sticky bloom. The bullet had caught me in the side, just below the ribs.
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Sophia screaming.
Behind me, Dutch was shouting something, trying to get up from the bed despite his injured shoulder. His words came through distorted, underwater.
“Stay down, Dr. Shaw,” Mrs. Longfield said with the same blank expression. “Instructions are clear. The child must be collected.”
I pressed my right hand against the wound. Pressure. Had to maintain pressure. The ceiling swam above me, gray concrete blurring at the edges of my vision.
Sophia fought against Mrs. Longfield’s grip, her small body twisting. “Let me go! Dr. Shaw! Dutch!”
“Cease resistance.” The old woman’s voice held no emotion as she dragged Sophia toward the doorway. “Compliance ensures minimal harm.”
I tried to push myself up, but my left arm wouldn’t support my weight. “Don’t... hurt her...”
Nolan burst through the door, weapon drawn, but Mrs. Longfield was already moving, pulling Sophia toward the back exit with surprising strength. Nolan aimed, but the shot went wide as the old woman used Sophia as a shield.
“Stop!” I gasped. “The girl?—“
Nolan started after them, but Mrs. Longfield fired twice more without looking back, forcing him to take cover behind a supply cabinet.
The back door slammed open.
Sophia’s screams faded into the night.
Nolan appeared above me, his face tight with conflict. Chase the target or help the wounded. He made his choice, hands already reaching for my injury.
“Stay with me, Preacher.” He looked over his shoulder, shouting toward the door. “Medical emergency! I need another medic!”
