“I see it,” I answer, forcing my focus to the page.
I scrawl my name as quickly as my hand allows. The bag thumps against my leg when I lift it. I hook the straps over my shoulders and turn back, smiling, hoping to calm my sister.
“Okay. We are?—”
They’re gone. The nurse is already in the hall, pushing the wheelchair, Hope’s blanket folded neatly across her lap. Her pace is smooth, unhurried, almost casual in the chaos of alarms and shouting.
“Wait!” I call, rushing forward.
A hospital volunteer in a yellow vest steps into the doorway, blocking my path. His hands lift in apology. “Ma’am, please stay inside the room until we have clearance to move. It keeps the corridor open for the code.”
“That’s my sister,” I bite out. “Move.”
“I can’t,” he says, his voice tight. “I’m sorry.”
I can see the nurse turning left, the wheelchair slipping through the double doors, and vanishing into the crowd. My pulse spikes. I shove past the volunteer, my heart hammering, the bag knocking hard against my hip.
The hallway is chaos. Red lights flash along the walls, painting everything in frantic strokes of crimson. A custodian pushes a gray bin the other way, moving like he’s fleeing a rising tide. A man in scrubs shouts for people to keep right. The gurney I heard earlier disappears down another corridor, swallowed by the press of bodies and motion.
Then I see it. The wheelchair sits at the far end of the hall near a service door marked with a small red sign. The nurse’s back is to me. She presses the door bar with her hip as she maneuversthe chair. A freight elevator gapes open, its metal grate halfway raised.
The nurse pushes the wheelchair inside. The wheels rattle against the concrete floor.
“Hey!” I shout, panic clawing at my insides.
She doesn’t look back. The elevator doors begin to close, swallowing the dull glow of the hallway.
I run.
Albert barrels after me down the corridor, cursing in Russian, clearing bodies with his shoulders. An orderly steps in his way and rebounds off him like he hit a wall.
Albert shouts into his radio. “Exit C. Back corridor. Freight elevator. They are moving.”
Static answers him.
I sprint, my lungs burning. My shoes skid on a wet streak left by a mop. I catch myself on the rail and push harder.
Albert’s voice cuts through the noise. “Stairs, on the right!”
Albert yanks open the stairwell door. We barrel down one flight and through the door. The door at the landing bangs open to a concrete corridor lined with supply carts and chemical drums. The space reeks of bleach and diesel. The elevator’s metal gate stands open now, the interior empty except for Hope’s blanket crumpled in the corner.
The corridor opens into a loading corridor with a metal roll-up door partway raised and a slice of parking lot showing like a torn page. A woman in a nurse’s uniform stands by the exit, a darksmear of blood glistening on her forehead, phone pressed to her ear as she watches the lot.
“Where did they go,” I demand, my breath snagging hard.
She points with the phone, unblinking. “Out that way.”
Albert lunges to the opening and ducks under the roll-up door. I shove after him. The sun slams into us, so bright it scrapes my retinas raw. A white van idles at the curb, its door adorned with a magnetic hospital logo. The rear doors are shut. A man in scrubs slips into the passenger seat, eyes fixed ahead. The van lunges forward, tires screaming against the asphalt.
“Stop!” I scream, and it feels like trying to catch smoke with my hands.
Albert is already on the radio, the words a chain. “White van. Decal on the door. East lot. Plate unknown. Moving north. Blocker to gate two now.” His other hand is at his hip, reaching for his weapon. His words come out tight, rage bleeding through the cracks of control. He looks at me once. “Back inside,” he barks.
“No.” My voice rips on the single syllable.
The van clips the corner and is swallowed up by the stream of vehicles that have begun to snake away from the building. The ambulance behind it shields it for a moment, a moment that costs us everything.
I turn to run after it anyway, like feet can beat an engine. Albert catches me at the elbow and drags me two steps back toward the door.
