“Do it again!” My voice cracks. “Now!” Every head in the corridor snaps toward me, but every bit of my attention is on the woman a few cots from me, slowly bleeding out in this place that barely qualifies as a hospital. Monitors sound from Maryam’s bedside, and my heart plummets into my stomach.
I race toward her, but my legs move as though my feet are wading through tar. “Tell her she needs help,” I bark at Rafi as I grab the ultrasound probe. “Tell her I can help.”
He looks torn, hard lines of uncertainty etching into his face as he takes a hard, audible gulp. “Even if she says yes, it doesn’t?—”
“Tell her!”
He drops his gaze to Maryam and, speaking softly, translates for me. Maryam looks past him to me. She hesitates for a moment before nodding once, weak but sure, she whispers a response.
Rafi cranes over his shoulder. “She says yes.”
It might not be enough for him, but it’s allIneed.
I yank the ultrasound closer. The machine is old. The plastic is yellowed with age, and the buttons are worn smooth, but it works.Thank God.I squeeze some gel onto Maryam’s belly, and she jumps at the chill of it. After smearing it across her stomach, I press the probe down, andmy gaze flicks between the position of the probe and the grainy screen. The images wavers, but when it sharpens into what I feared most, I freeze.
Her placenta is pulling away from the uterine wall. A partial abruption. The baby’s heartbeat thumps through the machine, wild and erratic.We’re running out of time.
“She needs a C-section. Now.” I unlock the hospital bed’s wheels, my gloves squeaking against the metal frame. “Zahra, prep the OR. Rafi, find Dr. Durand. We’re moving her.”
As I shove the gurney toward the corridor, a firm hand catches the rail. I turn to find Dr. Durand. He towers over me, his eyes weary with exhaustion. His scrubs are streaked with blood. “You can’t operate, Dr. Hart,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“Not without consent from her husband or her elders.”
“She’lldie.” The word catches in my throat. I knew things would be different than practicing in the States. But thisdefinitelywasn’t in the Physicians Beyond Frontiers brochure.
Dr. Durand places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze as his face hardens. “If you perform surgery on her, so might the rest of us.”
I shake my head, unable to accept the situation I’m in. “This goes against everything we took an oath for, Pierre. You know that.”
“I know.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But this is how we save the others.”
“The others?” I scoff. “You mean themen.The soldiers. The onestheythink deserve saving.”
He doesn’t answer; he doesn’t need to. Something inside me burns. It’s not just anger—butrage. It pulses through my veins, hot and unrelenting.
I look down at Maryam. Her face is ashen, and her breaths are ghosting over her lips. “I didn’t come halfway around the world to let a very savable woman die because someone decided her life was less than.”
Durand’s eyes flick toward the window, where the distant gunfire rattles through the air like echoes of thunder. “If you defy the rules of the locals, they’ll shut us down. We’ll be lucky if all they do is burn what’s left of this place. Then no one gets saved. Not the men. Not the children. Not her.”
My hands flex around the rail of the gurney as I try to quiet my mind enough to think. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath until all I can hear is the whine of the ceiling fan and the thud of my heart. “Try again,” I tell Rafi on exhale. “Call her husband. Go to their house and knock on the damn door if you have to. But I’m not letting her die.”
He hesitates, his eyes flitting between me and Durand.
“Go,” I snap.
His sandals slap against the tile as he disappears down the hall.
I unwrap my fingers to find my hands trembling. “Hold on,” I murmur, gripping Maryam’s hand. “Please, just hold on.” I close my eyes, the thud of my heart echoing through my ribs. Somewhere deep inside, I know what I’m going todo if Rafi doesn’t come back in time. Because I didn’t swear an oath to politics or fear. I swore it tolife.
The monitor lets out a shrill beep, the sound cutting its warning through the air. Her blood pressure is dropping fast. “Make sure he tries again,” I whisper to Zahra, trying to hide the quiver in my voice. “Please, we just need to try again.”
I look at Maryam’s sullen face and the blood continuing to pool beneath her. If no one reaches her family soon, I’ll have to make a choice that could destroy everything.
Even if it kills me.
Who the fuck decided 0600 was a good time to get punched in the face?
