Chapter 3 - The Midnight Escape
The phone line went completely dead.
Panic, raw and suffocating, seized my throat as I stared at the dark screen in Michael's shaking hand.
"She tracked him," I whispered, rushing toward the cot to grab Noah's muddy sneakers.
I frantically tore the insoles out of both shoes.
Hidden deep inside the thick rubber heel of the left shoe was a tiny, flashing red light.
I threw the shoe onto the cold tile floor and smashed it repeatedly with the heavy base of a fire extinguisher.
"She's almost here," Michael shouted, rushing to the front windows to pull down the metal security blinds.
"Emma, we have to get him out of here right now before her men surround the building."
I turned to Noah, who was sitting up on the cot, his small face paralyzed with absolute terror.
"Is the bad lady coming?" he asked, his voice cracking with sheer panic.
"I won't let her take you," I promised fiercely, wrapping a thick blanket tightly around his shivering shoulders.
"Michael, carry him to the back door."
"My car is parked in the alleyway behind the dumpsters."
Michael didn't hesitate for a second.
He scooped Noah up into his arms, being incredibly careful not to bump the hastily splinted leg.
Noah whimpered but buried his face into Michael's wet coat, seeking any form of protection he could find.
I grabbed my emergency medical bag, shoving my laptop and the physical files inside.
Just as we reached the narrow back hallway, the heavy sound of screeching tires echoed from the front street.
Bright halogen spotlights suddenly flooded through the small gaps in the front window blinds.
Someone began pounding violently on the reinforced front glass.
"Emma Carter!" a man's voice boomed through a high-powered megaphone.
"Open the door immediately, or we will breach the property."
"Go, go, go!" Michael hissed, kicking open the heavy steel fire door that led to the dark alley.
The freezing rain slammed into us instantly.
We sprinted blindly through the muddy alleyway, Michael slipping but managing to keep Noah perfectly elevated.
We reached my battered old sedan just as the horrifying sound of shattering glass erupted from the front of the clinic.
They had broken through the main doors in less than a minute.
I jammed the key into the ignition, praying to God the old engine would turn over on the first try.
The car roared to life, and I slammed my foot on the gas pedal.
We shot out of the dark alleyway just as two massive men in tactical gear rounded the corner with flashlights drawn.
"Get down!" Michael yelled from the passenger seat, pulling Noah's head below the dashboard.
I swerved hard onto the main road, ignoring the slick pavement and hydroplaning tires.
I didn't turn on my headlights until we were three miles away, weaving recklessly through the empty industrial district.
My heart was beating so violently it felt like it might actually crack my ribs.
"Where are we going?" Michael demanded, constantly checking the rear-view mirror for headlights.
"We can't go to the police, and we certainly can't go to your apartment."
"I know a place," I said, my grip on the steering wheel turning my knuckles completely white.
"An old medical school friend runs an underground shelter for battered women on the edge of the county limit."
"Eleanor's money doesn't reach that far out, and they don't ask any questions at the door."
Michael nodded grimly, keeping a protective hand resting gently over Noah's sleeping head.
We drove in terrified silence for nearly forty minutes.
The storm outside raged on, matching the violent chaos tearing apart my entire life.
Just as I finally saw the hidden turn-off for the shelter, Noah let out a horrible, guttural groan.
"Emma," Michael said, his voice laced with sudden, pure panic.
"Something is very wrong with him."
I quickly pulled the car onto the muddy shoulder and turned on the overhead dome light.
Noah was thrashing wildly in his sleep, his skin flushed a dangerous, unnatural crimson.
Michael pulled the blanket back, and we both gasped in absolute horror.
A massive, angry red infection was actively spreading up Noah's leg from a wound hidden beneath his pant line.
May you like
"It's severe sepsis," I whispered, my medical training kicking in over my maternal panic.
"If we don't get him high-grade intravenous antibiotics in the next hour, his organs will start shutting down completely."
