Chapter 8 - The Blackout
The silence that followed the blackout was absolute and deeply terrifying.
A second later, the horrifying sounds of choking patients and screaming nurses echoed from the hallways.
Ethan's chest stopped rising, and the complete absence of the mechanical ventilator hum meant he was slowly suffocating.
I grabbed the manual resuscitation bag hanging on the wall and quickly attached it to his breathing tube.
I began manually squeezing the bag, forcefully pushing oxygen into his damaged lungs in the pitch-black room.
I had to keep a steady, rhythmic pace, or his brain would suffer irreversible damage within minutes.
My arms ached, and sweat poured down my face, but I refused to stop pumping the plastic bag.
Suddenly, I heard the faint squeak of rubber-soled shoes slowly approaching our door in the dark hallway.
The security guards outside weren't answering, meaning whoever was out there had already bypassed them.
The heavy wooden door to our private room slowly creaked open.
A shadowy figure stepped inside, holding a long, metallic object that caught the faint moonlight filtering through the window.
"Who is there?" I demanded, keeping one hand firmly on the breathing bag while reaching for a heavy pair of surgical scissors with the other.
The figure didn't answer, simply stepping closer to the bed with deliberate, terrifying slowness.
"Get away from him!" I screamed, lunging forward in the dark with the scissors raised high.
The intruder easily caught my wrist mid-air, twisting it painfully until the weapon dropped to the floor.
Then, the intruder pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on.
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It was Detective Vance, bleeding heavily from a cut on his forehead, holding a standard police baton.
"They ambushed us in the lobby, Dr. Bennett, but the FBI tactical units have just breached the building," Vance gasped, clearly injured.
