Chapter 4 - The Gunshot
The terrifying sound of gunfire sent the entire hospital floor into a state of absolute panic.
Nurses screamed in the hallway, and the security guards immediately drew their weapons.
"Get down on the floor right now," the police officer ordered me as he pushed Noah and me behind the bed.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairwell, echoing loudly through the sterile corridors.
Daniel began to laugh softly, a deeply unsettling sound that made my skin crawl.
"I told you that you were already too late, Sarah," Daniel whispered from the floor.
Three men dressed in dark tactical gear burst through the doors of our hospital room.
They were not police officers, and they certainly were not hospital security.
They carried automatic rifles and wore thick black masks over their faces.
The police officer fired two shots, but he was instantly overwhelmed and disarmed by the attackers.
One of the masked men grabbed Margaret by the arm and pulled her toward the doorway.
Another man grabbed Claire, cutting her plastic zip-ties with a sharp hunting knife.
"What about me?" Daniel demanded, struggling against his own handcuffs.
The largest masked man looked down at my husband with cold, dead eyes.
"The boss said you are a loose end," the masked man replied gruffly.
Before Daniel could even scream, the man struck him across the face with the heavy stock of his rifle.
Daniel collapsed onto the linoleum floor, completely unconscious and bleeding from his forehead.
The armed men did not care about me or my terrified eight-year-old son hiding behind the mattress.
They dragged Margaret and Claire out of the room, leaving the police officer tied to the radiator.
I waited until their heavy footsteps completely faded down the hallway before I moved.
"Mommy, I am so scared," Noah whimpered, burying his face in my hospital gown.
I kissed the top of his head, forcing myself to be strong for his sake.
"I know, baby, but we have to be very brave right now," I told him gently.
I crept over to the unconscious body of my husband and reached into his jacket pocket.
I pulled out his unlocked cell phone, praying his text messages would give me a direct address.
I opened his encrypted messaging application and found a conversation with his mother.
The last message from Margaret had been sent just minutes before my baby allegedly died.
"The buyer is waiting at hangar number four, make sure the product is asleep," the message read.
I grabbed my clothes from the hospital closet and dressed myself as fast as my shaking hands would allow.
The police were completely compromised, and my husband's family was running a massive criminal syndicate.
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If I wanted to see my newborn son again, I had to hunt these monsters down myself.
I grabbed Noah's hand and slipped out the back emergency exit before more police could arrive.
