by Harley Tate
“I heard Augusta’s run out of beds.”
“No.” Brandy looked at her with wide eyes. “Are they turning people away?”
“I don’t know. But if anything else happens around here, we’ll have to.”
Brandy poked her in the arm. “Don’t even think it. We’re the biggest hospital in town. If we turn people away, where will they go?”
Leah shook her head. “Forget I said anything. It’s just the tired talking.”
“Are you too tired for news?” Brandy grinned while biting her lip.
“What?”
“Twelve weeks today.”
Leah scrunched up her nose. Twelve weeks? All at once it clicked and she wrapped Brandy up in a hug. “Congratulations! I know you and Travis have been trying for a while.”
Brandy nodded. “Almost a year. We waited until everything checked out to tell anyone, but I’m going to be a mom!”
Leah couldn’t be happier for her friend. Brandy would be a great mother. It was all she ever talked about since her husband finished school. Leah glanced at the floor. Once she finished the ER rotation, Leah hoped to start a family of her own. Soon, but not now.
She lifted her head with a smile. “Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl?”
“I want to, but Travis doesn’t.”
Leah listened while Brandy gushed about her husband and the baby and potential names until her pager went off again. She pulled it off her belt. The nursing station? Leah shrugged and smiled at her friend. “Gotta go.”
She hustled to the station and leaned against the counter. “Leah Walton. Someone paged me?”
The assistant behind the counter nodded. “Your husband called the main line and asked you to call him right away. Sounded pretty urgent.”
Leah frowned. “Grant Walton, are you sure?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Thanks.” Leah spun around, confusion battling the tiredness in her bones. Grant called the main line?
Her husband never called her at work. He knew how crazy her shifts were and didn’t want to interrupt. If he called, something must have happened. An accident? Something with his mom?
Leah headed toward the lockers when a voice called out. “Nurse? Can you assist?”
She backpedaled and stuck her head in the room. Dr. Simpson stood hunched over a patient with one hand holding a suture and the other a bloody sponge. Leah rushed up to his side and took the sponge.
“Thanks.” The doctor smiled at her. “This one’s a bleeder.”
She grabbed a new sponge and tore it open before changing it out for the saturated one. Harry Simpson was one of the new batch of residents they received last month. Definitely one of the greener ones. She smiled at him. “I heard you did a great job with the chest pains patient yesterday. You saved his life.”
“Thanks.” Simpson finished up the suture and stepped back.
The patient focused on Leah. “Will there be any scarring?”
She shook her head. “Not with Dr. Simpson’s fine stitches. Give it a few weeks and you won’t see a thing.”
Simpson cut her a glance, but said nothing.
“I’ll clean up.” Leah smiled. “I’m sure you have more rounds.”
“Thanks.” The doctor left and Leah tended the patient’s wound, cleaning the surrounding area before applying a clean bandage.
“Did that guy really know what he was doing?”
Leah glanced down. The patient looked about twenty, with a prior break to his nose and a scar along his chin. “You have experience with stitches?”
“Maybe a few.” He grinned. “Happens in football.”
“I can imagine. And yes, Dr. Simpson knew what he was doing.” Leah finished cleaning the patient and stepped back. “Good luck with your healing. I hope you stay out of the ER for a while.”
The patient smiled and Leah slipped into the hall. Every minute that went by not being able to call Grant added to her stress. Was he okay? Did something happen in Charlotte?
If no one else flagged her down, maybe she could finally make it to her locker to call her husband. She rushed down the hall and into the employee breakroom. Lockers lined the far wall and she beelined straight for hers on the bottom row. As she crouched to spin the combination lock, the lights flickered.
Leah tugged on the lock and swung open the door as the lights went out. What the? She shook her head. Do the backup generators not power the breakroom? It made sense if she thought about it. She fished for her phone in the dark, rooting past her street clothes and shoes for her purse. She tugged it open and found the phone.
As she pulled it free, Leah pushed the home button and the screen lit up, full of messages. She read the first one and almost dropped the phone.
Chapter Three
GRANT
Charlotte International Airport
Charlotte, North Carolina
Friday, 5:30 p.m.
A series of dim lights flicked on overhead and the automatic doors to the airport slid open like molasses coated the gears. People flooded out into the dusk, relieved to be outside the confines of the dark and stagnant airport.
Grant hung back as a loudspeaker stuttered.
“Attention. This is the Charlotte International Airport Security Department. A widespread blackout is affecting a majority of the Charlotte metropolitan area. Our emergency backup generators are powering essential services and lighting only.”
The speaker crackled as if the announcer covered the mic with his hand. After a moment, he returned. “All flights are currently canceled. Please remain calm and see the nearest flight attendant for assistance.”
As soon as the word “canceled” came over the speaker, a collective groan rose up from the airport. A man five feet from Grant spun around in a circle, gesticulating and cursing. Another stormed toward the oversized baggage office, his fists coiled and muscles tight. Grant didn’t want to be on the other end of that guy’s vengeance.
A gaggle of angry passengers collected at the open doors.
“This is ridiculous! I’ve got to get home!”
“I’ve got to get to work!”
“My boss is gonna kill me!”
People were complaining and shouting and throwing up their hands. If airport security didn’t show a bit of force, and soon, a mob would form. Grant didn’t want to be there when that happened.
He spun around. A bank of rental car companies sat in the dark a hundred feet from where he stood. Lines already stretched to the windows. It would take hours to get a car, if they even had any left by the time he reached a desk.
As he ran a hand through his hair, Grant looked around. There had to be a way to get out of there that didn’t involve a plane or waiting in one of those lines. He exhaled as a sign caught his eye
Additional Rental Car Facilities
Accessible via Shuttle
Bingo. Grant exhaled in relief. He could hop a shuttle and make it to a distant lot before most people figured it out. Easing around the mass of fliers still congregating by the doors, he slipped outside.
There had to be a sign for the shuttle somewhere. He squinted into the distance, eyeing all the cabs parked in the taxi stand. How much for a taxi to Atlanta? More than the money in his wallet, that’s for sure.
He hustled up to the first cab where a driver leaned against the hood and smoked a cigarette. “You know where the rental car place is? The one with the shuttle?”
The man shrugged and spit out a bit of tobacco.
Grant moved onto the next driver and then the next. A man three cabs down with a beater of a car waved him over. “I know where it is.”
“Great. Where?”
The driver pushed off the side of his car. “Ten bucks, I’ll take you there.”
“Ten bucks? How far is it?”
“A mile, maybe two. It’s in a far lot at the edge of the airport.”
Grant cursed under his breath. He could set off on foot, but without a clue as to where the off
ice could be, it might take hours to reach it. By then, whoever was working would probably be long gone. It was either the cabbie or he tried his luck back inside.
With a scowl, he fished out a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it over. It left him thirty-seven dollars and the emergency hundred tucked in the back. Not nearly enough. I should carry more cash when I travel.
The cabbie took the money and walked around the front of his car. It was a Crown Vic of dubious vintage. It had to be older than Grant himself. With a police headlight still attached to the front, it probably wasn’t even legally licensed to be a cab. Grant shrugged it off. He didn’t care as long as it got him to the rental place as quickly as possible.
He opened the rear door and clambered in with his suitcase. The cabbie eased into the front seat and the shocks squeaked. His dark brown eyes flashed in the rear view. “You from here?”’
Grant found the seat belt as the driver pulled away from the curb. “No. Atlanta. I’m trying to get home.”
“Flight delayed?”
“I think they’re all canceled. The airport’s computers are down.”
The cabbie whistled. “I wondered why we stopped getting fares. I’ve been sitting out there for twenty minutes.”
While the cabbie talked about the airport and the power outage, Grant looked out the window. Not a single car passed them on the road. His brows knitted. Surely people were trying to pick up loved ones or were arriving without knowing the airport was shut down. Where was everyone?
They pulled out of the airport roundabout and onto a small exit road. A man stood by the side of his car, shouting at someone in the passenger seat.
The cabbie shook his head. “Some people. They are terrible fliers.”
Grant nodded. The farther they drove in the dark without a single streetlight to light their way, Grant’s concern grew. The cabbie was taking him to the rental car place, right? Grant jerked his head toward the front seat. “You know where you’re going, right?”
“Of course. It’s just down here.”
Grant exhaled, but he couldn’t slow the pounding of his heart. Why did I get in the car? It was stupid. He thought about all the other options. Walking, waiting at the airport, sweet-talking some airport personnel into bumping up his departure.
There were a million options, none of which involved getting in this guy’s cab and leaving the relative security of the airport behind. Grant didn’t know a damn thing about Charlotte. For all he knew, they were a stone’s throw from the worst possible part of town.
He gripped the handle on his suitcase and stared out the window into the dark. The cab cruised along a two-lane road. From the glow of the headlights, he could make out an occasional blocky building like a warehouse, but that was all.
I can’t stay in this car. I have to get back to my wife. Grant reached for the door handle as the cab slowed and turned right. It bounced over a speed bump and a yellow sign caught the headlights.
Car Rental Facilities
Grant exhaled. The cab driver was telling the truth. He chastised himself for thinking the worst as the cab came to a stop in front of a small office building.
The cabbie put the car in park and craned his neck toward Grant. “You need help with your bag?”
Grant shook his head. “No. Thanks for the ride.” He eased out of the back seat and shut the door with a wave.
The cab backed up, floating on ancient shocks, and headed back into the night. Grant turned around and walked up to the office door.
He tugged it open and a bell above his head jingled. He half expected a massive line, but he was the only customer inside. A single employee stood behind the counter with a flashlight pointing straight up to light the space.
The air hung thick and stale and Grant coughed.
The woman behind the counter called out, strain obvious in her voice. “I’m sorry, our computers are down. I can’t retrieve your reservation.”
He stepped forward despite the warning. Getting a car was his only option. He wouldn’t leave until he did. “Lucky for me, I don’t have a reservation.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take credit cards or pay via phone, either.”
Grant reached the counter and the employee’s features came into focus. She wasn’t much older than him, maybe forty, with dyed blonde hair and dark circles under her eyes. The flashlight accentuated her makeup and made her almost ghoulish. He smiled.
“I’m happy to pay cash. Do you have anything available?”
“I don’t know if I should.” She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “We do everything over the computer. I won’t be able to sync your reservation with the rest of our offices. It won’t be in the system if you get in an accident.”
Grant reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He fished out the hundred-dollar bill he kept for emergencies and smoothed it out on the Formica. “I only need a one-day reservation. Whatever you can give me for a hundred dollars cash.”
The woman stared at the money, her brow knitting as she thought it over.
Please, just say yes.
Her frown deepened and Grant knew he was losing.
He leaned closer to read her name tag and tried again. “Darlene, I’ve got to get home. My wife is at the hospital. Please.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Is she dying?”
“I don’t know.” Grant hated to lie. So far everything he’d said had been a version of the truth. “But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t get there in time. Please.” He pushed the money closer to her waiting hand.
Darlene stared at the money as she drummed her painted fingernails on the counter. At last, she snatched it from Grant’s hand. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t even know what cars are already reserved.”
Grant exhaled in relief. He would get a car. He would make it in time. “I don’t care what it is, anything that runs will be fine.”
After slipping the money under the counter, Darlene turned to face the board of keys. She shined the flashlight across the dangling tags. “Economy or intermediate?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She plucked a set of keys from the second row and turned around. “Chevy Impala, then. Nobody likes to rent them. Too big and hard to steer.”
Grant kept his comment to himself, and took the keys with a smile. “Thank you.”
Darlene pointed at the lot with the flashlight. “It’s in space number eighty-three. Do you need a flashlight?”
Grant shook his head. “No. I can manage. Thanks.”
With his suitcase in one hand and the keys in the other, Grant hustled out of the office and down the rows of cars, searching in the dark for a Chevrolet Impala that would be his ticket home. He found parking spot eighty-three and almost whooped for joy.
The boat of a car took up the whole space and his suitcase seemed dinky inside the massive trunk. Grant slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door. Silence enveloped him. He took a deep breath, stuck the key in the ignition, and turned it.
Nothing happened.
He frowned and tried again. Still nothing.
No matter how many times he cranked the ignition and pumped the gas, it was hopeless. The car wouldn’t start.
Chapter Four
LEAH
Georgia Memorial Hospital
Downtown Atlanta
Friday, 5:30 p.m.
Twenty messages and a ton of voicemails, each one more urgent than the next. Grant wasn’t making any sense. Leah scrolled through the messages, each one imploring her to leave the city and go to her sister’s place.
Leah checked the time. Five thirty on a Friday night? It would take her two hours to reach Dawn’s at least. Maybe more. Living outside of town had its advantages, but not when it came to rush-hour traffic.
She hit play on the most recent voicemail and listened to her husband’s shaky voice. He sounded so upset. Afraid, even. What could have spooked him so bad? Why did he want her to leave?
; She hit call on her phone, but it didn’t go through. All she got was a fast busy signal. She tried again. Same result.
She tried a quick text. Not delivered!
What the…? Everyone in the hospital must have been trying to call home. With thousands of cell phones all pinging off the nearest tower, it could be overwhelmed. She knew that sort of thing happened with 911 in a major catastrophe. A flood of calls would clog up the network and grind everything to a halt.
The backup lights for the hospital flickered on in the hall and Leah shoved her phone in her pocket. As she pushed the flyaway strands of her hair off her face, she stepped out of the breakroom and into chaos.
A nurse ran past her with a flashlight in her hand. A doctor shouted for help in a nearby room. The nursing station twenty feet away was a sea of bodies and raised voices. It didn’t make sense. The hospital had enough generators to power all of the equipment for at least a week. Everything should have come back online almost instantly.
She hustled up to the nursing station. “What’s happening?”
“What isn’t?” The administrator held a hand to the top of her head as she struggled to stay calm. “The computers are fried. I can’t log in. I can’t check on anyone’s vitals. Half the equipment in the rooms aren’t working. The entire intensive care unit is beeping alarms.”
Oh my God. Leah spun around. So many patients depended on the computer equipment to stay alive. In the emergency room alone there had to be twenty patients about to die.
As she rushed down the hall, a voice called out.
“I need any available nurses! Quick!”
She spun around. Kelly from the fifth floor stood at the stairwell waving a flashlight. Leah jogged to her. “What is it?”
Kelly grabbed her arm and tugged her toward the stairs. “The NICU. The incubators aren’t working.”
Leah’s eyes went wide. “How many babies?”
“Ten.” Kelly took the stairs two at a time and Leah followed. “We’ve got to get oxygen or they’ll all die.”
