by By Jon Land
“We’re going to have to go in,” the lead doctor announced grimly.
A nurse rushed through the curtain with an armful of clear plastic bags full of blood. “Eight units,” she said breathlessly. “More on the way.”
“Get the rapid infuser over here and give me some room! Christ, I need suction! Somebody get that suction over here!” Working his hands swiftly over Danielle’s belly, the trauma doctor glanced at Ben again. “And someone get him out of here! Now!”
Ben felt hands close upon him. Then he was being led backward out of the trauma room, his feet not feeling like his own.
* * * *
T
he doctor finally emerged less than a half hour later, his hospital greens covered in Danielle’s blood. Ben looked up at him from his chair, holding his face in his hands. Static pricked the edges of his nerve endings, turning the world slow and dull
“We’ve managed to stop the blood loss and stabilize her,” he reported. “She’s on her way up to surgery now. I think she’s going to make it.”
“What about the baby?” Ben asked, fearing the answer as much as he had ever feared anything in his life.
* * * *
EPILOGUE
S
o this is the Hessler Institute,” Danielle said, looking around her.
At the foot of her bed in Columbia Presbyterian Hospital, Ben Kamal smiled slightly.
“I don’t even remember being brought here from the castle. Where’s Hessler? Is he all right?”
“Fine. He saved your...”
“What?”
“Nothing. Hessler’s coming later.”
“What about Mundt?”
Ben shook his head slowly, then said, “Only three of the Gatekeepers survived, and one escaped. I don’t think we’ll be hearing from them again.”
“I was thinking about that before, about how their time had passed. They were fighting the wrong enemy. We’re the keepers of the gate now, Ben. The enemy’s different but not the stakes; they always seem to be the same.”
“Otherwise, Danielle, we’d be out of a job.”
“What about your eye?” she asked, looking at his bandage.
“Nothing serious. The patch comes off tomorrow.”
“We were lucky.”
“Yes, we were.”
Danielle’s eyes flashed wide with hope. “How has the testing gone so far?” she asked, her voice sounding wispy thanks to her dry and cracked lips.
Ben walked over to the side of the bed and took her hand.
“I don’t remember any of it, Ben. I guess they’ve kept me doped up, right? When will Hessler’s doctors be able to give me the first injection of Lot four-sixty-one? What do the tests show?”
Ben remained silent.
“We did the right thing making this deal, Ben. We shouldn’t feel guilty. There was nothing to be gained from exposing our only suspect, Ari Hessler, already dead. And making the deal could be our only chance to save the baby.”
“We did the right thing,” he agreed.
Danielle smiled, found his gaze. Suddenly her grasp stiffened in Ben’s. Her face went blank. She glanced down toward the surgical dressing wrapped around her entire midsection and the drain protruding from the site of the incision itself. A deep emptiness spread through her as she realized she could no longer feel the baby’s presence.
“Danielle,” she heard Ben say.
The tears had already begun to spill from her eyes when she raised up toward him. Ben took her in his arms and held her, not intending to let go.
“You’re going to be fine,” he whispered. “You’re going to be fine.”
