THE MAN IN THE DARK ROOM

“Liam!”

I scrambled out from under the ramp, leaving Tommy sheltered in the shadows, and threw myself onto the wet concrete beside Liam’s prone body.

The rain was washing the blood away as fast as it was pouring out of him. I pressed my fingers frantically against his neck, desperately searching for a pulse beneath the cold, clammy skin.

It was there, but it was incredibly weak, fluttering like a dying moth against my fingertips.

“Leo!” I screamed, looking back toward the open warehouse. “Leo, get the car!”

The gunfire had stopped. Leo emerged from behind the pallets, his assault rifle lowered. He took one look at Arthur’s body, then sprinted toward us, grabbing Liam beneath the arms.

“He took two to the vest,” Leo grunted, hauling Liam’s massive frame upward. “But the kinetic impact alone… with his internal injuries, his organs are failing.”

“Get him in the back!” I yelled, running back to the ramp. I scooped Tommy up into my arms. He was lighter than he should be, his head resting limply on my shoulder.

We threw ourselves into the SUV. Leo slammed the doors shut, throwing the vehicle into reverse before I even had the seatbelt on Tommy. The tires spun on the wet concrete, screeching as Leo threw the heavy car into drive and rocketed us away from the docks.

The back seat was a nightmare.

Liam was completely unresponsive. The thick pressure bandages I had applied earlier were entirely useless now. The new bullet impacts to his tactical vest had shattered ribs, driving bone fragments inward, exacerbating the already catastrophic abdominal wound.

I laid Tommy gently in the passenger seat up front, wrapping him in Leo’s dry tactical jacket. “Stay warm, buddy. I need to help Liam now.”

I crawled back into the cargo area. The dim overhead dome light cast a sickly yellow glow over Liam’s gray face.

“Drive faster, Leo!” I shouted, ripping open the trauma kit.

“I’m doing ninety in a torrential downpour, Emma! The hospital is still ten minutes away!”

I clamped both of my hands over Liam’s chest, applying CPR compressions. One, two, three, four. I could feel the unnatural crunch of broken ribs beneath my palms. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. He was drowning in his own fluids.

Come on, Liam. Come on, you stubborn bastard. Don’t do this.

I paused compressions, grabbing a specialized chest seal from the bag. I ripped his shirt open, exposing the bruised, battered skin, and slapped the adhesive seal over the entry wound above his vest line to stop a tension pneumothorax.

“Liam, listen to me,” I cried, slapping his face gently, trying to pull him back from the dark. “You don't get to die. Do you hear me? You owe me ten thousand dollars! You don't get to stiff a nurse on payday!”

His chest hitched. A weak, rattling gasp escaped his lips. His icy blue eyes cracked open, unfocused and glazed.

“Emma…” he breathed, his voice barely a murmur over the roar of the engine.

“I’m here. I’m right here. Keep your eyes on me.”

His bloody hand twitched, reaching up slowly. He didn't reach for his wound. He reached for my hand, wrapping his cold fingers weakly around my wrist, right over Tommy’s braided bracelet.

“The tablet…” he whispered.

“I have it,” I lied. The tablet was lying in the rain at Pier 44. I didn't care about the fifty million dollars. I didn't care about the trust. I only cared about keeping his heart beating.

“Good…” Liam’s eyes fluttered closed. “Safe.”

“No, no, no, Liam, look at me!” I pressed down on his chest again, panic rising like bile in my throat. “Don't go to sleep. Liam!”

The monitor on my portable med kit emitted a long, continuous, high-pitched tone.

The flatline.

His heart had stopped.

“Leo, he’s crashing!” I screamed, straddling Liam’s hips to get better leverage. I laced my fingers together and began frantic, deep compressions.

One, two, three, four.

Tears blinded me, falling hot and fast onto Liam’s bloody chest. I pushed with everything I had, breaking more ribs, desperate to force his heart to beat, to force the blood to pump.

“Emma, hold on!” Leo yelled from the front.

The SUV violently swerved, jumping a curb. I was thrown hard against the side window, my shoulder screaming in pain, but I instantly threw myself back over Liam, resuming compressions.

The bright neon red sign of Chicago Memorial Hospital’s emergency room suddenly illuminated the rain-streaked windows.

Leo slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt right at the ambulance bay doors. He didn't wait to park. He kicked the door open, grabbed his assault rifle, and sprinted into the ER lobby, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Ten seconds later, the bay doors blew open. A trauma team of six doctors and nurses burst out into the rain, pushing a gurney.

I was still doing compressions when they pulled the door open.

“We got him, let us take over!” a paramedic shouted, grabbing my shoulders to pull me off.

“He’s been down for two minutes! Massive abdominal trauma, internal bleeding, possible punctured lung!” I rattled off, falling backward onto the floorboards as they hauled Liam’s massive, lifeless body onto the gurney.

I scrambled out after them, my scrubs soaked in his blood, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I watched them sprint down the sterile white hallway, shouting orders, hooking him up to machines, slamming doses of epinephrine into his IV.

I started to run after them, but strong hands caught me from behind.

It was one of the ER nurses. “Emma, you can’t go back there.”

“He’s my patient!” I sobbed, fighting against her grip. “I have to save him!”

“They are doing everything they can. Look at me, Emma.” The nurse turned me around. She pointed back toward the entrance.

Leo was walking through the automatic doors. He was carrying Tommy in his arms. Tommy was awake, looking around the bright ER lobby, his small hands clutching the collar of Leo’s tactical jacket.

My brother was safe.

The adrenaline that had kept me going for the past twelve hours suddenly evaporated. My knees buckled.

I hit the linoleum floor, burying my face in my bloody hands, and finally allowed myself to shatter. I wept for my father. I wept for Tommy. And I wept for the man in the dark bedroom, who had stepped into the light just to save us.