Chapter 8 - The Thin Red Line
Mark didn't think; he lunged. Handing Clara instinctively to the bewildered Detective Miller, he sprinted past the nurse, bursting through the double doors into the sterile corridor of the Intensive Care Unit.
"Sir! You cannot be back here!" a technician yelled, but Mark shoved past the equipment cart.
Through the glass partition of Bed 4, he saw a wall of scrub-clad bodies surrounding the bed. The mechanical scream of the defibrillator charged with a high-pitched whine that drilled straight into his skull.
*Clear!*
Elena’s body arched violently off the mattress, a sickening, unnatural convulsion as the electrical current ripped through her chest. Her face was gray, translucent like parchment, the plastic tube taped to her mouth jutting upward like a grotesque snorkel. The heart monitor showed a flat, unyielding green horizontal line that hummed an endless, uninterrupted monotone.
*Resume compressions! Charge to two hundred!*
"Elena!" Mark slammed his palms against the glass, leaving smudges of cold sweat. "Fight it! Elena, please! Don't leave us!"
Two hospital security guards grabbed his arms, pulling him back from the glass. Mark struggled, kicking against the linoleum, tears blinding his vision. "Elena! Clara needs you! I'm sorry, I should have protected you, please!"
Inside the room, the doctor slammed the paddles down a second time.
*Clear!*
Another violent jerk. The flat line wavered, dipped, spiked upward in an erratic, jagged mountain, and then—a single, fragile beat echoed through the monitor speaker.
*Beep.*
A pause that lasted an eternity.
*Beep.*
"Sinus rhythm restored," Dr. Chen's voice broke over the intercom. "Blood pressure 70 over 40. Start epinephrine drip, five mics a minute. Get her stabilized for a neurological scan, right now."
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Mark collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor as the security guards released their grip, recognizing that the threat had dissolved into pure grief. He buried his face in his hands, his breath coming in ragged, ugly sobs.
In the reflection of the observation window, he saw Detective Miller standing in the hallway behind him, still cradling baby Clara. Beside Miller, Evelyn had not left. She stood looking through the glass at Elena’s resurrected form, her face pale, her lips drawn into a tight, furious snarl. She wasn't relieved. She was enraged that Elena was still alive.
