A Pulse in the Dark

The red flashing lights of the ambulance cast demonic streaks across the white cabinets as the paramedics burst through the entryway.

Within seconds, Emma was lifted onto a gurney. Straps clicked into place; oxygen hissed through a transparent mask pressed against her nose and mouth. The female paramedic, name tag reading Torres, worked with rhythmic precision, attaching an emergency fetal monitor to Emma’s abdomen.

Thump-thump... thump... pause... thump-thump.

The fetal heartbeat was erratic, dangerously weak, sounding like a bird trapped in a stone chimney.

"Placental abruption suspected," Torres shouted to her partner as they rolled the gurney out into the cool night air. "Systolic is dropping. Eighty over fifty. We need a tier-one trauma center immediately."

David climbed into the back of the ambulance, gripping Emma’s icy fingers.

The driver shifted into gear. "Routing to St. Catherine’s Memorial—it’s four minutes away."

Emma suddenly reached up, ripping the oxygen mask slightly aside, her knuckles turning white as she pulled David down toward her face.

"No St. Catherine’s," she gasped, her voice cracking with terror. "Mercy Central... not St. Catherine’s..."

David looked up at Torres. "Why not St. Catherine’s? It’s closer."

"Madison Vale's father sits on the board of trustees at St. Catherine’s," Emma whispered, her eyes wide with desperate lucidity. "Julian’s attorneys are already on retainer there. If I lose consciousness... they’ll sign the custodial waivers. They’ll take the baby before I even wake up. Mercy Central... please, David. Promise me."