Chapter 8 - The Viral Wave
Back at Mercy General Hospital, the private VIP recovery suite on the fourth floor looked nothing like the crowded emergency ward downstairs. Maya lay comfortably in a motorized hospital bed, a warm flannel blanket tucked up to her chin, her color slowly returning to her cheeks as the saline drip hummed softly beside her.
Nurse Sarah stood by the monitor, checking the digital readout while watching a small tablet screen propped up against a water pitcher. Her eyes were wide, and her jaw was slightly slack as she refreshed the page for the third time in a minute.
The door swung open, and Arthur walked in, guiding Leo by the shoulder. Leo rushed immediately to the bedside, climbing up onto the chair and grabbing Maya’s small, warm hand.
"Maya? How are you feeling?" Leo asked anxiously, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead.
Maya blinked sleepily, a faint, weak smile touching her lips. "My tummy doesn't burn anymore, Leo. And a nice lady brought me apple juice. Did you find Mom?"
"We found her," Leo said quietly, his voice heavy with a mixture of relief and lingering fear. "The paramedics took her to the hospital. She's getting help, Maya. We're going to be okay."
Nurse Sarah turned the tablet screen around so Arthur and Leo could see it clearly. "You boys have no idea what just happened," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly with disbelief.
Leo squinted at the screen. The video Arthur had recorded earlier at the reception desk—the one showing Leo asking for work and Maya holding her stomach in pain—was currently flashing across the screen with a massive counter ticking upward in real-time.
"Views: 1.4 million," Leo read aloud, his eyes widening in utter shock. "Shares: 340,000. What... what is all this?"
"It’s the internet, Leo," Arthur said, crossing his arms and watching the numbers climb. "When people see real human suffering paired with genuine dignity, they respond. Look at the comments."
Sarah tapped the screen, scrolling through a endless cascade of text messages pouring in from all across the country.
“Heartbreaking. How can we donate?”
“I own a logistics firm in Chicago—tell that boy I have a legitimate job waiting for his mother when she recovers.”
“Sending five thousand dollars to the foundation relief fund right now.”
"People want to help us?" Maya asked softly, her big eyes reflecting the blue glow of the tablet screen. "Why would they help us? They don't even know us."
"Because humanity isn't entirely dead, sweetheart," Arthur replied gently, walking over to the window and looking out over the city skyline as dusk began to settle over the streets. "Sometimes people just need a reminder that goodness still exists right in front of them."
Suddenly, the door to the private suite burst open without a knock. A breathless hospital administrator in a crisp white lab coat rushed into the room, holding a ringing landline phone in his hand with a panicked expression on his face.
May you like
"Mr. Vance!" the administrator gasped, panting slightly. "You need to take this call immediately. The mayor's office is on the line, and outside in the parking lot, three local news vans just pulled up asking for an interview with the children."
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