Chapter 7 - Blackout
The hospital room disappeared into darkness.
Machines began beeping on backup power. Emergency lights flickered red along the floor. Somewhere in the corridor, a woman screamed.
I reached for the bassinets.
“Noah. Nora.”
“I’m here,” Lauren said.
Her voice came from the other side of the bed.
One of the police officers shouted into his radio, but only static answered.
The hospital had backup generators. A simple power failure should not have disabled communication.
This was deliberate.
“Lock the door,” I said.
The officer reached it just as someone struck from the hallway.
The metal frame shook.
A second impact followed.
Helen moved the hospital table against the entrance. Detective Reed drew his weapon.
“Everyone get low.”
I could not get low.
I could barely move.
Lauren rolled both bassinets behind my bed. Dr. Shah pulled the curtains around us, creating a thin barrier that would stop nothing but might hide where the children were positioned.
A voice came through the door.
“Hospital engineering. We need access to the electrical panel.”
Reed did not answer.
The voice tried again.
“Officer, the backup circuit is overheating.”
Reed looked at the small ceiling camera.
Its light was off.
“No visual identification,” he called. “Remain outside.”
Silence.
Then gunfire shattered the lock.
Reed fired back through the lower section of the door. Someone cried out.
The hallway erupted with shouting.
A smoke canister rolled under the damaged frame.
White gas poured across the floor.
“Cover the babies,” Dr. Shah said.
Lauren draped medical blankets around the bassinets while leaving gaps for air. Helen soaked cloths in water and handed them to us.
My incision burned as I forced myself upright.
The room spun.
“Claire, stay down,” Dr. Shah ordered.
A man kicked the door open.
He wore hospital maintenance clothing and a respirator. A pistol was raised in his right hand.
Reed shot him in the shoulder.
The man fell, but another rushed in behind him.
Helen swung the metal IV pole with both hands. It struck the second attacker across the face.
He stumbled.
Lauren pulled the emergency oxygen tank from the wall and shoved it into his knees.
Reed disarmed him.
For a few seconds, everything stopped.
Then a third figure appeared.
A woman.
She wore a surgical gown, mask, and cap.
She held no gun.
Instead, she carried a newborn transport carrier.
“Where is the boy?” she shouted.
I recognized her eyes.
The woman with the crown tattoo.
She had escaped custody.
Later, we learned that a fake federal officer arrived with forged transfer papers during the blackout. Two local officers released her, believing she was being taken into federal protection.
Now she stepped over the injured men and came toward me.
Reed aimed his weapon.
“Stop.”
She smiled behind the mask.
“You won’t shoot while I’m beside the oxygen line.”
In her hand was a small remote.
A blinking red light pulsed on its surface.
She had attached an explosive device to the oxygen manifold outside the room.
Reed lowered his gun slightly.
The woman turned to me.
“Give me Noah.”
“No.”
“You will kill everyone on this floor.”
“No,” I said. “You will.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Your confidence is irritating.”
“I know who you are.”
“You know nothing.”
“You worked Sophie Alden’s case.”
Something shifted in her expression.
“You injected her, didn’t you?”
“She was unstable.”
“She was murdered.”
“She refused to understand that some children belong to stronger families.”
The words sounded rehearsed.
Vane’s philosophy repeated through another mouth.
“You don’t believe that,” I said.
She took another step.
“Give me the infant.”
“No.”
She lifted the remote.
I looked past her toward the damaged doorway.
The red emergency light reflected from the polished floor.
A shadow moved.
Then another.
Hospital tactical security had reached the corridor through the service stairwell.
The woman did not see them.
But she saw my eyes.
She turned.
Reed lunged.
The remote fell.
I threw myself sideways and caught it before it hit the floor.
Pain tore through my abdomen. My vision flashed white.
The woman struck Reed and ran toward the bassinets.
Lauren blocked her.
The attacker grabbed Lauren by the throat.
Dr. Shah drove a syringe into the woman’s thigh.
The attacker screamed and released the nurse.
Tactical officers stormed the room.
Within seconds, she was pinned to the floor.
The remote remained in my hand.
My thumb hovered over two buttons.
One red.
One black.
“Which one disarms it?” an officer demanded.
I studied the device.
The red light continued blinking.
The black button showed faint wear around its edge. The red did not.
“Black,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“She has used it before.”
I pressed it.
The blinking stopped.
The lights returned thirty seconds later.
The room looked like a battlefield.
Broken glass covered the floor. Smoke drifted near the ceiling. Two attackers lay handcuffed. Blood darkened the doorway.
But the twins were safe.
Lauren placed Noah in my arms and Nora beside him.
My incision had begun bleeding again.
Dr. Shah looked furious.
“You are determined to undo every stitch I place.”
“I’ll apologize later.”
“You’ll apologize in surgery.”
Before they wheeled me away, Detective Reed searched the tattooed woman.
Inside her gown, he found a key card to the Mercer estate and a folded photograph.
The image showed twelve children standing in front of a private school in Vermont.
Each child had a number written beneath the photograph.
One face was circled.
A seven-year-old girl with dark hair.
On the back, someone had written:
Crane’s daughter. Subject Twelve. Relocation approved.
May you like
Melissa Crane’s child was alive.
And the photograph proved there were far more stolen children than anyone had imagined.
