"Medically mandatory."
Marcus nodded solemnly.
"Can't argue with science."
They left the exam area shortly after four.
That was when the emergency arrived.
Double doors near the ambulance entrance opened.
A trauma team moved a gurney rapidly through the corridor.
Marcus stepped aside, pulling Lily with him.
On the stretcher lay a girl perhaps seven years old.
Pale.
Oxygen mask.
Dark hair tangled around her face.
A paramedic walked beside her giving report.
"Seven-year-old female. Fall from playground structure. Initially ambulatory. Sudden hypotension and abdominal rigidity approximately thirty minutes later. Suspected intra-abdominal bleed."
A second paramedic pushed fluid bags.
"Mother en route from downtown."
The gurney disappeared.
Lily pressed closer.
"Is she hurt?"
"Yeah."
"Bad?"
"The doctors are going to find out."
Marcus started walking.
They reached the radiology corridor twenty-five minutes later because construction forced pedestrian traffic through a different hallway.
A nurse was pushing an emergency stretcher from imaging toward the pediatric emergency department.
The same girl lay on it.
She was awake now but confused.
Her eyes moved wildly.
"No."
The nurse leaned toward her.
"Emma, stay still, sweetheart."
"I want Mommy."
"Your mom is coming."
The child tried to sit.
Another nurse reached for her.
"Emma, please lie back."
Then her body stiffened.
The stretcher stopped.
The first nurse shouted:
"Call the trauma team."
Marcus immediately pulled Lily backward.
"Stay against the wall."
The girl began seizing.
One nurse lowered the side rail while another called for help.
Marcus did not grab the child or try to restrain her.
Years earlier, Kelton had required workplace first-aid training.
He remembered enough to know the priorities.
Keep the area clear.
Protect the head.
Do not put anything in the mouth.
He slipped off his folded work jacket, handed it to the nurse nearest the child's head, and helped move an equipment stand out of the way.
"Here."
The nurse used the jacket beneath Emma's head while the second nurse maintained her airway positioning.
Marcus stood beside them.
"Anything else?"
"Keep the corridor clear."
Marcus moved back.
A frightened visitor had stopped in the center of the hallway.
"Sir, please give them room."
The man stepped away.
Lily stood exactly where Marcus had told her, eyes enormous.
The seizure ended in less than a minute.
Emma lay limp afterward, breathing rapidly.
Her eyelids fluttered.
The nurse spoke softly.
"Emma?"
The girl opened her eyes.
For a moment, she looked directly at Marcus because he was the face closest to her line of sight.
"Mommy?"
"She's coming," Marcus said.
The child's hand moved weakly.
Marcus offered his fingers.
She grabbed them.
"Don't let me die."
The sentence stopped something inside him.
Sarah.
Hospital bed.
Thin fingers around his hand.
Don't let me die yet, Mark. I'm not done.
Marcus swallowed.
The trauma team arrived.
He squeezed Emma's hand once.
"You're not alone."
A doctor replaced him.
Marcus backed away.
Within seconds they were moving again.
Lily ran toward him.
He crouched and held her.
"Was she dying?"
"I don't know."
"You said she's not alone."
"She's not."
"Because we were there?"
"Because lots of people are helping."
Lily looked toward the doors.
"I hope her mommy comes."
"So do I."