Chapter 6 - Breakout
“The freight elevator is dead!” Morales shouted over the blaring siren as we sprinted down the flooded corridor, pushing the gurney between us. “Salgado hit the master security override from the front desk!”
“The service ramp!” I yelled back. “By the disposal chute!”
Footsteps pounded behind us. Two more clinic guards rounded the corner, their boots splashing through the water, batons drawn.
“Halt! Drop to the floor!”
Morales didn't hesitate. He reached into his coat and produced an old, nickel-plated .38 revolver. He fired two deafening rounds into the ceiling tiles. Plaster and insulation rained down. The guards threw themselves flat against the walls, shielding their heads.
We hit the crash bar of the heavy metal emergency doors leading to the internal service ramp.
The ramp was steep, designed for heavy laundry hampers and biohazard carts. The heavy gurney picked up speed rapidly, threatening to tear out of my grip. I dug my heels into the concrete, my muscles screaming, steering Verónica’s bed around the tight switchbacks while Morales guarded the rear.
On the bed, Verónica’s breathing was rapid and shallow. Her eyes were darting wildly, taking in the flashing emergency strobes, the smell of gunpowder, and the deafening clatter of wheels on concrete.
“Hold on, Verónica!” I gasped, my lungs burning. “We’re out! We’re almost out!”
We burst through the double doors at the bottom of the ramp into the basement loading dock.
The laundry truck was still there, but blocking the main bay exit was Dr. Valentín Salgado himself, backed by three armed private security officers in tactical vests. In Salgado’s hand was a loaded pre-filled syringe—a massive dose of clear fluid.
“You’ve ruined everything, Alejandro,” Salgado shouted, his voice shaking with furious indignation. “Do you think you can walk out of here and ruin my clinic? My reputation? My life?”
“Back off, Valentín!” I yelled, pulling Verónica’s bed behind me.
“Kill him,” Salgado ordered the tactical guards, his eyes wild. “Shoot the old man and the husband! I’ll administer the lethal dose to the patient and certify that they broke in and murdered her!”
The guards raised their carbines.
Suddenly, a deafening engine roar echoed from the wet driveway outside.
Tires shrieked against slick asphalt. A blinding pair of high beams pierced the fog through the open bay door.
My heavy commercial SUV came barreling backward down the concrete ramp at fifty miles per hour, its horn blaring continuously.
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Sitting on the floorboards, holding the wheel with both tiny hands while pressing a heavy brick against the accelerator pedal, was Maya.
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