Chapter 7 - The Escape Plan
The rain began to fall in earnest at 5:00 PM, beating a steady, relentless rhythm against the glass windows of Natalie’s private office.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with desperation.
Ethan sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, his knuckles pressed hard against his forehead. Griffin sat between his knees, resting his heavy chin on Ethan's thigh, sensing the profound grief pouring from his handler.
"We can't win this legally, Natalie," Ethan said, his voice flat, dead. "Vance has the paper trail. He has the Pentagon backing. In an hour, they're going to take him, put him in a metal crate, and drive him to Fort Meade."
Natalie stood by her desk, pacing back and forth, her fingers nervously twirling a silver pen. "There has to be a legal loophole. A medical stay. If I certify that he has a contagious canine infection, they can't transport him across state lines—"
"Vance will bring his own vet," Ethan interrupted, looking up with hollow eyes. "He doesn't care about the rules, Natalie. He cares about closing the file so his record stays clean."
Camila Rowan sat near the door, holding Sophie, who was quietly drawing a picture of a large black dog on a pad of paper with a yellow crayon.
"What if he isn't here when they come?" Camila said suddenly.
Every eye in the room turned to the floor nurse.
"Camila..." Natalie warned softly. "Assisting in the removal of a military asset is a federal offense. You could lose your nursing license."
"I've worked in this hospital for six years," Camila said, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. "I've seen soldiers come back from combat stripped of their dignity, their health, and their sanity. And now they want to take the one thing that keeps this man breathing? My daughter sat on a cold floor today and saved that dog's life. I am not going to let a bureaucrat in a shiny suit kill him three hours later."
Ethan looked at Camila in utter disbelief. "Ma'am... you don't have to do that for me."
"I'm not doing it for you, Sergeant," Camila said, looking down at her daughter. "I'm doing it because my daughter believes there is good in this world, and I'm not going to let Major Vance prove her wrong."
Natalie stopped pacing. She looked at Camila, then at Ethan, then down at the blue folder on her desk. A dangerous, wonderful idea began to take shape in her mind.
"Camila's right," Natalie whispered, a small, daring smile breaking across her face. "Vance is coming to transport MWD-774, a Category-1 Tactical Asset owned by the U.S. Army."
"Yeah," Ethan said. "That's Griffin."
"Only if the paperwork says he's a military asset," Natalie said, pulling a blank green form from her bottom desk drawer—a CIVILIAN SERVICE ANIMAL EMERGENCY ADOPTION AND DISCHARGE CERTIFICATE.
"What are you doing?" Ethan asked.
"As the Chief Veterinary Medical Officer on this base," Natalie explained quickly, her pen flying across the paper, "I have the legal authority to reclassify any animal undergoing medical rehabilitation if staying in military custody poses an immediate, fatal health risk to the asset."
"You're backdating a civilian transfer?" Natalie’s CFO heart skipped a beat.
"I am reclassifying Griffin as a private Emotional Support Animal assigned to a minor under civil trauma protection protocol," Natalie said, stamping the document with her official state seal. "Under state law, once a certified medical professional assigns a service animal to a child undergoing emotional therapy, the military cannot seize the animal without an injunction signed by a federal judge. And getting a federal judge to sign an injunction on a Friday night takes at least seventy-two hours."
Ethan stood up, his eyes widening. "You're putting him under Sophie's name?"
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Natalie signed her name with a sharp flourish at the bottom of the page, handed the green paper to Camila, and looked straight at Ethan.
"I just made Griffin Sophie's legally protected service dog," Natalie said. "Now, Ethan... get your dog out of my hospital before Major Vance arrives."
