Chapter 12 - The Hospital Room
The children’s ward at St. Jude’s Memorial was quiet, bathed in the soft, fluorescent light of early morning. Chloe was propped up in bed, her face still partially covered by protective gauze, but her bright green eyes—so much like her mother’s—were wide and alert as she played with a handheld electronic game Brian had brought from home.
"Mommy? Daddy?" she asked as we walked through the door, her voice a little raspy from the neutralizing agents. "Can we go home now? I want to finish opening my presents."
I rushed to the side of the bed, burying my face in her small, uninjured shoulder, tears finally breaking free. "We're going to be okay, sweetheart. We're going to stay right here for a little while."
Brian stood by the window, looking out toward the city skyline where a thin plume of grey smoke was visible rising from the direction of the industrial district. His phone buzzed in his pocket—a text message from Detective Miller.
*“Primary valve at Fourth Street is open. Manual override isn't responding from the station. Someone has physically welded the control housing shut from the inside.”*
Brian looked up from the screen, catching my eye across the room. Without a word, he stepped back into the hallway, motioning for me to follow him once Chloe was engrossed in her game again.
"What is it?" I asked, pulling the door half-shut.
"Miller says the valve at the main station is welded shut," Brian said, his voice tight with panic. "The only way to stop the flow before the automated cycle hits at noon is to shut the master intake gate manually from the underground drainage tunnel beneath the park."
"That's three miles away," I said. "And the weather—the snow is turning into freezing rain. The roads are blocked."
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"I have to go," Brian said, reaching for his car keys. "If I don't get down there before noon, the water system for the entire North End goes dark. Thousands of people..."
Before he could finish the sentence, the lights in the hospital flickered once, twice, and went completely dark. The emergency generators kicked in a second later with a heavy, rhythmic thrum, bathing the hallway in an eerie, amber glow.
