Chapter 6 - The Antidote
"Stop the IV," Norah said suddenly.
Mercer blinked, disoriented. "What?"
"Stop the statin! And flush him—saline, bicarbonate, massive IV fluid resuscitation to clear the myoglobin from his kidneys before they calcify completely!" Norah’s voice brooked no argument. She had spent two years watching nurses manage her grandmother’s crisis; she knew the protocol better than some of the specialists standing paralyzed in the room.
Arthur didn't wait for Mercer to respond. He lunged across the room, grabbing Mercer by the lapels of his expensive Italian suit and slamming him against the wall with a dull thud.
"Do it," Arthur whispered into the doctor's ear. "Now."
Within seconds, the room erupted into controlled chaos.
The twelve doctors, jolted out of their paralyzed despair by the sheer shock of the revelation, moved with frantic urgency. Mercer tore open a supply cart, ripping IV bags from their boxes and shouting orders to two junior specialists. Lines were switched, massive boluses of sodium bicarbonate and saline were hooked up to the central venous catheter, and blood samples were drawn for an emergency electrolyte panel.
Norah stood quietly by the door, watching the whirlwind she had unleashed.
She felt a strange sense of detachment. Her uniform still felt too large. Her cheap black shoes still pinched her toes. Tomorrow—or rather, in a few hours, when the sun finally broke through the gray clouds over Graybridge—she would probably still have to scrub the marble foyer.
"Girl," a deep voice rumbled beside her.
Norah stiffened.
Arthur Finch stood towering over her. The scar on his jaw looked dark and jagged in the harsh overhead light. For a terrifying second, Norah thought he was going to pull out a silenced pistol and eliminate the loose end.
Instead, Arthur reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a thick leather wallet, and extracted a heavy stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills. He pressed them firmly into Norah’s hand, folding her fingers over the cash.
"That's for your trouble," Arthur said. His voice was unusually level. "And for your observation skills."
Norah looked down at the money. It was more than she earned in six months of scrubbing floors.
"I'm keeping my job?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
May you like
Arthur offered a grim, humorless ghost of a smile. "As of right now, Norah, you're head of internal quality control. Double your hazard pay starting today."
Before she could answer, a weak, rasping sound drew every eye in the room back toward the massive bed.
