Chapter 5 - PLAN B
The silhouette paused in the doorway. The red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows across the floor.
I held my breath, gripping Leo’s hand so tightly my knuckles popped. Maya let out a muffled whimper, pressing her back against the far wall.
The figure stepped forward into the dim light.
It wasn’t Richard.
It was a man I had trusted with my life for the past five years. My primary care physician, Dr. Marcus Aris.
He was wearing his pristine white coat, his silver stethoscope draped casually around his neck. But in his right hand, pointing directly at the floor, was a sleek, black handgun with a long cylindrical silencer attached to the barrel.
“Hello, Claire,” Dr. Aris said, his voice as calm and soothing as it had always been during my annual checkups. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. Though I wish you hadn’t caused such a fuss with the nurses.”
“Dr. Aris?” I breathed, my mind short-circuiting.
Answer one: Richard didn’t have to bribe an entire hospital. He only needed to own one very powerful doctor who had access to all the systems, the drug dispensaries, and the electrical panels.
Open two: Why was a highly respected physician risking his entire life and career to act as Richard’s hitman?
“Dr. Evans is in the hallway,” I lied, trying to keep my voice steady. “The police are right outside.”
Aris smiled. It was a sad, almost pitying smile. “Dr. Evans is currently taking a nap in the janitor’s closet. The police officer guarding your door received a radio call about a disturbance in the ER. I orchestrated the blackout to isolate this wing. We have exactly four minutes before backup generators fully engage the security cameras.”
He raised the gun, pointing it squarely at my chest.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Aris said smoothly. “But Richard’s buyer is becoming impatient. The heart has to be harvested tonight. And you’re the only viable match.”
“What buyer?” Maya yelled, stepping forward, shielding her pregnant stomach. “Richard is a real estate developer! What are you talking about?”
Aris didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on me. “Your husband has a very expensive gambling habit, Maya. He owes forty million dollars to a cartel in Macau. They were going to kill him. Until he discovered his lovely wife happened to share the exact, incredibly rare tissue typing and O-negative blood of the cartel boss’s dying daughter.”
My stomach bottomed out. The nausea was so intense I almost gagged.
I wasn’t a wife. I was a harvested crop. Richard had married me seven years ago, paid Aris to vet my medical records, and kept me healthy solely to pay off his massive debts.
“And Maya?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Why give her my kidney?”
Aris chuckled. “Ah, Maya. She was a happy accident. The cartel boss’s daughter doesn’t just need a heart. She needs a continuous supply of bone marrow. Maya was a perfect marrow match. But her kidneys were failing. We needed Maya healthy enough to carry the baby to term.”
“The baby,” Maya whispered, horrified.
“Yes,” Aris said coldly. “A baby born with the exact genetic markers we need. Stem cells. Cord blood. Marrow. You’re a walking incubator, Maya. Richard kept you alive to farm the child.”
Leo suddenly lunged forward. “You’re crazy! You’re not touching my mom!”
“Leo, stop!” I screamed.
Aris swung the gun toward my fourteen-year-old stepson. His finger tightened on the trigger.
“NO!” Maya shrieked.
Without thinking, Maya grabbed the heavy metal IV pole she had used earlier. With a feral scream, she swung it like a baseball bat directly at Dr. Aris’s head.
The heavy metal base cracked against Aris’s skull. The gun went off with a muffled phut, the bullet shattering the tile floor inches from Leo’s feet.
Aris staggered backward, dropping the weapon. Blood poured down the side of his face.
“Run!” Maya screamed, grabbing my wheelchair from the corner of the room.
Leo didn’t freeze. He lifted me from the bed. White-hot pain exploded in my abdomen, and I bit through my lip to keep from screaming. He practically threw me into the wheelchair.
Maya kicked the handgun under the hospital bed, out of Aris’s reach. She grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and shoved me out into the pitch-black hallway.
“Where are we going?!” Leo yelled, running beside us.
“The MRI suite,” I gasped, clutching my bleeding surgical wound. “End of the hall. The magnetic locks have manual overrides!”
We flew down the corridor, bathed in the flashing red emergency lights. I could hear Aris groaning and shouting behind us, scrambling to find his weapon in the dark.
We reached the heavy double doors of the radiology department. Leo slammed his weight against the crash bar. We burst inside. Maya wheeled me past the reception desk and straight toward the massive, heavily shielded door of MRI Room A.
“Close it!” I yelled as soon as we crossed the threshold.
Leo heaved the massive door shut. The heavy metallic clack of the manual lock sliding into place echoed in the sterile room.
We were in total darkness now, except for the faint glow of the giant, donut-shaped MRI machine in the center of the room.
I slumped forward in the wheelchair, panting in agony. My gown was soaked with blood.
“We made it,” Leo cried, leaning against the door. “We’re safe.”
But as he said it, a face appeared in the thick, reinforced glass observation window.
Dr. Aris stood on the other side of the glass. The blood on his face looked black in the dim light. He held the gun up, pointing it directly at Leo’s head through the window.
He didn't shoot. He smiled.
And then he held up his phone, showing the screen to the glass.
It was a live video feed. It showed a man standing in the hospital lobby, holding an assault rifle under a long coat.
May you like
It was Richard.
And Richard was walking toward the elevators, heading straight for us.
