Chapter 6 - The Night of the Nebulizers
The main atrium of St. Aurelia’s became an assembly line of life and death.
Dr. Silas Reed led the medical response, but it was Marin and Callum who moved between the beds, guiding the frightened patients.
The adults were panicked—coughing, gasping, crying out as the strange green smell filled the air. But when they saw Callum, a boy with a fresh neck bandage, and Marin, a girl carrying bottles of saline wash with steady hands, a strange calm spread through the room.
"Look at me," Marin told a six-year-old boy whose mother was sobbing beside his bed. "Don't fight the spray. It’s going to taste sour, like lemon juice. But the moment you breathe it in, the bad thing in your throat is going to let go."
She held the boy’s hand as Dr. Reed sprayed the cold epinephrine into his open mouth.
The child gagged slightly. On his neck, the tell-tale muscle spasm flared—and then, under the influence of the cold drug, froze.
"Now!" Marin called out.
A nurse pressed the plastic mask of the copper nebulizer over the boy's nose and mouth. A dense, blue-tinged mist billowed into his lungs.
Five seconds. Ten seconds.
On the fifteenth second, the boy let out a massive, wet cough.
A pale, translucent thread of green material erupted from his mouth, dropping harmlessly into a biohazard receptacle held by Callum.
The boy took a deep, clear breath. "Mommy?" he whispered, his voice clear.
The mother buried her face in her child’s chest, weeping with overwhelming gratitude.
Across the atrium, the process was repeated fifty, a hundred, two hundred times.
By three o'clock in the morning, news helicopters were hovering over St. Aurelia’s, their searchlights sweeping across the parking lot. The story had broken wide open. But it wasn't the story Apex Pharmaceuticals had wanted to tell.
Reporters outside were broadcasting live:
"A localized biological outbreak originating from the decommissioned Blackwood Industrial Park has been successfully contained tonight at St. Aurelia’s Hospital. According to Chief of Medicine Dr. Silas Reed, an emergency treatment protocol was discovered through the combined efforts of hospital staff and an unexpected young observer..."
In the command center on the second floor, Alistair Ren sat at a computer terminal, his fingers flying across the keys. He was overriding security clearance codes, unlocking every classified document regarding Verdant-9, and transmitting them directly to the Federal Center for Disease Control and the Environmental Protection Agency.
Elena Vale stood near the window, watching her daughter work down on the floor.
Alistair stood up and walked over to Elena.
"Mrs. Vale," Alistair said softly.
Elena turned, her expression distant, guarded.
Alistair pulled an envelope from his inner jacket pocket. It wasn't a legal waiver. It was a simple, handwritten letter on heavy stationery.
"This is a deed of trust," Alistair said. "It establishes an independent foundation named after your husband—The Dorian Vale Environmental Safety Fund. It will be funded with forty percent of my personal shares in Apex. It will monitor industrial waste sites across the country so no family ever suffers what your family suffered."
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Elena looked at the paper, then at Alistair. "You can't bring Dorian back, Mr. Ren."
"I know," Alistair whispered, his voice cracking with genuine remorse. "I can't fix the past, Mrs. Vale. But for the rest of my life, I will try to deserve the second chance your daughter gave my son tonight."
