Chapter 4 - Breach in the Dark
The fluorescent lights of the pediatric ward flickered as the hospital shifted its main power grid to routine night maintenance. Down the long, quiet hallway, the only sounds were the soft, rhythmic hum of the oxygen machines and the distant beep of heart monitors.
Eleanor stood outside Maya’s room, her pulse hammering in her throat. Officer Vance stood five paces away, his hand resting on the grip of his sidearm, his eyes scanning the double doors at the end of the hall.
"He won't try anything here," Vance muttered, more to convince himself than Eleanor. "There are too many guards, too many cameras. He’d have to be insane."
"He isn't insane," Eleanor whispered back. "He’s desperate. Those babies are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars to the people he deals with. And Maya is the only witness who can place him at that house when Catherine died."
Inside the room, Maya lay on the hospital bed, her small frame swallowed by the white blankets. Her eyes were wide open, staring fixedly at the ceiling. She hadn't slept since arriving at the hospital. Every time she closed her eyes, the sound of heavy boots echoing on the kitchen floorboard returned to haunt her.
Suddenly, a loud, metallic screech echoed from the stairwell door at the far end of the corridor, followed instantly by the sharp pop of a circuit breaker shutting down.
The pediatric ward was plunged into pitch-black darkness.
"Stay down!" Officer Vance shouted, drawing his firearm as the emergency red backup lights flickered on, casting long, bloody shadows across the floorboards.
A heavy glass window at the nurses' station shattered with a deafening crash. Screams erupted from the staff breakroom down the hall.
"Vance, report!" Detective Miller’s voice crackled over the officer’s shoulder radio. "He cut the secondary power box in the basement! He’s on your floor!"
"I'm at the door!" Vance yelled into his radio, stepping out into the main corridor to cover the hallway. "Eleanor, lock the door behind me! Do not open it for anyone!"
Eleanor slammed the heavy wooden door shut, sliding the manual bolt lock into place. She turned around in the dim red glow of the emergency lights, rushing to the side of Maya’s bed.
"Maya, get under the bed," Eleanor urged, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay calm. "Now, sweetie. Quick!"
Maya didn't panic. With a quiet, eerie efficiency born of surviving three days in a house of death, the girl slid off the mattress, dragging her small blanket behind her as she squeezed into the narrow space beneath the bed frame.
Outside in the hallway, two gunshots rang out, echoing like thunderclap explosions inside the enclosed corridor.
A heavy weight slammed violently against the wooden door of the room. The wood groaned under the force, the metal frame bending inward.
Eleanor backed away toward the bathroom door, reaching around for anything she could use as a weapon. Her hand caught the heavy metal handle of a IV stand. She gripped it tightly, raising it over her shoulder as the lock on the wooden door gave way with a sickening crunch.
The door swung wide open.
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A tall, broad-shouldered man stood framed in the red emergency light. His dark canvas coat was stained with rain and mud, his face hidden beneath the brim of a low baseball cap. In his right hand, he held a heavy iron crowbar, dripping with oil. His eyes swept across the room, bypassing Eleanor entirely, landing directly on the empty bed.
"Where are they?" Raymond’s voice was raspy, dry like grinding stones. "Where are Catherine's children?"
