Chapter 312
[ 500 words ]
Chapter 312:
Caroline swatted the cup away violently. Her hand moved in a blur. She sent the liquid splashing across the sterile floor and the cup bouncing off the wall.
She clamped her mouth shut. Her jaw locked tight. She refused to ingest anything from these people she perceived as hostile interrogators.
The medical team stood in a wide circle around the gurney. They were completely at a loss. They could not treat her if she actively fought them with lethal precision.
Dr. Reed turned to Captain Hayes. She stated grimly that they might have to physically restrain her to administer the life-saving drugs. She warned that the struggle could cause a fatal heart attack in her weakened condition.
Riley looked at Caroline’s bruised, defensive posture. He felt a massive surge of protective pity for the mysterious, broken civilian fighting for her life.
Caroline’s head lolled to the side. Her energy was fading rapidly again, but her muscles remained rigidly coiled, ready for the next attack.
She weakly whispered Jarrod’s name one more time. The sound was barely audible over the hum of the medical equipment, a desperate plea to empty air.
Outside the medical bay doors, heavy combat boots echoed down the hallway. The base commander had finally arrived to investigate the security anomaly at the perimeter.
𝖱𝘦𝗰о𝗺𝗆𝗲n𝘥 𝘨а𝗹𝘯𝘰𝗏e𝗹ѕ.𝗰𝗼𝗺 𝘵о y𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝗳𝗿𝘪𝗲ո𝖽𝘴
K.C. Bell sat in the command center at the base in the Blue Ridge Mountains, his eyes weary from a relentless forty-eight-hour rotation. He had been rotated back stateside ahead of the Colonel’s team to oversee the administrative fallout from the recent Middle East operation. His datapad chimed, displaying a Level One security alert. He stood up and walked down the sterile, brightly lit hallway of the medical bay, his thumb scrolling through the perimeter security logs. The anomaly report was sparse: one unidentified civilian female, hypothermic, collapsed at the Sector 4 fence line. But a single detail automatically routed the alert to him: she was clutching a military-grade encrypted satellite phone.
He heard a loud crash of metal echoing from Trauma Bay Alpha at the end of the corridor. It was followed immediately by aggressive, overlapping shouting.
He quickened his pace. His heavy combat boots thudded loudly against the polished linoleum floor, signaling his approach.
K.C. pushed the swinging double doors open with his shoulder. He stepped directly into the chaotic environment of the trauma room, his presence immediately asserting authority over the base commander who had just arrived.
He immediately spotted a combat medic leaning against a stainless steel counter. The man was clutching his wrist in obvious pain, his face pale.
Dr. Evelyn Reed stood in the center of the room. She held her hands up in a placating, non-threatening gesture, her blue scrubs stained with drops of spilled medication.
Captain Hayes stood near the tiled wall. His right hand rested instinctively on the grip of his holstered sidearm, his posture rigid and defensive.
Corporal Riley stepped forward. Although he didn’t completely block the sightline, he placed himself firmly between the captain and the bed in a clear, uncompromising protective stance.
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