Chapter 68
[ 507 words ]
Chapter 68:
Behind the fabric shield, Melanie’s hand shot out. In a swift, practiced motion, she snatched the critical cardiac vial from the floor and swapped it with an identical-looking one from her pocket.
The movement was a blur of blue scrubs and pale skin.
Tammy stepped back. Melanie resumed her loud groaning, letting Tammy haul her up from the floor.
“I’m reporting you to Dr. Cromwell for this!” Melanie spat, leaning heavily on Tammy. “You’re a menace!”
The two of them hobbled away down the corridor, leaving Caroline alone with the overturned cart.
The hallway fell dead silent.
Caroline grabbed the heavy metal frame and heaved the cart back upright. She began placing the medications back onto the trays.
𝗡𝗈𝘃еlѕ і𝘯 𝘁𝗿е𝗇𝘥 𝗈n ga𝗅n𝗼v𝘦𝗅ѕ.соm
Her heart was pounding a frantic, warning rhythm against her ribs.
She knew they did something. The distraction was too perfectly timed.
She picked up the cardiac medication meant for the patient in Room 3 and held it up to the harsh fluorescent light.
She scrutinized the label: the font, the dosage, the expiration date, the barcode. She checked the plastic seal on the rubber stopper. It was absolutely perfect. There was no sign of tampering.
Caroline frowned, her thumb rubbing over the smooth glass. Was she being paranoid?
Her training kicked in, a cold voice of logic cutting through her exhaustion. Never trust a compromised asset. This vial was compromised. She had no proof, but she had certainty. Accusing Melanie would be useless; she needed to neutralize the threat without revealing herself.
She let out a tight breath and placed the glass vial into the front tray of the cart, separating it slightly from the others.
She gripped the handle and pushed the cart forward. The squeak of the wheels sounded like a metronome ticking down.
She walked down the hall and stopped in front of the heavy wooden door of ICU Room 3. She took a final, deep breath, her plan solidifying in her mind. She reached for the vial, her fingers deliberately slick with hand sanitizer from the dispenser on the wall.
As she pushed the door open, her hand “slipped.”
The cart lurched violently to the side. The single, isolated vial of cardiac medication flew off the tray, arcing through the air in a perfect, glittering parabola before shattering against the hard linoleum floor.
“Damn it,” Caroline muttered, staring at the puddle of clear liquid and shattered glass with a look of pure, calculated frustration. The immediate threat was gone.
Caroline stared at the puddle of clear liquid and shattered glass on the linoleum floor.
The immediate threat of that specific vial was gone, but the heavy weight of the doctor’s orders still pressed down on her shoulders. The patient in ICU Room 3 needed their medication.
She pulled a heavy breath into her lungs. She knew what she had to do. There was no backup vial on the cart; high-risk medications were dispensed per-patient, per-dose. Wasting one meant starting the entire verification process over.
She pushed the metal cart toward the bed. The rubber wheels squeaked harshly against the floor, slicing through the suffocating, rhythmic beeping of the life support machines.
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