Page 88 of Anchor
“He’s fading fast!” Foley snapped. “Esteban, more pressure! Diaz, don’t let the airway close—if he chokes, we lose him!”
The two medics’ hands were red and shaking from adrenaline. The air in the elevator was too warm, heavy with panic. Reid’s chest jerked once under the bag-valve-mask. A shallow rasp. Diaz manually breathed for him. Reid had nothing left.
Apex stood in the corner, hand hovering near his holstered weapon, not from fear but instinct. This wasn’t random. The attack was timed perfectly. The lights failing. The doors locking. Reid walking alone, just long enough for it to happen. Someone knew the exact moment to strike.
His earpiece clicked, and a voice broke in, tight and quiet.Fuse. “You said shut down all wireless, then why am I still getting signal interference in the lower hallways?”
Apex’s voice stayed cold. “Try to trace it. Keep voice communication only. No signals, no data transfers, no outside links. Face-to-face only unless it’s me.”
“Got it.”
Another quiet voice came through.Scope. “I’m in position above Claire’s room. She hasn’t noticed. She’s sitting on the couch, calm. Bluebird, Flint, and Torch are with her.”
“Stay there,” Apex ordered. “Do not move unless she’s in real danger. Don’t let her see you.”
The elevator dinged. Level One.
“Move!” Apex shouted. “Clear the hallway!”
The doors slid open. Bright white floors, clean walls, polished lights that made the blood on the stretcher look even darker. Too clean for what was happening.
Foley shouted behind him, already pushing the gurney fast, “Room 4! Get suction ready! Pads on his chest—cut clothes!”
Reid let out one short breath, barely a whisper of air. His body jerked, limp. Mouth opened. No sound.
Down the next hallway, where the light curved, was a figure standing still. Then it slowly stepped backward into the elevator they had just come up on. The doors didn’t open again. No call was made, and the person never looked back.
Apex tapped his earpiece again, voice sharp and low. “Someone just stepped into the elevator shaft we used. It wasn’t called again. They were already inside. Watching. They saw Reid go down. Find him.”
“Looking now. That camera feed glitched for fifteen seconds. Might’ve been tampered with.”
Relay: “No access record from that elevator. Except you. It was used without a trace. Could be our ghost.”
Fuse: “I’m locking down everything on the lower levels. Doors, tunnels, crawlspaces. No more wireless. No more mistakes. Just voices. Just people.”
Apex: “Then stop talking. Find them.”
A new voice cut in—Ian, calm but tight with emotion. “How bad is it?”
Apex didn’t soften it. “It’s bad. Foley’s working on him now. If you want to say goodbye…”
“Don’t,” Ian said quickly. “He’s not going anywhere. Focus on Claire. Protect her the way Reid would.”
Apex looked back down the hallway. The elevator was still closed. Whoever had watched from the shadows wasn’t gone. They weren’t done.
LEVEL ONE TRAUMA BAY – 1403 HOURS
Cold. Then heat. Then… nothing. Reid felt it before thought could name it. A crushing hollowness in his chest, like the air had been vacuumed out from the inside. His blood, once rushing, had slowed to a crawl—thick, syrupy, spilling somewhere it shouldn’t. Time folded.
A sound. Warped. Muffled. A voice—Foley maybe. Another, urgent—Diaz?
Hands pressed on his body, and light burned through closed eyes like someone had struck matches behind them.
And then… “Pads ready!”
Everything cracked. Not just darkness. Everything. He was not on the stretcher anymore.
He was above it. Floating. No wings. No pull. Just suspended, weightless in the heat-haze of the trauma bay lights. Below, his own body looked ruined, too pale, drenched red, mouth open behind the mask.
