New York. The Docks.
Total chaos everywhere.
In the distance, a massive cruise ship was pumping out thick, rolling smoke.
The ground was littered with injured people.
Groans of pain filled the air, nonstop.
Mixed in were shouts—adults calling for kids, kids crying for their parents, and gut-wrenching screams from loved ones who couldn't accept that their family was gone.
Medics, cops, and firefighters wove through the crowd, doing their best to save who they could.
The area had been split into four zones, each marked with a colored carpet laid out on the dock, grouping patients by their condition.
Red for critical—treat them now.
Yellow for stable—treatment can wait a bit.
Green for minor injuries—no rush.
And gray… well, gray was for the ones who didn't make it. No emergency care needed, no ambulance ride to the hospital.
Ambulances were only hauling the red-zone critical cases right now. The red area was so packed it was hogging every single one. For a while, even some pretty bad yellow-zone patients—and definitely the green-zone ones—were stuck on-site, getting basic first aid from medics with no shot at a ride.
When Adam and Karen showed up, this was the scene they walked into.
All four zones kept growing.
The gray zone, especially, was stacking up high—way too high. You could see medics pushing stretchers from the red zone, covering the patients' bodies, and wheeling them over to gray. It was chilling, enough to make your skin crawl. 😬
"Adam!"
Heather, tipped off by Adam ahead of time, was already waiting and waved him over.
"Uncle Adam!" Tatiana chirped, bouncing with excitement.
"Hey."
Adam didn't rush straight to the red zone to start saving lives. Instead, he jogged over to Heather and the girls, checking each one for hidden injuries they might not even know about.
He was extra thorough with Megan. She had congenital insensitivity to pain—if she was bleeding internally, she wouldn't feel a thing.
Good news: Adam let out a relieved sigh. Heather had kept them safe. They were all okay.
"Who's this?"
That's when Adam noticed a little girl he didn't recognize.
"She can't find her mom," Megan said, holding the girl's hand protectively. Big-hearted Megan, always looking out for people.
Adam glanced at the girl—her pants were soaked. Obviously, in a disaster like this, losing her mom had scared her so bad she'd wet herself. She was totally out of it, just clinging to Megan, this gentle older-sister figure.
"Take her to change into some dry clothes first, then get her to the hospital for a full checkup," Adam said.
"After that, we'll help her find her mom."
"Got it," Heather agreed, rounding up the group to head out.
She knew Adam's MO. Once he was sure they were safe, he'd be itching to dive in and save lives.
"Be careful on the way," Adam called after them, then bolted for the red zone.
"Wait—he's still got a chance!"
Adam had barely gotten there when he saw a medic give up on a patient after a quick try, ready to send them to gray. He waved them off fast, stepping in to take over.
The medic didn't argue—just handed off the patient and raced to the next one.
Even with trauma teams from all over New York pitching in, there were still way more victims than medics. A lot of the emergency care was half-baked—good enough, but not great.
Adam had no doubt some of those gray-zone bodies could've been saved with a sharper doctor.
"Karen, head over there," he said, mid-rescue. "If you spot anyone with a flicker of life, bring them back here ASAP."
"On it."
Karen didn't hesitate, heading straight over.
Most girls—even some female medics like Meredith—would've froze up or at least flinched at the sight of that growing pile of bodies. But Karen? Nope. She didn't even blink.
"Lydia!"
After some serious effort, Adam stabilized his patient and waved down a medic hopping off an ambulance.
"Dr. Duncan!" Lydia hustled over.
Being a familiar face with a big rep paid off. Everyone was clamoring for an ambulance, but who got one first? That came down to clout. And when Adam spoke, medics listened—first in line, no question.
Other red-zone docs were stuck waiting for the next ride, shaking their heads.
"I've got him stable for now," Adam said quick. "Get him to the medical center—hand him off to Dr. Burke."
He rattled off the details, passed the patient to Lydia, and turned to grab the next one.
"Hey, doc, you can't just snag ambulances like that!" some young out-of-town doctors griped. "We can wait—our patients can't!"
"Then hand me all the ones who can't wait!" Adam shot back.
That shut them up fast.
What kind of confidence did it take to say something like that?
One skeptical doc, not buying it, shoved their patient at Adam—not to mess with him, but because the guy really couldn't wait.
And then, jaws dropped. Adam, cool as anything, saved patient after patient—cases they'd written off as "do what you can and hope." He stabilized them, one by one, and sent them off in ambulances rolling up.
After a few critical saves, Dr. Bailey arrived with Meredith and the crew. What they saw? Adam running the whole red zone like a boss, radiating leader vibes.
The chaos of the critical area had turned into something almost orderly under his watch. Karen was pulling "dead" patients from the gray zone—ones who weren't quite gone yet—back to red for rescue. From there, Adam's team stabilized them and loaded them into ambulances.
Hardly anyone was shifting from red to gray anymore.
Those out-of-town docs who'd been salty? They were all in now, pumped up and following Adam's orders, jumping into save after save.
Whenever they hit a case too tough to crack, they'd yell, "Dr. Duncan!" and shout out what they were dealing with.
Adam, mid-rescue himself, kept a mental tally of every report, sorting them by urgency in his head. Every now and then, he'd pause his own work, tell another doc to take over and hold steady, then sprint to a patient teetering on the edge—one who'd die without him right then.
He'd save them, then zip back to pick up where he left off.
If you sped up the view from above, Adam was like a phantom flashing through the red zone. It was intense, but somehow smooth—like he had it all under control. Silky smooth, baby! 😎
Meredith and the others rolled up, first hit by the dock's grim mess—minds blank from the shock—then floored by this. They just stood there, mouths open, staring.
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(Chapter End)