"Dr. Bane…" the nurse's voice cracked. "She's not responding anymore. Maybe we should…"
I looked at the little girl on the operating table. Her thin arms sprawled limply at her side.
My chest twisted, but my hands didn't hesitate. They moved on instinct, compressing her tiny ribcage the way I had practiced a thousand times.
"Charge to 150. Clear!"
The defibrillator pads hissed. Her body jerked violently, then stilled.
Still nothing.
"Again!"
My attending physician placed a hand on my shoulder. His eyes were heavy with sorrow I didn't want to see.
"It's been twelve minutes," she said softly. "She's gone."
I looked down at her again. Her chest lay still, no fight left in it.
Cold sank into my bones, spreading from fingertips to my heart and the words exploded out of me.
"She's only seven! Yes, she has acute lymphoblastic leukemia. But she has a 90% survival rate! She shouldn't be dead!"
My voice broke as my eyes landed on the IV stand.
HelCure-X. Experimental Protocol 447.
It's the same drug I'd seen on six other charts this month.
Six other children also deteriorated rapidly despite treatments.
Six small bodies I fought to save while their parents thanked the hospital for the "free clinical trial" that was supposed to give their babies a fighting chance.
"Time of death…" my attending said quietly, checking his watch. "15:31."
I stepped back from the table. My hands, which were still gloved and bloody, shook so badly I had to clutch the IV stand to stay upright.
"Dr. Bane…" the nurse whispered, her dark eyes brimmed with tears. "It's not your fault. You did everything…"
I nodded once, stripped off my surgical gown, and walked toward the door.
HelCure Pharmaceuticals was killing children. And I was done staying silent!
The hallway outside the OR was packed with families. As I emerged, the noise dimmed. Mothers looked up from their prayers. Fathers stopped pacing.
When the little girl's mother saw me, hope flared in her eyes. But then she read my expression.
"No… no… NO!" She collapsed and fell on the floor.
My stomach twisted at the sight. I don't know what else to do but to kneel beside her and take her hands.
"I'm so sorry… We did everything we could, but her body -"
"She was getting better!" the mother's voice cracked as she rose to a wall. "Dr. Hemlock said my Sammie was responding so well she'd be going home soon! She'd -" her words dissolved into loud sobs.
Dr. Hemlock.
The name hit me like a physical blow.
I saw his signature on all six charts!
"Mam," I gripped her hands tighter. "Did Dr. Hemlock explain the risks? Did he give you paperwork to sign? Did he -"
"Dr. Bane." A voice cut through the hallway noise.
I looked behind me. And there, Dr. Hemlock stood.
Behind him were two men in dark suits.
Rage flooded through me that my vision actually narrowed.
"You told her she was getting better?!"
"Dr. Bane, I understand you're upset about losing a patient. But perhaps we could discuss this away from the families -"
"Seven children have died on your protocol in two months. They were previously stable patients. But they mysteriously deteriorated within days of starting HelCure-X."
My voice rang down the hallways. Other doctors stopped now and watched.
Good.
Let them watch.
Dr. Hemlock's expression finally changed.
"Dr. Bane, perhaps we should discuss this in my office. I have data that might address your… concerns."
I looked at the parents watching us. The other doctors turned away, some shaking their heads as if I'd lost my mind.
Maybe I had.
Or maybe I was the only one willing to see the truth.
How many more children had to die before someone finally said enough?
"Fine. Let's have this conversation."
As soon as we entered his "office", he reached into a drawer, pulled out a thick folder, and tossed it across his desk.
"Signed, sealed, legally binding."
I grabbed the folder. And yes, it was all there.
Approval stamps. Parent signatures. Protocol summaries explaining risks.
It was perfect. Too perfect.
"These are fake. I've seen the original charts."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"I'm calling you a murderer."
The words hung in the air between us.
He leaned forward, and the pleasant mask dropped completely.
"HelCure Pharmaceuticals has invested billions in this research. A few… unfortunate reactions… in the early stages are acceptable losses."
"Acceptable losses? They were children!"
"They were dying anyway. We gave them a chance-"
"I'm reporting this. To the FDA. The DOH. To every media outlet that will listen. I have documentation-"
"No, you don't."
He nodded to the security guards. The first one reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun.
They're going to kill me?!
"You can't do this! I'm a doctor!" my voice cracked into a scream. "You can't just- there are witnesses! People know I came here with you!"
"Tragic, really," Dr. Hemlock's voice was almost gentle. "Young doctor, overworked and mentally unstable, accessing restricted areas after a traumatic patient death. Security found her in an old wing scheduled for demolition-"
He gestured around at the room he'd called his "office" only moments ago.
"Looks like she surprised some squatters," he continued, weaving his lie. "Or perhaps it was a robbery gone wrong. So much violence these days."
"No!"
I lunged for the door realizing how serious this is. But as soon as I touched the doorknob, the first bullet tore into my shoulder, spinning me around.
I heard the gunshot. It was distant, like it was happening to someone else. But then, pain exploded through my body like liquid fire.
I crashed to the floor. My skull struck the concrete, and the world tilted sideways. The fluorescent lights swam in my vision.
"Make sure. We can't have any mistakes."
Dr. Hemlock's voice seemed to come from very far away.
I tried to move, but my body wouldn't respond. Blood was already spreading beneath me.
I'm dying. I'm actually dying…
The security guard stood over me, his gun pointed at my chest. His face was blank. Just another man doing a job.
"Please," I whispered, blood bubbling on my lips. "Save the children…"
"They are beyond saving," Dr. Hemlock said. "You should have accepted it, Dr. Bane."
The second shot slammed into my chest.
This time, I felt my heart stutter. I felt my lungs filling with blood instead of air.
Knox.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I won't be there for our wedding.
I'm sorry I'll never…
My vision was darkening at the edges. I wanted to scream, to fight, to do something.
But my body was shutting down. First my legs. I couldnt feel them. Then my arms went numb.
Then my breathing. Each gasp is weaker than the last.
My last conscious thought was a prayer.
God, please. Don't let them get away with this. Someone has to stop them. Someone has to save those children.
Then darkness swallowed me whole.
—-------------
I was expecting heaven. I've been a believer all my life, even with my brutal schedule.
But what I got was a waiting room.
I looked down at my body. And it was surprisingly whole, unbloodied and wearing my favorite scrubs instead of the bullet-riddled clothes I died in.
"What…" I turned in a slow circle. "Where am I?"
"Between," a voice answered.