Chapter 10 - ELEVEN CRIES UNDERWATER
The river swallowed the neonatal truck in one violent motion.
Cold water exploded through the front windshield.
The vehicle sank nose first, throwing me against the bassinets.
Emergency lights flickered red beneath the rising water.
Eleven babies screamed in the dark.
The sound was thin, terrified, and impossibly alive.
I pushed myself upright.
The truck's front half had already disappeared beneath black water.
The bassinets were bolted to two wall racks, but the lowest row was flooding.
A newborn boy kicked inside a clear plastic bed as water climbed around the mattress.
I released his straps and lifted him against my chest.
"I have you," I said.
My voice shook so badly the words barely formed.
"I have all of you."
The lie was necessary.
I could not think about eleven separate rescues.
I could only make the next movement.
A yellow oxygen cylinder had broken loose near the rear door.
I grabbed it before it rolled underwater.
A small mask hung from the regulator.
The truck continued sinking.
Water reached my waist.
I placed the mask near the baby's face and opened the valve slightly.
He coughed, then cried harder.
Good.
Crying meant air.
Above us, metal groaned.
Someone struck the roof from outside.
"Mara."
Lorenzo's voice came faintly through the water and steel.
He was alive.
Relief nearly stole the strength from my knees.
"There is a hatch," I shouted.
"Top rear corner."
I had seen its outline beside the emergency equipment.
The latch refused to move.
Water pressure held it shut.
I pulled again until the skin tore across my palm.
The rear of the truck remained slightly above the river, but it was descending fast.
A circular saw screamed against the roof.
Sparks rained through a widening cut.
The babies wailed louder.
"Keep cutting," I shouted.
The first bassinet floated free as its wall bracket snapped.
I shoved it toward the rear and secured it with an IV strap.
The infant inside wore a pink cap.
Her lips were turning blue.
I moved the oxygen mask between her and the boy in my arms.
There was not enough equipment.
There was not enough time.
The roof panel folded inward.
River water poured through the opening along with a man's arm.
Enzo's face appeared above it.
"Pass them up."
I lifted the baby boy.
Enzo took him and handed him to someone on the tugboat.
I released the girl in the pink cap next.
Then another child.
Then another.
Each transfer required unfastening straps, protecting tubes, and lifting a slippery, frightened body through a jagged metal opening.
The water reached my chest.
The truck settled deeper.
One infant's IV line snagged beneath a wheel.
I could not pull it free.
I tore the tubing and pressed my finger over the port until I could clamp it with a plastic clip.
"Eight," Enzo shouted after the next baby.
"Three left."
A sudden current shifted the truck.
The roof opening slammed against the tugboat hull.
Enzo's arm disappeared.
The gap narrowed to six inches.
Water covered the lower bassinets completely.
I dove beneath the surface.
Two infants remained strapped near the front.
Their beds had flooded.
I released the first by touch and pushed the tiny body above water.
He was not crying.
I placed my mouth over his nose and lips and gave two gentle breaths.
His chest rose.
I lifted him toward the roof gap.
A hand reached through.
Lorenzo's hand.
Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow, but his grip was strong.
"Give him to me."
I passed the child upward.
"Two left," I gasped.
"The truck is sliding."
"Then get out."
"Not without them."
I dove again.
The second infant had floated against the driver's compartment.
Her blanket was caught around a broken seat frame.
I pulled once.
It tightened around her neck.
My lungs burned.
I searched the dark floor and found a shard of plastic.
I cut the blanket and freed her.
When I surfaced, only three inches of air remained beneath the roof.
The tugboat had drifted away.
Lorenzo was in the water beside the truck.
He reached through the narrow gap.
I pushed the baby into his hands.
"One more," I said.
"Where?"
"Rear rack."
I turned.
The final bassinet was empty.
Panic tore through me.
I searched beneath the surface.
My hands struck metal, blankets, tubes, and broken equipment.
No baby.
The truck shifted again and sank another foot.
I took one breath from the pocket of air and dove toward the rear doors.
A small white blanket floated near the floor.
Beneath it, the last infant had become trapped between two overturned oxygen cases.
I pulled the cases apart.
The baby girl drifted into my arms without moving.
I kicked toward the roof.
The pocket of air was gone.
Water filled the entire truck.
I could not see the opening.
My lungs convulsed.
I held the baby against me and followed the faint red emergency light.
A hand reached through the darkness and grabbed my wrist.
Lorenzo pulled us through the cut roof.
We surfaced together beside the sinking vehicle.
Enzo threw a rope.
Lorenzo wrapped it around my waist while keeping one arm beneath the baby.
The tugboat crew hauled us aboard.
I collapsed on the deck.
The final baby lay motionless between us.
A medic began compressions with two fingers.
"No pulse," she said.
I pushed myself closer.
"Give her oxygen."
"We are."
"Warm her."
I opened my soaked uniform and placed the baby against my bare chest beneath Lorenzo's coat.
My skin was the only warmth available.
The medic continued gentle compressions while the tugboat raced toward shore.
"Come back," I whispered.
"You did not survive all of that to disappear now."
Seconds stretched.
Then the baby coughed river water against my skin.
A weak cry followed.
Everyone on the deck exhaled at once.
Lorenzo sat beside me, bleeding and soaked.
"Mercer shot you," I said.
He opened his coat.
The bullet had flattened against his vest, leaving a deep bruise beneath it.
"He was disappointed too."
"Where is he?"
Enzo pointed toward the medical relief vessel.
Smoke rose from its rear deck.
The ship was pulling away under fire from federal boats.
"He reached the pilot cabin before we boarded," Enzo said.
"There may be a second launch on the far side."
"Harper's people are closing the river."
Lorenzo touched his earpiece.
"Mercy Children's."
"Did they reach Sofia's room?"
Enzo's face changed.
"The channel is still jammed."
The tugboat reached a lower pier where ambulances waited.
Paramedics took the rescued infants one by one.
Every baby was alive.
The girl against my chest gripped my skin with tiny fingers when they tried to lift her.
I kissed the top of her wet head before letting go.
"Find her mother," I said.
The medic's eyes filled.
"We will."
Lorenzo led me toward an ambulance.
I looked back at the river.
The neonatal truck disappeared beneath the surface, taking its false records and restraints with it.
The babies had names.
Somewhere, eleven families might still believe they had buried children who were breathing in ambulances a few yards away.
A federal agent ran toward us carrying a satellite phone.
"Call from Mercy Children's."
Lorenzo took it.
"Naomi."
The voice on the other end spoke rapidly.
I watched the color leave his face.
"When?"
He listened.
"Seal every exit."
"No one leaves the building."
He ended the call.
"What happened?" I asked.
"The man on Mercer's video reached Sofia's floor."
"Security stopped him before he entered Leo's room."
"And Lily?"
Lorenzo did not answer.
My stomach turned cold.
"Where is Lily?"
"Sofia moved her after the video feed appeared."
"She placed her in a private recovery room under another name."
"Only Naomi and one nurse knew."
"Then she is safe."
"The nurse is dead."
The pier seemed to recede beneath me.
"Lily's bassinet is empty."
I climbed into the ambulance before anyone could stop me.
"Take me to the hospital."
Lorenzo entered behind me.
Enzo took the front seat.
The ambulance crossed the city with sirens screaming.
I changed into dry scrubs from an emergency kit while Lorenzo called every loyal guard still standing.
He ordered roadblocks at bridges, airports, train stations, and private marinas.
"Mercer cannot move a newborn without equipment," he said.
"He already moved eleven."
"Then we find the equipment."
Mercy Children's had become a fortress by the time we arrived.
Federal vehicles surrounded the entrances.
Hospital staff wore temporary identification bands.
Armed guards searched every cart and supply cabinet.
Naomi met us on the seventh floor.
Her white coat was stained with blood.
"Sofia is conscious," she said.
"The orderly injected her with a paralytic, but she managed to pull the alarm before it fully took effect."
"She saw him take Lily."
"Which direction?" I asked.
"Toward the service elevators."
"Cameras?"
"Looped for four minutes."
We reached the recovery room.
A blue blanket lay on the floor beside an overturned bassinet.
The dead nurse had been covered with a sheet.
Sofia lay in the bed, unable to move more than her eyes.
Tears ran into her hair.
"I am sorry," she whispered.
Her voice was barely audible.
I wanted to blame her.
I wanted to demand why she had hidden Lily again.
Instead, I took her hand.
"Tell me what you saw."
"Not Mercer."
Her fingers twitched against mine.
"A woman."
"What woman?"
"Red hair."
"Green hospital badge."
Naomi turned toward the door.
"Green badges belong to bereavement counselors."
We followed the blood trail into the service hall.
It ended at the elevator.
A small object rested near the closing track.
I picked it up.
It was a silver locket shaped like a rose.
Inside was a photograph of Bianca holding a dark-haired little boy around six years old.
On the back, a name had been engraved.
DANTE ROSSI JUNIOR.
Bianca's son had supposedly died as an infant five years earlier.
The elevator display began moving upward on its own.
Floor seven.
Floor eight.
Floor nine.
Then the screen changed to a letter no hospital elevator should have displayed.
B.
Naomi stared at it.
"There is no basement button from this floor."
The doors opened.
Inside stood Bianca Rossi in a stolen hospital gown.
She held Lily in one arm and a pistol in the other.
May you like
"Close the door," she said.
"Unless you want Mercer to take both our children."
