Time stood still as questioning eyes from around the room bore into me.
An overwhelming sense of hopelessness sat in my chest. “Please,” I rasped.
Doctors and nurses rushed to us with a wheeled bed, taking over and pulling Rose carefully from my arms. They placed her on it, popping the rails into place before immediately taking her away from me.
“Wait!” I called, springing forward to go with them, but a nurse pressed her hand against my chest, holding me back.
“Sir, let the doctors do their job. Come with me, let me get some information from you about the patient. Are you okay? Do you need to be seen?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
The nurse led me to a set of chairs and sat, urging me to do the same. She gestured to another nurse, who was standing off to the side, and took the clipboard from her. “Let’s start with her name and the basics.”
“Her name is Rosie Adler,” I told the nurse, staring at the doors the doctors just took her through.
“Date of birth?”
“April 1, 1990.”
“Your relation to the patient?”
My heart sank. Rubbing my palms across my face, frustration pierced my chest, and part of me hated myself for the lie I was about to tell the woman who was helping me, but I knew it’d be the best way to get information later. “Her husband.”
“And your name?” she asked without batting an eye.
“Cain Michaels.”
“And your contact number, Mr. Michaels?”
“(555) 555-6150.”
“Thank you. That’s all I need from you right now. I’m going to have you wait here for a while until we find out what’s going on with your wife. If you need anything, let us know.”
As the nurse stood to leave, the automatic doors of the ER opened again and a team of paramedics rushed in with a man on a gurney. He had an oxygen mask covering his face, but I knew immediately by his clothing, and the mess of dark hair, that it was Sly.
Flying out of my chair, I ran over to him, but the same nurse I’d just been talking to stepped in front of me to block me.
“Let the doctors do their job,” she chastised, holding her hand out in astopmotion.
The doors opened again as King, Nixon, and Damon rushed in, along with a crying Indy trailing behind them.
“Where is he?” Nixon asked frantically. “WHERE IS HE?”
He rushed to me, his eyes bloodshot and lined with tears. “Did you see him yet?”
“Sly?” I asked, but at that very moment, the doors opened again and two paramedics walked in wheeling a gurney. They took an immediate right and pushed through a set of doors and away from the small area where we waited.
“Let me go find out what’s going on,” the nurse said with a concerned look, before hurrying away, following where the paramedics had just gone.
“Preston,” Nixon choked. “He stopped breathing twice before the medics got him in the ambulance, but they were able to bring him back. He’s just a kid, man.”
I grabbed his shoulder. “He’ll be okay. Do you know where he was shot?”
“I don’t know, Cain. There was so much blood. It was everywhere.”
And as I really stopped to look at him, I realized he was covered in it.
“My aunt needs to know. I need to call her.”
