Chapter 11 - The Returning Pulse
""Pulse is returning,"" Mercer whispered, his shoulders dropping slightly. ""It's weak, but it's steadying.""
Julian collapsed against the edge of the dining table, burying his face in his hands. His entire body shook with wracking, silent sobs. Beside him, Clara slumped to the floor, her ruined wedding gown pooled around her in soaked, muddied heaps, her hand still resting gently on Ellie's tiny foot.
Mercer continued to pump the bag valve with steady, measured squeezes. Slowly, miraculously, the horrific blue hue began to recede from Ellie’s lips, replaced by a faint, fragile pink. Her vital signs were stabilizing under the influx of oxygen and epinephrine.
""You got her here with less than two minutes to spare,"" Mercer said softly, looking at Julian. ""Another ninety seconds, and the brain damage would have been irreversible. Who is she?""
""Her name is Ellie,"" Julian managed to say, wiping his face. ""She's a flower girl. My wedding was today.""
Mercer looked at Julian's torn dress shirt and bare, bleeding feet, then at Clara. A faint, knowing smile touched the old doctor’s lips. ""You two walked through hell to bring her here.""
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""She went through hell first,"" Julian replied, looking at the small girl breathing softly through the tube. ""She gave me her medicine when my throat closed. She didn't hesitate. She didn't ask questions. She just saved me.""
Outside, the ferocious roar of the storm began to abate, the torrential rain softening into a steady, quiet drizzle against the windowpanes. In the distance, the faint wail of heavy emergency sirens cut through the mist.
