Chapter 10 - Darkness at St. Jude’s
A scream echoed down the hall as the emergency life support monitors in the NICU went dead.
"The backup generators!" Dr. Thorne shouted in the pitch-black corridor. "They’ve been severed! The manual respirators—now!"
Julian didn't hesitate. He pulled his phone from his pocket, flicking on the flashlight beam. The harsh white light illuminated the panic inside the ward. Nurses were frantically operating hand-held bag-valve masks, pumping air into the tiny chests of fragile infants.
"Julian!" Claire cried, groping blindly toward the incubator.
"I've got you!" Julian caught Claire, guiding her to the wall. He swept the beam of his phone toward the doorway where Arthur Vance had been standing.
Arthur was gone. And the court order was missing from the floor.
"Arthur didn't act alone," Julian snarled, realization striking him like a physical blow. "This wasn't an electrical malfunction. They cut the grid to kill the monitors."
"Dr. Thorne, how long can Hope survive on manual bagging?" Claire pleaded, tears streaming down her face in the beam of the flashlight.
"An hour, maybe two," Thorne shouted over the commotion, desperately squeezing the rubber bulb connected to Hope's endotracheal tube. "Her body temperature is dropping without the incubator's heating elements! If the power isn't restored, hypothermia will cause cardiac arrest in twenty minutes!"
Julian looked at Claire. He reached out, taking her face in both of his hands, kissing her forehead deeply. "Stay here. Protect our daughter. I will turn the power back on."
"Julian, no! It's a trap!" Claire yelled, grabbing his wrists. "Eleanor sent people here! They want you in the basement!"
"Then they're going to get me," Julian said, his voice chillingly calm. "Keep pumping that air, Claire. I'll be back."
Julian sprinted into the dark stairwell, bounding down the concrete steps four at a time. The air grew colder and damper as he descended past the ground level, straight into the cavernous sub-basement where the primary electrical junction boxes and emergency diesel generators were housed.
The heavy steel fire door at the bottom was ajar.
Julian stepped into the darkness, his flashlight beam slicing through the industrial pipes and steam vents. In the center of the concrete room, the massive emergency generator sat silent, its thick copper cables cleanly severed by hydraulic shears.
Standing beside the ruined generator was Marcus Sterling, holding a heavy iron wrench, his silver hair disheveled, his eyes glittering with madness.
"Julian," Marcus smiled, tapping the wrench against his palm. "I wondered if you'd come down yourself. You always had that disgusting hero complex."
"Where is Eleanor?" Julian asked, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.
May you like
"Upstairs, securing our exit," Marcus sneered, taking a step forward. "Do you know what happens when the lights go out, Julian? People die. Tragic accidents happen. And when your little bastard takes her last breath, the fortune belongs to me. You won't leave this basement alive to contest it."
From behind the industrial boiler, two large men in dark jackets stepped into view, brass knuckles glinting in the beam of Julian's phone.
