Page 83 of Terror at the Gates

Relief flooded me. She was alive. There was hope.

“Esther!” I screamed, shaking her. “Esther, please wake up!”

“Ma’am. Ma’am. Do you know where the blood is coming from?” The dispatcher was also yelling. “Did shehit her head? Is she hemorrhaging?”

I couldn’t comprehend her questions. How was I supposed to know where the blood was coming from? It was everywhere!

“Ma’am?”

“I don’t know.I don’t know.I’m not a fucking doctor. Just get someone here, please.Please!”

“I’ve already dispatched an ambulance,” she said. “Asking these questions will not slow them down at all. I need information for the paramedics.”

I detested her calm voice. I didn’t care that it was part of her job. It put me on edge. It made me feel like she didn’t understand how important Esther was to me. How important Liam…

“Ma’am?”

“What?” I snapped.

“I need you to let the paramedics into the apartment,” she said.

Oh.

I rose to my feet and went to the door. When I opened it, there were two men on the other side. They were already wearing gloves, and one carried a large bag.

“Somebody call for an ambulance?” one asked.

“Yes, she’s in the bathroom,” I said.

I hurried ahead of them, showing them to the room.

“Oh, sweetheart,” one said under their breath. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I found her like this.”

They wasted no time getting to work.

“What’s her name?” one of them asked.

“Esther,” I said.

“Esther,” the man said, tapping her face. “Wake up,sweetheart. Can you open your eyes for me?”

“How far along is she?” the other one asked.

“Thirty-five weeks,” I said.

The man spoke into his two-way radio, repeating the information I had given and more, mentioning hemorrhaging, her blood pressure, heart rate, and a million other things that faded into the background as I watched Esther from the corner of the room.

Eventually, they got her on the gurney and wheeled her out. I followed, riding down the elevator with them. She was facing me, lying on her side. She wasn’t conscious, and an oxygen mask covered her face. I didn’t like how the elastic bands were pressing into her skin. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I had blood on my hands. Instead, as I stared at her, I willed her to wake up.

Wake up. Wake up.Wake up.

“Are you related?” one of them asked.

“She’s my sister,” I said.

It might as well be true.

---