Page 113 of Sins of the Son

My knees buckled.

If it hadn’t been for the grip Enzo and Vito had on me, I would have fallen to the ground with relief.

The paramedici spoke. “It’s weak, but we have a pulse. We have to move. Now!”

We couldn’t even waste time getting the gurney. We all gently lifted her and raced to the back of the ambulanza. They strapped her into the bed as I hopped in and sat on the adjacent bench and clasped her hand in mine. I barely heard my father say they would all meet us at the hospital.

I leaned over Milana and smoothed her hair back as I studied her beautiful, deathly pale face that was mostly obscured by an oxygen mask.

The moment we got to the hospital, it was all controlled chaos.

A team of doctors and nurses were waiting at the emergency exit to meet the ambulance.

I ran alongside the gurney, refusing to let go of Milana’s hand.

A nurse pleaded with me. “Signore Cavalieri, you must go. Signore. You must step aside. Signore?”

“I’m not leaving her,” I growled.

There was a cacophony of sounds. It was so much worse than last week when she had fallen. At least then she had been conscious and smiling and reassuring me she was fine. Now she was lying motionless, close to death as nurses drew blood and hooked her up to machines. There was a volley of call outs from the doctors to the nurses and back for vital signs and tests.

And the whole time there was the relentless beeping of the medical machines.

“Her blood pressure is eighty-five over sixty, doctor.”

“That’s too low. Get me a blood oxygen test. We need to check organ function and electrolyte levels. She’s a young female. Run the gamut.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“What’s taking the ECG so long? Hurry!”

“Here. Hooking her up now.”

“Do we know what she was exposed to, and for how long?”

“Order me a CT scan. We’re going to need to check for lung damage.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“How the hell did this happen?”

“Where is this girl’s family?”

My brother and father answered in unison as they placed supportive hands on my shoulders. “Here.”

I raised my chin. “We’re her family. She was exposed to probably over 2500 ppm for carbon dioxide for approximately ten minutes.”

As the doctor opened his mouth to respond, the horrible beeping stopped.

It became one long, devastating, steady beep.

The doctor’s eyes widened. Without responding to what I said, he swung around and shouted, “Get them out of here!”

* * *

No one spoke.

I paced the small confines of the waiting room like a caged animal.

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