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awful sign at an upward angle, with the
     hospital’s fifth floor in its background, “the neonatal unit where this
     miraculous child is now…”
    Jill muttered, “Draw a map, why
     don’t ya.”
    Then came file footage of David
     fighting on a steep old roof with now-in-hell Clifford Arnett, then footage of
     Jill and David, after three days of recovery from their trauma, approaching the
     hospital last July, then a tight close up of “Doctor Raney’s lovely, anguished
     face.”
    “Enough,” Hutch said, turning off
     the TV.
    Jill and David kept staring at the
     blank screen.
    “I can’t breathe,” Jill said.
    Neither of the other two answered.
     David leaned forward with his fist pressed to his mouth. Hutch stared
     sorrowfully at the thing on his desk.
    “I had to tell you this,” he said.
    “Right, absolutely,” David said
     softly, looking up.
    At that moment there was a knock on
     the door, and Allie Dodd stuck her head in. Sort of like a frightened kitten
     peeking around a corner.
    She smiled a bit timidly at Jill
     and David, then said to Hutch, “Well, I’m done. Caught up and didn’t throw up.”
    He grinned, invited her in, and
     introduced her. She blinked at the poncho and camouflage jacket and said, “Oh!
     You’re
them?
Oh…wow.”
    David cracked a little grin, and
     Jill smiled sympathetically. “We heard about what happened. You’re brave to
     have stuck out the day.”
    Allie sank to the chair David
     pulled out for her, and blew air out her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said, a little
     dispiritedly. She was pretty, with short, curling brown hair, but her hands
     clutched each other nervously. “I’m really not brave,” she sighed. “Today’s
     stress on top of the usual, plus…sleep? What’s that?”
    They nodded in sympathetic
     agreement, and Allie studied them. David’s face was strong and kind, but Jill
     looked as vulnerable as she felt. It was as if Jill’s big, emotional eyes were
     already reading her.
    “How did med school go for you?”
     Allie asked.
    “Very hard,” Jill said. “I had
     extra problems. Big ones.”
    “So how’d you get
through
it?”
    “Dunno. Just kept trudging, I
     guess.”
    Allie straightened. Anxiety
     lightens if you find a kindred spirit. “Could I talk to you sometime? I so
     need…” She floundered and raised her hands helplessly.
    “Sure, call me, please.” Jill gave
     Allie her cell number. “Leave a voicemail if I’m in a delivery or something.
     I’ll get back to you.”
    Allie thanked her. Smiled more
     easily at David and rose, looking out the window at the lights in the ambulance
     bay. “Is it safe to go out?” she said facetiously. “The yowlers seem to have
     gone.”
    Jill gave an unhappy shrug. “Any
     excitement over Jesse sets off the crazies.”
    “
New
excitement,” David said
     half-heartedly. “After last time it died down for three months, didn’t it?”
    A ray of hope lifted them all,
     feebly.
    David’s cell phone buzzed. He
     answered, listened, and said, “Okay. We’re coming.”

6
    R ed and blue lights flashed in the chill blue dusk.
Beep
     beep
as the ambulance backed up to the ER dock.
    They ran, caught up as EMTs unloaded the gurney, got on both
     sides of it and helped push it through the double
     sliding doors into Emergency. The patient was female, unconscious,
     high-bellied, and her head and face were bloodied. One EMT, holding up the IV,
     yelled, “seven months pregnant, belly trauma, no fetal heartbeat. Maternal
     pulse elevated at 140, BP 90 over 50 and dropping, respiration 24, severe head
     trauma, probable skull fracture.”
    As they switched the patient
     to an ER bed, Sam MacIntyre, second-year resident and good friend, came running
     into the cubicle. “Where ya been? Woody’s coming, we’ve been – oh jeez,” he
     said as he saw the patient.
    David yanked off his
     camouflage jacket. “Looks bad,” he said. “BP just dropped in a minute to 85/45,
     means she’s