Part 4
Cal shouted before the alarm sounded.
“Code red. West corridor.”
Dr. Keene turned to the charge nurse. “Close the fire doors and move the east rooms to portable support.” No one mentioned the tour again.
Nurses pulled oxygen tanks from wall brackets. Respiratory therapists disconnected equipment and checked battery indicators as the fire doors dropped between corridor sections. Celeste Hartwell and her staff were taken out through the family lounge. Leah Porter’s camera operator left his equipment where it stood and followed security downstairs.
Mara stayed beside Noah’s crib, afraid that anything she touched would make the work harder. Reyes entered Room 426. “We’re going to the east smoke compartment.”
“He just moved.”
“I know. His equipment is already portable.”
The emergency lights came on, dull and amber. A nurse secured Noah’s tubing while a respiratory therapist unlocked the crib wheels.
“What do I do?” Mara asked.
“Walk on his left,” Reyes said. “Keep talking to him. Let us handle the lines.”
Smoke spread along the ceiling beyond the closed west doors. It was still thin on their side, but the bitter smell had reached every room.
The crib rolled into the corridor.
Mara kept one hand against the clear panel. Noah’s eyes opened, unfocused beneath the mask.
“I’m here,” she said. “Stay with me.”
Across the unit, Keene helped two nurses guide an incubator around a supply cart. One of her shoes slipped on the polished floor. She caught the frame, recovered, and kept pushing.
The woman who had refused Scout was frightened. She was also doing the work in front of her.
A sharp pop came from the west ceiling. The fire alarm changed from intermittent warning to a full mechanical howl. Through the small window in the fire door, an orange reflection moved across Room 418’s wall. The crib cleared the second doors as sprinklers opened behind them.
Staff counted patients twice. Everyone had reached the protected section, but smoke was moving through the shared ceiling chase. The fire department ordered the entire PICU evacuated.
Ambulances filled the service drive.
Noah’s transport team arrived from Bluegrass Children’s Hospital shortly before noon. Reyes reviewed every medication, respiratory setting, and line with the receiving physician. Then he handed over a sealed container holding the opened feed and the bags from the same preparation batch.
“The state laboratory has been notified,” he said. “Riverside is retaining matched samples.”
Mara heard only pieces. She watched Noah’s chest and waited for someone to say the transfer was ready.
Daniel called while the team secured the crib inside the ambulance bay. He and Scout were home; he had seen the fire on the local news.
“We’re going to Bluegrass,” Mara told him.
“I’m coming.”
“Don’t bring Scout yet. I don’t know their rules.”
“All right. I’ll bring whatever you left behind.”
Keene approached before Mara climbed into the ambulance. Her hair was damp from the sprinklers, and a dark stain spread across one shoulder of her suit.
“The fire should not have happened,” she said.
Mara looked toward the firefighters carrying equipment into the building. “You knew they wanted the room closed.”
“I knew replacement had been recommended. I was told monitoring was safe until the work could be funded.”
“And this morning?”
“I believed the dangerous loads had been disconnected.” Keene’s voice shook once. “I was wrong.”
“You wanted the tour to continue.”
“I did.”
Mara waited for an explanation about staffing or grants. None came.
Keene glanced at Noah. “I’m sorry.”
The apology did not make Mara feel better. It only made her too tired to answer.
She took the narrow seat beside the crib as the ambulance doors closed. Engine vibration replaced the alarms. Noah’s right hand lay open near his chest. Mara placed one finger against his palm.
After several seconds, his fingers closed around it…
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