Chapter 17 - Race to the Naval Base
"Get in the truck!" Daniel roared.
There was no time to wait for a civilian ambulance. Daniel grabbed Ethan, wrapping him in a wool blanket, while Jo snatched Owen by the hand, hauling him toward the heavy-duty four-wheel-drive truck parked in the driveway.
Daniel threw the truck into reverse, the tires smoking against the asphalt, before rocketing down the narrow coastal highway at breakneck speed. The speedometer climbed past ninety miles per hour. The red-and-blue hazard strobes on his military vehicle flashed violently, clearing traffic as they barreled toward the naval base gate.
In the back seat, Jo was performing emergency pediatric CPR on Ethan. The little boy was completely limp now, his pulse faint, thready, and fading.
*Stay with me, baby,* Jo signed desperately between chest compressions, her tears falling onto his pale, cold forehead. *Ethan, look at Jo! Look at Jo!*
Owen sat strapped into the booster seat next to them, sobbing silently, his little hands moving in repetitive, frantic loops: *Brother wake up! Brother wake up!*
"How far, Daniel?!" Jo cried out, her voice cracked with despair.
"Two miles to the base clinic!" Daniel shouted, swerving hard around a semi-truck on the narrow shoulder. "Hold him, Jo! Don't let him slip away!"
The truck blew past the security gates of Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, the security guards diving out of the way before recognizing the Captain’s vehicle and frantically waving him through. Daniel slammed the brakes in front of the emergency bay of the naval hospital.
Before the tires had even stopped spinning, Jo leaped out of the truck with Ethan in her arms, screaming for a pediatric trauma team.
"Pediatric respiratory arrest!" Jo shouted as corpsmen rushed through the sliding doors with a gurney. "Suspected organophosphate or cholinergic agonist contamination in his nebulizer! We need atropine and an immediate endotracheal tube! 3.5 cuffed!"
The naval doctors looked startled by the civilian nurse's authoritative command, but when Daniel sprinted in behind her, his eyes wild and dangerous, the Navy surgeon nodded instantly: "You heard her! Prep the pediatric crash cart! Push 0.1 of atropine now!"
For forty-five agonizing minutes, Jo and Daniel stood behind the glass partition of Trauma Bay 1. Jo held Owen tightly against her hip, both of them signing prayers into each other’s hands.
Finally, the naval surgeon stepped out, pulling down his surgical mask. He let out a long breath. "He’s stabilized. We pumped his stomach, flushed his lungs, and counteracted the toxin. Another five minutes, Captain... and his respiratory center would have permanently shut down."
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Daniel dropped his head against the glass wall, a shuddering breath escaping his chest. Jo closed her eyes, clutching Owen so tightly the little boy buried his face into her neck, wetting her collar with his tears.
"Who did this?" Daniel whispered, his voice dangerously level. "Who touched that prescription?"
