She had changed out of her blood soaked scrubs. She was exhausted, but her mind was racing. The surgery was a victory, but the war was escalating. Sterling wouldn’t take this lying down and Robert Emmes was in the building. Water. Graves rasped. Sarah held a straw to his lips slowly. You still have the tube in your throat.
Graves blinked, focusing. He looked down at the sheet covering his legs. He saw the outline of two feet. He let out a long, shuddering breath. You did it. Evans did it, Sarah corrected. But I helped. Graves reached out and squeezed her hand. His grip was weak, but the intent was strong. We need to talk about Emmes.
I’m going to find him, Sarah said. He’s in the admin wing. I saw him head up to the executive suite on the sixth floor. Sarah, be careful. Graves warned. A man who sells out a convoy for cash. He won’t hesitate to hurt a nurse. I’m not a nurse today, Sarah said, standing up. Today I’m 27ths. She walked out of the room.
She didn’t take the elevator. She took the stairs moving silently. On the sixth floor, the atmosphere changed. The lenolium turned to carpet. The smell of antiseptic was replaced by the smell of fresh coffee and money. She found the office marked hospital administrator. The door was a jar. Inside she heard voices. The grave’s situation is a problem.
Robert Dr. Sterling’s voice said he was supposed to lose the leg. A crippled old man is easy to discharge to a nursing home. A recovering hero. He attracts attention if he talks to the press about the equipment failures. Relax, Frederick, a smooth, oily voice replied. That was Emmes.
Nobody listens to angry old vets. We label him as suffering from PTSD induced delirium. If he complains about the prosthetic quality, we say he’s confused. Sarah stepped into the doorway. He’s not confused,” she said loudly. Both men jumped. Robert Emmes was sitting on the edge of a mahogany desk. He was older than she remembered his hair, silver, his suit costing more than her annual salary.
But the eyes were the same cold, calculating sharklike. “Excuse me,” Sterling sputtered. “Nurse Mitchell, you are trespassing. I am calling security.” “Put the phone down,” Sarah said. She walked into the room and locked the door behind her. Emmes looked her up and down, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Feisty, I like that. Who is this Frederick, one of your little helpers? She’s a nuisance,” Sterling spat.
“She’s the one who interfered in the grave surgery.” Emmes chuckled. “Ah, the Florence Nightingale complex. Listen, sweetheart. You’re out of your depth. Go back to changing bed pans. Sarah walked straight up to Emmes. She stopped 2 feet from him. Kandahar, Route, Michigan, October 12th, 2012. Emmes’s smile faltered. What are you talking about? Sector 4.
Sarah continued her voice devoid of emotion. You told Captain Miller the road was clear. You said you had eyes on the village, but you didn’t. You met with the local warlord, Alharik, the night before. You took a bag of cash to root us into the ambush. Emmes’s face went pale. He stood up, towering over her.
I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was a consultant. Intel is never 100%. Tex Miller, Sergeant Ruiz, Corporal Davis, Private First Class Ali. Sarah recited the names like a prayer. They burned to death in that m because of you. Emmes’s eyes narrowed. He looked at her closely. He looked at the way she stood.
He looked at the scar on her chin. “You,” Emmes whispered. You’re the coreman, the girl, the one they found in the ditch. I’m the one who lived, Sarah said. Emmes laughed, but it was a nervous sound. Well, isn’t this a reunion? Look, honey, that was a long time ago. War is messy. Deals are made. It’s just business. Business.
Sarah’s hand clenched into a fist at her side. Yes, business. Emmes snapped. Just like this is business. St. Jude’s needs to cut costs. My company provides cost-effective solutions. We save the hospital millions if a few prosthetics crack if a few wheelchairs break. That’s the price of keeping the doors open. We are saving the system. You’re killing people, Sarah said.
Just like you killed my squad. Sterling stood up. That is enough. You are fired, Mitchell. Get out of this building before I have you arrested. Emmes held up a hand. No, wait. She knows too much, Frederick. We can’t just fire her. Emmes walked around the desk opening a drawer. Sarah saw the glint of metal. It wasn’t a gun.
It was a letter opener, but he held it like a shiv. You have no proof, Emmes said softly. It’s your word against a respected CEO and a chief of surgery. Who are they going to believe? The hero nurse with a history of trauma. We can have you committed Sarah. We can say you had a breakdown, attacked us. He took a step toward her.
You should have died in that ditch. Ems hissed. Sarah didn’t flinch. She smiled. a cold, terrifying smile. “I did die in that ditch,” she said. “That’s why I’m not afraid of you.” She pulled her phone out of her scrub pocket. The screen was glowing red. Recording 0412. Ems froze. He looked at the phone, then at Sarah.
“I’ve been recording since I walked in,” Sarah said. “The cloud sync is on. Colonel Graves has the file already and he’s friends with a very aggressive reporter at the Seattle Times. Emmes lunged. It was a mistake. Sarah didn’t brawl. She reacted. As Emmes thrust the letter opener toward her, she sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and used his own momentum against him.
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