Nolan’s voice broke as he turned and shouted toward the back hall.
“Call an ambulance now! Tell them we have a newborn in critical condition!”
Sirens In The Distance, Breaths Up Close
The station snapped awake the way quiet places do when emergency steps inside, phones ringing, chairs scraping, radios crackling, while Nolan lifted the baby from the bag and cradled him against his uniform, using his own warmth because it was the only warmth available in that instant.
The girl clutched Nolan’s sleeve with surprising strength, her fingers digging into the fabric like she was afraid he might vanish, too.
“I tried,” she said, words tumbling out with her tears. “I used all the towels. I rubbed his hands like they do on TV, and I tried to give him water with my fingers, just a little, but he got so quiet, and then he just… he just stopped.”
Nolan swallowed, because he needed to stay steady, because he could not let a child carry even one more ounce of blame.
“You did the right thing bringing him here,” he told her. “You did exactly the right thing.”
The ambulance arrived in minutes, lights flaring against the dark windows, and the paramedics moved with practiced speed, placing a small oxygen mask over the baby’s face, checking tiny pulses, speaking in clipped phrases that sounded like another language.
One of them glanced up briefly, eyes serious.
“He’s fighting, but he’s severely dehydrated and very cold,” the paramedic said. “We need to move, right now.”
Nolan didn’t hesitate.
“I’m coming,” he said, and when the girl started to shake her head as if she feared she’d be left behind, he added, “And she’s coming with us.”
Maisie And Rowan
In the back of the ambulance, the girl sat close enough to Nolan that their shoulders nearly touched, her gaze locked on the baby as if watching could keep his breath going.
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