Chapter 7 - The Sirens
I rushed back to the coffin, sliding my arms carefully beneath Claire’s back and knees.
I lifted her body gently out of the satin lining, holding her limp weight against my chest.
Her body was unnaturally pliable, her head resting heavily against my neck, but I could feel the faint, warm brush of her shallow breath against my collar.
"Call an ambulance, damn you!" I screamed at Nathan.
Neither my mother nor my brother moved an inch toward the house phone.
They stood frozen like stone statues near the hallway entrance, realizing that their meticulously crafted narrative was crumbling into dust around them.
Suddenly, high-pitched emergency sirens began to wail down the long suburban driveway outside.
Red and blue strobe lights flashed through the sheer white curtains of the living room windows.
Nathan bolted toward the kitchen side exit, but before his hand could reach the brass door handle, three uniformed police officers shoved the front doors open, weapons unholstered.
"Police! Stay where you are!" the lead officer barked.
Two paramedics carrying heavy orange trauma kits rushed past the officers straight into the living room.
"Over here!" I yelled, kneeling on the rug while holding Claire in my arms. "She's heavily sedated! She's thirty-four weeks pregnant!"
The lead paramedic dropped his kit, immediately pressing a stethoscope against Claire's chest while the second attached an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.
"I've got shallow respiration," the paramedic called out, adjusting the valve. "GCS is extremely low. She's been hit with a heavy central nervous system depressant."
"And the baby?!" I sobbed out, gripping Claire's limp hand. "Check the baby!"
The second paramedic pulled out a handheld Doppler monitor, pressing the lubricated wand against Claire’s swollen abdomen.
A static hiss filled the room.
Then—
Thump-thump... thump-thump... thump-thump.
"There’s a fetal heartbeat," the paramedic announced.
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My knees completely gave way. I collapsed forward, burying my face against the carpet beside the stretcher, letting out a ragged, uncontrollable sob.
"It's weak," the paramedic added sternly, signaling his partner. "Fetal bradycardia. We need to transport her to the trauma bay at St. Jude’s right now!"
