"Then what are we going to do now?" Jethro asked.
"I will call an ambulance to take him to the hospital." The doctor said and picked up his phone. He called the hospital for an ambulance and turned to Anabel and Jethro. "I have called for the ambulance. It will be here soon, and your dad will be taken care of."
Anabel’s breath shuddered as fresh fear consumed her. Her greatest nightmare—the thought of losing her father—was tightening its grip around her chest. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t lose him. But right now, it felt like she had no control over that fate.
Every second felt like an eternity until the ambulance finally arrived. The flashing lights reflecting off the smooth pavement. The paramedics moved with urgency, but their presence only heightened Anabel’s anxiety.
Jethro, her brother, immediately rushed forward to assist Dr. Maxwell in lifting their father from the bed. Anabel stood back, frozen, her hands trembling as she watched them carefully maneuver Sir Orton’s unconscious form onto the stretcher. She barely noticed the murmurs of the paramedics as they worked swiftly, securing the straps and checking his vitals.
Her breath was coming in short gasps, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. "Daddy," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please don’t leave us."
As Jethro looked back at her. His own expression was tense, but he managed to compose himself like the man he was. He saw the fear in his sister’s eyes. The raw emotion was threatening to consume her. He stepped toward her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “You need to get ahold of yourself and stop crying. Nothing is going to happen to Daddy. Believe me, he’s going to be okay. We will do our best.” Jethro finished, but she didn’t respond. She couldn't say anything. All she could do was watch as the paramedics lifted the stretcher and carried him out. She followed along until they got to the ambulance. She watched as they lifted him into the ambulance. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, but they kept coming.
"Come inside with us," Dr. Maxwell instructed with an urgent but reassuring voice.
Anabel nodded quickly and climbed into the ambulance right behind her father. The vehicle sped off, the siren blaring through the city streets, cutting through the silence of the late morning air. Inside, she kept her eyes locked on her father. She grabbed his limp hand as if it would keep him tethered to life.
By the time they reached the hospital, a team of medical professionals was already prepared to receive him. The VIP room was opened for immediate treatment, and the moment they rushed him inside, machines were brought in to stabilize his condition. Beeping monitors surrounded him, wires connecting to his body as doctors worked urgently.
Dr. Maxwell, drenched in urgency, pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped aside, quickly dialing the number of a specialist he had worked with in dire situations. Anabel watched him with anticipation. Her breathing was uneven as she waited for something...anything...that would assure her that her father was going to be fine.
Jethro stepped beside her and squeezed her hand gently. "Anabel, you need to stop crying. Dad is strong. He’s going to pull through. Remember you are pregnant. I don't want anything to happen to your baby." He stated and pulled her into a brief embrace, trying to calm her, but nothing could. She couldn’t stop the fear clawing at her heart.
Moments later, Anabel's mom arrived, her heels clicking against the floor as she hurried toward them. The sight of her husband surrounded by machines sent her into a state of shock. She gasped, hands flying to her mouth, before she rushed to Anabel and pulled her into a tight hug.
"What is the doctor saying?" She asked Anabel. "Is my husband going to be fine?"
"Yes, Mom." Jethro answered. "Dad will be fine. The doctor is calling a specialist who will handle the case. We don't need to fear. He is in good hands." Jethro assured her, even though he was losing hope inside of him.
Dr. Maxwell finished with his call and walked back to them. “The specialist will be here in the next three hours." He announced, and the fear in the room intensified. Three hours. Three agonizing hours.
Anabel clenched her fists, struggling for breath. “He won’t last three hours. He’s too weak.” Anabel said, and her mom couldn't help but cry harder. Jethro rubbed his palms over his face, frustration lining his features. His family was not helping at all. Then, suddenly, a nurse who was standing inside the room spoke up. "I know someone who can help.”
Dr. Maxwell turned sharply and locked his eyes onto her. "Who?" he demanded.
The nurse hesitated briefly, her hands clasped together before she answered, "His name is Desmond. He’s not a doctor or a specialist. But he can handle this case."
At the mention of Desmond’s name, Anabel froze. It can't be the Desmond she know.