Blind Vigilance

Blood. It’s blood. The dark stain circling Sydney is blood.

I grab my phone and touch Mulberry’s name without registering the thought. It rings. How am I going to explain knowing Sydney Rye needs help?

I’m thousands of miles away, stationed on a private island in the Pacific. And yet—

« Hello? » Mulberry’s voice, gravelly with sleep, cuts through my thoughts.

« Sydney is bleeding. »

« What? » Mulberry’s voice clears as sheets rustle in the background.

A dog barks. I focus on the live feed of Sydney’s room. Blue is up and going wild. Sydney, her hair splayed on the pillow, hotel sheets only a few shades lighter than her blanched skin, remains motionless.

« What’s going on, Dan?” I don’t answer.

The door between their rooms flies open—I watch it on the screen and hear the hinges swoosh over the phone. I slide the stylus to raise the volume. Mulberry stumbles into Sydney’s room, unsteady on his one leg.

« No! » Mulberry’s voice echoes between the phone and speakers. He lunges toward the bed.

Sydney lies on her back, a dark stain spreading around her hips. Mulberry drops the phone when he grabs her shoulders, his broad back blocking her face.

I swivel to another monitor and bring up his phone. I dial 911. Someone has to. I can always be counted on to do what needs doing. Overstepping saves lives.

« What’s your emergency? » the operator asks.

I clench my fist on the desk. Answer her, you idiot. Mulberry doesn’t follow my mental command. Fine. I take full control of the phone. « My wife is pregnant and bleeding. We’re at the airport Marriott, room 523, » I say, voice even and clear. I say it like it’s my baby. Like it’s my life. Not something I’m watching on a screen. My eyes flick back to the feed. « I can’t wake her. »

Sydney isn’t moving.She isn’t moving.Don’t let her die.