Chapter 21 - The Last Frequency
Julian didn't wait for the glass dust to settle.
He lunged through the empty window frame into the room, rolling across the floor, his good arm reaching up and yanking the plastic oxygen mask off the wall terminal.
He held his breath, his eyes burning as the faint, sweet smell of the green gas began leaking from the canister valve near the ceiling.
He scooped Clara up into his right arm, wrapping her blanket tightly over her nose and mouth, and threw her body out through the shattered window frame into the hallway.
00:00:05.
00:00:04.
The solenoid valve on the canister clicked open with a sharp, heavy HISS.
A thick cloud of pale green mist erupted from the ceiling vent, filling the small room in half a second.
Julian pushed himself up from the floor, his body screaming with pain, his lungs burning as he took a half-step toward the window.
His boot slipped on the powdery glass dust.
He fell hard on his back, his head hitting the edge of the steel bedframe.
The room spun. The green gas rolled over him like a cold, heavy blanket, cutting off the light, cutting off the sound, cutting off the endless, agonizing noise of the world.
Through the fog, he felt a small, warm hand grab his shirt collar.
Not Sterling. Not the police.
Clara was leaning through the shattered frame, her eyes wide, tears streaming down her face, dragging her brother's heavy body out into the clean air of the hallway with every ounce of strength her eight-year-old arms possessed.
"I hear you, Julian," she sobbed into his ear, her voice small, clear, piercing through the dark. "I hear you. Don't go to sleep."
Julian looked up at her face.
He reached out his bloody right hand, his fingers touching her cheek, and let out a long, ragged breath.
May you like
Outside the clinic, the loud, wailing chorus of dozens of state police sirens echoed through the pine trees, their red and blue lights flashing against the hallway walls like a million falling stars.
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