Outside the Medical Center.
After casually doing a good deed, Adam waved goodbye to a grateful middle-aged African American man and hopped in his car, heading for New Jersey.
That night, it was all festive vibes and good times as usual.
Emmm… let's just skip about a million words of shenanigans here. 😏
After Christmas, time seemed to fly by even faster. Before you knew it, New Year's Day rolled around. The year? 1999.
"Adam, Old Friends Bar tonight—New Year's party!"
Lily called bright and early to lock it in.
"Cool," Adam chuckled. "I might be a little late, though. Don't wait up—just start having fun without me."
"Got it!"
Lily was about to hang up when she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, and Robin's coming tonight, so don't you dare show up with another girl!"
"…"
Adam's mouth twitched as he hung up. What did she take him for? Some kind of player? She was seriously underestimating him! Unless it was a total surprise, Adam always had his schedule locked down tight—no chance of any awkward run-ins.
Medical Center. Emergency Room.
"AAAAH!!! AAAAH!!! AAAAH!!!"
An ambulance screeched to a halt. Adam, who'd gotten a heads-up, stepped out to meet it. The back doors flung open, revealing a blood-soaked middle-aged woman in total shock—shaking like a leaf and screaming her head off.
The real patient, though, was lying there, tended by a pretty young paramedic who had her hand plunged into his chest, apparently stopping the bleeding with her bare hands.
Adam moved to take the stretcher, but a jolt of dread hit him hard. His instincts kicked into overdrive, and time seemed to slow—like he'd entered bullet time.
"Hold it!"
He backpedaled fast, retreating into the hospital before snapping back to normal speed. "Nobody move!" he shouted at the stunned paramedics and the nurses who'd come out to help.
"Dr. Duncan?"
The staff exchanged confused looks.
"There's danger—stay still!"
Adam zeroed in on the young paramedic's hand, still buried in the patient's chest. "Especially you—don't budge!"
In that slow-motion moment, he'd scanned everything and pinned the threat to the patient himself.
"What's the patient's condition?" he asked, voice dead serious.
"James Carneson, 46. He was unconscious when we got there. I tried gauze to stop the bleeding, but it wouldn't work, so I had to use my hand. Is something wrong?"
The young paramedic's voice shook with nerves.
"How'd he get hurt?" Adam pressed. "What caused a wound that big?"
"No idea," she stammered. "On the way here, we tried asking his wife, but—well, you can see—she's been screaming hysterically the whole time."
"Nobody move!"
Adam barked it again, then stepped up to the patient's wife. "Ma'am, how did your husband get injured?"
"AAAAH!!! AAAAH!!!"
Her eyes were vacant, her screams raw with terror.
"Doctor, he's bleeding out—we need to treat him now!" the paramedic urged.
"I know!"
Adam had a hunch forming. He waved a hand at her. "You—don't move a muscle!"
"AAAAH!!!!"
Time was ticking, and the wife was too far gone to respond. Adam grabbed her shoulders, faced her head-on, and mimicked her scream—louder. It cut through her cries like a knife, stunning her into silence.
"How did your husband get hurt?" he demanded.
"Uh… guh… guh…"
She was calmer, but all she could manage were weird goose-like noises—no real words.
"What's going on?"
Dr. Burke, who'd been waiting to take over, strode up, frowning. "Why isn't the patient inside yet?"
"I stopped them," Adam said. "I sensed danger. We need to know exactly how he was injured before we bring him in."
"That's ridiculous!"
Burke stared at him, incredulous. "What do you mean, 'sensed danger'? He's dying—we need him in there now!"
"I'm not okay with that."
Adam locked eyes with Burke, voice low and firm. "Dr. Burke, I've got a sharp instinct for danger. Trust me—trust my judgment!"
Burke hesitated. "Dr. Duncan, you're sure?"
"Dead sure."
Adam turned back to the wife. "How did your husband get hurt? If you don't tell us, we can't save him. Do you want him to die out here?"
"H-he… he…"
She grasped the gravity of it, struggling to form words but failing miserably.
"Is there a bomb inside him?"
Adam stared into her eyes.
Not much triggered this level of alarm in him, but that massive chest wound? His first guess was a human bomb. It wouldn't be the first time in the good ol' free USA.
Whoa!
The crowd gasped, then shuffled back in a hurry.
"R-rocket… b-bomb…"
Spurred by Adam's guess, the wife finally choked out something coherent. "James… hit by a rocket bomb…"
"Rocket bomb?!"
Another wave of gasps—people backed off even farther.
"Doctor, what do I do?!"
The paramedic, now clued in, trembled as she shouted.
"Is what you're pressing on hard? Like metal?" Adam asked.
"I-I don't know… maybe!"
She was on the verge of tears.
"Call the bomb squad—now!" Burke ordered a nurse.
"You—stay still," Adam told the paramedic again, then turned to Burke. "The rocket didn't explode yet, but it could any second. We can't let him inside, especially not near the OR."
The operating room had oxygen tanks. One spark, and with that much O2 fueling it, you'd get a chain explosion—goodbye hospital.
"Right."
Burke nodded, clearly on the same page. He was even starting to wonder if this was a terrorist plot—disguise a human bomb to take out an entire hospital. The shock value would be off the charts.
"Black alert," Burke told a nurse. "Evacuate the building."
Who knew how powerful this thing was? The best move would be to drive the ambulance far from the hospital, far from people. But who'd risk it? One wrong move, and—boom—active or passive detonation.
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