Downstairs, Lucia heard alarms echo through the corridor. She paused with the mop in her hands.
“Another baby,” she thought, feeling her chest tighten.
Memories of her sister rushed back. A powerful instinct told her something might still be possible.
She knew she had no authority. She was just a cleaner.
But another thought was stronger.
“I won’t watch another child die,” she whispered.
Before doubt could stop her, she ran.
Lucia knew the hospital layout better than many employees. She slipped through side corridors until she reached a supply room she had seen countless times.
Inside, she searched quickly and found large metal containers filled with ice used for emergency procedures.
For a moment she hesitated.
What if she was wrong?
Then she remembered holding her sister while waiting for help that came too late.
“Doing nothing is worse,” she told herself.
With shaking arms she lifted the heavy container and rushed toward the elevator.
The idea came from fragments of knowledge she had gathered—stories about extreme cold slowing the body’s metabolism in emergencies.
It was a desperate idea.
But the situation was desperate.