They carefully lifted Elena onto the makeshift stretcher. Marcus took the front, gripping the rope handles tightly, while the woman and another shelter resident took the back. The rain still poured, but Marcus moved with steady determination, navigating puddles and broken pavement. Elena gripped the edges, breathing through the contractions, whispering thanks between gasps.
It took nearly forty minutes. By the time they reached the emergency entrance of the county hospital, Marcus’s arms were shaking from the effort, his sneakers completely waterlogged. Nurses rushed out with a real gurney. The midwife from the shelter quickly explained the situation as they transferred Elena inside.
Before they wheeled her away, Elena reached out and squeezed Marcus’s cold, wet hand.
“Graves,” she managed to say through the pain. “Marcus Graves. Don’t disappear, okay?”
He nodded, too exhausted to speak, then stepped back as the doors closed behind her.
