“Somebody. Please. Help me. My wife. My son. Please.”
Porch lights snapped on across the street. A neighbor in a robe hurried across gravel. Another man jogged from his driveway yelling for someone to call the emergency line. Within minutes, a woman with silver hair pulled up in a pickup. She rolled down the window.
“Put them in the back,” she ordered. “I am driving.”
Miles nodded, too stunned to speak. He held Tessa and Cal close while the truck sped toward Colton Ridge Medical Center, the nearest hospital for thirty miles. Engines roared behind them as several neighbors followed, headlights chasing shadows.
Inside the emergency room, nurses lifted Cal from his arms. Someone guided Tessa to another stretcher. Miles sank to his knees in the hallway, hands over his face, sobbing uncontrollably. The backpack had fallen open during the drive. Bills spilled across the floor like a river of green. A nurse stepped over them without even glancing down.
A doctor appeared. His voice was firm, measured, and heavy with bad news.