Episode Nine: Code Blue Confession
316 Words
The ER was chaos.
Code Blue had been called just three minutes ago, and already the trauma room was flooded. A man in his fifties, barely breathing, hemorrhaging internally. Road traffic accident. Crush injuries. Blood pressure dropping. Pupils sluggish.
Amara shoved her hands into gloves and moved toward the crash cart.
She didn’t look at faces. Just monitors. Tubes.
She focused on saving what could still be saved.
“Blood’s not flowing,” Tobe muttered beside her, checking the IV. “We need O-negative now.”
The nurse ran.
Someone started chest compressions.
Amara leaned over to assess the airway — and then the patient’s hand twitched.
She paused.
He opened one eye — just barely.
Blood stained his lips. Voice hoarse.
He mumbled something.
Amara leaned closer. “What did you say?”
He whispered again.
This time, she heard it.
A single name.
She froze.
She knew that name.
It was someone she worked with. Someone she trusted.
Someone who had signed off on multiple medication charts linked to the NH-47 trial.
She looked down again — but his pulse was gone.
The monitor flatlined.
They tried two rounds of CPR, pushed adrenaline, adjusted oxygen. Nothing.
At 3:46 a.m., the call was made.
Time of death.
Amara walked out of the trauma room in silence.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.
She just stared at her blood-splattered gloves.
“Did you know him?” Tobe asked quietly.
“No,” she said. “But he knew us.”
That morning, she went back to the patient’s chart.
His real identity had been altered.
His lab results were deleted.
His next-of-kin was listed as unknown.
A ghost.
But his last words?
They pointed straight at the heart of the conspiracy.
And they confirmed what Amara had feared the most:
The enemy wasn’t outside the hospital.
It was someone inside the white coat.
- Writer
