BLOODlines

2: Desperate Call

The word leukemia echoed in Uncle Ray’s head long after the voices inside the ward had gone quiet. It clung to him like smoke, filling his lungs, choking him with the weight of what it meant.

The mother couldn’t donate.

That left only one fragile hope: a stranger.

Ray paced the narrow hospital corridor, his footsteps uneven, his shirt damp with sweat. Every second that passed felt like a grain of sand slipping through an hourglass, pulling the girl closer to death. He pressed his hands against his face, trembling.

Think, Ray, think…

The doctor emerged from the ward, exhaustion carved into his expression. He glanced at Ray with eyes that held no comfort.

“Do you know her well?” the doctor asked.

Ray swallowed hard. “No… she… she was just—” He stopped himself. “But I can help. I’ll do whatever I can.”

The doctor’s gaze swept over him, clinical, unimpressed. “You don’t look healthy enough to donate. Even if you offered, it could put both of you at risk. If we don’t find a match quickly, she won’t make it through the night.”

Ray’s heart lurched. He wanted to protest, to insist he could try, but deep down he knew the doctor was right. Years of smoking, heavy drinking, and hard living had left his body weak. His blood was no gift—it was poison.

He slumped into the nearest chair, his head spinning. He was trapped. His chest tightened as one thought rose above the others.

Frank.

His nephew was young, strong, and clean. If anyone could save her, it was him.

Ray fumbled for his phone, his fingers slippery with sweat as he dialed the familiar number. It rang once. Twice.

“Uncle?” Frank’s voice was low, cautious, as though expecting trouble.

Ray’s breath caught. “Frank… listen to me. I need you. Right now. Come to the hospital. Please.”

There was a pause. “Hospital? What happened?”

“I—I hit a girl with my taxi,” Ray confessed, his voice breaking. “She’s dying, Frank. They need blood. Her mother can’t give it. I… I can’t either. You’re the only one I can call.”

The silence stretched thin.

“Uncle,” Frank said slowly, “do you hear yourself? You hit someone. If I get involved, they’ll drag me into this too. If she dies—if the police investigate—you’ll take me down with you.”

Ray’s chest tightened, his voice rising in desperation. “Frank, please. Don’t say that. Don’t leave me like this. My life—everything I have—will be over if she doesn’t make it. They’ll trace it back to me. I’ll go to jail.”

Frank exhaled sharply. “And you want me to risk my freedom for a stranger?”

“Not just for her,” Ray pleaded, his voice trembling. “For me. If your blood doesn’t match, at least they’ll see I tried. At least they won’t say I abandoned her. But if you walk away now, Frank…” His voice cracked. “I’m finished. Do you hear me? Finished.”

Frank pressed the phone closer to his ear, his heart pounding. He had always owed his uncle something—shelter when he was a boy, food when there was none, protection when life pressed too hard. Loyalty was a heavy chain, and tonight it tightened around his neck.

But fear still clawed at him. His instincts screamed to hang up, to stay out of it.

“Uncle…” he began, his voice faltering.

Ray’s whisper bled through the line, ragged and broken. “Don’t let me face this alone, Frank. Please. I’m begging you.”

Frank closed his eyes, torn between self-preservation and the bond he could not deny. His fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight.

At last, with a weary sigh, he said the words that sealed his fate.

“All right, Uncle. I’ll come.”

Ray nearly dropped the phone, his knees weak with relief. “Thank you. Thank you, Frank. Hurry.”

The call ended.

Ray leaned back against the cold wall, his chest heaving. For a brief moment, hope flickered in the darkness. But it was fragile, uncertain—like a candle flame trembling against the wind.

Somewhere down the hall, a machine beeped urgently from inside the ward. Nurses rushed past, their faces grim. The sound echoed in Ray’s ears, each note like a countdown he could not stop.

He pressed his palms together, whispering prayers he barely believed.

And in that moment, he wondered—if Frank’s blood didn’t match, what would happen then?

As Ray sat frozen in fear, the ward doors banged open. A nurse rushed out, her voice urgent.

“She won’t survive much longer without a donor!”

Ray’s breath caught. Frank wasn’t there yet. Time was running out.