The Red Wolf

An Hour Late

The majority of the day was swallowed in panic, confusion, and a numb kind of dread—first waiting for the police to arrive, then rushing Daniel to the hospital, and finally sitting in a sterile waiting room under flickering fluorescent lights, anxiously praying for any kind of update from the doctors. My mind was scattered, unfocused, as if the day itself had become a blur of muffled sirens and echoing footsteps. Everything about this felt wrong, like we were actors in someone else’s nightmare.

I couldn’t believe my senses—my eyes, my ears, even my nose. How was it that I could smell him when the others couldn’t? That stench—foul, metallic, sickly sweet—clung to the air like a ghost. The second I stepped into his room, it hit me again, stronger than ever. Ten times worse than at the front door. It was like the smell had teeth and claws, clawing at my insides, reminding me that something was deeply, horribly wrong. I remembered how I froze in place at his doorway, unable to move, watching as Stella screamed for him to wake up and Bailey sobbed silently by the bed, clutching Daniel’s unmoving hand.

The image wouldn’t leave me. His skin had looked too pale, his lips too dry. The light in the room was harsh, unforgiving. I had to keep blinking to convince myself it wasn’t just a trick of the shadows.

Eventually, the swinging ER doors creaked open, and a man in a white coat stepped out. Presumably a doctor. Stella bolted up from her seat like a bullet, her voice frantic as she pelted him with question after question. He stumbled back, flustered, shaking his head. “Not your doctor,” he said, quickly pointing down the hallway and vanishing again.

Time lost all meaning. How long had we been here? It felt like hours, like days even. But when I finally looked up at the clock, it was only 8:58 PM. I should’ve been home by now. But I couldn’t leave. Not without knowing. Not without him.

Then another set of doors opened on the opposite side of the room, and in stepped my grandmother. Her face was drawn, her posture rigid, like she’d aged five years since I saw her last. She moved quickly toward the doctor’s wing just as a woman in scrubs appeared, flipping through a clipboard.

“I’m looking for the guardian or guardians of Danie—”

“IS HE OKAY?!” Stella screamed before the woman could even finish the name. Her voice cracked mid-sentence, and tears streamed down her face, her nose red and running. My grandmother quickly walked over and gently pulled her aside, whispering something low and calm. Bailey looked at me with wide, tear-streaked eyes. I could only shrug, feeling helpless, my own eyes stinging.

The doctor gave us one last glance and then disappeared. My grandmother returned and quietly motioned for us to follow her.

“Gran… what’s happening? Is Daniel okay?” My voice trembled despite my best efforts to stay strong.

She paused, giving me a sorrowful look. “Your friend will be fine… They aren’t sure when, but he will be…”

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to. But the hollowness in her voice made me question everything.

We left that night in silence, the weight of unspoken truths pressing against our backs like storm clouds.

Daniel didn’t make it.