After several hours of searching, Natasha found Ellen at Mercy General Hospital, about ten miles south of Milford. By the time Natasha found her, it was well after dark. Natasha looked at her phone and noticed several missed texts from Nigel.

Don’t want to text him back with nothing. Need more information first, Natasha thought.

Natasha headed for the nurses’ station with John, Milo, and Cassidy in tow. The nurses, their heads buried in their phones or computers, didn’t even acknowledge her existence.

“Excuse me,” Natasha said. “I’m here to see Ellen Watson.”

“Are you a blood relative?” a nurse asked.

Natasha froze for a moment. The nurse had a skeptical look on her face. “Can I see my sister?” Natasha said in her perfect American accent.

The nurse handed her a badge with a blue “V” on it. “Wear this at all times. Your sister is in Room 4D,” the nurse said.

“Right, thank you.”

“You guys wait here. I will come back with an update,” Natasha told the others.

Milo and Cassidy turned and left to find the waiting room.

“You too, John.”

“I . . . just want to see if she’s okay. I feel responsible. She was talking to me when it happened.”

Natasha nodded.

Her phone erupted with a series of alerts. Nigel again!

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Silence your phone, please,” the nurse said in a disapproving tone.

Natasha ignored the nurse, and then proceeded down the hall.

The hospital was a confusing maze. When Natasha entered Room 4D, her breath caught in her throat. A woman in the first bed was in a full body cast, and only her bruised face was visible. Natasha didn’t recognize her. The bed nearest the window had its curtain drawn, but no one appeared to be in there with her. Natasha proceeded to the bed next to the window and pulled back the curtain. Ellen was lying motionless in the bed. Natasha examined the medical equipment that monitored her pulse; she clocked in at fifty-one beats per minute. She appeared to be sleeping. Natasha examined her right arm, which was wrapped up in a harness that looped around her right shoulder.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Rogers,” said a voice behind her. “I understand you’re family—”

Natasha cut him off. “What’s wrong with her?”

“In addition to several broken bones and a concussion, your sister has suffered a punctured lung. We managed to slow the internal bleeding, and she’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Have you given her a blood transfusion?”

“Not yet—the pileup on the highway has brought an influx of patients. It has stretched our blood supply to the point of exhaustion. We cannot operate on Ellen until we can find a donor,” Rogers said.

“How long does she have?” Natasha asked. “I’ll donate.”

“As you may already know, her blood type is B negative. We need to test whether you are a compatible donor.” The doctor led Natasha and John into another room. “I will test both of you for compatible blood types.”

I hate needles! Natasha thought. Natasha shook off the apprehension as she sat down in the donor chair and extended her arm. He collected her blood, tested it, and frowned as he examined the results.

“I thought you were sisters?” he said.

For a moment, Natasha panicked. “I’m adopted,” Natasha said.

“Oh, that explains it, then. You are type A negative—not a compatible donor.”

Then the doctor tested John and confirmed he wasn’t a donor.

“Do you know of any other possible compatible donors?”

“Nigel—her son.”

“I suggest that you get him here now,” Dr. Rogers said.

As Natasha hurried down the hall, several more texts came in from Nigel, who was looking for updates.

Nigel, your mother’s been in a car accident. We are at the hospital with her, Natasha texted back.

Is she okay? Nigel asked.

She needs a blood transfusion. They need your blood. I’m coming to pick you up now!