Chicago Med fic: Resolution (5/7)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
-o-
After two months into his tenure, Dr. Dunst summoned him to her office yet again. At first, he’d been skittish about being asked to see her, but she was so perfunctory and matter of fact about such things that it quickly became second nature. She used scheduled meetings to cover everything from weekly checkups about the ED to random questions about staffing or inventory. Her constant need for formal meetings to complete simple tasks had desensitized him to his anxiety, so when she said it was time for his first formal review, he almost didn’t know what to think.
He had never gotten the sense that she liked him, but he had been diligent in his work. He’d made sure he was above reproach, but he couldn’t pretend like that meant much. She had standards, and he couldn’t tell if he was meeting them or not.
Therefore, even though her tone was abrupt when she scheduled the meeting, he didn’t necessarily think that was indicative of a problem.
Except maybe it was.
Will fought hard against his natural impulses, but maybe it wasn’t enough. He put in more work, more hours, more effort than anyone else, but it might not make a difference. Adam had been soft on him, and that had made him too confident in his place here. He had promised to see Africa through to the end, but maybe this was how it ended. With a bad review and a rejected posting.
By the time he got to her office, he had worked himself into such emotion knots that he felt a little sick. She didn’t get up when he arrived, and she didn’t even look up as he sat down across from him. She muttered some kind of half hearted greeting, still buried in her paperwork, and Will sat, bouncing his knee anxiously, feeling sweat break out across his back and palms as he waited for what now seemed inevitable.
She finished the papers, spending a few seconds to double check her work. Then, she stacked the papers and set them neatly to the side. Taking off her glasses, she looked at Will with a bland expression.
“Dr. Halstead, it is customary to perform monthly performance reviews with my administrative level employees, including department heads like yourself,” she said. “This is part of my ongoing commitment to excellence within the hospital. As you have now completed two months of service as my ED Chief, a review is therefore warranted.”
Will was sweating worse now. He could feel his heart start to pound in his chest. Part of him wanted to speak, try to defend himself already, but his tongue wouldn’t work.
She reached to another pile, removing the file on top. She opened it up, and Will could tell immediately that it was his personnel file. It was filled with papers and a handful of handwritten notes. “I am quite thorough in my review of a department head, as you can surely understand,” she said. “I fully assess their leadership style, their interactions with patients and the overall adherence to policy. I am looking for good interpersonal relationships, impeccable skill with patients and a keen understanding of protocol.”
“Of course,” he said hollowly.
She looked at him over the file. “As you know, I had many doubts about you in this position,” she said. “You were not my first choice, and I did not see anything in your file that suggested why you were being promoted so quickly. Your history seems to leave out critical details regarding your comings and goings from different positions, and while Dr. Goshit and his colleagues hold you in high regard, I find the lack of earlier references to be questionable at best.”
Will thought he might actually be sick now. He considered excusing himself. Hell, he might just quit now and spare himself the utter indignity of what was about to come.
Dr. Dunst gathered herself, and her expression shifted. From critical to...surprised? From stern to...pleased?
“Dr. Halstead, I have to confess that my initial misgivings were incorrect,” she said. “You have performed at a high level during your tenure here, and I have seen a marked improvement in the last few weeks. Overall productivity in the ED has gone up substantially, and the reports suggest that both employees and patients are more satisfied than ever. I have gone over all your cases, all your staff arbiturations, all your policy decisions, and I cannot find fault. There are one or two instances where I may have taken a different tact, but you have not strayed from the policy in place.”
Will felt lightheaded now. He didn’t understand what she was saying.
“Even over the last few weeks, your work is better than ever,” she said. “I am curious to understand the improvement, because I do not believe it to be a fluke. There is a change in you that others have noticed, and I would be remiss not to see.”
Change. Improvement.
What was she talking about?
Was she talking about him?
“Dr. Halstead?” she asked, arching her eyebrows at him. “I am asking you a question.”
He startled, trying to get his mind back where it belonged. “I’m sorry. What?”
She looked put out having to repeat herself, but she bustled herself together and did it anyway. “What has changed to produce such a dramatic improvement in your work and performance?”
“You know, it’s funny, but I think it’s because of you,” he said.
Dr. Dunst drew her lips taut and narrowed her eyes.
Will followed up quickly. “I mean, after we talked last month, after the case with the DNR patient, I took your words to heart. I started to live a little more.”
This seemed to provoke thought in her, and she sat back. “Hm,” she said. “I assume you mean things like the recreational football team?”
This one caught Will off guard. “I didn’t even know you were aware.”
“I know everything in my hospital,” she said. “And I wanted to be sure that a hospital team didn’t violate protocol.”
“It’s not sponsored by the hospital, so the team didn’t need supervisory approval,” Will said. “I checked before I enrolled. Since we’re not playing for money and not using the hospital’s likeness in representing ourselves, you didn’t need to be bothered with it.”
Her jaw worked and she sat forward again. “Are you telling me that ED performance has been enhanced on the floor by a recreational football league?”
Will nodded, this time readily. “I mean, I’ve been following policy from the beginning. I’ve put in the hours, but this month, I don’t know. I started living.”
“And the whole ED came to life with you,” she mused. She made a little frown of curiosity, then seemed to shrug. “Very well. It is an effective approach, and I encourage you to continue with your work so far.”
Will knew Dr. Dunst well enough now to know that that was that. She didn’t need to pontificate. She had no need for extra words when she had said her sufficient piece.
Will had survived a formal review.
He should leave well enough alone.
But, poised on the edge of his seat, he looked at Dr. Dunst again, and he could not stop himself from asking, “What about you, Dr. Dunst?”
She had already put his file away and was reaching for her paperwork again. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked, distracted.
“How are you doing?” he repeated, a little more certainly now.
She stopped what she was doing, looking at him skeptically. “That is not a relevant question, Dr. Halstead, nor is it within the purview of our scheduled task.”
“I know,” Will assured her. “And I’m not trying to be impertinent. But it’s just -- you’re part of this hospital, too.”
“I am the one in charge,” she said, looking at him with a renewed sternness. “It is my responsibility to assess the well being of others in my care.”
“Sure, and we all respect you for it,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be a part of things, does it? I thought I could keep myself separate, too, but letting other people in has been better for the hospital -- and better for everyone around me.”
It was a logic she clearly did not take to at all. “There are strict protocols about fraternization, and as the leader of this hospital, I am discouraged from showing special treatment or developing any privileged relationship.”
He nodded along, because he knew those rules, too. He knew them, and he knew their context was important but not encompassing. “I’m just talking about coming out for one drink,” he said. “Or just come to a single game. The finals are next week.”
She drew herself up, clearly flustered. “That is a...thoughtful offer, Dr. Halstead. But I am afraid it is quite impossible.”
With intention, Dr. Dunst buried herself in her work once more. “I understand, but I just wanted to return the favor,” he explained. “I mean, this all happened at your suggestion. I wasn’t about to open myself up, but -- here I am.”
She looked up again, clearly hesitating. “Yes, here you are,” she said softly. Then, she picked up her glasses and nodded at him curtly. “And now you may leave. Keep up the good work, Dr. Halstead.”
She had made her intentions and her limits clear. Will got up, offering up a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Dr. Dunst. For everything.”
Saying nothing, she buried herself in work once more as Will saw himself out.
-o-
A week later, Will’s rec soccer team played in the league championships. Despite his atrocious skills in the backfield, they eked out the victory. Will’s salary was nothing to write home about, but he bought everyone a round of drinks anyway to celebrate afterward. The celebration was raucous and bawdy, and a few people got drunk and there was a lot of off-key singing involved. Will made sure everyone got home safe before getting back to his own apartment late into the night.
Still, he laid awake for awhile, staring at the ceiling. He tried to remember this feeling. He tried to hold onto it.
A lot of things he hadn’t really earned in his life, but this one, he decided before he drifted off to sleep, maybe he did.
-o-
The next day at work, Will did his best to keep everyone on task. The team was still glowing from their victory, and word had gotten around fast. Spirits were high, and Will took great pains to make sure that enthusiasm was channeled back into patient care.
You could call him a buzzkill.
Or you could call him a brilliant opportunist.
Or you could just see him as a guy desperate to win the approval of everyone.
When Dr. Dunst stopped by the ED, as was her custom once a day, she watched the operation with her typical expression of trained indifference. Will stood by her anxiously, waiting for her pronouncement. To his surprise, she didn’t comment on the convivial atmosphere or the surreptitious high fives at the desk. Instead, she turned to him.
“I believe congratulations are in order.”
Will stared at her, blank for a second. “I’m sorry, what?”
She inhaled and flattened her lips. “Congratulations,” she repeated. “On winning the recreational tournament. I understand the ED team had unprecedented success.”
“Oh,” he said. “Yeah. I hope they haven’t been distracting about it. They’ve just been so excited.”
“Understandably, and no, they have not been distracting,” she said. “I actually heard about the performance from a colleague. She was quite enthusiastic about the gameplay. As I am not a fan of the sport, I had little commentary to offer, but she had high praise for the team’s unity and effort. I believe you are responsible for both, are you not, Dr. Halstead?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I just organized the league and showed up.”
“Yes,” she said with a slow nod. “Yes, I suppose you did.”
She left the evaluation at that, and Will knew it wasn’t much, but somehow, it kind of felt like everything.
For him, sure.
But for Dr. Dunst as well.
They all had to start somewhere.
-o-
Beginnings, though, were fraught with endings. Every good thing -- no matter how good, how promising, how pure -- had to end eventually. Sometimes, sooner. Sometimes, later.
Sometimes now.
This could happen simply and amicably.
However, when Will was involved, it was far more chaotic.
Beginnings you got to pick.
But endings?
You just had to survive.
And that, as it turned out, was sometimes easier said than done.
-o-
When Will had been working with Adam, there was always talk of something. Political unrest had been the norm, and the jockeying of position by different gangs led to a perpetual state of moderate instability.
Here, the city had always been more stable. Will had perhaps come to take it for granted, so when Dr. Dunst called for an unplanned meeting of department heads, Will had no reason to suspect anything was particularly amiss.
And why would it be? The hospital was operating at peak capacity. Will had improved ED performance. Dr. Dunst seemed pleased with his work. Hell, even Jay had no objections to his current work situation except that it was so damn far away from Chicago. He hadn’t been texting Will screenshots of articles that caused him concern, and everything was fine.
No, everything was more than fine.
Everything was good.
Was it good?
Was Will allowed to think it was good?
Had he finally gotten to the point where he was entitled that kind of solace?
It was no matter.
As it turned out, it wasn’t meant to last.
Dr. Dunst, at least, was to the point about it. When the department heads were organized her the conference room, she shut the door, pulled the blinds and pursed her lips at them. Then, without any attempt to soften the blow, she said, “I am sorry to announce that we must close the hospital today and mount a full scale evacuation via the primary protocol. This needs to be completed calmly and without panic, and it must be completed before noon.”
She said it so plainly that no one knew what to say. Will had been expecting an emergency budget meeting -- Dr. Dunst was keen on those -- or a last-minute case review to highlight the need for continual efficiency management.
But this?
An evacuation?
Will wasn’t the only one completely confused. Next to him, the head of pediatrics look confused. “Is this a drill?”
“No,” she said, and she paused to adjust her glasses. “This is an official evacuation, and it has been sanction by myself, the board and all local authorities.”
“Local authorities,” the head of cardiology repeated. “So is this more than a hospital issue?”
Dr. Dunst bobbed her head neatly. “Yes. A full evacuation of the area is set to begin shortly. As a large public provider, we have been notified before the public announcement is made for this district.”
“But why?” the orthopedics chief asked. “What’s going on?”
The rest of the group started to titter, their own concerns brimming over. Will sat anxiously on the edge of his seat, not trusting himself to move or speak. He was used to impending disaster, at least. And he knew better than to pretend like he could predict it or waylay it.
Everyone here was going to ask, how did this happen?
Will was struck with the reality: of course this was happening.
The only comfort he had, perhaps, was at least this one wasn’t his fault.
“What I am about to tell you is not to be public knowledge yet, please,” Dr. Dunst said. She straightened her hair and inhaled through her nose, nostrils flaring. “But in recent weeks, a terrorist cell has been gaining power in one of the neighboring cities. There have been increasing signs that they plan to make a strike, and the city officials have been quietly preparing for every possibility. As of this morning, there is clear evidence that the group is on the move. Based on prior intelligence, they do not have the means to take the city, much less the state, but the hope is to hit several soft targets within the area.”
To her credit, Dr. Dunst was incredibly direct. Will had to appreciate that. He was probably the only one, though. Everyone else seemed to be thrown into a state of disarray. Everyone started talking at once, asking questions. Someone cried. Another person got up to leave. A few were texting on their phones, presumably to contact their loved ones.
The sudden chaos seemed to frustrate Dr. Dunst. It was, after all, the very thing she had requested again. “Please, you must stay calm. You have been told this information because you are leaders, and as leaders, you are responsible for the people beneath you. If you do not think you can sit and listen to what has to be done, then I will dismiss you now, and you are to go home without talking to anyone. Do I make myself clear?”
It was invariably clear. Will sat back, the tension starting to gather in the pit of his stomach. Around him, his colleagues grew silent once more, turning anxious eyes back on Dr. Dunst.
At the front of the room, Dr. Dunst drew herself up once more. “Very good, then,” she said, even as she glared them all down one more time for good measure. “This will all soon be public knowledge. There have been reports of skirmishes rapidly approaching the area of the hospital. While there is no clear sign that the hospital is indeed the target, the logic seems to be a matter of course. This is the vicinity they have chosen. There are no other high level targets that would be as appealing.”
“Then why haven’t we left already?” someone asked, and Will didn’t turn to see. It sounded like the chief from oncology. “If it is as bad as you say, then this is a waste of time.”
“A necessary waste,” Dr. Dunst said. “The government has decided, and I agree with them, that issuing a large scale signal for evacuation would cause panic. It would clog resources and possibly lead to more risks than it saves. Instead, we want to issue evacuation orders in a more systematic way. I have worked out a clear escape route with the city officials that allows us to clear patients out their the mezzanine and into temporary safe areas. Some will be allowed to exit the district for safer havens. Our goal, however, is to simply make sure our patients and staff are properly evacuated.”
To this, Will finally had a contribution to make. “Obviously, the first goal is to discharge anyone we can,” he said, knowing this too well from experience. “But we have a large ICU, and the ED is full this morning. The number of critical patients is going to slow us down.”
She looked pleased that he had something relevant to say. “Yes, I have already been in touch with the ambulance providers. Other hospitals in the area are preemptively reducing their ED loads today, taking in only the most critical care patients. This allows us to transfer our critical patients via ambulance to the best hospital transfers. Arranging those transfers will take time, and I do intend to leave that to the discretion of each department head. The key is to do this without a haphazard approach. We should not cause more harm than we are trying to avoid.”
Will was nodding along, even if he was the only one. “Critical patients wouldn’t be able to go through the mezzanine, though.”
“Excellent point, Dr. Halstead,” Dr. Dunst said, and she was gaining confidence now. “I will contact city officials again and see if we can still secure ambulance access to the front of the hospital. That will alleviate the stress for many patients without increasing the relative risk structure of the evacuation.”
“And do we have a checkpoint system?” Will asked. “We need people on point to track every patient and every staff member that leaves the hospital. I assume we want to start reducing staff inside the building as well, having them clock out for the day.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I was going to leave that to be another discretionary decision. Each department should systematically reduce the amount of staff on hand as patients are discharged. But you are correct that we should have a system to sign out staff so no one gets lost in the shuffle.”
The back and forth was natural and dynamic, and although the stakes had not lowered, their pragmatic approach seemed to be gaining traction. A row ahead of him, the head of neurology raised her hand. “We will need to stay connected from each department. We have to have separate routes in advance or we will clog up passageways, even with an orderly approach.”
“That point is well taken,” Dr. Dunst said. “I assume each of you still knows the fire escape procedures. Those procedures should be adequate in this case as well since they spread out systematic escape routes for each department.”
“Will we still have elevator access?” the ENT chief asked. “Maybe not for stable patients, but for those who are critical or in need of additional support, it would be helpful, unless they are a risk.”
“As of now, they are not,” Dr. Dunst said. “Electricity will continue to operate on the grid unless something should happen. There is no guarantee that cellular coverage should continue to be accessible, and if this district is breached as expected, you can expect communications to be shut down by the authorities. It is a tactic to help control the terrorists’ movements.”
“And how long do we have?” Will asked. “Not approximately. But precisely. We’re going to have to scale our responses pretty carefully to move that many patients and staff out.”
“Two hours,” she replied, and her voice didn’t waver. Not even as she added a clarification. “That is all the time the police will guarantee us before this district is deemed unsafe. You amy all take that as the motivation you will. Clearly, time is of the essence. If you have further concerns, you are free to contact me personally for as long as communications remain available. Otherwise, I am trusting you to be the critical information touchpoints in the hospital. Please, go, and make sure your people are safe.”
It was a lot, really. Dr. Dunst was asking them to do the impossible, but she had picked the best staff, and she had trained them well. This was their moment to prove themselves. Their moment to rise.
Will, for once, recognized the moment for what it was. He grasped the potential -- for success and for failure. And, although there was some part of him that was scared, he could not shirk the responsibility. The fear of dying was there, maybe. For now, however, the fear of failure was more pressing.
He was already going over his own procedure in his head, thinking about the best order of operations and how he wanted to divvy up his ED staff. He was getting up to file out, but as the crowd dispersed, Dr. Dunst looked at him. “Dr. Halstead,” she said. “If you could please stay back for a moment.”
Will complied, nodding to a few of his colleagues as they anxiously left back to their floors. When the last one had left, Dr. Dunst drew a long, slow breath. “I’m sure it has not escaped your notice that, as chief of the ED, you are responsible for the first floor of this facility.”
Will nodded, matter of fact. “Sure,” he said. “I guess.”
She shook her head, looking grave. “You cannot guess. This is a responsibility that you need to understand fully.”
He knitted his brows for a moment, not sure why she was making this point to him specifically. “I know I’m in charge of the ED.”
“Not the ED, Dr. Halstead,” she said. “This entire hospital. The ED is the gateway to every department we have. It is our first line of defense, and that can no longer be a metaphorical phrasing. When the attack comes, as I am told it will, the ED will be hit first. Do you understand the implications?”
Will rocked back on his heels, taking the fullness of the threat in for the first time. He’d known, of course. Logically, it was impossible to miss. And after what had happened at the last hospital, the gravity of it was easy to visualize.
But this wasn’t some local gang. Will wasn’t going to negotiate his way out of it. If the evacuation didn’t succeed, the body count would be high -- and the damage to the hospital would be significant. That was on Will, then.
Dr. Dunst was putting it on him.
“If we lose one patient in this hospital, it will be your fault. If I lose one staff member, I will trace it back to your deployment of the rules,” she said firmly. “We cannot evacuate the rest of the hospital until your ED is in order. If you cannot or will not bear this responsibility, you need to tell me right now. Accept my terms now, or you can evacuate yourself immediately from this building and from my employment.”
An ultimatum, then. There was a small, rational part of Will’s brain that told him the offer was crazy. That it was an unfair, unreasonable burden that was likely to get him killed instead of fired. Jay would tell him to run as fast as he could from this situation, but Jay was half a world away in Chicago. And Will had come here to do one thing, and one thing only: the job.
He had come to do the job.
Any job.
This job.
He felt surprisingly calm about it now. The butterflies from earlier had settled in his stomach, and the fortitude was expanding in his chest now. “I accept.”
She smiled, and though the gesture was grim, Will could read the sincerity in her eyes. “I figured as much,” she said. Then, her face sobered once more. “Don’t make me regret trusting you with this.”
“I promise,” he said. “You won’t.”
-o-
So, in his free time, Will had read the entire hospital policy manual. He had read the specific guidelines governing the ED at least three additional times, and he had more or less forced himself to become a repository for all the correct and appropriate actions. He had done this because it was, quite simply, the right thing to do. As chief of the ED, it was his responsibility. Also, he had always been vaguely frightened that Dr. Dunst would follow through on her threat to fire him, and he was pretty sure that getting fired again so soon would utterly destroy him.
Belatedly, as he made his way back down to the ED, he wondered if his fears had possibly been misplaced.
As there was a terrorist group heading this way, literal destruction suddenly seemed like a much more pressing matter.
Therefore, he could take out two birds with the same stone. Those birds were pretty damn big, and Will wasn’t sure that perfect adherence to policy was the perfect stone, but that was all he had right now.
Just hospital policy.
And a jammed packed ED in front of a crowded hospital, and it was up to him to make sure that everyone got out safely.
No big deal.
He could totally do this.
And if he couldn’t, then he was banking on being too dead to fire.
That wasn’t exactly optimism in the classic sense, but beggars couldn’t be choosers right now. Especially not Will.
Back in the ED, Will wasted no time. He wanted to text Jay to give him some update, but people were already coming at him with the things they’d heard. Apparently, the unplanned meeting had raised a few concerns -- and reports were apparently popping up on social media that something was going down. Rumors were already spreading rapidly, so Will couldn’t take the moment for himself -- not with this much at stake and this much responsibility on his shoulders.
Fortunately, with the heightening sense of anxiety, it wasn’t hard to gather everyone together.
“Okay, so we’re just going to get right to the point,” he said, glancing over his people with a wince of sympathy. “I know the rumors are probably going crazy by this point, and there’s a lot of stuff floating around. I don’t know for sure how much is true and how much is BS, but what I do know is that the action is moving this way, and it is our policy to move out.”
The room tittered with a few people gasping. A few of them actually looked ready to leave, and Will quickly raised his voice and kept going.
“The police have been tracking the movement of the cells very carefully, so they’re not right on our doorstep yet,” he said. “That gives us the time to do this safely and responsibly.”
A few people were on their phones. Someone had started to cry.
Will endeavored to stay calm. The only thing keeping this ED together was going to be his poise and decisive ability. He had failed a lot of people before, but he could fail them now.
“It’s scary and stressful -- I know that -- but we do have policies in place for just this,” Will said, trying to make a full scale evacuation in the face of a terrorist takeover sound normal. “We’re still doing what we’ve always done: saving lives.”
It was the right thing to say, but the response was still tenuous, as the ED staff seemed to wait with bated breaths for whatever came next. Will’s decisions here mattered -- more than they ever had in his life. He could either fall apart or rise to the challenge -- and take the ED and the rest of the hospital with him.
“Okay, Emily, Dune -- I want you to split the nursing staff in half. Half of you are in charge of critical patients and the other half will take anyone who can walk,” Will said, rattling off the orders quickly now. “And I do mean, anyone who can walk. If they’re stable and mobile with assistance, then they count. We need to get them upstairs to the third level mezzanine. Security should have a mobilized checkpoint there by the time you get up. From there, you follow the guidelines to the predetermined evacuation safe sites and wait for further word. If patients want to leave, they all have to sign the waivers, and no staff is permitted to leave until officially cleared by hospital administration.”
The staff nodded, and one of his attendings piped in. “What about the critical patients? We have several who still need medical care.”
“I want a firm count on that as soon as possible,” Will said. “Policy dictates that we obtain transfers for those patients. We should still have ambulance access in the medical bay, but we’ll run out. We need to double up as much as we can. I want one doctor to ride with each ambulance or other emergency vehicle until critical patients are also clear.”
“We still will have staffing chaos,” Emily said. As head nurse, she looked concerned.
“Understood,” Will said. “I need half the nursing staff to stay behind and help with transfers and shutting things down. As soon as patients are cleared, the remaining staff should evacuate via the mezzanine as well. I want to minimize action in the ambulance bay as much as possible, that means no one goes out -- not to your cars, not for anything. Remember, we are all on duty right now. There are safe zones in the evacuation plan that will be secured until military or police backup can get us farther away from the conflict zone.”
All the times he’d read these procedures, and they had seemed surreal. Even after surviving the previous attack, he wasn’t improvising this time. This time, he couldn’t make it up as he went along. This time, he had to stick to the plan.
And hope to hell that saved lives.
Another attending looked anxious -- terrified -- but trying her best not to show it. “These procedures -- how confident are we?” she asked. She flitted her hand through the air. “If the forces are as strong as they say, then how will the mezzanine stay secure? How will the safe zones protect us?”
“I understand the anxiety, I really do,” Will said. “But these policies have been written for a reason. The hospital is an obvious target for the terrorists, which is why we have multiple high level exits to pursue. Fortunately, the hospital is the only high level target in the area. The building next door is connected to a network of buildings throughout the city, many of which have air pads and subway access. We are working with local police forces to make sure we have the safest way out. We just have to be patient and follow the orders.”
One of the residents looked even less convinced. “But what if it doesn’t work? Dr. Halstead, I really didn’t come all this way to die--”
“Hey,” Will said, cutting her off before her hysteria could build. “I don’t intend on letting anyone die today if it’s up to me. You know me. I’m the first one in, last one out. We came here to save lives, and we have to do that job now more than ever. I have gotten to know you -- all of you -- over the last few months. This is the most impressive ED I’ve ever worked in. I believe in each and every one of you. We can do this. Together. We will do this.”
Will had never fancied himself as one for big inspirational speeches. In fact, the more he reflected on it, he’d been in no position to play leader at all back in Chicago. He hadn’t been ready, not in the slightest.
Because in order to give orders, you had to follow them first. It was a nuance he’d never understood, and he’d come to learn it the hard way.
The Chicago Med ED was impressive, to say the least.
But this ED?
This was his ED.
He had set the tone. He had defined it.
Maybe it was time to trust that, now. For once, he thought he might have finally earned it.
He looked around the room, at each nurse, each doctor, each support staff member. They believed in him. They trusted him. They were ready to follow him.
Will was finally ready to lead.
“Okay,” he said. “If there are no more questions, then let’s do this thing.”
-o-
The risks were real. The doubts were prescient. The margin for error was nil. Will had to chart a course on the precisely straight and narrow. He couldn’t stray; he couldn’t flinch. Months of training and preparation had got him to this point, and he had to hope it would be enough.
That he would be enough.
People would die if he wasn’t.
So, you know, no pressure
But Will was good under pressure. Honestly, he always had been. While he was prone to absolute stupidity during good times, his decision making in critical moments was usually pretty on point. And now, after months of honing his understanding of hospital policy and protocol, he was more than ready to execute.
It wasn’t hard to move the non-critical patients out. When possible, he sent them to units upstairs to expedite the discharge process through the indicated alternative channels. As he cleared out patient rooms, he sent select numbers of staff upstairs with them to oversee the process, giving them directions to stay with their patient allotment. When cleared, the staff members could formally sign out for the day.
Clearing the waiting room was a little harder, and he encouraged patients with likely minor injuries and illnesses to simply leave before even checking in. He still directed them upstairs via the public access system. Although security was in place to create a checkpoint in and out, people who were not staff or patients were still allowed to leave freely of their own accord.
The hardest part was dealing with patients who could not be released. It had been a busy day in the ED so far; they were close to capacity. The upstairs units were quickly rejecting new patients, and Will got on the phone quickly to negotiate transfers. The ED was closed to new traffic, but he got permission from security, as per protocol, to have ambulance transfers approved.
As the patients thinned out, Will progressively sent more and more staff members home. Soon, all nonessential staff were gone. He had his last two attendings go upstairs to see if the other wards needed help, and he talked to his charge nurse to see how the process was going.
Per the report, things were going surprisingly well. The evacuation was proceeding so calm and orderly that it hardly felt like an emergency at all. As a measure of goodwill, he called the other department heads to ensure that they were also handling things well, and he was just double checking that things were in order when the line cut out with a burst or static.
He looked at his phone as it whined, and he barely had time to speculate what was wrong when the first explosion rocked the ED.
It was enough to rattled the walls, and Will barely had time to catch himself against the wall. There were just a handful of people left on his floor, and he saw two of them hit the ground. He could hear yelling from the front of the ED, and he saw another pair of staff members come running back toward him.
“Duck! Duck!” one of them screamed, flying past him and going low behind the desk.
Will glanced back just in time to see the flash. The light blinded him for a moment before he heard the bang. He scarcely felt it, even as he was knocked through the air with a concussive force that stole the breath straight out of his lungs.
He hit the wall hard and crumpled down. For a moment, his vision went white and his ears rang. He couldn’t think; he couldn’t see; he couldn’t breathe; he--
With a gasp, air filled his lungs. A thousand sensations flooded him at once, and he was too dazed to make sense of them. The world was disconnected somehow, like he was seeing and hearing things underwater. It was tempting to follow the light as it descended to darkness, but there was some small, rational part of his mind that remembered: this wasn’t over yet.
He had to see it through.
Why don’t you see something through for once?
Forcibly, he blinked, and then blinked again. With another inhale, the world shifted back into focus, and he realized that he was conscious -- and alive, for what that was worth.
Looking down, he found himself sprawled on the ground against the wall. He was covered with dust and small debris, but he seemed relatively uninjured. His head was pounding, but when he reached up, there wasn’t much blood. Sitting up cautiously, he found that he wasn’t dizzy, and after swallowing, his ears popped and his hearing came back into check.
That was the bright side.
The downside was that Will was okay, but the situation was rapidly deteriorating. He was already on his feet by the time he realized that standing might not be the best course of action. He could hear the gunfire coming from the front of the building, and while the barrier at the ED doors was holding, the activity beyond suggested it might not last.
The fight had made its way here. Will was officially out of time.
He had promised Dr. Dunst he would do this, and he’d told his brother he’d get back to him alive if at all possible. The possibilities were decreasing, Will knew, but they weren’t gone yet. To keep his promise to Jay -- and his promise to Dr. Dunst -- he needed to get his act together now.
Starting with clearing the ED. It had been a job mostly well done, but there were still four staff members left. The pair nearby were still on the floor, huddled beneath a fallen portion of a ceiling tile. Will went to them, clearing it away. “Are you okay?” he asked.
One of them was crying. The other nodded, “I think so!”
“Then, we’ve got to get up, we’ve got to move,” Will said.
“But the gunfire--”
“I know,” Will said. “Trust me, I do. But if you want to stay safe, you have got to get out of here. This ED will be breached by someone, and I don’t think any of us want to be here for that.”
The second one nodded, getting shakily to his feet. He offered his hand to the other, who followed with a lot less certainty.
Will gave them a quick once over, but determined they were both mobile. That meant they both had to get the hell out before something worse happened. “There are still two other staff members down here,” Will said. “Have you seen them?”
The second shook his head, but the other nodded. “They ran that way,” she said, pointing to one of the exam rooms.
“Come on,” Will said, ushering them in that direction. He was mindful of the windows, but the gunfire remained distant enough for the time being. Will knew he had to pick up the pace. “Hey! Hello?”
He pushed open the door, which was caught on some of the debris that had been blown around in the blast. One of the windows to the room was cracked, and the room’s contents were in disarray as the electricity started to flicker. He found the two staff members, one sprawled on the ground, the other checking him over.
“He’s just hit his head,” she reported, checking his eyes with a penlight. She reached down, rubbing his sternum. “Brian?”
Brian, the other staff member, stirred. Efficiently, she helped him sit up while the other two cowered behind Will in the doorway.
“As much as I would love to do a full workup on all of you, this isn’t the time or place,” he said. “Can you all walk?”
Helping Brian up, the female attending nodded. “I’m fine. And I can get Brian up the stairs. That is the protocol, right? Follow the evacuation route up to the mezzanine?”
“The checkpoint should still be open,” Will said. “The ED hasn’t officially been cleared, so they should be waiting for us as long as they can.”
“Then, your policy stands, Dr. Halstead,” she said, already shouldering Brian’s weight as he came to a little more clearly. “Lead the way. We’ll follow.”
It was a trust Will still felt strange with, but he couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t earned it. Day in, day out, he was involved with every part of this ED. He had made them a family, in the end. And family stuck with each other no matter what.
That was another thing Jay had taught him.
Jay was going to be so pissed when he found out about this.
All the more reason to follow his own damn protocols and get out. This whole seeing things through? Well, he’d done that. He’d seen it through. And this? Right here? Right now? Was absolutely the end.
Moving quickly, Will was relieved to get out of the main area and as far away from the gunfire still erupting in the streets. It was hard to tell from the back and forth exchanges what was happening -- he was a doctor, not a cop or soldier like Jay -- but from an outsider’s perspective, he felt it was safe to conclude that things were bad.
Gunfire, in his line of work, never turned out good, so a lot of gunfire? Right outside? Seemed very, very bad.
Will had done a thorough job in clearing the rest of the ED, so navigating was easy at this point. They made fast time to the back stairwell, and Will held the door open to let them through. When they were safely through the threshold, he hesitated before he followed.
He’d cleared the ED.
He’d locked down all other exits.
He’d gone through the whole list of protocol.
Except.
He closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Get upstairs and do not look back,” he said. “I am locking down this exit, so there’s nowhere for you to come down here anyway.”
“But what about you?” the attending asked. “I thought policy was for everyone to leave.”
“It is,” Will said. “But I’m the chief. I have to doublecheck to make sure no one is left behind. The final sweep is the last step.”
One of the nurses looked incredulous as she cradled her bruised wrist. “That’s stupid. You have to leave now.”
“We did a thorough job, Dr. Halstead,” the other said. “I’m sure you can leave.”
Will couldn’t, though. He couldn’t leave in good conscience unless he took his time to do it right. No more cutting corners. He couldn’t do the convenient thing. He had to do the right thing, even when it was hard, even when he hated it. Even when Jay would chew him out for being so reckless.
“I have to do this,” Will said, shaking his head once more. “You go, and don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”
It was a promise they had no choice but to trust. It was a promise that Will could only hope was true.
The group of four staff members started up the stairs, and Will pulled the door closed, locking it behind him with the key and the passcode as per emergency lockdown protocol. Then, he turned back toward his ED. The back hallway was sparsely populated, but Will checked the closets and the supply room before getting to the first bank of exam rooms. He had cleared two of them when he came to the far end, where the ED connected via a walkway to the guest foyers. The foyers had been emptied and closed first, so Will was surprised when he saw a figure approaching from that direction.
He was even more surprised when he realized it was Dr. Dunst.
He recognized her, but he was struggling to figure out why she would be here. Now of all times.
Unless she didn’t trust him.
Unless he’d done it wrong.
Paralyzed by a sudden influx of self doubt, Will stood stock still while she approached. Her eyes were wide, and her face was set as she came up to the glass partition. “Dr. Halstead--”
He stepped closer, trying to shake himself out of his confusion. “Dr. Dunst? Is everything okay?”
“The evacuation,” she called over the barrier. Her voice was muffled but audible, even over the sounds of conflict still mounting outside. “Have you completed it?”
“Almost,” Will said. “All staff and patients are clear--”
“But you said almost--”
“The manual sweep,” Will said. “I have to double back, make sure no one was left behind.”
The answer, though entirely by the book, seemed to surprise her. “But there is no time,” she said. “Dr. Halstead, the ED has been breached.”
The sound of gunfire punctuated the air again. Still a few rooms over, but louder than before. Will felt a pang of adrenaline, but didn’t know what to do with it. “But if someone got left behind--”
She shook her head in short, rapid motions. “Do not be ridiculous--”
“Dr. Dunst, if someone gets left behind, that’s on me--”
“It’s on us,” she said, yielding no ground between them. The glass divided them, but her gaze was unrelenting. “I need you to evacuate now, so please, open the door.”
He looked back at her, feeling suddenly conflicted. His instincts, honed carefully over the last few months, were to obey, but policy was paramount -- especially now. “The ED has been breached; Dr. Dunst, I can’t.”
Her face turned tight, and she stared at him hard. “What are you talking about?”
There was yelling, and a few more gunshots. Will’s heart felt like it was thundering in his chest as his palms started to sweat. “Hospital policy,” he said. “We’re on lockdown. Opening the door is a security risk.”
“Not letting me in is a security risk!” Dr. Dunst yelled, all but screaming back at him. “Dr. Halstead, this is my hospital--”
He looked back, almost too numb to shudder at the encroaching sounds of violence. “But I can’t--”
“You must open the door,” Dr. Dunst said, gesturing angrily at the locked pane of glass between them.
“Dr. Dunst, I know the policy on this,” Will told her, and there was no hint of flippancy in his explanation. He looked back at her, wide-eyed and increasingly breathless. “The rules for a lockdown are explicit--”
Fuming, she shook her head and pounded on the barrier. “Dr. Halstead! I am chief of this hospital!”
“And you yourself tell me often that this hospital is more than any one person, that we can’t compromise our policy when it is convenient--”
The anger drew back, and Will saw something new and unexpected. There was fear in her eyes. It was quite possibly the first real emotion he’d seen from her. And it was more raw than he expected. “Please, Dr. Halstead. This hospital is my responsibility. I cannot leave it in the hands of terrorists, no matter what policy may dictate.”
The right thing wasn’t always the right thing. The wrong thing wasn’t always wrong. He’d been here before, on his first day at Med. He’d defined himself right then and there.
It was different this time.
He was different.
But sometimes the right thing was still the right thing.
Glancing around, Will made sure the coast was clear. Using his key, he used the manual locking system to disengage the door. It unlatched, and Will eased it open surreptitiously. Dr. Dunst slipped in with all due haste, and together, they closed it again, latching it and locking it.
She nodded at him. The expression was curt, but Will knew better now. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, come. We have much work to do.”
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
-o-
After two months into his tenure, Dr. Dunst summoned him to her office yet again. At first, he’d been skittish about being asked to see her, but she was so perfunctory and matter of fact about such things that it quickly became second nature. She used scheduled meetings to cover everything from weekly checkups about the ED to random questions about staffing or inventory. Her constant need for formal meetings to complete simple tasks had desensitized him to his anxiety, so when she said it was time for his first formal review, he almost didn’t know what to think.
He had never gotten the sense that she liked him, but he had been diligent in his work. He’d made sure he was above reproach, but he couldn’t pretend like that meant much. She had standards, and he couldn’t tell if he was meeting them or not.
Therefore, even though her tone was abrupt when she scheduled the meeting, he didn’t necessarily think that was indicative of a problem.
Except maybe it was.
Will fought hard against his natural impulses, but maybe it wasn’t enough. He put in more work, more hours, more effort than anyone else, but it might not make a difference. Adam had been soft on him, and that had made him too confident in his place here. He had promised to see Africa through to the end, but maybe this was how it ended. With a bad review and a rejected posting.
By the time he got to her office, he had worked himself into such emotion knots that he felt a little sick. She didn’t get up when he arrived, and she didn’t even look up as he sat down across from him. She muttered some kind of half hearted greeting, still buried in her paperwork, and Will sat, bouncing his knee anxiously, feeling sweat break out across his back and palms as he waited for what now seemed inevitable.
She finished the papers, spending a few seconds to double check her work. Then, she stacked the papers and set them neatly to the side. Taking off her glasses, she looked at Will with a bland expression.
“Dr. Halstead, it is customary to perform monthly performance reviews with my administrative level employees, including department heads like yourself,” she said. “This is part of my ongoing commitment to excellence within the hospital. As you have now completed two months of service as my ED Chief, a review is therefore warranted.”
Will was sweating worse now. He could feel his heart start to pound in his chest. Part of him wanted to speak, try to defend himself already, but his tongue wouldn’t work.
She reached to another pile, removing the file on top. She opened it up, and Will could tell immediately that it was his personnel file. It was filled with papers and a handful of handwritten notes. “I am quite thorough in my review of a department head, as you can surely understand,” she said. “I fully assess their leadership style, their interactions with patients and the overall adherence to policy. I am looking for good interpersonal relationships, impeccable skill with patients and a keen understanding of protocol.”
“Of course,” he said hollowly.
She looked at him over the file. “As you know, I had many doubts about you in this position,” she said. “You were not my first choice, and I did not see anything in your file that suggested why you were being promoted so quickly. Your history seems to leave out critical details regarding your comings and goings from different positions, and while Dr. Goshit and his colleagues hold you in high regard, I find the lack of earlier references to be questionable at best.”
Will thought he might actually be sick now. He considered excusing himself. Hell, he might just quit now and spare himself the utter indignity of what was about to come.
Dr. Dunst gathered herself, and her expression shifted. From critical to...surprised? From stern to...pleased?
“Dr. Halstead, I have to confess that my initial misgivings were incorrect,” she said. “You have performed at a high level during your tenure here, and I have seen a marked improvement in the last few weeks. Overall productivity in the ED has gone up substantially, and the reports suggest that both employees and patients are more satisfied than ever. I have gone over all your cases, all your staff arbiturations, all your policy decisions, and I cannot find fault. There are one or two instances where I may have taken a different tact, but you have not strayed from the policy in place.”
Will felt lightheaded now. He didn’t understand what she was saying.
“Even over the last few weeks, your work is better than ever,” she said. “I am curious to understand the improvement, because I do not believe it to be a fluke. There is a change in you that others have noticed, and I would be remiss not to see.”
Change. Improvement.
What was she talking about?
Was she talking about him?
“Dr. Halstead?” she asked, arching her eyebrows at him. “I am asking you a question.”
He startled, trying to get his mind back where it belonged. “I’m sorry. What?”
She looked put out having to repeat herself, but she bustled herself together and did it anyway. “What has changed to produce such a dramatic improvement in your work and performance?”
“You know, it’s funny, but I think it’s because of you,” he said.
Dr. Dunst drew her lips taut and narrowed her eyes.
Will followed up quickly. “I mean, after we talked last month, after the case with the DNR patient, I took your words to heart. I started to live a little more.”
This seemed to provoke thought in her, and she sat back. “Hm,” she said. “I assume you mean things like the recreational football team?”
This one caught Will off guard. “I didn’t even know you were aware.”
“I know everything in my hospital,” she said. “And I wanted to be sure that a hospital team didn’t violate protocol.”
“It’s not sponsored by the hospital, so the team didn’t need supervisory approval,” Will said. “I checked before I enrolled. Since we’re not playing for money and not using the hospital’s likeness in representing ourselves, you didn’t need to be bothered with it.”
Her jaw worked and she sat forward again. “Are you telling me that ED performance has been enhanced on the floor by a recreational football league?”
Will nodded, this time readily. “I mean, I’ve been following policy from the beginning. I’ve put in the hours, but this month, I don’t know. I started living.”
“And the whole ED came to life with you,” she mused. She made a little frown of curiosity, then seemed to shrug. “Very well. It is an effective approach, and I encourage you to continue with your work so far.”
Will knew Dr. Dunst well enough now to know that that was that. She didn’t need to pontificate. She had no need for extra words when she had said her sufficient piece.
Will had survived a formal review.
He should leave well enough alone.
But, poised on the edge of his seat, he looked at Dr. Dunst again, and he could not stop himself from asking, “What about you, Dr. Dunst?”
She had already put his file away and was reaching for her paperwork again. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked, distracted.
“How are you doing?” he repeated, a little more certainly now.
She stopped what she was doing, looking at him skeptically. “That is not a relevant question, Dr. Halstead, nor is it within the purview of our scheduled task.”
“I know,” Will assured her. “And I’m not trying to be impertinent. But it’s just -- you’re part of this hospital, too.”
“I am the one in charge,” she said, looking at him with a renewed sternness. “It is my responsibility to assess the well being of others in my care.”
“Sure, and we all respect you for it,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be a part of things, does it? I thought I could keep myself separate, too, but letting other people in has been better for the hospital -- and better for everyone around me.”
It was a logic she clearly did not take to at all. “There are strict protocols about fraternization, and as the leader of this hospital, I am discouraged from showing special treatment or developing any privileged relationship.”
He nodded along, because he knew those rules, too. He knew them, and he knew their context was important but not encompassing. “I’m just talking about coming out for one drink,” he said. “Or just come to a single game. The finals are next week.”
She drew herself up, clearly flustered. “That is a...thoughtful offer, Dr. Halstead. But I am afraid it is quite impossible.”
With intention, Dr. Dunst buried herself in her work once more. “I understand, but I just wanted to return the favor,” he explained. “I mean, this all happened at your suggestion. I wasn’t about to open myself up, but -- here I am.”
She looked up again, clearly hesitating. “Yes, here you are,” she said softly. Then, she picked up her glasses and nodded at him curtly. “And now you may leave. Keep up the good work, Dr. Halstead.”
She had made her intentions and her limits clear. Will got up, offering up a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Dr. Dunst. For everything.”
Saying nothing, she buried herself in work once more as Will saw himself out.
-o-
A week later, Will’s rec soccer team played in the league championships. Despite his atrocious skills in the backfield, they eked out the victory. Will’s salary was nothing to write home about, but he bought everyone a round of drinks anyway to celebrate afterward. The celebration was raucous and bawdy, and a few people got drunk and there was a lot of off-key singing involved. Will made sure everyone got home safe before getting back to his own apartment late into the night.
Still, he laid awake for awhile, staring at the ceiling. He tried to remember this feeling. He tried to hold onto it.
A lot of things he hadn’t really earned in his life, but this one, he decided before he drifted off to sleep, maybe he did.
-o-
The next day at work, Will did his best to keep everyone on task. The team was still glowing from their victory, and word had gotten around fast. Spirits were high, and Will took great pains to make sure that enthusiasm was channeled back into patient care.
You could call him a buzzkill.
Or you could call him a brilliant opportunist.
Or you could just see him as a guy desperate to win the approval of everyone.
When Dr. Dunst stopped by the ED, as was her custom once a day, she watched the operation with her typical expression of trained indifference. Will stood by her anxiously, waiting for her pronouncement. To his surprise, she didn’t comment on the convivial atmosphere or the surreptitious high fives at the desk. Instead, she turned to him.
“I believe congratulations are in order.”
Will stared at her, blank for a second. “I’m sorry, what?”
She inhaled and flattened her lips. “Congratulations,” she repeated. “On winning the recreational tournament. I understand the ED team had unprecedented success.”
“Oh,” he said. “Yeah. I hope they haven’t been distracting about it. They’ve just been so excited.”
“Understandably, and no, they have not been distracting,” she said. “I actually heard about the performance from a colleague. She was quite enthusiastic about the gameplay. As I am not a fan of the sport, I had little commentary to offer, but she had high praise for the team’s unity and effort. I believe you are responsible for both, are you not, Dr. Halstead?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I just organized the league and showed up.”
“Yes,” she said with a slow nod. “Yes, I suppose you did.”
She left the evaluation at that, and Will knew it wasn’t much, but somehow, it kind of felt like everything.
For him, sure.
But for Dr. Dunst as well.
They all had to start somewhere.
-o-
Beginnings, though, were fraught with endings. Every good thing -- no matter how good, how promising, how pure -- had to end eventually. Sometimes, sooner. Sometimes, later.
Sometimes now.
This could happen simply and amicably.
However, when Will was involved, it was far more chaotic.
Beginnings you got to pick.
But endings?
You just had to survive.
And that, as it turned out, was sometimes easier said than done.
-o-
When Will had been working with Adam, there was always talk of something. Political unrest had been the norm, and the jockeying of position by different gangs led to a perpetual state of moderate instability.
Here, the city had always been more stable. Will had perhaps come to take it for granted, so when Dr. Dunst called for an unplanned meeting of department heads, Will had no reason to suspect anything was particularly amiss.
And why would it be? The hospital was operating at peak capacity. Will had improved ED performance. Dr. Dunst seemed pleased with his work. Hell, even Jay had no objections to his current work situation except that it was so damn far away from Chicago. He hadn’t been texting Will screenshots of articles that caused him concern, and everything was fine.
No, everything was more than fine.
Everything was good.
Was it good?
Was Will allowed to think it was good?
Had he finally gotten to the point where he was entitled that kind of solace?
It was no matter.
As it turned out, it wasn’t meant to last.
Dr. Dunst, at least, was to the point about it. When the department heads were organized her the conference room, she shut the door, pulled the blinds and pursed her lips at them. Then, without any attempt to soften the blow, she said, “I am sorry to announce that we must close the hospital today and mount a full scale evacuation via the primary protocol. This needs to be completed calmly and without panic, and it must be completed before noon.”
She said it so plainly that no one knew what to say. Will had been expecting an emergency budget meeting -- Dr. Dunst was keen on those -- or a last-minute case review to highlight the need for continual efficiency management.
But this?
An evacuation?
Will wasn’t the only one completely confused. Next to him, the head of pediatrics look confused. “Is this a drill?”
“No,” she said, and she paused to adjust her glasses. “This is an official evacuation, and it has been sanction by myself, the board and all local authorities.”
“Local authorities,” the head of cardiology repeated. “So is this more than a hospital issue?”
Dr. Dunst bobbed her head neatly. “Yes. A full evacuation of the area is set to begin shortly. As a large public provider, we have been notified before the public announcement is made for this district.”
“But why?” the orthopedics chief asked. “What’s going on?”
The rest of the group started to titter, their own concerns brimming over. Will sat anxiously on the edge of his seat, not trusting himself to move or speak. He was used to impending disaster, at least. And he knew better than to pretend like he could predict it or waylay it.
Everyone here was going to ask, how did this happen?
Will was struck with the reality: of course this was happening.
The only comfort he had, perhaps, was at least this one wasn’t his fault.
“What I am about to tell you is not to be public knowledge yet, please,” Dr. Dunst said. She straightened her hair and inhaled through her nose, nostrils flaring. “But in recent weeks, a terrorist cell has been gaining power in one of the neighboring cities. There have been increasing signs that they plan to make a strike, and the city officials have been quietly preparing for every possibility. As of this morning, there is clear evidence that the group is on the move. Based on prior intelligence, they do not have the means to take the city, much less the state, but the hope is to hit several soft targets within the area.”
To her credit, Dr. Dunst was incredibly direct. Will had to appreciate that. He was probably the only one, though. Everyone else seemed to be thrown into a state of disarray. Everyone started talking at once, asking questions. Someone cried. Another person got up to leave. A few were texting on their phones, presumably to contact their loved ones.
The sudden chaos seemed to frustrate Dr. Dunst. It was, after all, the very thing she had requested again. “Please, you must stay calm. You have been told this information because you are leaders, and as leaders, you are responsible for the people beneath you. If you do not think you can sit and listen to what has to be done, then I will dismiss you now, and you are to go home without talking to anyone. Do I make myself clear?”
It was invariably clear. Will sat back, the tension starting to gather in the pit of his stomach. Around him, his colleagues grew silent once more, turning anxious eyes back on Dr. Dunst.
At the front of the room, Dr. Dunst drew herself up once more. “Very good, then,” she said, even as she glared them all down one more time for good measure. “This will all soon be public knowledge. There have been reports of skirmishes rapidly approaching the area of the hospital. While there is no clear sign that the hospital is indeed the target, the logic seems to be a matter of course. This is the vicinity they have chosen. There are no other high level targets that would be as appealing.”
“Then why haven’t we left already?” someone asked, and Will didn’t turn to see. It sounded like the chief from oncology. “If it is as bad as you say, then this is a waste of time.”
“A necessary waste,” Dr. Dunst said. “The government has decided, and I agree with them, that issuing a large scale signal for evacuation would cause panic. It would clog resources and possibly lead to more risks than it saves. Instead, we want to issue evacuation orders in a more systematic way. I have worked out a clear escape route with the city officials that allows us to clear patients out their the mezzanine and into temporary safe areas. Some will be allowed to exit the district for safer havens. Our goal, however, is to simply make sure our patients and staff are properly evacuated.”
To this, Will finally had a contribution to make. “Obviously, the first goal is to discharge anyone we can,” he said, knowing this too well from experience. “But we have a large ICU, and the ED is full this morning. The number of critical patients is going to slow us down.”
She looked pleased that he had something relevant to say. “Yes, I have already been in touch with the ambulance providers. Other hospitals in the area are preemptively reducing their ED loads today, taking in only the most critical care patients. This allows us to transfer our critical patients via ambulance to the best hospital transfers. Arranging those transfers will take time, and I do intend to leave that to the discretion of each department head. The key is to do this without a haphazard approach. We should not cause more harm than we are trying to avoid.”
Will was nodding along, even if he was the only one. “Critical patients wouldn’t be able to go through the mezzanine, though.”
“Excellent point, Dr. Halstead,” Dr. Dunst said, and she was gaining confidence now. “I will contact city officials again and see if we can still secure ambulance access to the front of the hospital. That will alleviate the stress for many patients without increasing the relative risk structure of the evacuation.”
“And do we have a checkpoint system?” Will asked. “We need people on point to track every patient and every staff member that leaves the hospital. I assume we want to start reducing staff inside the building as well, having them clock out for the day.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I was going to leave that to be another discretionary decision. Each department should systematically reduce the amount of staff on hand as patients are discharged. But you are correct that we should have a system to sign out staff so no one gets lost in the shuffle.”
The back and forth was natural and dynamic, and although the stakes had not lowered, their pragmatic approach seemed to be gaining traction. A row ahead of him, the head of neurology raised her hand. “We will need to stay connected from each department. We have to have separate routes in advance or we will clog up passageways, even with an orderly approach.”
“That point is well taken,” Dr. Dunst said. “I assume each of you still knows the fire escape procedures. Those procedures should be adequate in this case as well since they spread out systematic escape routes for each department.”
“Will we still have elevator access?” the ENT chief asked. “Maybe not for stable patients, but for those who are critical or in need of additional support, it would be helpful, unless they are a risk.”
“As of now, they are not,” Dr. Dunst said. “Electricity will continue to operate on the grid unless something should happen. There is no guarantee that cellular coverage should continue to be accessible, and if this district is breached as expected, you can expect communications to be shut down by the authorities. It is a tactic to help control the terrorists’ movements.”
“And how long do we have?” Will asked. “Not approximately. But precisely. We’re going to have to scale our responses pretty carefully to move that many patients and staff out.”
“Two hours,” she replied, and her voice didn’t waver. Not even as she added a clarification. “That is all the time the police will guarantee us before this district is deemed unsafe. You amy all take that as the motivation you will. Clearly, time is of the essence. If you have further concerns, you are free to contact me personally for as long as communications remain available. Otherwise, I am trusting you to be the critical information touchpoints in the hospital. Please, go, and make sure your people are safe.”
It was a lot, really. Dr. Dunst was asking them to do the impossible, but she had picked the best staff, and she had trained them well. This was their moment to prove themselves. Their moment to rise.
Will, for once, recognized the moment for what it was. He grasped the potential -- for success and for failure. And, although there was some part of him that was scared, he could not shirk the responsibility. The fear of dying was there, maybe. For now, however, the fear of failure was more pressing.
He was already going over his own procedure in his head, thinking about the best order of operations and how he wanted to divvy up his ED staff. He was getting up to file out, but as the crowd dispersed, Dr. Dunst looked at him. “Dr. Halstead,” she said. “If you could please stay back for a moment.”
Will complied, nodding to a few of his colleagues as they anxiously left back to their floors. When the last one had left, Dr. Dunst drew a long, slow breath. “I’m sure it has not escaped your notice that, as chief of the ED, you are responsible for the first floor of this facility.”
Will nodded, matter of fact. “Sure,” he said. “I guess.”
She shook her head, looking grave. “You cannot guess. This is a responsibility that you need to understand fully.”
He knitted his brows for a moment, not sure why she was making this point to him specifically. “I know I’m in charge of the ED.”
“Not the ED, Dr. Halstead,” she said. “This entire hospital. The ED is the gateway to every department we have. It is our first line of defense, and that can no longer be a metaphorical phrasing. When the attack comes, as I am told it will, the ED will be hit first. Do you understand the implications?”
Will rocked back on his heels, taking the fullness of the threat in for the first time. He’d known, of course. Logically, it was impossible to miss. And after what had happened at the last hospital, the gravity of it was easy to visualize.
But this wasn’t some local gang. Will wasn’t going to negotiate his way out of it. If the evacuation didn’t succeed, the body count would be high -- and the damage to the hospital would be significant. That was on Will, then.
Dr. Dunst was putting it on him.
“If we lose one patient in this hospital, it will be your fault. If I lose one staff member, I will trace it back to your deployment of the rules,” she said firmly. “We cannot evacuate the rest of the hospital until your ED is in order. If you cannot or will not bear this responsibility, you need to tell me right now. Accept my terms now, or you can evacuate yourself immediately from this building and from my employment.”
An ultimatum, then. There was a small, rational part of Will’s brain that told him the offer was crazy. That it was an unfair, unreasonable burden that was likely to get him killed instead of fired. Jay would tell him to run as fast as he could from this situation, but Jay was half a world away in Chicago. And Will had come here to do one thing, and one thing only: the job.
He had come to do the job.
Any job.
This job.
He felt surprisingly calm about it now. The butterflies from earlier had settled in his stomach, and the fortitude was expanding in his chest now. “I accept.”
She smiled, and though the gesture was grim, Will could read the sincerity in her eyes. “I figured as much,” she said. Then, her face sobered once more. “Don’t make me regret trusting you with this.”
“I promise,” he said. “You won’t.”
-o-
So, in his free time, Will had read the entire hospital policy manual. He had read the specific guidelines governing the ED at least three additional times, and he had more or less forced himself to become a repository for all the correct and appropriate actions. He had done this because it was, quite simply, the right thing to do. As chief of the ED, it was his responsibility. Also, he had always been vaguely frightened that Dr. Dunst would follow through on her threat to fire him, and he was pretty sure that getting fired again so soon would utterly destroy him.
Belatedly, as he made his way back down to the ED, he wondered if his fears had possibly been misplaced.
As there was a terrorist group heading this way, literal destruction suddenly seemed like a much more pressing matter.
Therefore, he could take out two birds with the same stone. Those birds were pretty damn big, and Will wasn’t sure that perfect adherence to policy was the perfect stone, but that was all he had right now.
Just hospital policy.
And a jammed packed ED in front of a crowded hospital, and it was up to him to make sure that everyone got out safely.
No big deal.
He could totally do this.
And if he couldn’t, then he was banking on being too dead to fire.
That wasn’t exactly optimism in the classic sense, but beggars couldn’t be choosers right now. Especially not Will.
Back in the ED, Will wasted no time. He wanted to text Jay to give him some update, but people were already coming at him with the things they’d heard. Apparently, the unplanned meeting had raised a few concerns -- and reports were apparently popping up on social media that something was going down. Rumors were already spreading rapidly, so Will couldn’t take the moment for himself -- not with this much at stake and this much responsibility on his shoulders.
Fortunately, with the heightening sense of anxiety, it wasn’t hard to gather everyone together.
“Okay, so we’re just going to get right to the point,” he said, glancing over his people with a wince of sympathy. “I know the rumors are probably going crazy by this point, and there’s a lot of stuff floating around. I don’t know for sure how much is true and how much is BS, but what I do know is that the action is moving this way, and it is our policy to move out.”
The room tittered with a few people gasping. A few of them actually looked ready to leave, and Will quickly raised his voice and kept going.
“The police have been tracking the movement of the cells very carefully, so they’re not right on our doorstep yet,” he said. “That gives us the time to do this safely and responsibly.”
A few people were on their phones. Someone had started to cry.
Will endeavored to stay calm. The only thing keeping this ED together was going to be his poise and decisive ability. He had failed a lot of people before, but he could fail them now.
“It’s scary and stressful -- I know that -- but we do have policies in place for just this,” Will said, trying to make a full scale evacuation in the face of a terrorist takeover sound normal. “We’re still doing what we’ve always done: saving lives.”
It was the right thing to say, but the response was still tenuous, as the ED staff seemed to wait with bated breaths for whatever came next. Will’s decisions here mattered -- more than they ever had in his life. He could either fall apart or rise to the challenge -- and take the ED and the rest of the hospital with him.
“Okay, Emily, Dune -- I want you to split the nursing staff in half. Half of you are in charge of critical patients and the other half will take anyone who can walk,” Will said, rattling off the orders quickly now. “And I do mean, anyone who can walk. If they’re stable and mobile with assistance, then they count. We need to get them upstairs to the third level mezzanine. Security should have a mobilized checkpoint there by the time you get up. From there, you follow the guidelines to the predetermined evacuation safe sites and wait for further word. If patients want to leave, they all have to sign the waivers, and no staff is permitted to leave until officially cleared by hospital administration.”
The staff nodded, and one of his attendings piped in. “What about the critical patients? We have several who still need medical care.”
“I want a firm count on that as soon as possible,” Will said. “Policy dictates that we obtain transfers for those patients. We should still have ambulance access in the medical bay, but we’ll run out. We need to double up as much as we can. I want one doctor to ride with each ambulance or other emergency vehicle until critical patients are also clear.”
“We still will have staffing chaos,” Emily said. As head nurse, she looked concerned.
“Understood,” Will said. “I need half the nursing staff to stay behind and help with transfers and shutting things down. As soon as patients are cleared, the remaining staff should evacuate via the mezzanine as well. I want to minimize action in the ambulance bay as much as possible, that means no one goes out -- not to your cars, not for anything. Remember, we are all on duty right now. There are safe zones in the evacuation plan that will be secured until military or police backup can get us farther away from the conflict zone.”
All the times he’d read these procedures, and they had seemed surreal. Even after surviving the previous attack, he wasn’t improvising this time. This time, he couldn’t make it up as he went along. This time, he had to stick to the plan.
And hope to hell that saved lives.
Another attending looked anxious -- terrified -- but trying her best not to show it. “These procedures -- how confident are we?” she asked. She flitted her hand through the air. “If the forces are as strong as they say, then how will the mezzanine stay secure? How will the safe zones protect us?”
“I understand the anxiety, I really do,” Will said. “But these policies have been written for a reason. The hospital is an obvious target for the terrorists, which is why we have multiple high level exits to pursue. Fortunately, the hospital is the only high level target in the area. The building next door is connected to a network of buildings throughout the city, many of which have air pads and subway access. We are working with local police forces to make sure we have the safest way out. We just have to be patient and follow the orders.”
One of the residents looked even less convinced. “But what if it doesn’t work? Dr. Halstead, I really didn’t come all this way to die--”
“Hey,” Will said, cutting her off before her hysteria could build. “I don’t intend on letting anyone die today if it’s up to me. You know me. I’m the first one in, last one out. We came here to save lives, and we have to do that job now more than ever. I have gotten to know you -- all of you -- over the last few months. This is the most impressive ED I’ve ever worked in. I believe in each and every one of you. We can do this. Together. We will do this.”
Will had never fancied himself as one for big inspirational speeches. In fact, the more he reflected on it, he’d been in no position to play leader at all back in Chicago. He hadn’t been ready, not in the slightest.
Because in order to give orders, you had to follow them first. It was a nuance he’d never understood, and he’d come to learn it the hard way.
The Chicago Med ED was impressive, to say the least.
But this ED?
This was his ED.
He had set the tone. He had defined it.
Maybe it was time to trust that, now. For once, he thought he might have finally earned it.
He looked around the room, at each nurse, each doctor, each support staff member. They believed in him. They trusted him. They were ready to follow him.
Will was finally ready to lead.
“Okay,” he said. “If there are no more questions, then let’s do this thing.”
-o-
The risks were real. The doubts were prescient. The margin for error was nil. Will had to chart a course on the precisely straight and narrow. He couldn’t stray; he couldn’t flinch. Months of training and preparation had got him to this point, and he had to hope it would be enough.
That he would be enough.
People would die if he wasn’t.
So, you know, no pressure
But Will was good under pressure. Honestly, he always had been. While he was prone to absolute stupidity during good times, his decision making in critical moments was usually pretty on point. And now, after months of honing his understanding of hospital policy and protocol, he was more than ready to execute.
It wasn’t hard to move the non-critical patients out. When possible, he sent them to units upstairs to expedite the discharge process through the indicated alternative channels. As he cleared out patient rooms, he sent select numbers of staff upstairs with them to oversee the process, giving them directions to stay with their patient allotment. When cleared, the staff members could formally sign out for the day.
Clearing the waiting room was a little harder, and he encouraged patients with likely minor injuries and illnesses to simply leave before even checking in. He still directed them upstairs via the public access system. Although security was in place to create a checkpoint in and out, people who were not staff or patients were still allowed to leave freely of their own accord.
The hardest part was dealing with patients who could not be released. It had been a busy day in the ED so far; they were close to capacity. The upstairs units were quickly rejecting new patients, and Will got on the phone quickly to negotiate transfers. The ED was closed to new traffic, but he got permission from security, as per protocol, to have ambulance transfers approved.
As the patients thinned out, Will progressively sent more and more staff members home. Soon, all nonessential staff were gone. He had his last two attendings go upstairs to see if the other wards needed help, and he talked to his charge nurse to see how the process was going.
Per the report, things were going surprisingly well. The evacuation was proceeding so calm and orderly that it hardly felt like an emergency at all. As a measure of goodwill, he called the other department heads to ensure that they were also handling things well, and he was just double checking that things were in order when the line cut out with a burst or static.
He looked at his phone as it whined, and he barely had time to speculate what was wrong when the first explosion rocked the ED.
It was enough to rattled the walls, and Will barely had time to catch himself against the wall. There were just a handful of people left on his floor, and he saw two of them hit the ground. He could hear yelling from the front of the ED, and he saw another pair of staff members come running back toward him.
“Duck! Duck!” one of them screamed, flying past him and going low behind the desk.
Will glanced back just in time to see the flash. The light blinded him for a moment before he heard the bang. He scarcely felt it, even as he was knocked through the air with a concussive force that stole the breath straight out of his lungs.
He hit the wall hard and crumpled down. For a moment, his vision went white and his ears rang. He couldn’t think; he couldn’t see; he couldn’t breathe; he--
With a gasp, air filled his lungs. A thousand sensations flooded him at once, and he was too dazed to make sense of them. The world was disconnected somehow, like he was seeing and hearing things underwater. It was tempting to follow the light as it descended to darkness, but there was some small, rational part of his mind that remembered: this wasn’t over yet.
He had to see it through.
Why don’t you see something through for once?
Forcibly, he blinked, and then blinked again. With another inhale, the world shifted back into focus, and he realized that he was conscious -- and alive, for what that was worth.
Looking down, he found himself sprawled on the ground against the wall. He was covered with dust and small debris, but he seemed relatively uninjured. His head was pounding, but when he reached up, there wasn’t much blood. Sitting up cautiously, he found that he wasn’t dizzy, and after swallowing, his ears popped and his hearing came back into check.
That was the bright side.
The downside was that Will was okay, but the situation was rapidly deteriorating. He was already on his feet by the time he realized that standing might not be the best course of action. He could hear the gunfire coming from the front of the building, and while the barrier at the ED doors was holding, the activity beyond suggested it might not last.
The fight had made its way here. Will was officially out of time.
He had promised Dr. Dunst he would do this, and he’d told his brother he’d get back to him alive if at all possible. The possibilities were decreasing, Will knew, but they weren’t gone yet. To keep his promise to Jay -- and his promise to Dr. Dunst -- he needed to get his act together now.
Starting with clearing the ED. It had been a job mostly well done, but there were still four staff members left. The pair nearby were still on the floor, huddled beneath a fallen portion of a ceiling tile. Will went to them, clearing it away. “Are you okay?” he asked.
One of them was crying. The other nodded, “I think so!”
“Then, we’ve got to get up, we’ve got to move,” Will said.
“But the gunfire--”
“I know,” Will said. “Trust me, I do. But if you want to stay safe, you have got to get out of here. This ED will be breached by someone, and I don’t think any of us want to be here for that.”
The second one nodded, getting shakily to his feet. He offered his hand to the other, who followed with a lot less certainty.
Will gave them a quick once over, but determined they were both mobile. That meant they both had to get the hell out before something worse happened. “There are still two other staff members down here,” Will said. “Have you seen them?”
The second shook his head, but the other nodded. “They ran that way,” she said, pointing to one of the exam rooms.
“Come on,” Will said, ushering them in that direction. He was mindful of the windows, but the gunfire remained distant enough for the time being. Will knew he had to pick up the pace. “Hey! Hello?”
He pushed open the door, which was caught on some of the debris that had been blown around in the blast. One of the windows to the room was cracked, and the room’s contents were in disarray as the electricity started to flicker. He found the two staff members, one sprawled on the ground, the other checking him over.
“He’s just hit his head,” she reported, checking his eyes with a penlight. She reached down, rubbing his sternum. “Brian?”
Brian, the other staff member, stirred. Efficiently, she helped him sit up while the other two cowered behind Will in the doorway.
“As much as I would love to do a full workup on all of you, this isn’t the time or place,” he said. “Can you all walk?”
Helping Brian up, the female attending nodded. “I’m fine. And I can get Brian up the stairs. That is the protocol, right? Follow the evacuation route up to the mezzanine?”
“The checkpoint should still be open,” Will said. “The ED hasn’t officially been cleared, so they should be waiting for us as long as they can.”
“Then, your policy stands, Dr. Halstead,” she said, already shouldering Brian’s weight as he came to a little more clearly. “Lead the way. We’ll follow.”
It was a trust Will still felt strange with, but he couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t earned it. Day in, day out, he was involved with every part of this ED. He had made them a family, in the end. And family stuck with each other no matter what.
That was another thing Jay had taught him.
Jay was going to be so pissed when he found out about this.
All the more reason to follow his own damn protocols and get out. This whole seeing things through? Well, he’d done that. He’d seen it through. And this? Right here? Right now? Was absolutely the end.
Moving quickly, Will was relieved to get out of the main area and as far away from the gunfire still erupting in the streets. It was hard to tell from the back and forth exchanges what was happening -- he was a doctor, not a cop or soldier like Jay -- but from an outsider’s perspective, he felt it was safe to conclude that things were bad.
Gunfire, in his line of work, never turned out good, so a lot of gunfire? Right outside? Seemed very, very bad.
Will had done a thorough job in clearing the rest of the ED, so navigating was easy at this point. They made fast time to the back stairwell, and Will held the door open to let them through. When they were safely through the threshold, he hesitated before he followed.
He’d cleared the ED.
He’d locked down all other exits.
He’d gone through the whole list of protocol.
Except.
He closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Get upstairs and do not look back,” he said. “I am locking down this exit, so there’s nowhere for you to come down here anyway.”
“But what about you?” the attending asked. “I thought policy was for everyone to leave.”
“It is,” Will said. “But I’m the chief. I have to doublecheck to make sure no one is left behind. The final sweep is the last step.”
One of the nurses looked incredulous as she cradled her bruised wrist. “That’s stupid. You have to leave now.”
“We did a thorough job, Dr. Halstead,” the other said. “I’m sure you can leave.”
Will couldn’t, though. He couldn’t leave in good conscience unless he took his time to do it right. No more cutting corners. He couldn’t do the convenient thing. He had to do the right thing, even when it was hard, even when he hated it. Even when Jay would chew him out for being so reckless.
“I have to do this,” Will said, shaking his head once more. “You go, and don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”
It was a promise they had no choice but to trust. It was a promise that Will could only hope was true.
The group of four staff members started up the stairs, and Will pulled the door closed, locking it behind him with the key and the passcode as per emergency lockdown protocol. Then, he turned back toward his ED. The back hallway was sparsely populated, but Will checked the closets and the supply room before getting to the first bank of exam rooms. He had cleared two of them when he came to the far end, where the ED connected via a walkway to the guest foyers. The foyers had been emptied and closed first, so Will was surprised when he saw a figure approaching from that direction.
He was even more surprised when he realized it was Dr. Dunst.
He recognized her, but he was struggling to figure out why she would be here. Now of all times.
Unless she didn’t trust him.
Unless he’d done it wrong.
Paralyzed by a sudden influx of self doubt, Will stood stock still while she approached. Her eyes were wide, and her face was set as she came up to the glass partition. “Dr. Halstead--”
He stepped closer, trying to shake himself out of his confusion. “Dr. Dunst? Is everything okay?”
“The evacuation,” she called over the barrier. Her voice was muffled but audible, even over the sounds of conflict still mounting outside. “Have you completed it?”
“Almost,” Will said. “All staff and patients are clear--”
“But you said almost--”
“The manual sweep,” Will said. “I have to double back, make sure no one was left behind.”
The answer, though entirely by the book, seemed to surprise her. “But there is no time,” she said. “Dr. Halstead, the ED has been breached.”
The sound of gunfire punctuated the air again. Still a few rooms over, but louder than before. Will felt a pang of adrenaline, but didn’t know what to do with it. “But if someone got left behind--”
She shook her head in short, rapid motions. “Do not be ridiculous--”
“Dr. Dunst, if someone gets left behind, that’s on me--”
“It’s on us,” she said, yielding no ground between them. The glass divided them, but her gaze was unrelenting. “I need you to evacuate now, so please, open the door.”
He looked back at her, feeling suddenly conflicted. His instincts, honed carefully over the last few months, were to obey, but policy was paramount -- especially now. “The ED has been breached; Dr. Dunst, I can’t.”
Her face turned tight, and she stared at him hard. “What are you talking about?”
There was yelling, and a few more gunshots. Will’s heart felt like it was thundering in his chest as his palms started to sweat. “Hospital policy,” he said. “We’re on lockdown. Opening the door is a security risk.”
“Not letting me in is a security risk!” Dr. Dunst yelled, all but screaming back at him. “Dr. Halstead, this is my hospital--”
He looked back, almost too numb to shudder at the encroaching sounds of violence. “But I can’t--”
“You must open the door,” Dr. Dunst said, gesturing angrily at the locked pane of glass between them.
“Dr. Dunst, I know the policy on this,” Will told her, and there was no hint of flippancy in his explanation. He looked back at her, wide-eyed and increasingly breathless. “The rules for a lockdown are explicit--”
Fuming, she shook her head and pounded on the barrier. “Dr. Halstead! I am chief of this hospital!”
“And you yourself tell me often that this hospital is more than any one person, that we can’t compromise our policy when it is convenient--”
The anger drew back, and Will saw something new and unexpected. There was fear in her eyes. It was quite possibly the first real emotion he’d seen from her. And it was more raw than he expected. “Please, Dr. Halstead. This hospital is my responsibility. I cannot leave it in the hands of terrorists, no matter what policy may dictate.”
The right thing wasn’t always the right thing. The wrong thing wasn’t always wrong. He’d been here before, on his first day at Med. He’d defined himself right then and there.
It was different this time.
He was different.
But sometimes the right thing was still the right thing.
Glancing around, Will made sure the coast was clear. Using his key, he used the manual locking system to disengage the door. It unlatched, and Will eased it open surreptitiously. Dr. Dunst slipped in with all due haste, and together, they closed it again, latching it and locking it.
She nodded at him. The expression was curt, but Will knew better now. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, come. We have much work to do.”