Chapter 3 - The Midnight Escape
"I’m not giving you my gun, Captain," Daniel said, his voice deadly calm.
In a fraction of a second, Daniel’s training kicked in. He didn't draw his weapon; instead, he grabbed the heavy metal IV stand beside Emily’s bed and swung it with maximum force across the room. The metal pole struck the two detectives, knocking them backward into the hallway in a tangle of limbs and shattered glass.
Daniel lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into Captain Vance’s chest, driving him against the wall. Before the captain could recover, Daniel pulled Vance’s own handcuffs from his belt, dragged him over to the heavy radiator pipes near the window, and clicked the steel cuffs tightly around his wrists.
"Torres, you’re dead!" Vance screamed, his face turning purple with rage. "You’re a dead man walking! You can't run from Kane! He owns this city!"
"He doesn't own me," Daniel growled.
He spun around to Emily. "We have to go. Right now. They aren't going to wait for a power failure; they’re going to kill us right here."
Despite her immense pain, maternal adrenaline surged through Emily’s veins. She threw off her blankets, her legs trembling as she stood up. Daniel supported her weight, helping her slip into a hospital gown and a pair of surgical scrubs from a nearby cart. But as they neared the door, Emily grabbed his arm, her grip desperate.
"My baby! Daniel, I am not leaving this hospital without my son!"
"We’re getting him," Daniel promised.
They slipped out into the chaotic hallway, bypassing the main elevators and taking the service stairs down to the third-floor Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. The hospital was quiet at midnight, the corridors lit by low, blue night-lights. When they reached the NICU, Daniel found a young nurse, Sarah Jenkins, checking the incubators. When she saw Emily’s bleeding temple and Daniel’s drawn weapon, she gasped.
"Please," Emily sobbed, falling against the plastic desk. "They’re trying to kill us. They’re coming for my baby. Help me save him."
Nurse Jenkins looked at Emily’s desperate eyes, then at the police badge on Daniel’s belt. She didn't ask questions. She ran to Incubator Seven, where a tiny, beautiful baby boy was breathing with the help of a small oxygen mask. She carefully unhooked the monitors, wrapped the infant in three layers of thermal blankets, and placed him into a portable, battery-powered medical transport bassinet.
"He needs oxygen within two hours," Nurse Jenkins said, her hands shaking but her voice resolute. "There’s a backup valve on the side of this transport case. Take my car keys. It’s a silver civic parked in the doctor’s secure underground lot. Go through the laundry chute exit on this floor; it leads directly to the basement loading dock."
"Thank you," Daniel said, taking the keys.
As they reached the basement loading dock, the hospital's lights suddenly flickered once, twice, and then died completely. The backup generators groaned, plunging the facility into an eerie, dim red emergency lighting grid. Marcus had pulled the plug.
Daniel pushed the heavy steel exit doors open, guiding Emily and the bassinet into the freezing rain. Just fifty yards away, three black SUVs slammed their brakes, their headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating Daniel and Emily. The doors opened, and four men in civilian clothes carrying suppressed submachine guns stepped out.
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"Get in the car!" Daniel yelled, shoving Emily into the passenger seat of the silver Civic and tossing the bassinet into the back.
He jumped into the driver’s seat, slammed the car into reverse, and floored the accelerator just as a hail of silent, high-velocity bullets shattered the rear windshield. The tires screamed against the wet asphalt as Daniel spun the car around, bursting through the parking garage exit gate and vanishing into the rainy labyrinth of the city streets.
