The ambulance roars down the road—VROOOOM—engine straining like it's being pushed past what it was built for. The city has thinned behind us, replaced by long stretches of concrete and dim streetlights that flash overhead—THUMP… THUMP… THUMP—each one marking time I'm not sure we have.
"His pressure's crashing," Paramedic 1 says sharply, fingers flying over the monitor—BEEP-BEEP-BEEP too fast now, too erratic.
"What does that mean?" I demand, already knowing I won't like the answer.
"It means his body's giving up," Paramedic 2 replies bluntly. "We need to stop."
"We can't stop," the driver snaps. "They're still behind us."
As if on cue, headlights flare in the rear window—FLASH—too close, too deliberate.
My stomach drops. "They're gaining."
Serafin groans—HNNG—his body tensing beneath the straps.
"Hey," I say urgently, cupping his face. "Stay with me. Look at me."
His eyelids flutter. "Hard… to breathe."
"I know," I whisper. "I know. Just don't let go."
The monitor emits a sharp warning tone—BEEEEEP—and Paramedic 1 swears.
"I'm pushing another dose," he says, jabbing the IV—HISS.
The ambulance swerves again—SCREEECH—and I slam my shoulder into the wall.
"Tunnel ahead," the driver shouts. "Once we're in, comms might drop."
"Do it," Paramedic 2 says. "They'll lose signal."
I don't like the sound of that. "And us?"
"We'll lose them too," he replies grimly.
The tunnel mouth looms ahead, a dark gash in the concrete—WHOOMP—and then we're inside.
Sound changes instantly. The engine echoes—ROOOOAR—amplified, distorted. The sirens outside bounce off the walls—WEE-OOO… WEE-OOO—blurring into something almost unreal.
The radio crackles violently—STATIC STATIC—then cuts out completely.
"Shit," the driver mutters.
The lights flicker—FLICK—FLICK—and my heart stutters with them.
Serafin's breathing turns shallow, each breath a struggle—HAAH… HAAH.
"Serafin," I say, panic bleeding into my voice. "You need to stay awake."
He shakes his head weakly. "Can't."
"Yes, you can," I insist. "You're too stubborn to quit now."
A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips. "That bad, huh?"
I laugh shakily. "You have no idea."
The monitor dips again—BEEP… BEEP… slower now.
Paramedic 1 looks at me. "We're out of time."
"What do you mean out of time?" I snap.
"I mean," he says carefully, "we either stop here or we lose him."
The tunnel narrows ahead—RUMBLE—lanes tightening, walls closing in.
"We stop, they catch us," the driver argues.
"We don't stop, he dies," Paramedic 2 fires back.
I feel like I'm being torn in half.
Serafin squeezes my hand weakly. "Cao… listen."
I lean closer. "No. You listen."
"If they take me—" he coughs—HACK—"they'll use you."
"I don't care," I say fiercely.
"You should," he whispers. "You always should."
The headlights behind us flare again, closer than before—FLASH—casting long shadows inside the ambulance.
"They're right on us," the driver shouts.
The tunnel lights flicker again—FLICK—then one goes dark completely.
"Decision," Paramedic 1 says sharply. "Now."
My heart pounds so loud I can barely hear anything else—THUD THUD THUD.
I look at Serafin—really look at him. Pale. Bruised. Still fighting.
"We stop," I say suddenly.
Everyone stares at me.
"What?" the driver snaps.
"We stop," I repeat. "Here. Now."
"That's insane," he says. "They'll reach us in seconds."
"Then we make seconds count," I reply.
Paramedic 2 hesitates, then nods. "I'm with her."
"Fuck," the driver mutters, but his foot eases off the gas.
The ambulance slows—SCREEEECH—tires protesting as we pull into a narrow emergency alcove in the tunnel.
The engine cuts—VRRR… CLICK—and sudden silence crashes down, broken only by Serafin's labored breathing and the frantic beeping of the monitor.
"They'll see us," the driver warns.
"Let them," I say.
Paramedic 1 rips open a kit—ZIP—hands shaking slightly now. "Clear space."
I climb back, pressing myself against the wall.
"Stay with me," I whisper to Serafin. "Please."
He exhales shakily. "Always end up… in tight places."
"Yeah," I murmur. "But we get out."
The headlights sweep past the tunnel entrance—SWOOSH—then slow.
"They're stopping," the driver whispers.
The monitor lets out a long, low warning—BEEEEEP—and my breath catches painfully.
"No," I whisper. "No, no, no."
Paramedic 1 presses hard against Serafin's chest—THUMP—then again.
"Come on," he mutters. "Come on."
Footsteps echo outside the ambulance—TAP… TAP… TAP—measured, unhurried.
My blood turns to ice.
The footsteps stop right outside the doors.
Inside, the monitor stutters—BEEP… BEEP…—barely there.
I grip Serafin's hand with everything I have, tears blurring my vision.
"Don't you dare," I whisper fiercely. "Don't you fucking dare leave now."
A hand grips the ambulance door handle from the outside—CLINK—metal shifting slightly.
And in that suffocating space between breaths, between heartbeats, between choices already made—
Everything narrows to one unbearable point.