And she certainly had never imagined that one decision from her hands would determine which of them lived long enough to regret what they had done.
The emergency department smelled of antiseptic, wet wool, and gasoline carried in from the wreck. Rain struck the windows like handfuls of gravel. Somewhere in the hallway, a child from the school bus crash was crying for his mother.
Clara forced herself to look at the monitors instead of their faces.
Ethan had a fractured collarbone, three broken ribs, and internal bleeding from a torn spleen. Serious, but Dr. Marcus Bell, the mission’s general surgeon, could operate.
Mia’s scan showed a traumatic tear in her ascending aorta. Blood was already collecting around her heart.
Without surgery, she might have ten minutes.
There was one functioning operating room.
One heart-lung machine.
