“Dr. Reeves, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“They found me,” he whispered.

“Who found you?” I asked, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“Margaret’s people,” he said. “I’m at the administrative offices. They’re trying to break the door down.”

A loud bang echoed through the phone, followed by the sound of splintering wood.

“Reeves!” I yelled.

The line went dead.

I slammed my foot on the accelerator.

The tires spun on the wet asphalt before catching grip on the dark road.

Rain smeared across my windshield in thick, gray sheets.

The wipers could barely keep up with the sudden downpour.

I threw my phone onto the passenger seat, my mind racing as fast as the engine.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a steady, fast rhythm that I hadn’t felt since my last deployment.

“Hang on, Alan,” I muttered to the empty car.

I took the corner onto Medical Center Drive on two wheels, the chassis leaning hard.

The hospital rose up ahead, a massive block of concrete and glowing yellow windows against the black North Carolina sky.