That night, it felt like crossing an ocean.
Behind me, through the roar of rain and engines, I heard a man shouting.
“Oliver! Oliver!”
I didn’t look back.
Every second mattered more than explanations.
By the time the hospital doors came into view, my lungs were on fire and my vision blurred at the edges. I stumbled through the entrance, dripping onto polished tile floors.
“Help! He’s freezing!”
Nurses moved instantly, lifting the boy from me, laying him onto a gurney, cutting away soaked fabric, pressing warm blankets against his body. Questions flew at me.
“Do you know him? How long was he exposed? What’s his name?”
“I don’t know,” I managed. “I just found him.”
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