Infinite - Volume 1

Evan navigated the hospital lot with tense precision, every bump rattling through his body. His eyes darted, scanning for an open space among the sea of cars. His heart pounded, frustration mounting.

"Damn it! Where the hell am I supposed to park?" he muttered, voice tight.

From the truck bed, his mother shouted, urgent and sharp. "Just pull up to the entrance!"

His grip on the wheel clenched, knuckles white as he veered toward the front-only to hit a wall of stalled cars and frantic drivers just like him. With no choice and honking behind him, Evan threw the truck into park and bolted for the hospital doors.

Inside, chaos reigned supreme. The air was thick with a cacophony of moans, groans, and the occasional wail of distress. Nurses and front desk staff rushed around, their faces marked by fatigue and determination. A frazzled staff member stood at the brink, confronting a line of restless people stretching into the distance.

Evan stood frozen in the chaos, the press of people closing in. He tried to speak, but his voice vanished into the noise. "Hey, ma'am, I-" The words fell flat, drowned by the flurry of movement around him.

Nurses in scrubs rushed past, too locked in crisis to notice his quiet plea. The sheer volume of people, the urgency-it all pressed down on him, triggering his instinct to withdraw.

But desperation overpowered habit.

He stepped forward, grabbed a nurse's shoulder. His voice cracked, louder than he'd meant-but he didn't care.

"Ma'am, can you PLEASE help me? My brother and nephew are in my truck-serious head and neck wounds! They need help. Now!"

The panic cut through him, sharper than fear, louder than hesitation.

The nurse gently but firmly removed his hand, her tone brisk but not unkind.
"I'm sorry, sir-I really am-but I have a trauma case I'm assigned to right now. Please go to the front desk and let them know. Someone will be with you as soon as possible."

As she turned to leave, Evan's voice cracked. "It's a child, ma'am! Do you have no sympathy?"

She stopped, turned back, her expression calm but firm.
"Sir, I'm currently treating a newborn with a head injury. Her mother's on life support. One might not make it. Maybe neither."

Her eyes didn't soften. "So yes, I do have sympathy. A lot of it. But I also have priorities. If you'd like, I can introduce you to the father in the waiting room-he's been there all night, waiting to hear if his family survives. You can tell him why you should go first."

Evan was left speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "I... I'm sorry-"

Before he could finish, she was gone, her pace quickening as she melded back into the chaos.

He took a moment to gather himself, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside.

Evan scanned the waiting room, eyes landing on an older man with a bald head, a scruffy beard, and the unmistakable scent of cigar smoke and stale liquor. A makeshift sling cradled his arm.

Evan hesitated, then stepped closer. "Did we really just have an earthquake here?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

The old man didn't even look up at first. When he did, his reply was dry and raspy. "No shit, Sherlock."

"In Florida, of all places," Evan muttered, trying to inject some humor. "That's just... wild."

"Yup," the old man grunted, eyes already drifting elsewhere.