Chapter 3: The Four-Minute Reset

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Mark blinked. The blinding white light of the hospital hallway slammed back into his vision.

He was running. His lungs burned, his tie was loose, and his chest heaved. He looked down—the blue nebulizer mask wasn't in his hands. He looked up, and down the long hallway, he saw Claire standing by the glass window.

But she wasn't crying yet. She was looking at her phone, her face pale with panic, turning around frantically as she heard his footsteps.

"Claire!" Mark screamed, sprinting with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed.

"Mark! Where have you been? His oxygen levels are dropping!" she cried out as he reached her.

He didn't waste time explaining. He didn't look back at the elevator. He burst through the door of Room 412. On the bed, little Leo was gasping, his chest retreting painfully, his small hands clutching the green plush dinosaur. The heart monitor was throwing out a frantic, high-pitched alarm.

"I've got you, buddy. Daddy's here," Mark choked out, grabbing the oxygen mask from the bedside table. With trembling hands, he fitted it securely over Leo’s nose and mouth, turning the valve to maximum.

For two agonizing seconds, the machine whined. Then, a long, deep breath rattled through the boy's chest. The erratic spiking on the monitor began to slow down, stabilizing into a steady, rhythmic, life-saving beat. Leo’s eyes fluttered open, looking up at his father with groggy recognition. "Daddy... you made it."

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Mark collapsed against the mattress, sobbing, burying his face in his son's small shoulder. Claire rushed in behind him, wrapping her arms around both of them, weeping tears of pure relief. They had done it. They had beaten the clock.

Then, Mark tried to stand up to call the doctor, and his knees completely buckled.