The Distraction Plan

The medical monitors shrieked louder, Paul staggered, his hand clutching the corner of the metal table to keep from collapsing. His face had gone pale, sweat beading along his temples despite the chill dampness in the air.

"I'm—I'm fine," he gasped, voice thin. "It's the air... Something's—" He swayed again, this time nearly going down.

Scarlett shot a panicked glance at Nathan, pressing a trembling hand harder against Ellen's bandaged side. Blood was still seeping through the fabric, darker now. Fading.

"Paul, please!" she begged. "Mom's blood pressure is crashing!"

Paul snapped back into focus with a groan, reaching into his med pack with trembling fingers. He yanked free a handful of masks and tossed them to the others. "Masks—now! The gas—it's in the vents. Cover your faces!"

Nathan secured his mask first, gun still trained on Morrison. His voice was sharp, controlled, but dangerous. "What the hell did you do?"