The hospital was a hollow lung before the mass casualty hit—a silent, waiting space that Christopher was currently filling with surgical precision. While Derek, Meredith, and the others scrambled toward the Elliott Bay ferry terminal to face the hypothermic carnage, Christopher stood in the center of the Ambulance Bay, a triage whistle around his neck and a clipboard that felt like a weapon.
"I want the Red Tag patients in Trauma 1 and 2! Yellows to the Radiology hallway! And if I see a Green Tag taking up a bed, I will personally escort them to the gift shop!" Christopher roared, his voice a sharp, unyielding blade.
Richard Webber jogged up, looking stunned at the sight of the emergency supplies already staged. "Wright! How did you get the blood bank to release forty units of universal donor before the first ambulance arrived?"
"I'm efficient, Chief. And unlike the rest of your staff, I actually read the maritime weather reports," Christopher drawled, his sarcasm a defense mechanism against the dread of knowing what was coming. "The ferry didn't just bump a pier; it's a massacre out there. We're about to get a hundred hypothermic patients who are bleeding out faster than we can suture."
The first siren wailed, growing into a crescendo of distress. Six ambulances skidded into the bay simultaneously.
"Here we go," Christopher whispered, his eyes hardening.
He moved like a predator. He didn't just triage; he calculated. He knew which internal bleeds were lethal before the CT scan even warmed up. He sent a pregnant woman directly to Addison before her blood pressure even dropped. He was playing God with a Sharpie and a clinical coldness that left the nurses breathless.
"Wright! We have a crush injury in Bay 3! He's v-fibbing!" a nurse screamed.
Christopher sprinted. He didn't use the paddles; he used his fist for a precordial thump that shocked the heart back into rhythm.
"Don't you dare die on my floor," he muttered, his sarcasm finally failing. "I don't have the time to fill out the death certificate."
But as he looked at the next gurney, he saw a familiar face. It wasn't an intern. It was a law clerk from Jack's firm, her face shattered and her breathing ragged.
Jack was supposed to stay away, Christopher thought, a cold spike of pure terror hitting his chest. If his clerk is here... where is he?
He grabbed his phone with bloody fingers. No answer.