She came to in an ambulance with Amy at her side, talking sharply to the paramedics in that imperious tone that she could command sometimes. Samara tried to speak but found that she couldn’t so she tried lifting her head.
“Lie back down miss. Lie back. Everything is fine. All is well; no sudden movements please,” one of the medics said. He had the most piercing gray eyes she’d ever seen and she just wanted to stare into them and forget. She frowned, feeling that something was wrong with that. The eyes shouldn’t be gray. They should be violet…
“Hello?”
“Mr Fredriksen?”
“Yes, this is he.”
“I’m calling for Amy Whitaker. She asked me to tell you that there was an emergency with your baby…?”
Samara...
He was already out the door. His assistant asking what was happening and not getting a response.
“Who?”
“She’s unconscious. The emergency team on site was barely able to understand the problem, Mr Fredriksen.”
“I’m on my way.”
Why didn’t he bring the Ducati? It would be quicker than the car. He needed to make sure this was not some sort of prank or ruse however.
“Samara,” he talked to the car phone system.
He heard the dialing tones and almost immediately “The person you are trying to reach has the phone disconnect or is out of reach.”
He was getting increasingly worried.
Bjorn breathed deeply. Samara was at the Hospital. He pressed the accelerator a bit deeper as he got his assistant up to speed.
“I’m on my way, Sir. Meet you there.”“Hi. I’m Bjorn Fredriksen someone called me?”
“Hello. It was me. Your friend is in emergency surgery right now. The doctor will talk to you as soon as they finish.”
“What happen?”
“Only thing I know is that she had a pregnancy related emergency.”
He walked into the waiting room but he couldn’t sit down, he just kept passing while calling his lawyer.
“Demerle.”
“Bjorn Fredriksen. What can I do for you today?”
“Samara…” his voiced faltered enough for Demerle to understand that this wasn’t the regular kind of call he got from Bjorn.
“What’s wrong with Samara?”
“She had some sort of emergency, I don’t know any details but… she’s in surgery now. Can you…”
“I will get the details, Bjorn.” He promised.
“Thank you.”
He looked out into the city and found that in that moment the only thing that mattered was out of his reach on a surgical bed fighting for her life.
“Sir?”
Bjorn nodded at Inga like he had done a thousand time but she could feel it was different this time.
“How is she?”
“She’s in surgery. I didn’t see her yet.”
“Are you sure it’s her?”
“Yes.”
She held him tight once more. “I’m sure she will be okay, Sir. She’s strong.”
Bjorn curiously felt a lump in his throat. He was glad Inga was here with him.
“Come, let’s sit down.”
“I can’t, I just…”
“Bjorn.”
“Alison? And Chris? Khaled?”
“I called them since they’re next of kin and nobody had thought to.”
“And we came as soon as Inga hung up. We may have our differences Bjorn but it’s Samara.”
He didn’t care about their differences, about the battle ahead, he cared that Samara was going to be alright.
“Thank you.”
Chris just nodded before sitting in a chair right by Alison’s side.
“How is she?”
Inga answered for him and he was grateful for that.
“She’s in surgery.”
Bjorn’s phone rang it was Kennedy.
“Demerle.”
“Bjorn, I don’t have good news…” he had to sit, now he had to sit for his legs could no longer hold him “... the information I have is that the doctors have categorized her as being in critical condition but cannot identify the source of the problem.” His lawyer didn’t tell Bjorn that the paramedics on site were surprised to know she was still alive.
“Thank you Demerle.”
He blanched, fighting actual tears. He couldn’t understand his reactions at all.
“Sir?”
“It was Kennedy. I ask him to get more information about Samara’s condition.”