Risk Factor

Loss

"Hey, this is Cole Mills, sorry I can't get to you right away, but leave a message, and I'll get back to you!"

"Cole, it's Jay, where the hell are you? You won't answer your phone, you're freaking me out. Just-just call me back, please." I sighed and hung up. It wasn't like my husband to not answer his phone unless he was at work or at the gym. He was at neither, I knew, because he was off today, he was at home. At least I hoped he was. 

"Excuse me?" I heard a voice say from beside me on the subway. I looked over to see an elderly man wearing a tan jacket, blue jeans, and boots smiling at me. 

"Yes?" I responded politely. Something about this man seemed familiar.

"Are you Dr. Jayden Mills?" He asked in a raspy voice. That's when it hit me. 

"Yes, I am. You're Harvey Blake, aren't you?" 

"You remember me?" He asked, seemingly shocked. 

"Of course. I was the doctor who oversaw your miraculous heart transplant."

"You were the only doctor that actually believed I could survive that heart surgery," he sighed. I remembered. Many of the other cardiologists didn't think he would survive, given his age, and other underlying risk factors. Yet I knew Harvey was stronger than he looked. He always talked about his faith in his God, and if it was time for him to go, God would decide that. 

"I believed you could, Mr. Blake."

He smiled at me once more and grabbed my hand. 

"God bless you, Dr. Mills," he said. I smiled back. All of the sudden, my phone started to vibrate. I quickly grabbed it from my jacket pocket, hoping it was Cole.

Instead, it was our friend Gage Eriks, a Lieutenant at the NYPD.

"Hello?" I said when I answered it.

"Jayden, where are you?" He abruptly asked, sounding upset and scared. Confused, I answered, "On the subway, I'm almost to Grand View. Why?"

"Once you get off the subway, hurry to the hospital. It's Cole."

My heart dropped. "Wh-what do you mean it's Cole?"

"He's been-ah shit, just try to get here as soon as possible, I have to go."

"Wait- Gage-" but he hung up before I could say anything else. 

As soon as the subway train stopped and the doors opened, I grabbed my bag and ran onto the platform and up the stairs as quickly as possible. As I emerged above ground onto Grand View Avenue in Manhattan, there were people everywhere. I ran as fast as I could, trying to avoid bumping into other people. New York was always crowded but today seemed unusually jammed. Grand View Medical Center, a 20-story hospital that takes up almost a whole street, came into sight across the road. 

And like the dumbass I am, I ran directly across the road, barely avoiding oncoming traffic. Several cars honked their horns; others rolled down their windows and yelled vulgar words. I ignored it, still running, my sides beginning to seriously ache. 

"Dr. Mills?" I heard someone call as I approached the ED entrance. I looked over to see Leslie Howards, an ED nurse, running toward me. 

"Nurse Leslie," I managed to say, out of breath. She had a cup of coffee in her hand, and she looked rather frantic. 

"Are you alright?" She asked. I shook my head. 

"I got a call from Gage. Something about Cole, I don't know yet," I said. Her eyes widened. "I gotta go Leslie, I need to know he's okay."

And with that, I left the nurse and sprinted into the ER waiting room. At the waiting room desk was the hospital's director Sherry Dykes. She was talking to several NYPD officers. She glanced over and saw me, now speed walking toward them all. 

"Officers, this is Dr. Jayden Mills, she's Cole's wife. Dr. Mills, this is Officer Derek Andrews, Sergeant Lila Boris, and you know Lieutenant Damien Faust."

"Sherry, what the hell happened?" I asked, out of breath and worried half to death. Sherry looked at me and sighed. 

"Jayden," she said softly, taking my hands in hers. I looked into her dark brown eyes, which were filling with tears. 

"Wh-where's Cole?" I whispered.

"I am so sorry, Jayden, they're trying everything they can," she choked, the tears beginning to stream down her face. That was when it hit me. The cops, Gage, Sherry crying. 

Cole was dying. 

"No. No. No."  I pulled my hands away from Sherry and ran into the ER. In treatment three, I heard the sound of coding. 

"Stop compressions," a male voice said reluctantly as I came closer to the treatment room. I nearly fainted as I saw two doctors and several nurses surrounding the bed. I looked up at the monitors and noticed the lines. The straight lines.

My husband was dead. 

"Dr. Mills?" Dr. Terrance Reede said.

"Call it, Dr. Reede."

"But-"

"Call it, now," I said, trying not to cry. He sighed and looked at his watch.

"Time of death, 8:27." 

I slowly walked toward Cole and caressed his still face. He was covered in blood and hooked to wires all around the room. 

"May I have a moment alone, please?" I asked softly. The nurses and doctors all nodded and left the room. I grabbed Cole's bloody hand and squeezed it. Tears began to blur my vision. I just let them come. 

"Hey, Jay," Gage's voice came from the door of the treatment room. I looked over at him and managed a smile. 

"Hey, Gage," I said weakly. 

"He never would've survived," he said softly, looking down. "I just wished I could've got the bastards who did this."

"Gage, how did this happen? No one told me."

He looked at me and sighed. 

"Well, he was apparently walking to the gym, he had all his gym clothes on. That's whenever, according to witnesses, three men in a red Kia Sorento drove by and shot him from the passenger's seat three times.  One in the chest, one in the leg, and the other in his shoulder. If it was just the leg and the shoulder, he would've survived, but the bullet in his chest penetrated the aorta, and-" he didn't have to finish. A gunshot wound to the heart was almost always fatal. Only on rare occasions-

"Did they get a glimpse of their faces?" I asked. 

"Unfortunately, no, but we did get their license plate number," another voice said. Up from behind Gage came Damien Faust. "The PD is running the tags right now; we haven't heard anything yet, but I promise you, we will find these men."

"Thank you, Damien." 

He nodded and left the room. Gage walked nearer to me and looked me in the eyes.

"If you ever need help with Thomas when he's born-"

"Cole," I interrupted, looking back down at my husband, as his body was being covered and moved to the morgue. 

"I'm sorry?"

"His name will be Cole."

"Ah. Well, if you ever need help with Cole, you can call me, okay?"

"Thank you, Gage," I said sincerely. How I planned on raising a child alone, I didn't know. But I guess all things happen for a reason.