Ross checked the woman’s vital signs. Mr. Fermi stood close by, fidgeting nervously. His collar was already soaked through with sweat.

You must take this promotion!

Fermi could still hear his wife’s words ringing in his ears. Her words always seemed to do that.

Think of the children. Think of me!

As he stood on the sidewalk of Lucerne, watching Priscilla Bloom bleed to death, he was indeed thinking of both the children and his wife. And he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been worth it.

“We have to get her to a hospital,” said Ross.

“Yes, yes, yes. Of course!”

Ross stood up. He was taller than he had looked in the pictures.

“Do you have a car?”

Fermi nodded.

“Take her. I’m going to stay here and help as much as I can.”

Fermi envisioned the script in his head, then said, “You don’t look so good. Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”

Ross touched the back of his head, sighed as he saw the blood on his fingertips.

Fermi smiled. “Come. My car is just around the corner. Help me lift her.”