Salt in the Wound Ward
Room 414 smelled of iodine and old flowers. Dana, the night nurse, set down the morning chart and stopped cold. Mara was already there, her administrator badge catching the light, her lanyard crooked like she'd dressed in a hurry. In the bed lay Eli Voss, oxygen tube under his nose, eyes half open. "You shouldn't be in here," Dana said. Mara didn't move. "We need to talk before he wakes up."
Eli's hand twitched on the blanket. His cracked lips moved. "Dana," he whispered, ignoring Mara completely. "You're the only one I trust here. Come close." Dana leaned in. Mara stiffened, suddenly afraid of what this dying man might say.
"Don't listen to her," Eli rasped, eyes flicking to Mara. "Whatever deal she's offering, it costs lives." Mara stepped forward fast. "He's confused. He's on morphine." But Eli's eyes were clear and sharp, and Dana saw it.
Dana straightened up and looked Mara dead in the eye. "Get out of my patient's room." Mara opened her mouth, but Dana hit the call button and held it. "Now, or I tell the whole floor what you just tried to do." Mara grabbed her badge and fled, and Eli almost smiled.