“Her father said she talked to the walls,” Tomás murmured, the hairs on his arms standing up. “He said the house on Alamo Street was toxic. Could it be a biological pathogen? Mold? Some kind of chemical waste left behind by the gangs?”
“We’ve drawn blood cultures, bone marrow, spinal fluid,” Cassandra said, shaking her head. “Nothing matches. But the girl’s white blood cell count is practically zero. Her immune system isn’t fighting this thing. It’s acting as if the mass belongs there. As if her body has accepted it as a part of her own anatomy.”
Suddenly, a sharp, piercing alarm shattered the conversation.
Inside the ICU, Lili’s body began to violently convulse.
Emergency Intervention
“Seizure!” a nurse yelled, throwing open the glass doors.
Dr. Velázquez vaulted into action, Tomás trailing right behind her despite hospital protocol. The room became a blur of frantic hands and shouting.
