The veins had collapsed.
She tried the foot.
Nothing.
Ninety seconds gone.
She did not try a third time.
“Gail, intraosseous needle, pink, 15 millimeters, and D10, 14 milliliters.”
Gail froze.
“On a baby this small?”
“His veins are gone. His brain is starving. Ninety seconds, Gail.”
The door opened behind them.
Dr. Greiss stood in the frame, flushed and furious.
Dr. Brandt and two residents crowded behind him.
The phone was still raised.
“Nurse Pierce, you will stop this immediately.”
Lauren did not look up.
She found the landmark on the baby’s leg.
Two fingers below the kneecap.
One finger inside.
A flat patch of bone under thin skin.
She cleaned it.
She set the needle.
Firm pressure.
A short, hard twist.
A soft pop.
The needle stood steady.
She flushed it with a single milliliter of saline.
No swelling.
No leak.
“We’re in,” she said.
“That is a physician-level procedure,” Greiss snapped. “You have no authority.”
