“Where is your mother, sweetheart?”
The little girl did not answer.
Her eyes were swollen red. Blisters covered both palms, the skin split where the wooden handles had rubbed through.
Another nurse, Jenna Moore, pressed two fingers gently against the second newborn’s throat.
“I have a pulse,” she said. “Weak.”
Maria’s head snapped up.
“This one too. Move.”
At 2:17 p.m., the emergency intake clerk opened a pediatric trauma form and typed three words into the notes field.
Child with twins.
At 2:19 p.m., two nurses, one resident, and the on-call pediatric physician surrounded the wheelbarrow.
At 2:21 p.m., everyone understood that this was not a misunderstanding.
The babies were cold.
Far too cold.
Their body temperatures had fallen dangerously low, and both were severely dehydrated.
Dr. Daniel Mercer placed a tiny oxygen mask over the boy’s face.
“How long have they been like this?” he asked.
