The neighbor answered my question on the second attempt.
"She opened her eyes in the ambulance. Then they gave her oxygen. I do not know if she is awake now."
I stood outside the neurological clinic with my right hand trapped inside the splint and my appointment number glowing above the reception desk.
A-17
The screen called A-16.
One more patient and I would have entered the room.
"Which entrance at East District?" I asked.
"Emergency. I am following in a taxi."
"I am coming."
"Do not drive. Your grandmother said you are not supposed to drive."
Even while unconscious, she had apparently organized witnesses against me.
"I am not driving."
The call ended.
The receptionist looked at my number.
"The clinician can see you next."
"I have to leave."
"If you leave, we will need to reschedule the assessment."
"My grandmother collapsed."
The receptionist stopped reaching for the cancellation form.
"Do you have someone who can travel with you?"
I opened my contacts.
Kitty's name remained at the top because she had called six times during the weekend.
I pressed it.
She answered before the first full ring.
"Are you inside?"
"No. Grandmother is being taken to East District."
Silence lasted less than a second.
"Stay at the clinic entrance."
"The hospital is across the city."
"I know where it is. NC has a car. We are coming."
"Kitty."
"Stay there."
She ended the call before I could convert help into an argument.
Outside the windows, rain moved sideways across the road.
The weather report on the waiting-room television still displayed a white sun.
At the same time, NS listened to HS's voicemail for the third time.
June stood across the study table while he called Yandong General again.
The emergency department transferred him twice.
The third voice belonged to a nurse.
"We cannot release clinical information unless the patient authorizes it or you are his legal representative."
"He called me before he was brought in."
"Are you family?"
"No."
"Then come to the reception desk with identification. If he is able to consent, staff can ask whether he wants you present."
"Is he alive?"
The nurse paused.
"He is receiving care."
It was the answer hospitals used when the person asking had no right to a better one.
NS ended the call and took his keys.
June closed the practice packet in front of her.
"I am coming."
"You do not have to."
"Neither did he when he kept calling you."
The sentence was not meant as punishment.
It arrived as one anyway.
NS looked at the unheard-call history.
Friday, 8:46.
Friday, 9:12.
One voicemail.
Three opportunities to believe it mattered.
He placed the phone in his pocket.
"Call TZ. Tell him to contact Mr. Kim."
June followed him into the storm.
The cohort group received two messages within the same minute.
XH: EAST DISTRICT HOSPITAL. GRANDMOTHER COLLAPSED.
NS: YANDONG GENERAL. HS IS IN EMERGENCY.
JP read them from the Campus 2 library.
For once, he did not type a joke.
NC was already driving toward the neurological clinic with Kitty in the passenger seat. Anna and Jihye occupied the back.
Bunny and Cherry were closer to Yandong General. TZ left the Pathology study room to meet them there.
JP looked at the map.
The hospitals stood on opposite sides of Yandong.
The transport strike had closed the direct line between them.
He called Mr. Kim.
"Which hospital are you going to?" Mr. Kim asked.
"East District. XH should not be alone."
"I will go to Yandong General. HS may need someone who can confirm his university history."
"He is not our student anymore."
"That does not make the history disappear."
JP picked up his bag.
"Sir."
"Yes?"
"Please answer your phone."
Mr. Kim understood why he said it.
"I will."
The group divided without voting.
This time, nobody mistook the division for romance.
NC reached the neurological clinic at 2:31.
Kitty opened the passenger door before the car stopped completely.
She entered the rain without an umbrella.
"You were supposed to wait inside."
"You were supposed to take fourteen minutes."
"NC drove through a maintenance lane."
NC lowered the window.
"It was legally ambiguous. Get in."
I sat in the rear with Anna and Jihye.
Kitty turned around from the front.
"Did the neighbor say anything else?"
"She opened her eyes in the ambulance. Oxygen. Nothing else."
"What happened before she collapsed?"
"She was near the kitchen."
"I mean the tests. What were they testing?"
"She did not tell me."
Kitty stared at me.
"She sent you appointment cards."
"Photographs of them. She covered the department name."
"And you accepted that?"
"She told me it was routine."
"Your grandmother thinks carrying two bowls is routine."
The criticism was accurate enough to end the argument.
NC turned toward East District Road.
Traffic stopped beneath the elevated rail.
The transit strike had emptied the buses and filled every remaining lane with private cars, taxis, motorcycles, and workers walking between them. Rainwater covered the faded markings.
"Twenty-eight minutes," NC said.
"The map says seventeen."
"The map is not wet."
Thunder shook the windows.
The dashboard lights flickered.
For half a breath, the windshield became broken glass.
Red metal pressed against my shoulder.
An ambulance moved beyond the traffic without getting closer.
I pulled against a seat belt that was not holding me.
Kitty reached between the seats and touched my left wrist.
"XH."
NC's car returned around me.
"I am here."
"Where were you?"
I looked at the stalled line ahead.
"On another road."
Jihye wrote down the time without being asked.
2:38.
Duration, approximately nine seconds.
The neurological appointment had been abandoned.
The reason for needing it had followed me anyway.
NS reached Yandong General at 2:42.
The emergency entrance was more crowded than the private hospital had been after Bliss. Patients occupied plastic chairs along both walls. Wet umbrellas stood inside buckets near the door. A child cried beneath a television showing delayed weather warnings.
June kept pace beside him.
At reception, NS placed his identification and phone on the desk.
"HS called me before he arrived."
The clerk checked the screen.
"Full name?"
NS provided it.
"Date of birth?"
He did not know.
The missing answer landed harder than it should have.
They had studied together, fought institutions together, slept in the same VIP room, and shared food through nights when none of them had enough time.
NS did not know HS's birthday.
June gave the month and day.
NS looked at her.
"Foundation Year registration form," she said. "We reviewed emergency contacts before the trip."
The clerk located the record.
"He arrived without a wallet. Staff confirmed his identity from the phone and an old university account. He has not authorized visitors yet."
"Is he conscious?" June asked.
"A physician will speak to you when appropriate. Please wait."
NS looked toward the secured doors.
"How long?"
"I cannot estimate."
"Find someone who can."
June caught his sleeve.
"Do not become VT at a reception desk."
The words stopped him.
The clerk heard them and looked down quickly.
NS stepped away from the counter.
"I was asking for information."
"You were asking money to make the rules recognize you."
"I did not mention money."
"You did not have to. Your face did."
He sat in the nearest chair.
For the first time that day, June released his sleeve.
Bunny and Cherry arrived at 2:56.
TZ came four minutes later carrying HS's former Utopia file and the small bell note Mr. Kim had preserved after the military medical school incident.
Mr. Kim entered at 3:09.
The emergency physician spoke to them at 3:21.
"He is physically stable at this moment," she said. "He arrived confused, severely dehydrated, and exhausted. His heart rate was elevated. We are evaluating possible exposure, metabolic causes, sleep deprivation, and an acute mental-health crisis. There is no evidence of major external trauma."
"Did he hurt himself?" Bunny asked.
"We do not have enough information to characterize what happened. Until he can participate in the assessment, I do not want anyone assigning a cause."
"Can we see him?" NS asked.
"When he is alert enough, we will ask whom he wants present."
Mr. Kim gave the physician the relevant history.
Prolonged academic pressure.
The red list.
The bell.
Withdrawal from the military medical program.
Transfer into public health.
Loss of contact with most of the original group.
NS listened as HS's collapse was arranged into a sequence.
Every point had existed before Friday's call.
He had called it ineffective because answering would not repair any of them.
Now the emergency department was repairing what his logic had allowed him to ignore.
June sat beside him.
She did not hold his hand.
She kept her shoulder against his.
It was enough to prevent him from becoming useful in the wrong direction.
East District Hospital moved faster and explained less.
The neighbor met us beside the ambulance entrance with Grandmother's handbag held against her chest.
"They took her through there."
"What happened?"
"She was making tea. I heard a cup break. When I entered, she was on the floor and breathing badly. She tried to stand before I called the ambulance."
That sounded like her.
The triage nurse directed me to family registration.
"Relationship?"
"Grandson."
"Are you her nearest available relative?"
"Yes."
The word made the entire form heavier.
Medical history.
Heart disease.
Lung disease.
Medication.
Allergies.
Previous admissions.
I knew which tea she preferred and where she hid emergency cash.
I did not know what medicines she took after breakfast.
Kitty opened Grandmother's handbag.
"May I?" she asked the neighbor.
The neighbor nodded.
Kitty found a small medication pouch beneath a folded grocery bag. Anna photographed the labels. Jihye arranged the appointment cards by date.
There were six.
Not two.
Cardiology.
Respiratory Medicine.
Diagnostic Imaging.
The oldest appointment was three months earlier.
"She told me the doctor only wanted more tests."
Kitty looked at the cards.
"That was true. It was not the whole truth."
A nurse collected the medication pouch and photographs.
"The physician will speak with you after the initial assessment."
"Can I see her?"
"Not yet."
The secured doors closed.
I could hear monitors behind them.
One alarm repeated at the same interval as an ambulance light inside my memory.
JP reached East District at 3:37 carrying six bottles of water, two phone chargers, and one packet of crackers nobody wanted.
He looked at the appointment cards.
He did not make a joke.
That frightened me more than the forms.
"Mr. Kim is with HS," he said. "TZ says he is physically stable. They are still evaluating."
"Does NS know what happened?"
"No."
"Do you?"
"No."
Two emergencies had gathered eleven people into two hospitals.
Nobody knew enough to help the person in front of them.
Kitty's phone rang.
June's name appeared on the screen.
Kitty watched it until the fourth ring, then answered.
"Is Grandmother conscious?" June asked.
"We have not seen her."
"How is XH?"
Kitty looked at me.
"Here."
"That is not what I asked."
"Then call him."
"He is not answering."
My phone remained on the registration counter where I had forgotten it.
"June," Kitty said, "stay with NS. HS called him."
"I can care about more than one emergency."
"So can I."
The unfinished dormitory argument entered the silence between them.
June lowered her voice.
"This is not the time."
"Then do not make it the time."
Kitty ended the call.
NC looked at her.
"That was unnecessary."
"I know."
Kitty placed the phone facedown.
Knowing did not make her take it back.
The physician from Grandmother's treatment area found us at 4:06.
"She is awake," he said. "Her oxygen level was low when paramedics arrived, and her blood pressure remains unstable. The ECG and blood tests show her heart is under significant stress. The chest imaging also suggests fluid affecting her breathing. We are treating the immediate problems while Cardiology evaluates the cause."
"Is she having a heart attack?"
"We are considering several possibilities. I do not want to give you a final diagnosis before the results support one."
"Is she going to die?"
The question left before I could make it less direct.
The physician did not offer a comforting lie.
"She is seriously ill. She is responding to treatment right now. You may see her briefly, one person at a time."
Kitty touched my shoulder.
"Go."
Grandmother looked smaller inside the emergency bed.
Oxygen tubing crossed beneath her nose. Monitoring leads disappeared beneath the hospital gown. An intravenous line entered the hand that had carried heavy bowls on Sunday.
Her eyes opened when I approached.
"You missed your appointment," she said.
Her voice was weak.
It was still accusing.
"You collapsed."
"That was not on your schedule."
"Neither was this."
She looked at my splint.
"You fought again."
"That is a long story."
"Then make it shorter by behaving."
I sat beside her.
"Why didn't you tell me about Cardiology?"
"Because you make that face."
"What face?"
"The one you are making. Like worrying hard enough can change the result."
I took her hand with my left.
"I should have gone with you."
"You should have gone to your own doctor."
"There was time for both."
Grandmother looked toward the monitor.
"People only say that when they are afraid there is not."
The monitor changed rhythm.
A nurse entered and checked the screen.
"We need to let her rest."
Grandmother tightened her fingers once before I stood.
"Kitty came?"
"Yes."
"Good. She brings you when you need bringing."
"Grandmother."
Her eyes closed again.
"Go tell her I said that before you edit it."
The nurse guided me toward the door.
I looked back once.
Grandmother had already become still beneath the hospital blanket.
The monitor continued proving that stillness was not yet absence.
At Yandong General, HS opened his eyes at 4:19.
The nurse asked his name, location, and the day.
He answered the first two correctly.
He missed the day by three.
"There are people waiting," she said. "Do you want anyone with you?"
HS looked toward the curtain.
"NS."
June remained in the waiting area when NS entered.
HS lay beneath a thin hospital blanket with an IV line in one arm. His face had narrowed since the bell incident. Dark shadows sat beneath his eyes.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
The old VIP room existed between them.
Five boys laughing too loudly.
Food spread across a table.
No empty chair.
No unanswered call.
HS looked at the phone in NS's hand.
"You listened to it."
"Yes."
"All of it?"
"Yes."
HS turned his face toward the ceiling.
"I called before it became an emergency."
NS moved closer to the bed.
"I know."
"No," HS said. "You know now."
He looked at NS again.
His voice remained weak, but the words did not.
"Why didn't you answer?"