The journey was a blur of blue lights and risky maneuvers. Carmen drove with surgical precision, forcing cars to move aside, creating a lane where none existed. In the rearview mirror, she saw the black BMW glued to her wheel, trusting her completely.
“Come on, Diego, don’t fall behind,” she whispered from inside the helmet.
Every second counted. Carmen knew she was breaking half a dozen regulations. Her partner was yelling at her over the radio, asking what the hell she was doing escorting a civilian at that speed without authorization. She turned off the radio. She couldn’t explain that this man had given her a second life and that she wasn’t going to let him lose his.
They arrived at the emergency room entrance of La Paz Hospital at 2:54 p.m. Six minutes before the deadline.
Diego got out of the car almost before it came to a complete stop. He grabbed the pink suitcase from the back seat and ran toward the entrance, but stopped for a second. He turned to Carmen, who had taken off her helmet. He looked at her with a mixture of amazement and immense gratitude.
“Thank you!” she cried, her voice breaking with emotion. “I don’t know why you did this, but thank you!”
