Malcolm sprinted to the landline in the hallway, his hands shaking so badly he misdialed twice.
“Come on, come on,” he pleaded, pressing the receiver to his ear.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“My wife is in labor,” Malcolm shouted. “Croft Estate. Old River Road. We need an ambulance immediately. It’s a twin birth, high risk.”
There was a pause on the other end, filled with the static of the storm.
“Sir, I can’t send a unit,” the dispatcher said, her voice apologetic but firm. “We have zero visibility. The state police have closed all highways. Power lines are down across the county. Emergency services are grounded until the wind speeds drop.”
“You don’t understand!” Malcolm roared, the panic rising in his throat. “She’s having twins! You can’t just leave us here!”
“I’m sorry, sir. No vehicle can get through those drifts. Do you have blankets and warm water? You’re going to have to shelter in place.”
Malcolm slammed the phone down. He looked at William, who had just come in from the cold, covered in snow.
“They’re not coming,” Malcolm whispered, his face pale. “We’re on our own.”