PART I: THE IRON CURTAIN BENEATH THE ENDLESS NIGHT
St. Mary’s at 11:38 PM was not a hospital; it was a battlefield of silence until the automatic doors tore through the air with a piercing screech. Rain lashed against the glass like a desperate attempt to wash away a crime, and within that white curtain of water, an old man appeared. Arthur Callahan—a diligent night-shift custodian of 22 years—stumbled inside, his breath hitching like his lungs were about to shatter.