Vital Signs
On Ward 7, patients who are getting better keep dying at exactly 3:47 a.m. — with no alarm. Night nurse Ploy has six days to find the killer before that bed takes her own brother.
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At 3:47 in the morning, the green line on the monitor went flat. There was no alarm — only silence, and a man who had stopped breathing. Nurse Ploy dropped her cup and ran to Bed 7. She pressed hard on his chest, again and again, and called his name. Mr. Kamon had been getting stronger all week; tomorrow he was going home. But now his heart would not start again, no matter what she did. When the doctor finally called the time of death, Ploy stepped back, shaking. Then a cold thought hit her: the clock still read 3:47. Three weeks ago, Mr. Decha had died in this same bed at 3:47. Two weeks ago, Mrs. Suda had died in it too — again at 3:47. All three had been getting better, all three were on her ward, and no alarm had ever sounded. With shaking hands, she opened the bed schedule to see who would come next. The next name booked for Bed 7 was Nott — her little brother. Ploy's blood ran cold, because Nott moved to that bed in six days.