“The plant,” he said. “The white one. Ghost Lily. Digitalis. It is poisonous. It is killing him. You need to get it out of here and clean everything it touched.”
The room went still. For a moment, silence looked like violence.
Vivian blinked through tears. “What are you talking about?”
Jermaine pointed at the windowsill. “That plant. It leaves toxic oil. If someone touched it and then touched the crib, the poison spread. His skin color, his heart rate dropping, the short breaths. It matches what my grandmother used to warn about.”
Dr. Rook scoffed. “We are dealing with a complex and unidentified—”
“Check his symptoms against digitalis poisoning,” Jermaine said, voice cracking but clear. “Please. I am not lying.”
A monitor screeched. The baby’s oxygen saturation dipped once more.
Gregory’s face went gray. “Do it,” he ordered.
Dr. Rook hesitated. He looked at the monitor again. He glanced at the plant. Then he snapped to a nurse, “Remove it. Place it in a containment bag. Call toxicology.”
Two nurses scrambled. Gloves on. Bag sealed. The plant disappeared behind plastic. Jermaine exhaled, dizzy with adrenaline. But the baby was still fading.
Dr. Rook started pacing. “We need a neutralizing agent, but the dosage for an infant is delicate. We cannot risk further harm.”
Jermaine remembered another lesson. Miss Inez, stirring a black mixture in a clay bowl.
“Charcoal is hungry,” she would say. “It eats poison. It does not argue. It eats.”
A small jar on the counter caught his eye. Activated charcoal powder. Medical-grade. Jermaine stepped forward. One guard grabbed his shoulder. Jermaine twisted free.
“Give him charcoal,” Jermaine said. “Mixed with water. Just a little. Enough to bind the poison. It works faster than most think.”
“That is not protocol,” Dr. Rook snapped.
Gregory looked at his son, then at Jermaine. His voice dropped to a razor whisper.
“What if he is right?”
Vivian nodded, frantic. “Do it. Do anything.”
Dr. Rook hesitated for one more heartbeat. Then he ordered, “Prepare a micro-dose. Move.”
The nurse mixed the charcoal in water. Jermaine’s stomach twisted. If he was wrong, they would blame him. If he was right, the world might change in ways he was not ready for.