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Raven took a step forward from the other side of the gurney, drawing his attention.
“If you want her to save his life,” she said, her features as unruffled as my own, “you’re going to have to let her work.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a façade, if below her composed exterior, her heart was racing like mine.
The man swung the gun in her direction.
“Enough,” I snapped. “Stay out of my way if you want your friend to live.”
But this was the ER, and the ER had a sick sense of humor. So, of course, that was precisely when the ECG strip on the cardiac monitor decided to flatline.
Raven spun around to the monitor, no doubt drawn by the continuous, high-pitched drone I couldn’t hear.
For one brief moment, I couldn’t stop the terror from racing down my spine.
“Save him, or I paint this room red with your blood, Heidi,”he’d said.
My heart pounded like a drum. My hands grew cold. I waited to feel the blow, the fiery burn of a bullet through my chest.
Then I tucked it all away.
Save the patient—that’s what he wanted and that’s what I wanted. Even though he didn’t realize it, we were on the same side.
“Defibrillator,” I said as I forced the world to narrow.
As I commanded the room to fade away.
As I made the man with the gun disappear.
No one existed for me but those who could play a role in thwarting Death, in serving as roadblocks with me.
“Push one milligram epinephrine,” I told Tom as I clasped my hands together, one on top of the other, and started compressions, counting them out in my head while Raven readied the electrode pads.
Even with the world narrowed, I could still feel the coldness of the gun’s barrel, inches from my temple. I swear it was ticking, like a time bomb, waiting to detonate the moment Death smashed through this roadblock.
When I finished the first round of compressions, I leaned back, grabbed the defibrillator paddles Raven had readied for me and put them to my patient’s chest.
“Clear!” I called.
The patient’s body jerked a little.
But no change.
“Save him, or you die, Heidi,” the man with the gun barked, like maybe I’d forgotten.
Raven’s gaze flickered toward the door. She must have pressed the hidden panic button; she was watching for the police.
I resumed compressions, round after round while the gun sent icy chills across my temple and down my spine.
Still no heartbeat. No police.
Sweat trickled down the back of my neck and beaded on my brow.
But just as my back started to ache like someone had hit me with a baseball bat, I saw a figure move outside the door out the corner of my eye.
“How do you know me?” I asked, hoping to keep the gunman from noticing.
I think he scoffed, making the gun bounce in his hand. “I know all about you, Heidi Dawson. Where you live…”
