Page 95 of Detroit


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Rationally, I knew she wasn’t likely to die that quickly. But my heart seized in my chest as I pushed my legs faster, then dropped down in front of her.

“Get on the fucking ground!” Dallas yelled as I heard more footsteps approaching.

“Dallas!” I yelled as my arms went around Everleigh, yanking the needle out, then pulling her tightly to me. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna fix this. Dallas!” I yelled again, hearing the desperation in my voice.

He must have heard it too, because he was right there, casting a shadow over us.

“He drugged her,” I said. “You have those overdose meds, right?” I asked, voice shaking as I looked up at him.

He gave me a tight nod, then ran off toward one of the police cruisers.

“It’s okay. Dallas has the stuff to reverse this,” I told her, stroking her hair, pressing my lips to her forehead. “You’re going to be okay.” My fingers went to her neck, feeling the thump of her pulse. Slow. Too slow.

Dallas was running back, fingers ripping at the plastic holding the reversal drugs. The kind that squirted up the nose.

“Here,” Dallas said, dropping down next to us. “Turn her,” he demanded, even as I was doing it. “Lay her as flat as possible.”

His hands were surprisingly steady as he stuck the applicator into her nose, and plunged the medicine in.

“Get her up,” Dallas demanded. “We have to get her to Dr. Price,” he said. “In the cruiser,” he added. “We have more of this,” he added as I gathered Everleigh and got to my feet.

By the time I got into the back of the cruiser, Dallas had gotten more of the nasal stuff, and had tossed them in the back with me before climbing into the front, and peeling off.

It wasn’t a long drive to Dr. Price’s, but I was terrified it would be too long.

“That shit works,” Dallas said, as if he could sense the anxiety swirling around me. “Ninety-four percent survival rate. And we got her early,” he said, taking a sharp turn at a high speed. “Keep an eye. If she’s not getting better, give her another in the other nostril.”

My fingers were on her neck, feeling her pulse. Still slow, but not as stalled as before.

Her breathing, though, seemed too shallow.

I grabbed one of the wrappers, ripping it open, and putting the applicator in her nose, then shooting more meds into her system as I said a silent prayer that it would do the trick, that she wouldn’t need more.

I knew we were there when Dallas started laying on the horn.

He rushed out of the car, opening the back as Dr. Price himself came rushing out the front door.

“She was drugged,” Dallas told him as I carried Everleigh up the front path. “Gave her two doses to counteract it,” he added.

“Okay. Come on in,” Dr. Price said, cool and collected. Like he’d seen this a million times. And maybe he had. Drug use and overdoses happened everywhere. And in our little nowhere town that didn’t have a very close hospital, Dr. Price likely had to handle just about everything. At least while waiting for an airlift to a trauma center. “Put her down on the table,” he demanded. “What did she take?”

“She was drugged,” I corrected. “Heroin. Likely cut with Fentanyl.”

“Okay,” Dr. Price said, tone soothing as he stuck a pulse-ox onto her finger, and turned to get a blood pressure cuff. “How are you feeling, honey?” he asked.

“Okay,” she said, sounding a little slow, but awake.

Awake was good.

“Yeah?” Dr. Price asked. “That’s good. Just be still for one minute,” he said as he pumped up the blood pressure cuff. “Okay. Alright. Your vitals are okay,” he said. “But I want to keep you here for a few hours to keep an eye on you. Give you fluids. Make sure you don’t need another dose of the meds. They work fast and almost completely within a few minutes, but sometimes you might need another dose in a few hours. That’s why I want to keep an eye on you,” he explained.

“Yeah, I would be too worried to leave,” she admitted. “And, um, can you check my shoulder?” she asked.

“What happened to your shoulder?” I asked, starting to move forward, but Dr. Price moved in my path.

“How about you step outside?” Dr. Price suggested.

“I didn’t do it,” I insisted, offended he’d think that was possible.

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