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“Tell him we’re on the way,” he heard Patches say. Five minutes.”
“No. He was…hooked to a machine, some kind of…I don’t fucking know what it is, but Cat found him, said they burned him and he was smoking, she was looking at him through some kind of headset, some virtual shit.”
“North, go north then take a left,” Lesion said, winded. “Did you say he’s burned?”
“Not burned literally,” he shot out as he looked over his body again. “There were wires attached to him, what the fuck do I do, just tell me what to fucking do, he’s not waking up.”
“I have you on speaker,” Lesion said.
“Does he have a pulse?” Patches asked.
“Yes, he has a pulse, but it’s very fucking weak.”
Cat ran in with a cover, her eyes still wide with whatever horror she’d seen in that headset. “I got you,” she wept, covering every inch of him, and kissing his face. The sight brought an unbearable agony in his chest.
“Are his breaths even or unsteady?” Patches demanded.
He got closer to check.
“Place your hand on his chest, or at his mouth. Are his breaths labored, check to see if it’s labored.”
“It’s not labored, I can barely feel it.”
“Turn him on his side.”
“Which side?”
“Either,” Patches ordered. “You need to count his breaths. You’re looking for twelve to twenty breaths a minute.”
“We need to count his breaths for a minute,” he said to Beth.
“I got it,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“Twelve to twenty breaths a minute,” Bishop repeated to her.
“He said you need to get the light up on your phone,” Lesion relayed.
“Light?”
“Your phone’s flashlight,” he said.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Cat repeated at his ear as Bishop fought to find the light.
“I can’t fucking find it,” he gasped, his brain sputtering.
“Try swiping down or up on the screen to pull up the settings,” Lesion said.
“Fuck, I got it. I got it.”
“You need tosweepthe light across his eye, don’t shine it directly,” Patches said. “One at a time. You’re looking for the pupil to dilate or shrink.”
Bishop hurried around and stood at Ethan’s head, opening an eye. He moved the light over it, his pulse walloping his eardrums. “It’s not doing anything,” he whispered.
“No dilation?”
“No. They’re huge.” He moved the light two more times, double checking. “They’re not changing.”
“They’re not changing,” Lesion said.
