Page 48 of Clear Path

Evan didn’t answer. Bodhi looked up and dropped the aspirin. Evan’s eyes were rolled back, and his slack body was slumped to the side.

He shook Evan’s shoulder. “Evan? Can you hear me?”

No response.

He pressed two fingers to the man’s neck, searching for a carotid pulse. Nothing. His chest rose and fell with irregular, gasping breaths that quickly faded to stillness. It sounded as if he was choking and snorting.

“Agonal breathing. Cardiac arrest,” Bodhi muttered, positioning Evan flat on his back. He placed the heel of one hand on the center of Evan’s chest, covered it with his other hand, and began compressions. He counted under his breath, pushing down two inches with each compression.

As a forensic pathologist, he’d dealt with death daily. But this was different. His patients came to him dead. He didn’t lose them. And he wouldn’t lose Evan.

One minute passed. Two. Five. His shoulders burned, sweat dripping onto Evan’s still face. Bodhi paused only to check for a pulse at the carotid artery. Nothing. He resumed compressions immediately.

“Come on, Evan,” he muttered. The night swallowed his words.

After what felt like an eternity, he glanced at his watch. Eleven minutes. His arms trembled with fatigue, but he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. The trail was two miles long. Help was still at least ten minutes away.

He switched to counting aloud to maintain a consistent rhythm as exhaustion set in. “Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

He entered a meditative state, his focus shrunk down to the movement of his tired, burning arms and the corresponding count. He acknowledged his discomfort without judging or becoming attached to it. Acceptance.

When he heard voices echoing in the distance and the thud of running feet, it took a moment for him to return to his surroundings.

“Here!” he shouted toward the beams of light bouncing toward him through the darkness. “We’re here!”

He twisted to look over his shoulder, expecting to see first responders, but Tripp and Lucas, came into view, running. When they reached him, Lucas bent over, palms on his knees, sucking down air. Tripp held out a bright red case. An automated external defibrillator.

“Here,” he panted. “Aaron sent us to a church just over the bridge to get it while he went to meet the paramedics.”

Bodhi continued compressing Evan’s chest. “Aaron just saved a life.”

Evan’s odds of survival with thirty minutes of CPR alone were grim, at best. Bodhi had known all along that saving himwould be a long shot. But the addition of the AED changed everything.

“How do we use it?” Tripp asked.

Bodhi gave instructs while he administered chest compressions. “Turn it on. Lucas, while I keep working, attach one pad to his upper right chest and the other on his lower left chest. Below his armpit.”

Tripp switched on the machine while Lucas fumbled with the backing on pads. The AED began to issue audio prompts. Lucas connected the pads to the AED. When it was ready to analyze Evan’s heart rhythm, Bodhi stepped back and let his arms hang at his sides like lead.

“Clear,” he said out of habit.

They waited while the device worked. Then the mechanical voice announced: “Shock advised. Charging.”

Bodhi tore his eyes away from Evan’s pale, gray face and met Lucas’s gaze. “Be ready to push the button when it flashes.”

Lucas swallowed and nodded.

“Stay clear of patient,” the AED intoned. “Push the orange button.”

The button flashed, and Lucas pressed it.

“Shock delivered.”

They waited in tense silence. At the two-minute mark, the machine said, “Perform CPR now.”

Bodhi stepped forward, lifted his heavy arms, and resumed the chest compressions.

They repeated the entire clear, analyze, shock, wait, and chest compression sequence once more before Aaron and two EMTs raced into view.

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