Page 65 of All Along The Watchtower

Ed’s skin had taken on an alarming grayish cast, and his breathing came in short, uneven gasps. My training kicked in as I helped Bree turn him onto his side.

“Pop, did you take your blood thinners today?” Bree’s fingers pressed against his pulse point.

Ed blinked up at us, confusion clouding his features. “What?”

“His pulse is erratic.” Bree’s voice remained steady, in direct contrast to the tremor in her hands. “Pop, focus. Your medication. Did you take it?”

“I… think so.” Ed’s words slurred.

“What’s happening?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to add to the tension radiating through the now-silent restaurant.

“AFib attack.” Bree’s jaw clenched. “Worse than usual.”

AFib. I remembered that long ago summer Ed had been going off-island for some doctor’s appointments, but Bree had never said what it was all about. And then we’d imploded, so I hadn’t had opportunity to ask about it again. Had she been dealing with this on her own for all these years?

“EMTs are four minutes out,” someone called from across the bar, phone pressed to his ear.

I glanced over my shoulder to where Peyton stood frozen beside Monty, eyes wide with fear. Every instinct screamed to go to her, to shield her from this scene playing out. But one look at Bree’s face—the terror she was fighting to contain as she monitored Ed’s vitals—and I knew where I needed to be.

“What do you need?” I asked Bree.

“Keep him on his side. Talk to him. Keep him conscious.” She shifted closer to Ed’s head. “Pop, stay with me, okay? Help’s coming.”

Ed’s unfocused gaze drifted between us. “Sorry to cause… such a fuss. But need to tell?—”

“Hush.” Bree’s voice cracked. “You just focus on breathing.”

I could hear sirens in the distance, growing closer. They couldn’t get here fast enough.

The next four minutes felt like four years, as each tick of the clock was punctuated by Ed’s labored breathing and Bree’s quiet haranguing that he damned well better hang on. He was her only family, and I couldn’t begin to fathom how terrified she was right now.

The EMTs, part of the Sutter’s Ferry Fire Department, finally burst through the door, equipment in hand. I shifted back to give them room to work, but kept my hand on Ed’s shoulder. Bree rattled off his medical history and medications with the rapid-fire precision of someone who’d done this before.

“He’s on Eliquis for AFib. Last dose was this morning. His cardiologist is Dr. Matthews at Cape Fear Heart Associates in Wilmington. They have his full history.”

The lead EMT nodded as his partner hooked Ed up to their portable monitors. “How long has he been experiencing symptoms?”

“Less than ten minutes. His pulse is erratic, and he’s growing less responsive.” Bree’s voice was still steady, but her hands shook harder.

The monitor beeped a warning. Ed’s eyes had drifted shut.

“Pop?” Bree leaned forward. “Pop, can you hear me?”

“BP’s dropping,” one EMT announced. “We need to move.”

“Should we transport to Outer Banks Hospital?” the other asked.

“No, call for Medevac. With his history, we need to get him to New Hanover Regional. They’ve got the cardiac unit.”

Bree’s face went even paler. “I’m coming with him.”

“Ma’am, there won’t be room in the chopper. We’ll need to stabilize him for transport. Best thing you can do is meet us there.”

I grabbed Bree’s hand and squeezed. “I’ll take you.”

She started to shake her head, but I cut her off. “You’re in no shape to drive yourself, and you know it. Let me help.”

The EMTs had Ed on the gurney now, oxygen mask in place. If possible, his skin had gone even grayer.

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