Page 132 of Protecting What's Mine
Leroy was bagged, and the second the IV port was in, the paramedic delivered the epinephrine. Another EMT slapped EKG sensors in place.
“Charging.”
“Go.”
“Nothing,” he said, reading the portable screen.
“Shock him and call for the chopper,” she decided, swiping her forearm over her forehead. Her ankle ached from the awkward position.
She delivered another round of compressions, another shock. Another shot of epinephrine. They pushed fluids into the line. Still nothing.
“Fuck me,” she muttered.
She didn’t dare look up at Tyrone. But she could hear Linc’s soothing voice, the kid’s quiet sobs. “You are not doing this tonight, Leroy,” she growled. “Go again.”
Again and again, they repeated the process.
“Looks like internal bleeding,” the paramedic noted, spotting the violent purple bruising around Leroy’s chest.
“Chopper is eight minutes out,” Brody reported.
“We don’t have eight minutes,” Mack said. “Put him on the backboard and get me a scalpel.”
“What are you doing?” the paramedic demanded.
“We’re opening him up.”
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Linc had practically grown up on scenes like this. Flashing lights, fast, coordinated movements by the men and women who stood between the horror and the crowds of onlookers. Faces bathed in red and blue. The tension of dozens of human beings praying, hoping together.
But he also knew when something extraordinary was happening.
With Tyrone being looked after by an EMT, Linc returned to Mack’s triage area. She was snapping orders, her gloved hands moving in a concerted blur.
“You can’t just open him up out here,” the paramedic across from her warned.
“Argue with me later. When he’s open, you treat the bleed and give me room to massage his heart.”
“We don’t know if he’s on blood thinners,” he tried again. “The guy could bleed out right here.”
“The guy’s name is Leroy, and Idoknow that he’s not on blood thinners because I’m his goddamn family doctor. And I’m not letting him die with his grandson watching, so get the fuck on board.”
It hit him. A wave of love and pride so tall, so fierce, it made him weak in the knees.
“On board, doctor. You ever do this procedure before?”
“Nope,” Mack said as she slipped the scalpel into Leroy Mahoney’s chest.
“Holy shit. Is she—”
“Yep,” Linc told Brody as his captain approached white-faced.
Brody picked up his radio. “Dispatch, this is Engine 231 on Mulberry Road scene. Doctor is performing open heart massage on-scene.” There was a beat of silence.
“Copy that Engine 231. I’ll tell them to fly faster,” was the unfazed reply.
A hush fell over the scene, and Linc imagined dozens of prayers were floating up past the floodlights and into the dusk.
