The Missing Heir novel · Chapter 10 of 24

Chapter 10: Code

I lowered her to the linoleum and shouted for a crash cart.

Two security guards came at a run.

A transport aide dropped her mop and sprinted for the emergency department, screaming for Bev.

Sybil Everhart's eyes rolled back.

I put two fingers on her neck and found nothing.

"No pulse," I said.

"Starting compressions."

I laced my hands on her sternum and leaned in.

The cartilage gave under my palms with a soft crunch I had felt a hundred times and never gotten used to.

"One, two, three, four."

The chaplain was on his knees beside me, praying aloud.

"Father, pray from the doorway," I said.

"And send someone for the cart."

Bev arrived with the cart at a dead run, her glasses swinging on the chain.

She slapped the pads onto Sybil's chest and the monitor drew a wild, jagged line.

"V-fib," Bev said.

"Everybody clear."

I lifted my hands.

The shock thumped through the old woman's body, her shoulders jumped, and the line stayed ugly.

"Back on.

Compressions."

I counted.

Two minutes is a long time when you are pushing on a chest.

My arms burned and sweat ran into my eyes.

A small crowd had gathered at the end of the hall.

There were orderlies and visitors and a boy in a bathrobe pulling an IV pole.

No one said a word.

"Clear," Bev said again.

The second shock hit.

The line flickered, wobbled, and then made a clean, narrow peak.

A second one followed.

"We have a rhythm," Bev said, her voice cracking.

I sat back on my heels and a sound came out of my throat that was part sob and part laugh.

"Get her to resus," I said.

"Cardiology on the phone.

Move."

They moved.

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