“Epinephrine?”
He nods. “Point three, IM. No response.”
“Hit him with another dose,” I say and the newbie EMT disappears into the rig.
“Why isn’t he intubated?” I frown up at Brayden and he gives a quick shake of his head.
“Couldn’t pass the tube. We’re gonna lose this kid if we don’t get him an airway.”
Enough said.
“Then let’s get him an airway.”
We start to wheel him through the entrance when the monitor screams, then flatlines.
“No pulse,” Talia confirms.
I move to the boy’s chest, my hands over his heart. “Starting compressions.”
Everything else falls away—the wide-eyed newbie paramedic, Brayden’s focused movements, the hiss of hospital doors, the crunch of gravel under hurrying feet. It’s just this kid. His face. His life.
He got out of bed this morning thinking it was a regular day. Maybe he had plans with friends. Maybe he kissed his mom on the cheek or flipped his dad the bird on his way out the door. He was alive.
And he’s gonna stay that way.
I count out compressions. Focus on rhythm. Focus on hope.
A blip.
A beep.
“We have a pulse now!” Talia shouts.
“That’s right, son” I whisper. “Stay with me. Let’s get him into the?—"
“Sat’s still dropping!” The look in Talia’s eyes says everything I already know.
“Shit. We’re out of time.” I reach out my hand. “Scalpel.”
“Not in the OR?” the new paramedic gasps.
“Not if we wanna keep that pulse,” I murmur as Talia drops a scalpel into my hand. “Admin can kiss my ass later.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything different,” she replies with a knowing smirk.
“Get a tube ready,” I tell Brayden, not taking my eyes off the kid’s throat. “Cricothyrotomy’s our only shot.”
The incision is small, precise. My fingers are steady. I insert the tube; watch it fog as air finally reaches his lungs.
A hiss.
Then Talia calls, “We’ve got breath sounds!”
A woman screams from the far side of the lot. She pushes through the chaos. Her hair’s half up, frizzed, strands flying like static. “Oh no! Oh God! Oliver!”
One hand covers her mouth. The other trembles at her side. Brayden’s already moving again, guiding the stretchertoward the doors. The woman follows in a daze, and I step back, breath coming fast, pulse still high. Hands on my hips, I close my eyes and thank God I was here early today.
That. That right there. That’s why I do this.
