“Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two,” Rylee huffed as she felt her hands descend violently into Benny’s rib cage.Two inches,two inches, or you’re just wasting your effort. Dig deep. Push hard.
Neesa was scrambling around, pulling the barrier from its little blue keychain packet, unfolding it with uncooperative fingers, then laying it on Benny’s face.
Just as Rylee huffed, “Thirty,” and sat back on her heels to catch her breath, Neesa bent to fill Benny’s lungs.
“Another breath, Neesa,” Rylee said, scanning for anyone else who might have arrived who could take turns with the compressions. She was a machine that was running out of gas. As she emerged from the adrenaline-induced focus, she was surprised that no other helpers had arrived on the scene. There was Neesa and the Bean Counter.
The Bean Counter was gripping her phone in both hands, looking traumatized but steadfast.
As Neesa lifted, Rylee went back to her counting.
Five rounds of thirty thrusts—her turn complete, Rylee changed positions with Neesa.
When Rylee took up the kneeling position alongside Benny’s head, she was gasping for air.
Poor Neesa was a lighter, shorter woman than Rylee, and so it took a great deal more effort. Rylee watched to make sure Neesa was getting the required depth.
When Neesa, sweat dripping from her forehead, gasped out, “Thirty,” it was Rylee’s turn to tip Benny’s head back, lift his chin, and form a seal over the plastic sheet that hopefully kept possibly dangerous germs and vomit out of her mouth.
Not her first time, probably not her last. This was all muscle memory and determination.
The friends had traded places five times—ten long minutes—when they heard a commotion on the stairs.
Briefcase came flying down the steps with an AED in hand.
“Rylee, can you keep compressing while I set up the AED?” Neesa asked.
“Wilco,” Will comply. Short, sweet, and zero energy to get it out.
Neesa opened the AED lid, pressed the machine on, and pulled out the pads.
“Razor,” Rylee said as she counted aloud. Beside her was Benny’s phone, and she knew the friend was listening to all of this because she could hear the guy calling, “Come on, Benny, you’ve got this. You’ve got it. Hang in there.”
Rylee thought that there was probably some part of Benny that was aware and could receive those messages of encouragement from a friend rather than two strangers on the Metro platform.
Neesa worked fluidly, shaving and placing the pads on the upper right chest, then the left at armpit level. With hands trembling from adrenaline, Neesa connected the pads to the AED.
As soon as the machine said, “Stop compressions. Analyzing,” both women pulled their bodies away from Benny.
A quick scan of the area said they had Bean Counter and Briefcase helping. Rylee wondered why the D.C. police hadn’t swarmed down the stairs. Sure, they could be running full-out to get there, or there might have been a communications breakdown. But at least the Metro train whizzed on by without stopping or letting anyone off.
Snatching up Benny’s phone during the momentary respite, Rylee moved it next to the man’s ear, a safe distance from any interference with the AED, and called down. “Benny’s friend, you’re on speaker phone. Keep it up. Keep encouraging him.”
“Yes. Yes. Benny, man. I texted Martha. Think of your wife and kids. They need you. You can do this for them, right?”
A robotic female voice came through the AED speakers, “Shock advised.”
“Clear,” Neesa and Rylee said together, holding their hands in the air to visually confirm that no one was touching Benny.
Then, Rylee reached out and pressed the shock button.
She’d seen the process on videos in training, and she knew what to expect, but she’d never been around when an AED was used on a person in front of her.
It was violent, and Rylee’s own heart slammed into her rib cage.
“Resume compressions,” the AED advised. And Rylee went right back to work, turning her head to see the briefcase guy. “Can you do this?”
“Touch him?” Briefcase took a step backward.
