Page 149 of We Are Just Us

And then he saw Rory.

He wasn’t moving.

The first responder had him laid out on the sand, flat on his back. Rory’s wetsuit was still dripping. His hair plastered to his head. The necklace, his mom’s necklace, still around his neck, glinting in the sun.

But his eyes were closed.

One of the paramedics dropped to his knees beside Rory. Put his ear to Rory’s mouth. Two fingers to his neck.

“No pulse. Starting compressions.”

No.

The paramedic locked his hands together, positioned them on Rory’s chest, and pushed down. Hard.

The force of it made Rory’s whole body jerk. The silver chain bounced against his skin.

The paramedic was counting. “One, two, three, four—”

Another paramedic appeared with a bag valve mask. Tilted Rory’s head back. Two breaths.

Then back to compressions.

“Come on,” the paramedic muttered. “Come on.”

Kieran heard a sound. Realized it was coming from him. A whimper. Like a wounded animal.

Samantha’s hand found his arm. Gripped it. Hard.

Thirty compressions. Two breaths.

The necklace kept bouncing. Up and down. Up and down. With each compression that was supposed to restart Rory’s heart.

“How long?” one paramedic asked.

“Minute thirty. Get the AED ready.”

Someone was tearing open Rory’s wetsuit. Exposing his chest. Pale skin. A paramedic grabbed the St. Christopher and yanked. The chain snapped. He tossed it into the sand without looking.

Pads on his chest. Everyone back.

A mechanical voice. “Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch the patient.”

Kieran held his breath.

“Shock advised. Charging.”

No. God. No.

“Clear.”

Rory’s body convulsed. Arched off the sand.

Then he was still again.

“Resuming compressions.”

And they were back at it. Hard, rhythmic, desperate.