The Last Hour by Charles Sheehan-Miles

Author:Charles Sheehan-Miles [Sheehan-Miles, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Drama, United States, Genre Fiction, Political
ISBN: 0988273683
Amazon: B00CEYHW6U
Publisher: Cincinnatus Press
Published: 2013-04-17T05:00:00+00:00

Not over yet (Carrie)

I gasped for air as that bastard Lafferty ran out the door. Dylan looked confused, anger written across his face, and Alexandra stared at Dylan as if she didn’t know who he was. The sudden burst of violence had shocked everyone, most of all Dylan himself. He was pale, a look of shock on his face, as he stared after the man who had been so scared he’d soiled himself.

There was a bare moment of silence, and then I heard beeping, loud, from the nurses’ station.

Seconds later one of the nurses called out from Sarah’s room, “Get Doctor Wilson! And a crash cart! She’s coding!”

Numb terror flooded through me. Had I somehow resigned myself to the idea I might lose Ray? I don’t think so, but all the same, this plunged me into a new well of fear. My heart thumped in my chest as I watched another nurse, and then a doctor, run into Sarah’s room. The alarms from the monitors were piercing my head, my heart.

I stood there, gasping, not knowing what to do, and then I felt arms around me. Alexandra on one side, and Jessica on the other.

The three of us stood there, like shipwreck survivors, and watched our sister, praying she wasn’t dying. Inside the room, the doctor held a pair of plastic paddles as they charged up with a whining sound, and a nurse pulled Sarah’s gown down and out of the way while another smeared gel on her chest.

The doctor yelled, “Clear!” and pressed the paddles to her chest. A loud thump, and her body spasmed. Jessica staggered next to me, and I turned and lifted her.

“Dylan, help!” I cried. He ran to me and lifted Jessica in his arms. She had turned pasty white, and a low, keening whine rose from her throat. Her eyes were wide open, bugged out, pupils dilated. Dylan said, “Come on, you don’t need to see this.”

“No!” she cried. She started to fight him, hysterical tears falling down her face as she struggled to pull away. He gripped her harder, his upper arms bulging with effort as he held her. He spoke to her in a hoarse whisper, “It’s going to be okay, Jessica. It’s going to be okay.”

I sobbed as the monitor above Sarah continued to emit a shriek. The doctor shouted, “Clear!” again. The nurses stepped back, and he applied the paddles again, and Sarah’s body flopped again.

The doctor and nurses stood back, watching the monitor, and nothing happened. Jessica started to moan again, and Dylan murmured, “It’s not over yet. Stay calm. Stay calm.” He didn’t let go of her. Two more doctors had arrived in the room by this time.

“Bag her,” the doctor said, his voice calm. “Compressions.”

I watched as a nurse fitted a breathing device over Sarah’s face, and one of the other doctors began CPR as a nurse pulled a curtain closed, blocking our view of the room.

“Clear!” the first doctor shouted. A thump, and the alarms continued.

“Compressions!” the doctor called.

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