Chapter 8 - The Line Between Life and Death
Clara dropped to her knees beside Sean, tearing open the sterile emergency kit with her teeth. Her hands, honed by years of pediatric trauma drills, did not shake. She snapped the neck of the glass ampule, plunged the syringe needle in, and drew the exact dosage in less than three seconds.
""Hold his legs!"" Sean ordered, positioning Toby’s head to the side to keep his airway clear while clearing the foam from the boy’s mouth with a sterile gauze pad.
Clara located the muscle of Toby’s outer thigh through the hospital gown and drove the needle smoothly into the tissue, depressing the plunger. ""Midazolam administered. Five milligrams IM.""
For thirty agonizing seconds, the jerking did not stop. Toby’s chest heaved erratically, his tiny heart hammering so violently against his ribs that it was visible beneath his paper-thin skin. Sean pressed two fingers to the boy’s carotid artery, counting the chaotic beats.
""He's in ventricular tachycardia,"" Sean said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. ""He's slipping into fibrillation. I need the pediatric bag valve mask.""
Clara fitted the small silicone mask over Toby’s nose and mouth, squeezing the reservoir bag in a steady, measured rhythm: Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe.
Across the room, Sarah lowered her hands from her face. Her initial terror was rapidly being overtaken by a desperate, frantic realization of what this meant for her. She saw the phone lying on the floor, still live, still streaming the audio of their resuscitation efforts to millions of listeners.
She lunged for the phone.
""Don't touch it!"" Clara snarled, never breaking the cadence of her compressions on the ventilation bag. ""Don't you dare touch that phone!""
""This is my house! This is my family!"" Sarah shrieked, snatching the phone from the floor. She pointed the lens directly at Clara and Sean kneeling over the dying child. ""Look at them! These trespassers broke into our home and attacked my nephew! They injected him with something! Help us!""
""You sick, twisted monster,"" Sean spat, not even looking up as he initiated chest compressions with two fingers on Toby's sternum. One, two, three, four. ""He’s in full arrest, Clara! Switch to CPR!""
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Clara took over the chest compressions without missing a single beat, her jaw set, tears finally spilling over her lashes as she pressed down on the fragile little chest. ""Come on, Toby. Stay with me, baby. Stay with me.""
Outside, the distant, rising wail of sirens began to echo through the valley. But under Clara’s fingers, Toby’s pulse suddenly vanished entirely.
