Chapter 9 - The Code
""Flatline,"" Sean whispered, pulling his stethoscope from Toby’s chest. ""No pulse. Asystole.""
""No!"" Clara screamed, driving her palms downward in rapid, rhythmic thrusts. ""No, you don't! Toby, breathe!""
Crack. A tiny rib gave way beneath the pressure—a sickening, necessary casualty of saving a toddler’s life. Clara didn't stop. Sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes, dripping onto the pristine white carpet beneath them.
Sarah stood frozen in the corner, holding the phone aloft, but her expression had decayed into pure horror. The sirens outside were deafening now, tires screeching across the gravel driveway below. Footsteps thundered up the stairs.
""Paramedics! Phoenix Fire!""
Four uniformed first responders barged into the room carrying a heavy defibrillator and a pediatric trauma board.
""Four-year-old male, induced thyrotoxic storm leading to asystole,"" Sean reported instantly, stepping back just enough to give them room while maintaining an open airway. ""Down time approximately three minutes. One dose of midazolam given for status epilepticus.""
The lead paramedic ripped Toby's gown open, slapping two pediatric electrode pads onto his bare chest and back. ""Charge to twenty joules! Clear!""
Everyone backed away. Toby's tiny body jerked upward as the electrical charge tore through his heart. The portable monitor let out a long, unbroken whine.
""Still flat! Charge to forty! Resume compressions!""
Clara stood back, her hands covered in sweat and medicine, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. She looked across the bed at Sarah, who was still muttering incoherently into the camera lens, trying to control the narrative even as reality crumbled around her.
""Charge complete! Clear!""
Zap.
Toby's body arched once more. The room fell into absolute, deafening silence, save for the hum of the paramedic’s suction unit.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Beep.
A single spike appeared on the digital screen.
Beep.
Another spike followed, slow, weak, but rhythmic.
""We have sinus bradycardia,"" the paramedic breathed, rapidly securing the oxygen tube. ""He’s back. Let’s move, people! Grab the board!""
They scooped Toby's limp, fragile form onto the backboard, swaddling him in thermal blankets. As they rushed him toward the door, two Phoenix police officers stepped into the room, their hands resting on their holstered weapons.
Sarah immediately stepped forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Clara. ""Officers! Arrest them! They broke in and tried to kill him!""
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The senior officer didn't look at Clara. He looked directly at the high-end camera rig in Sarah’s hands, then down at an open tablet held by his partner, which was displaying the live chat and the recorded audio of the entire incident.
""Sarah Miller?"" the officer said coldly. ""Turn around and place your hands behind your back.""
