Chapter 8
EIGHT
Jesus, what is that sound?
“I don't know. Go. Just go!”
The low electrical hum surrounds us, reaching into my chest, squeezing a new level of fear into my veins.
“What's happening?” she whispers, her hair lifting around her face like they've got a life of their own. Static sparks off the ends.
“Don't touch—”
Too late.
Her hand grazes the railing.
White light detonates. A crack so sharp it punches my ears, kicks my chest.
Rosalie's body jerks hard, then slams down onto the concrete landing.
The shock wave rips through me too, hurls me down a full flight, knees bouncing off treads.
Holy fuck. Holy. Fuck.
“Rosalie!” I claw my way up the treads, the electricity still humming around us.
For a second, I'm so shocked, I stare at her, lungs heaving, head ringing.
To my horror, she's sprawled flat, smoke curling from the hem of her shirt. Her skin is mottled pink and white.
“No, no, no. You're not dying!”
I lean over her. Praying out loud, I search the place where her pulse should be.
Cold floods me when I register the emptiness in her neck.
Nothing. There's nothing.
"Rosalie's down!" I yell into comms. "Get me a med-evac! Now! They electrified the stairwell somehow."
My hands shake for a few seconds, then training kicks in taking over.
Airway. Breathing. Circulation. Tilting her chin, I lean down and give her two big, fast breaths.
Water is pouring from my eyes as I fold my hands over her sternum and begin rhythmic compressions as I yell for her to come back.
Compress. Compress. Compress.
My palms piston against her chest, desperate, brutal, begging the heart under my hands to remember it knows how to beat.
"Come on, sweetheart. Don't do this to me. We got somewhere to be." My voice breaks. "Not like this. Not here."
Every compression rocks her body. But she's lifeless.
Again, I give two breaths even though I know training says all chest compressions now. But I can't stand the idea of her not getting oxygen.
Compress. Compress. My own lungs burn but I won't stop. I'll die on this staircase before I stop.
"JT!" Truck's voice blasts through comms. "Report!"
"Flatline!" I shout, still driving my weight into her chest. "Package one's not breathing!"
"Hold position. I'm enroute with an AED," he growls.
Thank god.
"Do not touch anything metal in the stairwell!" I growl, my voice shredded. "Beast, see if you can kill the power to this entire grid."
"Copy," they both shout back at me.
Rosalie's body rocks as I jostle her over and over. Her gold necklace glints against her throat and a flood of memories twist my insides into a flaming pit of anger.
Come on. Come. On. This is not the end.
"We're just getting started, Rosalie. Hear me. This is us, our fucking start."
My throat closes around a prayer. Not a praying man, but desperation makes you do crazy things.
Seconds pass, then the building goes black-out again. Boots hammer the stairs. Then Truck's bulky frame fills the landing, the red headlamp on his head cutting across us.
His eyes are fierce. He's already ripping open a defibrillator pack he got from somewhere in the building. "Move, JT!"
I don't want to. My hands won't leave her.
"Dammit, move!" He shoves me.
I shift to her head while Truck rips her shirt up and slaps pads onto her chest.
"Assessing," the mechanical voice says as the machine hums to life.
Neither of us move or breathe as we wait.
"Clear to shock," it announces and I exhale, "Yes!"
"Clear!" Truck roars making sure I'm far enough away.
Her body bows under the shock, then slumps back to its lifeless shape. The monitor destroys me when it reports No Pulse Detected.
He runs the defibrillator through another cycle and it green-lights another jolt.
"Come on, baby. You can do it." Emotion is all over my vocal cords, as my hands clench helplessly.
"Clear!" Truck calls again, shoving both hands into his hair.
Another jolt. Her limbs twitch and nausea rolls through me when the reading is bad.
"Let me give her compressions." I knock him out of the way.
Truck grits his teeth and shakes his head, his face covered in sweat. "One more."
"Fucking hell!" I roar, rocking on my knees as he cycles the machine again. "We need adrenaline. I need to give her a kickstart."
"Don't have any on me. Beast's getting the chopper here as fast as he can."
Shit. Shit! "We should have had a trauma kit with us."
He holds up his hand, listening to the machine. We both exhale when it gives us the clear to shock again.
The power cracks through her.
One second passes. Two. Three.
Then a miracle happens. A violent gasp tears from her throat.
Next comes the best sound I've ever heard. Beep. Beep. Beep.
My chest caves with a sob as I fall onto her, burying my face against her neck. "That's it. Wake up, beautiful."
The pulse in her body is weak. Faint. But steady.
I choke on a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. My hands wrap around her face. "There you are, angel."
Beast interrupts me through the comms, "JT! Truck! Those two tangos are on the floor below you, coming your way fast."
Truck moves silently as he draws his weapon and disappears down the darkened stairs. Fully prepared to engage.
We don't need to talk. He knows what I'm doing.
I know he's got our back.
After putting on my headlamp, I scoop Rosalie up, grabbing the defibrillator.
I'm not taking any chances with her.
"What's happening," she groans weakly.
"Just rest."
Taking the stairs two at a time, I head up to the next level's exit.
"Won't be long now, babe. There's a chopper coming for you."
She moans softly as I take the corridor to the other stairs.
"Stay awake, I need you to stay with me."
"Hurts."
The weight her pain grinds me to ash as I race down the secondary stairs and out into the dark parking lot. "I know baby, I probably destroyed your ribs. I'm so fucking sorry."
Above us the glorious sound of rotors shakes the night air.
Lights from the bird sweep the ground as wind whips at us. Dust bites at my skin.
“Here's your ride," I rasp, my chest shaking with restrained sobs as I shield her face against my shoulder protecting her from the rotor-wash.
"Everything's going to be okay."
It has to be.