Infected (Book 1): The Fall Read Free Page B

to bare chest.”
    “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Lawrence yelled to the machine in frustration as he fumbled to open a foil package.  His fat thumbs and fingers struggled to separate the foil halves containing the pads.  Finally, he was able to pull the halves of the package apart and reveal the defibrillator pads.  The pads consisted of a twelve inch long blue rectangle with a square pad coming off the top left and another square pad coming off the bottom right.  Lawrence laid the top pad on her chest above her right breast.  The blue rectangle ran down her sternum. He positioned the bottom pad across the left side of her abdomen.  Her bra interfered with the pads laying down flush on her skin.
    Lawrence retrieved the scissors from his pocket a second time and placed one blade above and the other below the connecting strap between the two cups of her bra.  All the while, the voice urged him to, “Attach defib pads to bare chest.” He brought his fingers together, causing the blades to slice effortlessly between the satiny white material.  The tension from the shoulder straps and the elastic strap around her back snapped the two cups to either side. 
    I instinctively averted my eyes, feeling like I had violated the woman by seeing her in her unconscious, helpless state.  Reason took over.  Lawrence needed my help and so did she. I pushed the guilt out of my mind as I turned back to assist Lawrence.  He removed the plastic backing on the pads to reveal the sticky backside.  With the sticky side exposed, he pushed the top pad down and it adhered to her skin.  He repeated the process with the pad over her lower left side. 
    The electronic voice broke the silence, “Analyzing, don’t touch patient.”  A moment later, it announced, “Push flashing button to deliver shock.”  Lawrence pushed the button and the woman’s body jumped on the floor.  The voice instructed, “Begin CPR.”
    We switched positions and Lawrence began chest compressions and I held the mask and Ambu Bag, ready to deliver breaths to her.  We continued the cycle of compressions and breaths until the voice interrupted our work.  “Analyzing, don’t touch patient.” 
    At the machine’s request, Lawrence pressed the shock button again, causing the woman’s torso to rigidly lurch on the floor and then relax. Rather than immediately begin CPR as instructed by the voice, Lawrence checked for a pulse.  After ten seconds he looked up at me.  Shaking his head back and forth, he peeled the pads from her skin and set them on the floor. 
    He reached over and turned off the oxygen tank regulator.  He placed his right hand over her open eyes and slowly moved it down toward her mouth, gently brushing over her eyelids. When his hand had moved low enough, her eyes became visible again, but  this time they were covered by her closed eyelids.  He had performed the last trick in his repertoire.  
    The man who had been seated beside the deceased woman, prior to her collapse, had been silently peering over my shoulder as we worked.  I looked back and I could see his eyes begin to glisten.  The moisture continued to build until it was pooled around his bottom eyelids. Gravity suddenly overcame the surface tension that had been holding the liquid in place and a tear rolled down the side of his left cheek, rapidly at first and then it slowed, leaving a wet trail in its wake.  “One hour past, she say ‘have pain in head.’  She say, ‘feel bad, very hot,’” he offered in explanation as he pulled the severed halves of her shirt together to cover her naked chest.
    He obviously didn’t want to leave her side.  He couldn’t believe she was gone.  Three and a half hours ago, they had been embarking on a journey together.  Now he was embarking upon another journey, a journey of solitude.
    As if to add an exclamation mark to her passing, there was a crash to my left.  I looked and saw a man laying on his back, five paces