The Slow Burn

by Caro Carson

  “Your timing is perfect,” the fireman said. “The last person just finished practicing chest compressions. Do you want to practice before the testing starts?”

  “No, I’ll take the test.” She walked up to his side, turned to face the dummy, then smacked it on the shoulder once, twice, three times. Hard. “Are you okay? Are you okay?”

  The fireman raised an eyebrow at the way she dove in, but he didn’t interrupt her.

  She shook the dummy, shouted louder. “Can you hear me?”

  “No response,” the fireman said.

  She looked him in the eye and pointed at his strong chest. “I want you to call 911. Stay on the phone, stay beside me and help me.”

  Then she got to work and tried to salvage a stupid dummy’s life.

  Chapter Three

  “Pass.”

  As Tana nodded at the fireman and headed for the nearest chair, he added, “Good job.”

  Yes, she had a good job at this university. She was going to keep it. Somehow.

  But how? In the past hour, just taking a deep breath had become impossible.

  The professor in the suit and tie wasn’t pushing hard enough on the mannequin’s chest. He argued with the fireman. “If I pushed harder in real life, I could break a rib.”

  “Look at it this way,” the fireman said, all calm authority. “The worst has already happened. They aren’t breathing. Their heart isn’t beating. The patient is dead.” He turned to the rest of the class. “Let that make you fearless. I want all of you to jump in and try, if you find yourself in this situation. It’s impossible for you to make the situation worse. Anything you do can only make it better.”

  The worst has already happened. The words swam around Tana’s foggy brain. She was dimly aware of the professor pushing hard enough to grunt with each compression, making the green indicator on the dummy’s chest light up.

  “Pass.”

  The worst had happened. She was mere months away from letting down a team of hopeful swimmers who were looking up to her. Mere months from destroying her reputation in the swimming world for once and for all. Months from her parents’ crushing disappointment. Their scorn. The situation couldn’t get worse, but she was far from fearless.

  “Oh, I don’t think I can do this.” The famous Granny Dee sounded distressed as she looked up at the fireman.

  Me, neither. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t...

  “I’m in my eighties. I’m five feet tall. Do you really think I’m going to be able to inflate that mannequin’s chest?” She fluttered one hand toward the three lights that were implanted on the dummy’s torso. “I couldn’t make that little yellow dot light up, let alone the green one during practice. It’s frustrating to be old and frail and—” her hand fluttered between the fireman and herself “—and small.”

  The size difference between them was laughable, but the fireman didn’t laugh. “You’re not helpless, even if the person is twice your size. Suppose you find me unresponsive. What’s the most important thing you can do to help me?”

  “You said to call 911.”

  “Exactly.”

  As Tana listened, she breathed in deliberately. She needed oxygen, just as the fireman had said. There was something so positive about him. Lieutenant Something.

  “Could you tip my head back to open my airway? Could you sweep your fingers in my mouth to clear out anything that might be blocking my airway?”

  Granny Dee started nodding along with his questions.

  Lieutenant Sterling, that was it.

  “I’d like to say you’d find that I’d collapsed in the middle of eating a healthy apple, but it’s just as likely I was chowing down on a chocolate-chip cookie.” Lieutenant Sterling flashed a charming smile.

  Granny Dee smiled, too. Tana almost smiled herself at the little scene. It was clear the fireman had a soft spot for the elderly. Tana breathed in one more time.

  “You could start looking for the nearest AED box,” he added, referring to the automatic defibrillators located throughout the campus.

  Granny Dee patted his arm, as if she were consoling him. “I could and would do all that, but I know I wouldn’t be able to breathe hard enough or push on your chest hard enough to have any effect.”

  “Maybe not, but let me tell you now, while I’m healthy and conscious, that I’d sure appreciate it if you’d try. You have nothing to lose, and my life to gain.”

  Granny Dee looked down at the mannequin and sighed. “I feel silly, but I’ll try.” She pinched the dummy’s nose shut and gave it the ol’ college try.

  The green dot did not light up.

  “Fail.” The lieutenant pronounced the grade gravely. Maybe that soft spot wasn’t so soft.

  “I knew I’d fail,” Granny Dee said, a little reproachfully, before she started to head back to her seat.

  Lieutenant Sterling stopped her. “You failed because you didn’t do all the steps.”

  “Watching me attempt this is a joke. You know I can’t do it.”

  “Trying to save a life is never a joke. I think you can do this.” He stepped back and put his hands behind his back. “Begin at the beginning.”

  She sighed, but then she smacked the dummy on the shoulder. “Are you okay? Are you okay?”

  “No response,” Sterling said.

  “Who can call 911?” Granny Dee asked, turning toward the class.

  Tana raised her hand without thinking. “I’m calling 911.”

  “Is there an AED?” Granny Dee called to the classroom in general. “Somebody look for a box on the wall that says AED.”

  Ruby raised her hand. “I’ll start looking.”

  Granny Dee put one hand on the dummy’s forehead and pulled out the chin to open the airway. She put her ear toward the dummy’s mouth and pretended to listen for breathing. Then she took a deep breath, pinched the nose shut and blew with all her might.

  The green dot did not light up.

  Granny Dee looked at the lieutenant, who remained as he was, standing with his hands behind his back, expressionless. She turned away, irritated, frustrated—flat-out angry—and she jabbed her finger at the man in the suit and tie. “You. Come here. I want you to blow two hard breaths into this person’s mouth. Then I’ll show you where to place your hands so you can do chest compressions.”

  “Pass.” Lieutenant Sterling clapped his hands together in a single, loud clap of satisfaction. The room erupted in applause and laughter. “That is the kind of fierce determination that can save a life. Pass. Absolute pass.”

  Fierce determination.

  That was what Tana was going to need. She’d had that, once upon a time. She’d made an Olympic team on fierce determination. She knew what it took.

  Person after person shouted at the dummy. The little green dot lit up over and over.

  Tana could handle this pregnancy, Jerry or no Jerry. She could coach her team while she was nine months pregnant in the middle of the NCAA finals. She would.

  She had no choice.

  Her vision swam. Dimly, she realized she was no longer hungry, no longer thirsty. That was good, wasn’t it?

  The fireman’s calm voice was addressing the group. The worst has happened, he’d said earlier. Fierce determination, he’d said. She wanted to know what he was saying now, but as he placed a new mannequin on the table, the world suddenly began whooshing past her. She held on to her desk, disoriented, and stared at the new mannequin.

  It was a baby, a baby-sized mannequin, which they were all going to pretend was dead. It was the baby’s fault she felt so dizzy...

  It really was an actual baby’s fault she felt so dizzy...

  The sunspots came back. Tana blinked, and then the world went black.

  * * *

  Class was nearly over.

  Every one of Caden’s students had passed. Mont
ana had, true to her word, been the ace student, passing with flying colors. She’d given those chest compressions sharply, forcefully—entirely appropriately—yet he couldn’t help but feel she’d been using the CPR as a little stress relief. He’d bet her urgent call hadn’t gone well. They could talk it out over a beer later.

  Or sooner. All that he needed to do now was explain the difference between adult and infant CPR, pass out some diplomas, then head for the Tipsy Musketeer. He didn’t think he’d ever looked forward to a beer more.

  Caden put the adult mannequin away and unzipped the bag that held the next mannequin. “You can stay in your seats. This part is not tested. I just need one person for this demonstration. Granny Dee, are you willing to be the guinea pig?”

  She joined him at the front of the room. He laid the pediatric mannequin on the table.

  Granny Dee recoiled from the infant-sized dummy. “Oh. Oh, that would be horrible.”

  It’s a nightmare, and it will reappear in your nightmares every once in a while for the rest of your life, even when your CPR was successful.

  Caden glanced around the circle of students. Everyone’s expressions were suddenly serious. The law professor looked repulsed. Montana looked ashen. Surely, she wasn’t going into shock at the obviously fake mannequin, but he kept an eye on her as he turned his attention back to Granny Dee and the rest of the class. “You’re right. It would be horrible, but it would be even more horrible to stand there and have no idea what to do. An infant doesn’t require nearly as much force as an adult. Ready to save a life, Granny Dee?”

  They went through the steps. He turned to the class and asked if there were any questions. Montana was looking at him, staring right at him, brown eyes big in a too-white face. Her color was off, really off. He took a step toward her. “Are you okay?”

  Her eyes rolled up into her head.

  Damn it.

  He was fast, but not that fast. She crashed into the desk next to her on her way down, sliding from her chair into a crumpled heap on the floor as metal desk legs clattered against linoleum.

  Everyone made an exclamation of some kind. Somebody screamed for a mercifully brief second. But nobody, not one of the students to whom he’d just taught first aid, moved to help.

  Or maybe they did, but Caden was there first, kneeling over her. “Montana. Can you hear me?”

  Ruby landed on her knee on the other side. “Tana!”

  “She didn’t fall far. Nothing’s broken, she’s not bleeding, she’s not having a seizure, and she is breathing on her own, so what do we do?” Speaking out loud as he assessed the patient was automatic, a given in the medical world, particularly when there were rookies around, but Caden didn’t wait for them to answer with the right steps. “We make her comfortable.”

  He shoved a chair out of the way, and Ruby helped him straighten out her legs. “We elevate her feet.”

  Another woman jumped in to help, taking off her light sweater and rolling it up to put under Montana’s head. A nice gesture, but—

  “Feet,” Caden repeated mildly. He pressed on the artery on the inside of her wrist. Her pulse was rapid, somewhat faint, but it was regular. This was a simple faint.

  “Oh, Tana,” Ruby whispered as she smoothed her friend’s hair back. Again, nice gesture, but—

  “Open your eyes.” Caden wasn’t going to slap Montana awake, but he tapped her cheek with the back of his hand. Ruby had called her Tana. Tana had told him herself she went by that. “Open your eyes, Tana.”

  The woman who had made a pillow of her sweater was from the pub group—Shirley. She moved to Tana’s feet, sat on the floor, then picked up Tana’s feet and put them in her lap. Caden nodded at her. Right thing to do.

  “Open your eyes, Tana.” He tapped her cheek again. “Somebody bring my medical bag here. The black-and-red bag.”

  It was second nature for him to put the stethoscope in his ears, a practiced move to slip his thumb under the tubing to keep it from rubbing against her skin and making noise. He tucked the chest piece an inch under her shirt collar. He listened to her heart from first the left side, then the right. He listened for long seconds: no obvious arrhythmia. Again, a simple faint.

  “Should we call 911?” Ruby asked, sounding breathless herself.

  Caden slid her a look.

  “Oh. I guess 911 is already here.”

  Caden winked at her, so she’d relax. This was no emergency to panic over, but it wasn’t good for anyone to lose consciousness, either. He moved the stethoscope to Tana’s lower lungs, although he knew he’d hear no sounds of pneumonia. It was the proper order of things. The practice of medicine was one giant set of methodical procedures, so that nothing would be missed, even if the provider’s feelings were involved.

  I should have known she was too pale. I should have caught her before she hit the floor.

  Ruby watched him. “Doesn’t she need an ambulance?”

  “We’ll see. She’s coming to.” There was no traumatic injury that required the advanced equipment offered by an ambulance. He’d take her in his truck if she wanted to go to the ER. He knew everyone there, so he’d walk in with her. They’d take special care of her for him. Like what? Like she’s your girlfriend?

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  He smiled at her, maybe more than his usual professional smile. “There you are.”

  She scrunched her face into a frown as he slid his hand and the stethoscope around her side to listen to her lungs from her back. He heard her breath in his ears, felt her ribs expand under his palm.

  Ruby smoothed her hair some more. “You fell out of your chair. You must have hit your head on the way down, because you were out like a light.”

  Tana frowned. “My head?”

  Caden slung his stethoscope across the back of his neck and moved to cradle the back of her head in his palm. He didn’t feel any swelling, and she didn’t respond as if he were touching any tender spots. “I don’t think you hit your head. I saw you go down. Does your head hurt?”

  “No, my stomach.”

  With his other hand, he immediately pressed her abdomen, feeling for an enlarged spleen or liver, for the telltale signs of appendicitis, for anything unusual.

  She wrapped her hand around his wrist, so he paused, but her abdomen felt perfectly normal. Better than normal. Her flat stomach didn’t come from starving herself; she was all sleek muscle. Whatever her sport was, she must still play it. Often.

  “I’m hungry,” she mumbled to him. “Let’s go to the pub. You said you wanted dessert. Didn’t you say that?” She looked a little confused at her own question.

  “Oh, honey,” Ruby said, “I think we need to go to the emergency room.”

  Tana frowned at Ruby. “No hospital. I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten all day, because—because I wasn’t hungry, but now I’m starving.”

  Caden pulled his wrist out of her grip to tap his stethoscope. “I thought I heard your stomach growling.”

  “Ha ha ha.” Her retort was said in a voice that was still weak, but she was definitely regaining her sense of orientation. She looked around at the people clustered over them, then back at him with a grimace, a little wrinkle to her nose that he shouldn’t have noticed was so cute on a patient. “I’m sorry.”

  “For providing everyone with a real-world case? It was a good test.” Which most of them failed.

  “Sorry for disrupting your class. I promised you I wouldn’t.”

  “You kept your word. Class was over.” He was smiling at her, because she was smiling at him. With his hand cupping her head, this felt almost...personal. Intimate.

  Unprofessional.

  He let her head rest on the sweater once more so he could get his glucometer out of his bag.

  Tana moved to sit up. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet. Let’s check your blood sugar. Onl
y takes a second.”

  “I can tell you it’s low. I meant to get myself something from the vending machine earlier. Should have done that, huh? This is so embarrassing.”

  Granny Dee was hovering with the rest, so he asked her to distribute the CPR certificates for him, so the class could leave, and Tana wouldn’t feel so self-conscious.

  He held up an alcohol wipe and a lancet. “You gonna let me prick your finger or not?”

  “I have a choice?”

  “Always.” He pulled on disposable gloves. “But the right answer is yes.”

  “Fine.” She held her hand up. He had the crazy impulse to be a gentleman, to bow his head and kiss her fingers.

  He pricked one with a needle instead. While he squeezed a drop of blood onto the test strip, the class took their diplomas and left one by one, except for Ruby and Shirley.

  He whistled at the low number on the glucometer. “I think we know why you fainted. You don’t have hypoglycemia or diabetes, do you?”

  “No. I swear, I just didn’t eat today.”

  “Let’s have you chew up a couple of glucose tablets, and we’ll test it again. I bet you’ll feel good as new.” He dug in his medical bag for them.

  Shirley still had Tana’s feet in her lap. “She didn’t know if she’d invited you to the pub or not. Isn’t that a sign of a concussion?”

  “Confusion can be a sign of low blood sugar, too. Or dehydration.” He found the tablets and looked down at Tana. “I don’t suppose you remembered to drink today, even if you weren’t hungry?”

  “Um... I had a cup of coffee this morning.”

  “Not good.”

  “I know.”

  “But you’re in good shape. If you start drinking right now, you’ll hydrate yourself pretty quickly.” He turned to Ruby. “Can you get her a drink out of the vending machine? Not a soda. Water or a sports drink would be good.”

  Ruby took off.

  “Let’s sit you up so you can enjoy these glucose tablets. They’re delicious.”