Nerves of Steel by C.J. Lyons Read Free Book Online Page A

Hiding her face from Adeena, she blinked hard, suddenly ashamed of her own weakness.  She'd been so very wrong to feel that way. 
    Cassie ran her fingers through the girl's pale hair.  Some kind soul had taken the time to comb it out and wash it, she noted with a small smile.
    "I'm not going to let anything happen to you," she promised the comatose girl.  Maybe Jane Doe couldn't hear her, had no idea who this strange woman standing over her was.  Didn't matter.  Cassie was not going to allow Jane Doe to lie here unmourned and unloved.  "You're not alone anymore." 
    CHAPTER 8
    Cassie left Adeena and jogged down the steps to the ER.  Ten till, she had just enough time to change.  In the ER locker room, she grabbed a pair of cotton scrubs and inventoried her equipment: radio at her waistband, hemostat holding trauma scissors and tape cinched beside it, penlight and name tag clipped to her shirt pocket, stethoscope around her neck.  Ready for battle.
    She knew she was no general waging a war against disease, certainly no genius like her boss, Ed Castro, the best physician she knew.  Just another grunt in the trenches, trying to get the job done.  Since leaving Richard, it seemed like the job was all she had.  It was safe to focus on work, avoiding the rest of the world—until she'd met Jane Doe.  Now she felt like she was being pulled in, against her will, that she was risking herself by becoming emotionally involved.
    Which scared the hell out of her.  Richard had overcome her defenses, swallowed her whole, and she'd barely survived. 
    She plodded through the first half of her shift determined to remain objective and professional and refusing to think about the nameless girl lying alone in the ICU.  Well, not much, anyway.
    "Med Five coming in code three."  Her trauma radio sounded the alert.  "Overdose victim."
    "Room Two," Cassie instructed the dispatcher.  "What's their ETA?"
    "Three minutes." 
    Typical Med Five, the hotshots liked to cut it close.  They were the best in the city, so they got away with it.  As she wrapped her yellow Tyvek gown around her, Cassie felt her heart rev into high gear, savoring the familiar jolt of adrenalin.  Just enough to keep her focused as she readied her team. 
    The two critical care nurses prepared IV lines on both sides of the gurney, the respiratory tech had her vent setup and ready to go, the lab tech jogged into the room as the paramedics arrived with her patient.  One of the medics glanced at his watch and flashed the recording nurse a smile. 
    "Must be the A-Team on tonight, Tony," he said to his partner.
    "What's the story?" Cassie asked.
    "Name's Brian Winston.  Nineteen years old.  Found at a rave over by the West End Bridge," he told Cassie amidst the tangle of arms involved in transferring the patient, monitor and lines to the ER personnel.  "Tried high dose Narcan, but no change."
    Cassie bent over her patient.  His eyes were open, but he was unresponsive, his pupils pinpoint.  "Any idea what he took?"
    "Nope.  The cops are right behind us with his friends."
    "Get me a tox screen, blood gas and set of lytes." The heart rate and blood pressure alarms shrieked.  She glanced up, absorbing the overall picture in one quick look.  It wasn't good.  None of the FX overdoses had presented like this.  She needed to figure out what Brian took and come up with a plan to counteract it. 
    A third alarm added its strident voice to the chorus.  She didn't have much time--neither did her patient. 
    She stepped out into the hallway, and spotted an uniformed police officer towering over two teenaged girls sitting on the plastic chairs arranged along the wall.
    "I'm Dr. Hart.   I'm taking care of your friend."  Both girls had streaks of fluorescent color in their hair and body makeup to match.  One of them had been crying.
    "Is Brian gonna be all right?"
    Cassie squatted and met the girl's eyes.  "I don't know.  I'm trying to help him, but I really need