Powerless by Tim Washburn Read Free Book Online Page B

releases the breath he had unconsciously been holding.
    He squats to wrap his arms around Lexi and rake his fingers through her thick, curly coat as tears wet her fur. She licks his face and he hugs her tighter. This is not the first time he’s waited helplessly for the arrival of an ambulance. He stands as it turns into the drive and the siren dies in mid-whoop.
    Two paramedics jump out, one male, one female. Both are young and athletic and they begin grabbing medical equipment from a side compartment of the ambulance.
    Zeke steps up close. “We’re going to need the stretcher.” The woman yanks open the back door and tugs the stretcher from the clamps on the floor.
    â€œCan you explain what happened?” she says. Ramirez, according to the name tag pinned to her white uniform shirt. Petite and dark haired. She loads medical supplies onto the gurney.
    â€œMy mom saw him collapse as he was walking up the path in the backyard,” Zeke says. “I checked his pulse—it’s weak but it seemed to be regular. I also gave him three aspirin as soon as I could.”
    â€œYou did good,” she says. “Can you fill me in on his medical history as you lead the way?” Zeke grabs the front of the gurney and begins pulling it around the side of the house. He recites what little he knows of his father’s health history.
    The gurney bounces over several exposed tree roots as they round the house and make their way down the path. The other paramedic, a white guy named Dotson, according to his name tag, appears to spend all of his off time at the gym and seems content to allow his partner to ask all the questions. Zeke’s mother stands to allow the man room to operate. He sinks to his knees and begins reaching for equipment from the bags with one hand while his other feels for a pulse at the neck. With a pair of heavy scissors, the man snips the length of Robert Marshall’s T-shirt and begins attaching a series of leads to his chest.
    Ramirez grabs a blood pressure cuff from one bag, whips the gray band around Robert’s thin arm, and inflates the cuff. She one-hands a stethoscope into her ears and places the business end next to the cuff. A hiss of air escapes as she gradually deflates the blood pressure monitor. “Ninety over sixty,” she says to her partner as she reaches for a bag of IV fluids.
    Zeke can’t tell from her tone if that’s bad or good, but he doesn’t want to interrupt them to ask. She swabs his father’s other arm with an astringent antiseptic and begins searching for a vein, finding one near his elbow after several flicks of her middle finger. She plunges the large needle into his arm and attaches the line from the IV bag, handing it up for Zeke to hold.
    â€œLet’s get him on the stretcher,” Dotson says as his eyes focus on a monitor where a steady stream of green-lined peaks and valleys traces across the screen. Zeke hands the IV bag to his mother and kneels down to help the paramedics maneuver his father. He’s somewhat surprised at how light his father is. He was never a large man, but Zeke never considered him fragile until his arms reach under his upper body. Together, he and Dotson lift him onto the gurney.
    Ramirez pushes a lever with her foot and all three pull on the top rail of the stretcher. Zeke glances down and is surprised to discover his father’s eyes open. He leans over and kisses his forehead. “You collapsed in the yard. You’re on the way to the hospital.”
    It’s hard to tell how much he understands, but he nods weakly. The three push the stretcher up the slight incline of the path and back around the house. Zeke looks back to see his mother shuffling up the trail, her head down and her shoulders stooped.
    â€œC’mon, Mom,” he says. “You ride with him in the ambulance and I’ll grab the pickup and follow.” She catches up to them as one of the paramedics swings