Michael Palmer - Extreme Measures

The phone began ringing, again and again. She tried to move to — answer it, but nothing happened.

Then, through the darkness, Loretta heard a pounding on her door.

She heard men calling out her name.

"I'm here," she wanted to cry out. "I'm here and I'm frightened.

Please help me. I can't breathe."

The pounding grew-louder. Suddenly there was a loud crash.

Loretta knew that her door was being broken down.

Hurry, Loretta thought. Hurry and help me.

"Okay, okay. Reach in and open it," she heard a man say.

"There she is. Jesus, look at this place. No wonder the North End's so clean. All the junk's in here."

There were footsteps. Then Loretta sensed a hand touching her on the side of her neck.

"Nothing," one man said. The hand probed again, and then pulled away.

"She's gone. See that fluid?

Looks like a heart attack." it took several seconds before Loretta understood.

No, wait, her mind screamed. I'm alive! I can hear you! I can hear you!

"Do you want to mouth-to-mouth her?"

"Hell, no. Do you want to put your mouth over that? Just call the rescue squad. Let them do it if they want. Then call the station and report what's going on." One man made a phone call while the other continued feeling along Loretta's neck. Then he put his ear to her chest.

"You know, every once in a while, I swear I can feel a pulse," he said.

"That's just the pulsing in your own fingers. It happens like that all the time. Jesus, this place.

"Billy, check her neck. tell me what you think."

Loretta sensed the other man kneeling beside her and felt his hand on her neck. His fingers were colder than the first one's.

"Nada," he said.

The two men continued to alternate touching her neck, all the while talking about her place. Loretta heard them and felt them through a paralyzing darkness.

Soon there were more voices, other hands.

Have you done any CPR?" a woman's voice asked.

"A little. Well, not much."

"Dammit, Billy, you know the protocol. Full resuscitation on everyone except in cases of obvious traumatic death."

"You mean like a beheading?"

"That's exactly what I mean. The only one who can pronounce a patient is a doctor. Come on, Ray, jimmy, let's get moving."

Suddenly Loretta sensed a great deal of commotion around her.

Heavy hands began to press on her chest, again and again. Her head was tilted back and something was shoved into her mouth, then deeper and deeper into her throat.

"Tube's in," a man said. "Give me some oh-two."

"Okay, now an IV"

"This cast looks new."

"Get the monitor on her. Here, Billy. You know CPR. TAe over this pumping. Sixty a minute. That's it. Steve, ventilate her. Once every few seconds."

"Monitor's on."

"What have you-got?"

"Something. Wait a second. Yes, she's in a very slow, regular rhythm.

Eight, ten a minute. Complexes very wide."

"Billy, you should have been doing CPR on this woman."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. She looked dead."

"She probably is, but that's not your decision to make."

"Check her pupils, win you?"

Loretta felt hands on her eyes. For an instant she experienced a painful flash of bright white light.

"Dilated and fixed."

"I told you she was dead."

"Just keep pumping. Ray, get White Memorial on the radio. Tell them we've got a Monty One."

"Any pressure?"

"None."

"No pressure, no pulse, dilated pupils. Jesus, what in the hell was I supposed to think."

"You weren't. You were just supposed to start CPR and call us."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Get some epi in that line."

"White Memorial, this is Boston Rescue, paramedic Driscoll speaking. We have Priority One traffic.

Repeat, this is Priority One…

Voices began to blend with one another in Loretta's mind. And although she understood almost nothing of what they were saying, just the sound of them made her feel better. The hands pumping on her chest hurt her, but they, too, were reassuring.

"Do you want to shock her?"

"What's her rhythm?"

"The same. Eight a minute. Very wide complexes.

"Just end-of-the-line beating. She needs drugs, not current."

"What she needs is a goddam priest."

"Cool it, Billy, will you?"

"The people at White Memorial say just proceed according to protocol and transfer as soon as possible."

"move the stretcher over here. Over here!"

"Stand back there, ma'am. Someone will be with you to explain everything in just a bit. It looks like heart failure… I don't know if she's going to be all right. Right now it doesn't look good."

"Okay, get set to transfer. You two keep pumping and bagging her.

Ready, Ray? Jimmy? Okay. One, two, three, lift!"

Loretta felt herself being lifted and then set down.

For a moment the comforting hands stopped pumping on her. Then they started again.

"All right. Move back, everyone. We're coming through. Coming through."

Within the heavy blackness, Loretta Leone sensed more than felt the movement out of her apartment and down the hall to the stairs.

Help me, she thought. Just help me. I don't want to die.

The bell announcing wake-up in Charity sounded at just after six.

Garrett Pike rolled off his cot and dressed. He could tell the day was going to be another scorcher. He studied the playmate on his calendar and decided, as he crossed off April 13, that the photo was a keeper.

Once, just once before he died, he would like to spend the night with a woman like that.

He left his room, which was on the floor above the men's barracks, took his clipboard off the wall, and began making his rounds, checking off each patient's name as he roused him and sent him toward the dining hall. One of the men, Dick, was clearly getting ill. He had been bathed in a feverish sweat the previous evening, but Dr. Barber had merely examined him and sent him back to bed. Now, his condition seemed worse.

Pike walked the man to the clinic and turned him over to Dr. Barber.

Then he returned to the barracks.

He was used to illness among the patients and expected that the man would be shipped out before long.

It was not until the last of the male patients had been sent to the dining hall that Pike realized his count was off. In nearly two years, this was the first time.

Feeling the first twinges of panic, he searched the barracks and then hurried to the dining hall. A quick recount told him his survey was correct. The man called Bob was missing.

Dr. Barber at first took the news calmly. But as he, Pike, and John Fairweather began a systematic search, Barber's concern grew. He hurried back to the clinic to ensure that the security network of photoelectric cells and cameras encircling the town-was working properly. The system was-at least so he had told Pike-foolproof. And in fact, following an adjustment made after the Colsons' surprise visit, he had seen animals as small as jackrabbits set it off.

"He's here someplace," Barber exclaimed, ordering a repeat swing through the buildings. "There's no way he's not."

But minutes later John Fairweather called them to a shallow arroyo on the west 'end of town.

"He left through here," the Indian said, pointing at some gouges in the dry earth.

"That's impossible."

"Not impossible," Fairweather said. "Happened."

To prove his point, he flattened out on the ground and worked his way serpentlike along the narrow gully, just beneath the intersecting photoelectric beams. The alarm, keyed to the loudspeaker system, remained silent.

"Go through again," Barber ordered. "Go higher this time, on your hands and knees."

Fairweather did as he was asked. Instantly the alarm began wailing.

"I don't believe this. I just don't believe this," Barber exclaimed, his composure all but gone.