Aimee nodded as she trickled in the alcohol and continued to grind and mix. “They do. That’s what that bowl is for.”
Deb looked where Aimee had chin-pointed and saw a small bowl of herbs. “Then what are you compounding?”
“If Pia is in as bad of shape as I think she is, the treatment we gave the boy won’t be enough. Her blood will be toxic. I need to break the herb down into a liquid and get it into her bloodstream.”
“You can’t be serious?”
Aimee stopped grinding and eyed Deb. “Dr. O’Rourke, I have never been more serious. Now, if you have no other questions, I could use your help.”
Deb acquiesced. “What can I do?”
“Grind.”
40
Danny landed the Cessna at the old airport and taxied it to the hangar. He looked back at where Sin lay. Her facial expression was etched in pain, her hair dripped a sweat that only accompanied the kind of agony he knew she must be in, but she never complained. She just kept constant vigil on Pia, checking and rechecking her pulse. Talking to her, telling her to hang in there; that help was on its way. The entire time, Troy continued to administer CPR.
As the plane taxied to the far side of the hangar, Danny yelled to Troy. “I need that door opened.”
Somehow, Sin managed to get to her knees and placed the palms of her hands on Pia’s sternum. “Go, I got this,” she groaned.
As the Cessna slowed, Troy popped the door, dropped the steps, and practically catapulted himself out the door. He grabbed the large accordion-styled door of the hangar from the handle on the bottom and yanked. With the door open, he waved the plane forward and punched a fist in the air when the door of the plane was directly in front of the hangar.
Danny cut the engine and ran back to help Sin.
“Take Pia,” Sin garbled. “I can’t feel her pulse.”
There was no time to wait for a stretcher, so Danny picked up Pia and fireman-carried her down the steps and into the hangar.
“Over here,” Aimee yelled, waving Danny into the back room.
As Danny ran down the steps of the Cessna, Troy ran up. He found Sin struggling to breathe, the leg of her pants soaked with blood. He pulled the tourniquet strapped around her upper thigh and tightened it, stemming the blood flow.
Once in the hangar, Deb stabilized Sin, strapped an oxygen mask over her nose, and set up a saline IV drip. She had cut off the leg of Sin’s jeans and was sterilizing the area of the wound for surgery when Aimee yelled for her assistance.
“If Sinclair is stable, I need you here.”
Deb left Troy with Sin. “If her pressure drops any lower, get me.”
Troy sat next to where Sin was lying, rubbing a cold cloth on her forehead with one hand, clutching her hand with his other. “Go,” he said. As Deb left to help Aimee, he bent forward and gently kissed her lips. He was surprised when she kissed back. “When this is over,” he whispered, “I’m never leaving you again.”
A weak smile threaded Sin’s lips, her eyes fluttered open, then she drifted into unconsciousness.
Deb noticed that Aimee had already initiated an IV in Pia and was in the process of dripping a brownish liquid into her bloodstream. She had also placed a port directly into Pia’s lungs—both lungs—and was in the process of blowing the smoke from the herb into Pia as she approached.
As Deb approached to help, she glanced at Pia’s parents. Dominic was pacing the hangar while Aria was holding a rosary in one hand, thumbing through the beads while praying in Italian and holding her daughter’s hand with his other.
Her attention back on the priestess, she saw Aimee cover the port with her mouth and blow the smoke from the herb straight into Pia’s lungs.
Suddenly, Pia convulsed. Her eyes snapped open then rolled backwards until all that could be seen were the whites.
“What’s happening!” screamed Aria.
“She’s flat-lining!” Deb yelled.
“Just like the other,” Aimee nodded. “Give the herbs time to work.”
Deb waited.
Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
Nothing.
No heartbeat.
“Son of a bitch,” Deb yelled over the screaming parents. She grabbed the crash cart, set the voltage, and grabbed the paddles. As soon as the machine beeped letting her know it was ready with the proper voltage, she looked at everyone. “Clear!”
Pia’s body jerked off the bed as the electricity surged into her.
Deb watched the monitor. Still no heartbeat. She turned up the voltage and tapped the button to prime the machine when Aimee stopped her.
“Look,” Aimee said.
Deb eyed the monitor, but it was still showing no heartbeat. “Look at what? She’s dying.”
“Her lips. Her nail beds.”
Deb glanced at both, shocked to see a pinkish color instead of the bluish-purple associated with a lack of oxygen. “How? I don’t understand.”
As she was speaking, the sound, the beautiful sound, of beeping could be heard coming from the monitor.
Deb placed the paddles back in their cradle, turned off the machine, and dropped into a vacant chair. “That was close.”
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Aimee said.
Deb was back on her feet. “What do we need to do?”
The herbs I placed in her bloodstream killed the ones given to her by my brother, but they will kill her unless we can find a way to cleanse her blood.”
“A transfusion?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what blood type she is, and we have no blood.”
“She is A positive,” Dominic said. “The same as me.”
“Are you sure?” Deb asked. “Absolutely sure?”
Russo answered by removing his shirt. “I am.”
Aimee began to remove the herbal IV from Pia when Deb stopped everyone. “Wait!”
The shrill of her pitch stopped everyone in their tracks.
“We need to transport Pia and Sin to the hospital.”
“No time,” Aimee said in calm yet authoritative voice. “The herbs will kill her before we get her there.”
“We don’t have transfusion equipment. How do you intend to clean her blood?”
Danny entered the
