Page 29 of Resuscitation

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The old clinic wing had transformed into a hive of swarming medical personnel, first responders, and State Police officers.

The hostages, wrapped in emergency foil blankets, sipped hot drinks while being checked over by Sara and fussing Potsdam medics while waiting their turn to be interviewed by the State Police.

Sara had refused to talk to the police until she finished treating all her patients and saw her staff safe, so Blake had gone first. It had taken the better part of an hour to walk the staties through everything.

Now, the aftermath of the adrenaline crash had left him too tired to do more than sit and watch Sara work her magic.

Alyssa left on the first ambulance. Sara had insisted, Thomas told Blake, explaining that she’d need a full trauma eval and a chest tube.

Sara wanted Thomas to go in the same ambulance, but he’d absconded—his word—only to be returned by police officers.

Twice. Until Sara finally relented, deciding if he was stable enough to wander around a crime scene, he was stable enough to wait.

On the caveat that he stay close to a medical provider and let them monitor him.

The smirk on Thomas’s face was wider than a Cheshire cat’s as he caught Blake up with everything that had happened while Blake was with the troopers and getting the wound to his arm treated. Luckily the bullet had only grazed him.

“Most excitement I had in decades,” Thomas told Blake. “No way in hell was I gonna leave early and miss anything.”

They sat on a pair of chairs in the hallway where Blake had parked the hostages, who were now leaving two by two.

Blake had never seen Sara like this, triaging multiple patients while simultaneously providing comfort.

The Potsdam medics followed after her, making notes, cleaning wounds, applying dressings, guiding patients to the chaplain trained in trauma counseling who Sara had called in.

“They made a lethal mistake,” Thomas said as he nibbled on M&M’s—plain, not peanut, the nuts messed with his partials—from the bag Blake had busted open the vending machine to get him.

At least the cops had brought in portable heaters and turned the lights on, so they weren’t sitting in the dark. “The crooks, I mean.”

He waited for Blake to take the bait. Blake resisted, but only for a few moments. How could anyone resist Thomas? Besides, the old man was a hero, deserved a bit of indulgence.

“What was their lethal mistake?” Blake asked.

“They mistook me for a frail, helpless, blind man.”

“Don’t forget old.”

“Okay. Frail, helpless, old blind man. But,” he wiggled a finger in admonishment, “that was all part of my master plan. Fooled them, didn’t I?”

“Walking into my line of fire and almost getting yourself shot was part of the plan?” The words came out a bit sharper than Blake wanted. He was still angry at Thomas for putting himself in danger.

The old man clasped Blake’s arm. “No, that’s part of being blind. The biggest part of my plan was you, Blake. I had absolute faith that you were there, somewhere, ready to save the day. And you did.”

Blake inhaled sharply. He’d almost gotten them all killed. Almost gotten Sara killed. “I’m no hero. I’m just glad it worked out, and we’re all alive.”

“And that, my boy, is my point. We are all alive. Including the most amazing woman you’ll ever be lucky enough to meet in this lifetime. Just like my Rose. But you need to let her know how you feel—luck doesn’t come around twice.”

Sara’s murmurs reached them from down the hall. She was sharing her feelings, inviting Evan and his mom to do the same, trying to get them started on the path to healing. It was a profoundly personal thing to witness. Blake felt a strange combination of awe, anxiety, and…anger.

He wasn’t even remotely worthy of her, much less ready to give her a glimpse of his true self, a wounded warrior that had to fight each day just to open his eyes and keep on breathing.

Plus, he was finally getting better with his routine, his structure, his carefully crafted environment. Was he really going to risk all that? What if he did and she didn’t feel the same? Could his perfectly balanced life survive that?

His pulse raced and his throat tightened, unable to allow any air into his lungs. Christ, just the thought of the pain of her rejection…and he was having a full-blown panic attack.

“Breathe,” Thomas whispered, his grip tightening on Blake’s arm, providing an anchor to reality. “In. One, two, three, four. Hold. Out. One, two, three, four.”

Blake’s body followed the old man’s command, and suddenly, Blake was in control again. But it only proved how easily he could lose it. He couldn’t ask anyone to share a life like his.

“Take advice from an old, weathered fool,” Thomas interrupted Blake’s racing spiral of doom.

“Life won’t wait for us idiot humans to somehow achieve perfection.

You gotta embrace the good and bad, warts and all.

Hitch your pants up and find the courage to grab what life sets in your path, kid.

” He held up his hand, the one with his wedding ring, and gave it a kiss. “Trust me. I should know.”

Blake sighed, watching as the troopers escorted the last of the patients out, leaving Sara alone. She slipped into the empty exam room where he’d stashed Alyssa and Thomas earlier.

Kelly, the nurse, came in from the ambulance staging area, spotted Thomas. “There you are. Our ride’s waiting. Time to go, Thomas.”

Blake stifled his laugh as Thomas immediately appeared frail and doddering, letting Kelly help him up, leaning on her as he shuffled away. “Now then,” he said, “tell me all about this fiancé of yours. Not sure he’s good enough for a pretty girl like you, Miss Kelly.”

They exited, and then it was just Blake and Sara.

How the hell did a walk of twenty feet down an empty hall take more courage than driving an RG-31 down the Highway to Hell?

Yet, somehow, he made it.

* * *

He found Sara, shoulders slumped, wielding a red biohazard trash bag, disposing of the bloody dressings and sheets left from Alyssa and Thomas.

He approached her from behind, taking the bag from her, his other hand lying gently on her shoulder—an invitation.

She slumped against him, still facing away.

He understood that. Some things were best shared without eye contact.

“I killed him. He knew it, too. Knew exactly what I was doing, what I did…” She stripped the gloves from her hands, balled them up, let them fall to the floor. “He wasn’t a bad kid. He even apologized, said he was sorry…” A choked sob reverberated through her. “And then, then…he thanked me.”

Her entire body shuddered as she finally set her tears free. He turned her to him, let her bury her face in his chest and simply held her tight. There were times when human touch was the most powerful medicine in the world. Sara had taught him that.

Once she stopped crying, he still held her.

“I wish I had the words,” he began. “But I’m not sure there are any.

” He took a deep breath, pulled her even closer.

“They told me time would make things better. And it did, kinda, but it also dulled me. Made me oblivious. Living each day exactly like the last, like the next. I thought I was in control.”

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. It took everything he had not to flinch. “Two control freaks like you and me,” she whispered. “When are we gonna learn, chaos always wins? It’s a basic law of thermodynamics, entropy. The entire universe is hard-wired for self-destruction.”

“Just like us humans.” He shook his head and chuckled, surprising himself.

“No. Not like us humans. We get to choose. Free will, remember? Those men, they chose. And suffered the consequences. You and I, we chose to put ourselves on the line to protect our patients, our friends. Yeah, there’s a price to pay. ”

“There’s always a price to pay,” she agreed, but her tone was bitter.

“No. I mean, the price is worth it, right? Think of the lives we saved—you saved. They could’ve all died if you hadn’t?—”

She pushed away from him. “I understand what you’re saying, but I should be saving lives, not taking them,” she whispered, her voice wavering as she stared at the aftermath. “Men died tonight because of me.”

“I know, I know.” He wished she was back in his arms, but understood she needed space. “Like I was saying, time helps. A little. But you know what really made the difference, at least for me?”

She tore her gaze away from the blood on the floor beside her shoes, hauled in a deep breath, blew it out, and finally, finally looked up to meet his eyes once more. “Peanut M&M’s?”

“Well, yeah, of course. But also friends to share them with. Friends to share everything with—the good and the bad.”

A sheriff’s deputy poked her head in the door. “Folks, we’re securing this area, so you’ll need to leave. Dr. Porter, the detectives are ready for your statement, if you’ll come with me. Mr. Harrow, they said they have everything they need from you. You’re free to go.”

Sara’s hand brushed his and he wrapped his fingers around hers.

“You’ll be fine, just walk them through everything, they don’t bite.

” When the cops had finally arrived, he’d taken them through the events as thoroughly as if he’d been prepping an after-action report.

“Maybe we could grab coffee after? I’ll wait. ”

Sara squeezed his hand. “Thought you’d never ask. But none of that crap from the vending machines. If you want good coffee, we’ll go to my place.” She leaned into him and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I keep the best stuff there. How’s tomorrow work for you?”

Tonight would be better, but they were both exhausted.

“Works for me.” The needy, rough edge to his voice surprised him, but she actually turned and smiled as she left with the deputy.

Huh. All it took to get a date was a little murder and mayhem, go figure. Maybe for their second outing, he’d book time at a gun range.