Charlie St. Cloud Page 0,6

knew there was really only one chance left. So he pulled out the Zoll defibrillator paddles, pressed them to the kid’s bare chest, pushed the button with his thumb, and blasted him with 250 joules.

Damn.

The monitor showed no cardiac conversion. The heart was still in V-fib, quivering like Jell-O in a bowl. In rapid mechanical movements, Florio clamped a tourniquet on the kid’s arm, found a vein, jabbed a needle, plugged in an IV line, and pumped epinephrine. Then he dialed up 300 joules.

He pressed the button, and the body convulsed. Again no luck, but Florio had been here before. He had saved countless diabetics in hypoglycemic seizure with shots of D50. He had rescued dozens of heroin OD’s with blasts of Narcan. He never gave up. It was never too late for miracles. Even when a casket was covered with dirt, it wasn’t necessarily over. Over the years, he had collected clippings about the dead rising up and banging on their coffins to get out. He was especially fond of the case in South Africa of the reverend who stunned mourners at his own funeral when he joined in the chorus of his favorite hymn from inside the casket. And there was the Greek Orthodox bishop lying in state as congregants paid their final respects. When church bells began to ring, he woke up, climbed down from the catafalque, and demanded to know why everyone was staring.

So Florio dialed up 320 joules on the Zoll and hit the button. The body in front of him heaved from the shock. This was the last chance. Unless he could get the boy back into regular cardiac rhythm, it was over.

FOUR

THE GLOOM WAS GONE, AND THE LIGHT HAD ALMOST encircled them.

Sam was shaking now and had wrapped his arms around Oscar. “I’m afraid,” he said. “I don’t want to get in trouble. I don’t want Mom to yell. I don’t want strangers to take us away.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Charlie said. “Trust me.” He felt the warmth of the light reach all the way inside, and the pain began to go away.

“Promise you won’t leave me,” Sam said, reaching for his hand.

“Promise.”

“Swear?”

“Swear.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “Now promise you won’t leave me either.”

“Never,” Sam said. His eyes were wide and clear. His face was tranquil. He had never looked so peaceful before.

They hugged each other, then stood side by side, feeling the light come over them, a brilliant blur of white and gold.

“Don’t worry, little man,” Charlie said once more. “Everything’ll be okay. I promise.”

Florio heard the monitor beep.

Perhaps it was St. Florian. Or St. Jude. Or simply God’s grace. He pulled the paddles from the boy’s chest and saw the burn marks on his skin. The ECG strip showed the boy’s heart had suddenly flipped back into a regular beat. Then, incredibly, his eyes opened slowly. They were the color of caramel and surrounded by exploded capillaries. He coughed and stared straight up. His was the abstract look of having traveled a great distance.

“Welcome back,” Florio said.

The boy seemed confused and worried, both perfectly normal under the circumstances.

“Where’s Sam?” he muttered. “I was just talking to Sam. I promised—”

“What’s your name?”

“—I promised Sam I wouldn’t leave him.”

“Tell me your name, son.”

“St. Cloud,” he said faintly. “Charlie St. Cloud.”

“You’re gonna be okay, St. Cloud. I’m doing the best I can for Sam.” Florio crossed himself and prayed silently.

Thank You for the gift of breath.

For the gift of life.

For the gift of every moment . . .

Then he heard Charlie say again, “Where’s Sam? Where’s my brother? I can’t leave him. . . .”

The words didn’t really make much sense, but Charlie understood the urgency in the man’s voice. It was a tenseness that adults always showed when things weren’t going well. When they were out of control. The paramedic was working on Sam right beside him.

Systolic pressure is 60.

He’s no longer posturing.

Unable to intubate.

Then Charlie felt a wave of pain in his back and neck. He grimaced and cried out.

“I’m here with you,” the paramedic said. “I’m giving you something that’ll make you sleepy. Don’t worry.”

Charlie felt warmth spreading through his shoulders, down his legs. Everything grew blurry, but he knew one thing for sure. He had given his word to his little brother. A promise to take care of him. Their fathers may have come and gone, but no matter what happened, he would never leave Sam.

Sure, they would be in giant trouble. Mom would ground them