Page 2 of Before the Bond
I made a motion to pull the blinds down. The faster I could retire, the faster I could wake up and keep myself busy.
But then I saw it.
The light from the kitchen window hit something in the long stretch of grass in the backyard.
It’s the body of a man, face-down. Still as stone.
My instincts kicked in.
I rushed outside into the backyard, the cold air hitting me hard. Whatever mood I’d been in a second ago was gone. Time to shift gears.
I was already moving before I thought about it.
I knew what I was. Seven years of travel nursing meant I walked into rooms that would make most people freeze. Freezing was not something you’re allowed to do. I assessed the situation, and I found a way to fix it.
This was the part where you stopped being a person and started being a checklist. Was the scene safe? Could I reach the patient? Airway. Breathing. Circulation.
I looked at the surrounding area. Safe enough. Not that I expected anything, but you always needed to be sure. I crossed the yard in my socks — I didn’t even think about shoes — and dropped to my knees beside him.
Up close, the man’s condition looked even more dire.
He was large. Broad-shouldered, long-limbed, and eerily motionless. His dark hair was damp from the grass and mist. Mud caked along his forearms, his bare feet, and the back of his neck. No shirt, either. Instead, he was wrapped in something that was probably a blanket before something tore it apart.
“Hey,” I said loudly. “Are you okay?”
I reached out and pressed my hand flat against his back, ready to shake him awake.
The moment my fingers touched his skin, I felt it. A wave of overwhelming emotion ran over me. My body flushed with heat. My pulse rose. I could feel my breath sharpen and narrow. It wasn’t fear, that much I was sure of. Whatever mechanical inclinations I had earlier now kicked into high gear.
You’re running out of time,my brain supplied.
I wasn’t about to argue.
I used all the force I had to flip him over, careful not to move his neck and head too much. His airway didn’t seem obstructed, but he did seem pale. His bare chest made no movement, either.
Damn it!
I pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, praying for a pulse.
Nothing.
The feeling from earlier pressed through the edges of my entire body. My fingers buzzed. My temples throbbed like there was a steamhammer slamming into the sides of my skull. The energy had nowhere to go and it only made me more tense.
You can’t lose him, the voice reiterated.Not this one. You just can’t.
It was only then that I realized his skin was burning hot. Not fever-hot or the familiar heat of infection, but something that seemed to come from somewhere even deeper inside.
I pressed harder against his neck, shifted my fingers, tried again. Still nothing.
There was a tightness in my own chest I didn’t have time to examine.
I started compressions.
This was the part they didn’t tell you in textbooks — CPR was physical. Not a gentle push. You used your whole body, enough force to move through skin, muscle, bone, and actually moved the heart.
I placed my hands on the man’s sternum, arms straight. I pressed down until I could feel bones crack. If you weren’t in the business, this part would jar you.
I pushed against the man’s chest in a fast but clear rhythm. I counted mentally, my mind clear of any other thought.
