Do It With My All

Resistance came from the middle-aged man.

"Maybe we shouldn't move him—just call an ambulance..."

"I need to perform CPR," Stone informed him. "Quickly—every second counts."

The jeep driver was by his side immediately. With his help, Colin pulled the driver from the bus and laid him down at a safe distance from the doors. He tilted the man's head to check his airway. Without delay, he placed one hand on the driver's chest, then the other, and began rhythmic compressions.

"My bag," he ordered into the space. "Hand me the BVM."

The jeep driver was gone. Colin noticed it when the black shirt disappeared. Damn, the guy might not even know what a BVM is. Not everyone has to recognize the abbreviation for a bag-valve mask. But Stone didn't have time to explain. He had to keep counting chest compressions. Seventeen, eighteen… Worst case, the man would just bring the whole bag. Twenty. Twenty-one…

The man returned and, quite efficiently, began placing the mask over the bus driver's face.

"You know how to do this?" Colin asked.

"Yes."

"Okay. Twenty-nine, thirty."

On cue, the jeep driver squeezed the bag. Then again.

"Good. Someone call an ambulance. We have a patient with a suspected massive myocardial infarction."

Someone had already called. Colin Stone kept counting chest compressions. But hearing crying, he turned his head.

"Are there any seriously injured? Anyone with a bleeding wound?" he asked.

"I saw a cut forehead, and I think someone broke an arm," a man from the bus explained.

"There should be some medical staff at your clinic," Stone pointed out. "They should get here before the ambulance…"

"We don't have a doctor," someone said with regret.

"Then call a nurse," he snapped in response. He was a doctor, damn it, but he only had two hands, both occupied with saving a life.

"I'll do it," the jeep driver offered, pulling out his smartphone without stopping his monitoring of the BVM. "Stacy, there's been an accident. Get your ass to the bus station. We have minor injuries. A fracture, minor bleeding. I don't know, Stacy, I'm not a doctor."

"I am," Stone interjected.

The jeep driver looked at him intently.

"BVM" Colin reminded.

"Right, sure," jeep driver snapped back to reality and squeezed the bag. "Stacy, there's a doctor on site. A standard kit will do?"

"Yes," Colin answered, but his voice already carried clear exhaustion. How many minutes had he been trying to bring this man back? Damn, he hadn't been keeping track. Either way, there were still no signs of improvement. Performing CPR was exhausting, especially in this heat. But he couldn't stop. Not as long as there was even the slightest chance the man's heart would start beating again on its own.

He couldn't abandon this patient, but if it turned out that, in the meantime, someone with a serious injury didn't receive care…

"Please, no one from the bus should leave! If anyone is bleeding, there are bandages in the bag. If you suspect a fracture, don't move the injured limb. I'll take care of you as soon as I can…"

He didn't stop the chest compressions. It was hot. Sweat ran into his eyes.

"How soon will the ambulance arrive?" he asked.

"About fifteen minutes."

Damn, he cursed internally.

"And the nurse?"

"Five."

"Alright."

Not really alright. This was exactly why he hated small towns on the edge of nowhere. People died here before medical help could arrive. One doctor for an entire town. For the whole region. And this was supposed to be civilization?

Focus, he scolded himself. You have a patient to save.

Twenty to thirty minutes was the standard. There were cases where a patient came back after a longer time, but they were rare. But Colin wasn't keeping track of time and had no intention of doing so. As long as there was even the faintest chance…

"I'm here," a breathless voice said. Thin, as if it belonged to a young, petite woman. "Are you the doctor?"

He looked up at her. She was indeed young. A wild mass of red curls, barely tamed into a ponytail, framed her face.

"I'm Colin," he introduced himself. "Take care of the bus passengers. Bandage wounds, immobilize suspected fractures. Get them into the shade."

"Yes, sir!"

As he turned his gaze back to the patient, he briefly caught the jeep driver's eyes. For the first time, he saw his face. And the bloody gash on his forehead. He assessed the injury.

"You won't need stitches, but you should get that cleaned up."

"Later. Do you want me to take over?"

Colin was exhausted, but he was the doctor.

"No. Not yet. Do you know how to do chest compressions?"

"Even if I didn't, I'd have learned by now."

"Okay, but I can still keep going."

It was getting harder, but he was a doctor. His damn duty was to save lives. Not until his last breath—until the last chance for a breath.

But the bus driver showed no signs of improvement. Damn it.

The nurse tended to the other injured passengers. It looked like there really were no serious cases.

Thank God.

"The ambulance is almost here," the jeep driver informed him. "I hear the siren."

Colin strained his ears. The distinctive wail of an ambulance was indeed growing louder. Why hadn't he noticed it earlier? He felt like it was practically around the corner now. And in fact, just as he finished that thought, he saw it pull into the lot. The moment it stopped, two men jumped out.

"What do we have here?"

"Suspected myocardial infarction," Colin explained without stopping compressions. "CPR was initiated immediately after the bus stopped…" He couldn't pinpoint the exact time.

"Thirty-three minutes ago," the jeep driver supplied.

The ambulance doctor, assisted by a paramedic, connected a portable ECG machine. While waiting for the results, the doctor shone a light into the patient's eyes.

"You can stop," he finally instructed, shaking his head. "There are no signs of spontaneous respiration. I'm sorry."

So Colin… stopped.