Danny's Fucking Dead
Chapter 10: Yes, They Can
William's arms were sore. His wrists ached. The last time he performed CPR for any length of time was when he got his first-aid recertification over two years ago. Ever since he became a teacher, he made a habit of getting recertified every three years. That was a long time to have a skill and not need it. William had always hoped he would never need it but was glad to have it just in case. He wished it would have stayed just in case.
That time was coming up again soon, he realized. That precise moment wasn't the best time to remember something like that. Three years, although not such a long time for someone his age, felt much longer when it came to life-saving skills. What if he was doing something wrong? What if he was only making things worse? He didn't know. Danny Fenton might be dying right in front of him, and William didn't know if he was actually helping.
Anthony appeared on the other side of Danny's bed. "Mr. Lancer, let me take over."
William shook his head. Danny said he was fine. He was tired, that was all. What happened? How could William have missed something like this? He kept going over every second of his interaction with Danny in his head, looking for a sign that he ignored in the moment. He saw the baggy clothes, the tired eyes, and the limp. They all concerned him, but nothing hinted toward this.
That did not stop William from silently berating himself. There was more he could have done. He should have insisted that Anthony check him over immediately. It might not have prevented Danny's heart from stopping, but at least then someone would have noticed it right away. How long, William wondered, had Danny been laying here without a heartbeat before they found him?
Some sleep. William had sent off to get some sleep and now... and now...
"Your arms must be getting tired. The ambulance is almost here; someone needs to show them in when they arrive," Anthony said.
Maybe Danny was asleep. William only felt his pulse—or lack of it—for a few seconds. Weren't you supposed to count a full minute? He panicked the second he couldn't find anything, but he was not a medical professional. He could have messed up.
"William!" Anthony's shout jerked William out of his thoughts. His hands paused. Anthony took advantage of that moment of hesitance, coming around to the other side of the bed and shoving William aside. He lowered his head, tilting his ear toward Danny's mouth, and listened for a few seconds.
"Still no breathing." Anthony resumed compressions, sparing William a glance. "The ambulance," he reminded him.
"I can't leave him."
Anthony glanced at William for a second before focusing back on Danny. "Fine. Then don't go. Ella can show the paramedics in."
By William's memory, the closest hospital was Park Medical Centre, a mere ten-minute drive away. A much smaller distance compared to Amity West's forty minutes. It had been eleven minutes since they discovered Danny's condition, and nothing had changed in that time. From his training, William knew this situation called for a portable defibrillator, but the mounted wall-bracket where Casper High's AED was supposed to sit was empty. It had gotten damaged in a ghost attack the previous week and had yet to be replaced. They didn't have the equipment to handle this.
With Anthony taking over CPR, William felt useless. All he could do was watch.
"His parents," William realized after a moment. "We need to contact his parents."
Anthony did not respond, too focused on his task. William stumbled back to Anthony's desk, grabbing the phone. Over the years, he had dialled the Fentons enough time to have their home phone number memorized. It rang four times before going to voicemail. He tried again, getting the same result.
"They aren't answering," William started to dial again.
"I already told Ella to call them," Anthony said.
"But I just—"
"You needed something to do."
That did not make William feel better. He clung to the phone. If Ella had already called them—probably not long after Anthony called for the ambulance—then they were on their way. Professionals were coming. His parents were coming. There was nothing left for William to do.
A total of thirteen minutes after Anthony called 911, the ambulance arrived. Ella led EMTs in, immediately stepping aside so they could rush past her and joining Anthony by Danny's side. William could not resist watching Ella as she took in the scene. Her expression crumpled. A vindictive part of William swelled with satisfaction at her distress, but the feeling was quickly smothered by a wave of guilt. He may have wanted to wipe the smug look from her face, but this was not how he wanted it to happen.
"Are his parents on the way?" William watched as one of the EMTs put a mask on Danny's face and started manually pumping oxygen. The other was cutting away Danny's hoodie, working around Anthony's hands.
"I couldn't get a hold of them." Ella's voice shook.
William dragged a hand down his face. He had been a teacher for nearly thirty years. In all that time, nothing as distressing as this had ever happened. That included all the ghost attacks in recent years.
"Call them again," he said.
Ella nodded and rushed out of the room. By that time, the EMT had finished cutting through Danny's hoodie. Anthony had to pause his compressions so they could pull the fabric aside and expose his chest.
"Oh my god," Anthony whispered.
"What? What is it?" William moved forward.
"Sir!" the EMT who had cut Danny's sweater snapped.
For a second, William thought he was the one being snapped at until Anthony gave his head a sharp shake and returned to his compressions. No one paid any attention to William as he approached. Once he was close enough to see what shocked Anthony, his blood went cold. Bruises, bigger than William's hand, a dark purplish-red, coloured Danny's torso. They were centred around his abdomen.
William had seen those bruises before. They were a different colour, then, tinged green instead of red, and weren't quite as large, but he had seen them.
"Danny?" William whispered.
The EMT pressed his hands to Danny's abdomen. "Rigid."
"What does that mean?"
She spared William a glance. "He has internal bleeding. Either he has a severe injury or he has been bleeding out for a while. We don't have time to defibrillate here. We need to get him to the hospital immediately."
Compressions and oxygen had to stop while the paramedics lifted Danny from the infirmary bed onto the stretcher. The other EMT swung up onto the bed and resumed CPR from there. William followed them out to the front of the school, where the ambulance stood waiting.
"I'm coming with you," he told them.
The other EMT, a man, nodded as he loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. "Get in the passenger seat."
"But..." William kept his eyes on Danny until the ambulance doors closed.
"It's not like in movies. She needs room to work, so you're in the front with me or you're not with us at all," the EMT said.
William had no choice but to agree. The front of the ambulance had a window that looked into the back. Throughout the drive, he was torn between watching Danny in the back and watching the road. He had to turn away when the EMT in the back started using the defibrillator. The sight of Danny's twitching body made his stomach turn.
"Wait, where are we going?" William peered back at the intersection they just passed. Turning there would have taken them straight to Park Medical.
"Amity West."
"But Park Medical Centre—"
"Has a full emergency room. Amity West is the next available hospital."
William clenched his seatbelt in his fist, twisting the fabric. Too far. Amity West was much too far. Beneath the blare of the sirens, he heard the whine of the defibrillator. It went off three times, and each thunk as Danny convulsed wore William down.
"I got a heartbeat!" the EMT cried. William whipped around, staring through the window to the back. She had her head bowed over Danny, cheek near his mouth. She hovered there for a few seconds. "He's breathing!"
The relief he felt at that moment was indescribable. William knew the situation was still dire but seeing Danny's chest rise and fall of its own accord made him feel like everything was going to be okay. They had time, now, to get him to the hospital. Get him into surgery. Amity West had good people. William had only met one of them, but if the doctors there were half as dedicated as Alejo, Danny would be in good hands.
Danny would be fine.
"The patient arrived in an ambulance at nine-sixteen a.m. The ambulance was first called for suspected cardiac arrest—confirmed on the scene—and EMTs discovered severe internal bleeding. The EMTs revived the patient's heart through defibrillation en route to the hospital but the patient did not regain consciousness. The pulse remained weak. EMTs suspected the internal bleeding was the cause of the cardiac arrest.
"Upon arriving at the hospital, the patient was taken for emergency surgery. An exploratory laparotomy began with a midline incision. Multiple bleeds were found in the patient's abdomen, along with a foreign substance. Hospital staff contacted the appropriate authorities regarding the foreign substance and the surgery continued. Most of the bleeds appeared to be a result of vessel erosion, likely caused by the foreign substance, while the remaining bleeds were the result of blunt force trauma. The bleeds were repaired with a combination of sutures and heat probing.
"Patient suffered from ventricular fibrillation twice during surgery but defibrillation returned his heart to sinus rhythm. The surgery was successful, and the patient was admitted to the ICU for observation while awaiting a response from the government. His vitals were stable immediately following surgery."
Carmen stops there and goes over the surgical notes again. They are, as they should be, clinical and detailed. She skims the specifics—such as where the bleeds were and what kind of sutures were used—and rereads the broad strokes of the surgery. No new information pops out at her, but she can't help it. She needs to know where—when—something went wrong. It isn't until the third readthrough that she accepts there is nothing to find. The surgery went well, considering the circumstances, and Danny Fenton should have been fine.
Knowing that doesn't do anything to change the last few lines on his chart.
"Patient suffered an electrical storm throughout the morning and into the afternoon. He had multiple episodes of v-fib, triggering another cardiac arrest. The patient could not be revived. Time of death: thirteen-eleven p.m."
Carmen's gaze lingers on that last line before she closes the chart and sets it down on the edge of the sink. She should go home. It's been over twenty hours since she last slept. Lack of sleep can lead to some bad decision-making, like theft in Carmen's case. If anyone asks how she got her hands on Danny Fenton's chart, she can at least claim to have charmed the nurses. She asked them politely, she would say. They were so delighted by her pleasant demeanour that they handed the chart right over. It's complete bullshit, but the most Carmen could get for stealing a dead patient's chart—as long as she did nothing untoward with it—is a slap on the wrist. Stealing said patient's body, however. She can really get in trouble for that.
Carmen's hand hovers over a tray of surgical instruments, fingers flexing.
"Okay, Danny." She picks up a scalpel and turns to the body on the autopsy table. "Let's begin."
