prob—’
Jock didn’t get to finish his sentence. He grabbed his chest and let out a guttural cry instead, folding to his knees.
Adrenaline surged into Felicity’s veins. ‘Jock!’ she said, throwing herself down next to him.
But it was too late. He collapsed the rest of the way, splayed awkwardly on the floor. Felicity gave him a shake but there was nothing.
‘He’s having an MI,’ Callum said as he helped Felicity ease Jock on his back.
Felicity blinked at the terminology. An MI, or myocardial infarction, was not a term a layperson used. Nonmedical people said heart attack. ‘He doesn’t have a pulse,’ she said, feeling for his carotid.
‘Oh, my God, what’s wrong with him?’ an ashen-faced Travis asked, hovering over them.
‘I’ll start compressions,’ Felicity said, ignoring the bartender as more adrenaline surged into her system and she kicked into nursing mode.
‘He’s in cardiac arrest,’ Callum said as he automatically moved around until Jock’s head was at his knees. Felicity admired the steadiness of his voice and the expert way he tilted Jock’s jaw and gave his airway support.
Technical writer be damned.
‘Do you guys keep a defib?’ Callum demanded. ‘Some kind of first aid kit? We need more help. And we need to figure out how to get him to an ambulance.’
Felicity couldn’t agree more. She had no idea if that was possible but she knew they couldn’t keep him alive indefinitely. Jock needed more than they could give him here on a luxury train in the middle of nowhere.
Things were looking grim for the travelling companion she’d grown fond of in just a few hours.
‘Yes. We have a defib,’ Travis said, his voice tremulous as Felicity counted out the compressions to herself. ‘But I’ve never actually used it on a real person before.’
‘It’s fine. I’m a doctor,’ Callum said, his voice brisk.
Felicity glanced at Callum, not surprised at the knowledge given his use of medical terminology and his total control of the scene.
‘And I’m a nurse.’
He glanced at her but didn’t say anything, just nodded and said, ‘Go,’ to Travis as he leaned down and puffed some breaths into Jock’s mouth.
It was satisfying to see Jock’s chest rise and fall. CPR guidelines had changed recently, focusing more on chest compressions for those untrained in the procedure. But for medical professionals who knew what they were doing airway and breathing still formed part of the procedure.
And old habits died hard.
* * *
Callum’s training took over and all his senses honed as he rode the adrenaline high, doing what he did best—saving lives. Travis was back in under a minute, bringing a portable defibrillator, a medical kit and the cavalry, who arrived in varying states of panic. He tuned them all out as he grabbed the defibrillator, turned it on, located some pads, yanked up Jock’s singlet and slapped them on his chest.
Even Felicity in her dress and heels, pumping away on Jock’s chest beside him, faded to black as he concentrated on Jock. Once this was over—which could be soon if they couldn’t revive Jock—he’d think about her being a nurse. About how they’d both lied. For now he just had to get some cardiac output.
Felicity stopped compressions while the machine was reading the rhythm. Callum opened the medical kit, relieved to find an adult resus mask. At least he could give Jock mouth to mask now.
The machine advised a shock.
‘All clear,’ Callum said, raising his voice to be heard above everyone talking over everyone else.
Felicity wriggled back. So did he as the room fell silent. The machine automatically delivered a shock, Jock’s chest arcing off the floor.
‘Recommence CPR,’ the machine advised, and they both moved back in, Felicity pounding on the chest again as he fitted the mask and held it and Jock’s jaw one-handed.
‘Where’s the nearest medical help?’ Callum demanded of a guy with a radio who appeared to be the head honcho.
‘We’re about twenty clicks out of Condobolin. Ambulance will meet us at the station. A rescue chopper is being scrambled from Dubbo.’
‘How long will it take to get to Condobolin?’
‘The driver’s speeding her up. Fifteen minutes tops.’
Callum wasn’t sure Jock had fifteen minutes, especially if he wasn’t in a shockable rhythm. He wished he had oxygen and intubation gear. He wished he had an IV and access to fluids and drugs. He wished he had that ambulance right here right now. And a cardiac catheter lab at his disposal.
But he didn’t. He had a defibrillator and Felicity.
He glanced at her. He didn’t have to ask to know she was thinking the same thing. Fifteen minutes was like a lifetime in this situation, where every second meant oxygen starvation of vital tissues.
‘Piece of cake,’ she muttered, a small smile on her lips, before returning her attention to the task at hand.
He smiled to himself as he leaned down to blow into the mask. There was controlled panic all around him, with orders being given and radio static and the loud clatter of wheels on the track as the train sped to Condobolin. Somewhere he could vaguely hear poor Thelma sobbing. But amidst it all Felicity was calm and determined and so was he. Fifteen minutes? He’d done CPR for much longer.
‘Check rhythm.’
Felicity stopped so the machine could do its thing. When it recommended another shock they followed the all-clear procedure again and once more the entire lounge fell silent, apart from Thelma’s sobs.
Jock’s chest arced again but this time it was successful.
‘Normal rhythm,’ the machine, no bigger than a couple of house bricks, pronounced.
Felicity gasped, a broad smile like the rising sun breaking over her face. ‘I’ve got a pulse,’ he confirmed, grinning back. ‘Jock?’ Callum pulled the mask away. ‘Can you hear me, Jock?’
Jock gave a slight moan and made a feeble attempt to move a hand. ‘Jock? Jock!’ Thelma threw herself down beside them.
‘Is he okay?’ she asked, looking first at Callum then at Felicity through puffy red eyes.
‘We got him back,’ Callum said. Both of them knew he wasn’t out of danger but it was something.
Felicity reached across and squeezed Thelma’s arm. ‘He’s still very unstable,’ she said gently. ‘But it’s a good sign.’
Callum was relieved when the train pulled into the station, even if the strobing of red and blue lights around the iron and tin structure of the roof created a bizarre discotheque. Very quickly a drowsy Jock
