Page 126 of Asystole

The chopper dips low, but begins to bank out of the downwash.

I start to breathe a little easier, but it’s too soon, as my engine begins to stall from losing power thanks to the low-G pushover creating a near-weightless state. The chopper needs forward momentum to keep its blades turning.

Jesus fucking Christ, can’t a guy catch a break?

Letting my training take over, I immediately lower the collective control to flatten the pitch of my blades and troubleshoot a mid-air restart.

We swoop even lower, now within one hundred feet of the water, as my fingers fly over the fuel shutoff valve, turning it on, and reengaging my fuel pump and ignition switch before engaging the starter.

Time stands still as I hear the whomp-whomp-whomp slowly regain speed above me, and my bird levels out, giving us a little altitude.

Holy shit.

Ho-lee shit.

“Are you okay?” I yell back at Chase. When he doesn’t answer me, I risk a quick glance over my shoulder and see him checking for a pulse.

“CHASE!” I yell into the headset.

He looks at me.

“Are you okay?” I ask again.

He nods, and I’m able to breathe again, thinking through what happens next.

“Good. I need his helmet! His mic is connected to ground control.”

We both waste a second staring at the helmet in question, the dilemma clear: my hands are needed on this stick and my attention on the dials that are still blaring. His hands and attention are needed for restoring Erik’s heartbeat.

But it quickly becomes apparent that I can’t reach the helmet anyway, so Chase pauses his assessment of our pilot, pulls his helmet off, and hands it to me.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday,” I immediately say into the mic, using the distress call for a medical emergency. “Oranjestad ground, Helicopter Airbus H130, tail number unknown. Pilot incapacitated. Life is in imminent danger. This is passenger Logan Kirkland, requesting immediate assistance and clearance to land.”

Chapter 46

Chase

It’s always hot when Logan talks pilot shit, but now is not the time to be admiring it.

Trusting Logan to do what he does best, I return my attention to the patient who is currently dead beneath me. Nothing short of a miracle is going to bring him back, but I have to try.

Groping around blindly under the seat, I find what I’m looking for and pull the AED out.

Meanwhile, Logan pulls the nose of the helicopter level and begins correcting the tilt back to neutral. One glance out the window tells me it was close.

Too fucking close.

Using the fabric scissors from the AED pouch, I cut Erik’s shirt right down the middle, which is no small feat considering I’m still a little dizzy from spinning out and my heart rate is easily approaching two hundred.

Once his shirt is open, I quickly attach the pads and start the AED, only for it to analyze and tell me no shock is advised.

Fuck.

Double fuck.

This man is in asystole. It’s an unshockable rhythm. It also means he’s as good as dead unless…

Holy shit, please be what I think you are.