Page 128 of Asystole

“AED advised no shock due to asystole. Two one-milligram vials of epinephrine were administered intravenously three minutes apart. Nine total rounds of CPR. Pulse restored, albeit weak,” he rattles off.

“Thank you, Dr. Matthews. We’ll take it from here.”

I’m still seated in the cockpit, as the adrenaline leaves my body wracked with tremors, when Chase climbs into the seat next to me.

“Hey,” he says quietly, like he’s afraid of startling me. “That was some good fucking flying.”

I give him a weak smile.

“Sounds like it was also some good fucking CPR.”

Chase shrugs.

“It was mostly the drugs that saved his life.”

I purse my lips.

“That’s like saying it was mostly the rotors that saved ours,” I point out. “Both were critical, but they also needed to be controlled by someone who knew what the fuck they were doing.”

Chase lets out a deep breath.

“So much for a relaxing sunset flight over the island.”

“What? You aren’t relaxed?” I tease.

Suddenly, Chase bursts into laughter, and my tired, adrenaline-soaked body follows suit.

Chase and I are gripping each other tightly, half laughing, half crying into each other’s necks when we’re interrupted by a knock on the helicopter’s frame.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m certain what you’ve been through was very traumatic, but there is an officer here needing to ask you some questions.”

“Yes, of course,” Chase says, climbing out of the helicopter.

I stay inside for another few seconds, trying to collect myself. I don’t think Chase understands quite how close a call it was. To survive a low-G pushover just to end up in a vortex ring state is like being struck by two bolts of lightning at the same fucking time.

A knock on my side of the helicopter jolts me back to the present.

Chase is opening my door and holding out his hand.

By the time we’re done giving our statements and going through the order of events for the police, the news crews have arrived.

Thankfully, we’re being hailed as heroes and not painted in some sketchy tourist kind of light.

Next to me, Chase looks incredible as he handles most of the interview. Poised and dressed to kill for what was supposed to be a romantic date in khaki linen pants and a flowing white button-down, he easily commands everyone’s attention.

“I didn’t know what we were up against until the AED advised no shock. After that, it was pretty clear, but I wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help Mr. Halstaad if my boyfriend hadn’t first saved our lives by pulling the helicopter out of that death spiral.”

I feel heat creeping up my cheeks at his praise as the eyes of the media collectively turn toward me.

“Mr. Kirkland, can you explain what happened?”

I take them back through what I remember to the best of my ability. How Erik slumped over, pushing the cyclic stick—aka the joystick—forward, sending us careening toward the ocean. I try to leave out the technical jargon, but it can’t be completely avoided.

“My biggest concern was trying to avoid mast bumping while pulling us out of the low-G pushover. If I had tried to correct the lateral tilt first, we would’ve encountered a major mechanical problem that would’ve been uncorrectable. Luckily, bringing the nose up first needed to happen anyway, so we didn’t strike the water. The vortex ring state was probably the kindest secondary problem the universe could’ve thrown at me, because I just needed to move laterally out of the downwash. Banking the turn was a no-brainer at that point; I just had to hope like hell the chopper didn’t roll because of the pushover. We were incredibly lucky,” I say again before realizing I’m probably saying more than she actually wanted to hear.

But then she asks another question, so… maybe not.

“How is it that you know so much about these things?” she asks, thrusting the microphone at me once more.