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“Do you have a diagnosed heart condition or heart disease?”

Alan mouthed the word no.

“And do you suffer from any allergies, Alan?”

Alan shook his head, becoming sweatier and paler.

“Are you allergic to aspirin?”

“No.”

“In which aisle are the medicines?” Dylan barked at the shop assistant.

“Aisle eight.”

“Emily. Go find a packet of soluble aspirin now. Be quick,” Dylan ordered.

“Okay,” I mumbled and started running through the store, ticking off the orange signs above the aisles until I came to number eight.

Aspirin. Aspirin. Aspirin. Soluble. Soluble. Soluble aspirin.

I frantically searched the pharmaceutical shelves. On finding them, I grabbed three packs and dashed back to Dylan.

Dylan was checking the man’s pulse, timing the beats as he examined his wristwatch.

“Here you go,” I gasped, showing the small boxes to Dylan.

“Great. Open one packet for me. The three hundred milligrams.” He was so businesslike. I’d not seen him like this since all the phone calls. After… everything.

Not now, Emily!

With fumbling fingers, I examined the packets and noted they were all three hundred milligrams.

“I only need one tablet,” he said as I opened a packet and pressed a tablet out of its packaging into his outstretched hand.

“Alan, you need to pop this under your tongue and let it dissolve. It’ll taste disgusting, but it’s the quickest way to get it into your system.”

Alan nodded, wide-eyed, and opened his mouth. Dylan fed him the small pill. Alan grimaced at the taste.

“Good, well done. You’re doing great.”

Alan eyed him with a mixture of fear and hope.

“You are doing really well, Alan.” Dylan remained calm and reassuring.

Quite a crowd had assembled, and several people were filming us with their phones. A man I assumed was the store manager appeared. He attempted to move the gawping shoppers on, but the scene was too interesting. In the distance, I heard sirens getting louder and louder before they ceased.

“Not bad,” Dylan muttered, glancing down at his watch.

The paramedics arrived moments later with a stretcher.

“Hi, Charlie,” Dylan greeted one of the paramedics.

“Hi, Dr. D.”

“This is Alan Taverner. He’s a fifty-two-year-old man with a suspected MI. He doesn’t have a cardiac history and no known allergies. He’s alert but is experiencing severe chest pain—10/10, radiating to his shoulder. Pulse is weak and thready at fifty-two bpm. I administered 300 mg of aspirin sublingually at 11:45.”

Charlie nodded at Dylan. “We’ll take it from here.”