Alarms beeped and the trauma bay came alive with an organized urgency as Dr. Burdett and his emergency team worked to keep the patient alive. When he flatlined, I heard the whirl of the defibrillator as it charged, followed by the three beeps to signal it was ready.
Dr. Burdett held up the paddles. “Clear?”
He placed the paddles on the chest of the patient and gave them juice. When the body on the table spasmed, that was when I saw him. Tex. His eyes were closed. His mouth slack. His face red. Another current of electricity ripped through his body, and he jolted, his body arching upwards and clenching, before collapsing motionless onto the gurney again.
Nothing. The heart monitor continued to show a flatline.
“Let’s go again. Charge to two hundred,” Dr. Burdett commanded.
Again, he applied the paddles to Tex’s chest and sent another charge of electricity through to his heart.
Again, Tex jolted and then stilled.
Still nothing.
“Okay, let’s call this one,” Burdett said.
“No!” I said, stepping forward.
Burdett and his team looked over at me.
“I know him,” I said.
One of the nurses spoke. “He was found unresponsive. He’s been crashing the whole way here, Dr. Parrish. The chance of him having any brain activity left is minimal, at best.”
Burdett looked at me for a moment longer, then turned back to his team.
“Charge it. Let’s try again.”
Again, the defibrillator charged and beeped. Again, Burdett sent another electrical current through Tex and into his heart. Again, I watched him jolt, flex, and then fall motionless to the gurney.
I closed my eyes. The nurse was right. The chances of Tex having any brain activity was unlikely.
“I’m calling it,” Burdett said, snapping off his gloves. “Time of death 2:37 pm.”
I felt rooted to the spot. Frozen by another death of a King in front of me. Burdett nodded at me as he walked past and disappeared from the room. Before I realized, I was alone with Tex. One minute the room was full of activity trying to keep him alive, the next minute, all the machines were disconnected and the room was cleared. Tex was dead. When I regained control of my feet, I approached him slowly. He looked peaceful—dead—but peaceful. Blood stained the pillow from a wound to the back of his head and his skin was red. Other than that, he showed no other signs of trauma.
“I’m sorry, Tex.” I had known him for most of my life. When I was seven, he was a prospect in the club and he would play with Bolt and me in the treehouse when we needed babysitting. One time, when I was nine, he picked me up from school on his bike, and when he saw Joey Mattell teasing me he’d pointed at him and given him such a dark look Joey Mattell never teased me again. And when I had my tonsils removed, he visited me in the hospital and snuck in ice cream for me.
Now, he was dead.
My head lifted.
Cade.
How was he going to take this so soon after Isaac’s death?
He was so tortured by his demons this could very well push him over the edge.
I reached for my cell but was interrupted by a nurse.
“Indy, you’d better come quick. I think some friends of yours are here and Dr. Burdett is about to deliver the notification of death.”
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.
I ran through the ER and pushed through the doors to the waiting room, but stopped when I saw Dahlia, Ronnie, Bull, Caleb, and Cade all standing across the room. Dr. Burdett approached them, and before he even spoke Dahlia started to shake her head. I watched on, helpless, as she collapsed into Ronnie’s arms and began to cry. Cade’s eyes reached for mine and they were dark. His hands fisted at his side. His face stiffened with emotion. Next to him, Caleb exhaled deeply and ran his hands through his hair, while Bull contained his emotions behind his dark glasses. I was frozen to the spot, blood whirling in my ears, as the enormity of the situation crept up my spine.
Tex’s death so soon after Isaac was going to devastate everyone in the club.
Slowly, I started to walk, my feet feeling heavy as I crossed the linoleum floor to where my friends, my family, rallied around Dahlia.
“I’m sorry, Dahlia,” I said sadly.
Cade came to me and pressed his lips to my forehead.
“Are you okay, angel?” he asked, his voice rough.
I nodded and his big hands caressed the nape of my neck.
“They tried to save him,” I said. “But it was just too late.”
“If only I had gotten home sooner,” Dahlia sobbed. “If only I hadn’t stopped to pick up the goddamn groceries!”
I looked at Cade. His jaw was tight, his brows drawn. The news was beginning to take affect and I was worried about him. This was going to hit him hard so quick after Isaac’s death.