Then Dez and JT sat back, drained and sweating. Don and Joan wavered with indecision.
“Is he safe?” JT asked.
Diviny moaned and snarled and thrashed.
“Can you give him something?” asked JT as he wiped sweat from his eyes. “Don’t you have some kind of chemical restraint? Valium or something?”
“We use Midazolam—Versed—these days,” Joan said, fishing in the trauma kit. She produced a hypodermic, removed the safety cap, shot a little into the air to remove bubbles. But she hesitated. “With him thrashing like that I could get this wrong, and I sure as hell don’t want to nail myself with an accidental needle stick. ”
“Go intranasally,” suggested Don. “Doesn’t kick in as fast, but it’s a lot safer. ”
Joan handed him the equipment and Don fitted a port into one of Diviny’s nostrils and attached the syringe to that. Once in place he pushed the plunger and the filter converted the liquid stream into a mist.
“Let’s get his vitals,” Don said, “and then get him the hell out of here. ”
Joan clipped an oximetry monitor to the tip of Diviny’s right index finger while Don wrapped a pressure cuff around Diviny’s arm and began pumping the rubber bulb.
Joan keyed the portable radio and called the hospital. When an ER doctor came online she said, “We have a police officer down with trauma to the throat. Other officers think that it’s from a human bite. They applied an Izzy and the patient has been administered intranasal Midazolam. Taking vitals now. Patient’s skin is cold. ” She took a digital thermometer and placed the tip in Diviny’s ear. “Whoa … temperature is eighty-eight point four. Pupils nonreactive. Not getting any pulse with the oximeter. ” She dug her fingers into Diviny’s wrist, made an irritated face, tried again in a different spot. Tried again. Into the radio she said, “Doctor, I still can’t find a pulse. He’s in serious shock and—”
“BP is nonpalp. Zero over zero,” said Don as he began pumping the pressure cuff again. And again. “Damn cuff’s broken. ”
“Forget this shit and let’s go!” urged Dez.
Don ignored her. He looped his stethoscope from around his neck and pressed the chestpiece against Diviny’s ribs. His face went from confused to blank. “No respiration. We need to intubate him. ”
Diviny snapped and bared his teeth.
“Can’t intubate a biter,” Joan said.
“We’re losing him,” Don yelled, “he’s crashing…”
His words trailed off. Diviny wasn’t crashing. He continued to snarl and writhe and fight against the restraints.
“This doesn’t make sense,” he said.
“What doesn’t?” asked Dez.
Dez could hear the doctor yelling for information and clarification, and Joan picked up the mike. “We are unable to get reliable vitals at this time. ”
She listened for a moment and then disconnected.
“He wants us to start an EKG as soon as we get him into the ambulance. And take a blood glucose reading. He’s prepping a room. ”
The four of them stared at each other for a moment, and then looked down at Diviny.
“I don’t understand this,” said Joan in a distant voice. “He has no blood pressure, no pulse. He’s not breathing…”
“What are you saying?” asked Dez.
Joan almost said it, but didn’t. What she said was, “We can’t get any vitals from this patient. ”
“It’s not the equipment,” added Don quietly. “We just … can’t get any vitals. He’s … he’s…” He shook his head.
Neither of them said the word.
Dez looked at JT, who was sweating as badly as if he stood next to an open fire.
“Let’s get him to the hospital,” Dez said quietly. “And I mean right fucking now. ”