Chapter 17: Gunshot Victim
The sound of gunshots echoed through the narrow city streets, loud enough to send flocks of pigeons scattering into the sky. Loraine’s heart pounded in her chest as she and Conrad pulled up to the chaotic scene in their ambulance. The police had cordoned off the area, but there was still a sense of unrest—people shouting, running, and hovering around a man lying on the sidewalk.
Loraine jumped out first, her medical bag slung over her shoulder as she rushed toward the injured man. Conrad was right behind her, his eyes scanning the scene for any more potential threats. They had been in enough dangerous situations lately that it was hard not to feel paranoid.
“Get back!” Loraine shouted at the small crowd gathered around the victim.
“Give us space!”
The man on the ground was groaning, his face pale and slick with sweat. Blood seeped from a wound in his chest, pooling beneath him on the pavement. Loraine’s pulse quickened—this wasn’t just a superficial injury. The man had been shot, and judging by the amount of blood and his labored breathing, it was serious.
“Gunshot wound to the chest,” she muttered, kneeling down beside the victim.
“He’s in bad shape.”
Conrad crouched next to her, glancing at the blood-soaked shirt.
“We need to get him to the hospital fast.”
Loraine nodded, her hands already moving to rip open the man’s shirt and assess the damage. The bullet had entered just below his left collarbone, and his breathing was shallow, almost gasping. She could hear the distinct sound of air escaping through the wound with each ragged breath—a sign of a pneumothorax, a collapsed lung.
“Dammit,” she whispered.
“His lung’s collapsing. We don’t have much time.”
Conrad placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“You’re gonna have to decompress his chest right here, Loraine.”
She swallowed hard, knowing what needed to be done. They were still minutes away from the hospital, and if the pressure inside the man’s chest wasn’t relieved soon, he wouldn’t survive the ride.
“I need a large-bore needle,” she said, her voice steady but urgent as she rummaged through her medical kit.
“And get the O2 mask ready.”
Conrad nodded, rushing back to the ambulance to grab the oxygen mask while Loraine prepped for the thoracic decompression. She focused on the man’s face, trying to keep him calm as she worked.
“Sir, I’m Loraine. You’ve been shot, and your lung is collapsing. I need to do a quick procedure to help you breathe, okay? It’s going to hurt, but it’ll save your life.”
The man’s eyes fluttered open for a brief second, his lips moving wordlessly. He was in shock, barely able to comprehend what was happening, but Loraine didn’t have time to wait for his acknowledgment.
“Here!” Conrad called, rushing back with the oxygen mask and the needle.
Loraine quickly hooked up the O2 mask, securing it over the man’s face.
“Conrad, hold him steady for me.”
Conrad knelt beside the man, gently placing his hands on the man’s shoulders to keep him still.
“You got this, Loraine.”
With her gloved hand, Loraine felt for the second intercostal space, just above the third rib, where she needed to insert the needle. Her heart pounded as she mentally rehearsed the steps. She had done this procedure in controlled environments, but out here, on the street, with a man’s life hanging in the balance, it was a different kind of pressure.
She held her breath for a moment, then pushed the needle into the man’s chest, just above his rib. There was a slight hiss as air escaped from the chest cavity, and the man’s breathing became less labored, though he was still in critical condition.
“Okay, he’s decompressed,” Loraine said, her voice shaky but relieved. “But he’s still losing blood. We need to move—now.”
Conrad gave a sharp nod, already lifting the man onto a stretcher. The bystanders had been pushed farther back by the police, giving them enough space to maneuver the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.
“Hang in there, buddy,” Conrad muttered as he helped secure the patient inside. “We’re not letting you die today.”
Loraine climbed into the back with the patient, attaching the heart monitor and checking his vitals as Conrad slammed the doors shut and jumped into the driver’s seat. The moment the ambulance roared to life, Conrad was already swerving through the streets, dodging traffic with a sense of urgency that matched Loraine’s racing heart.
Inside the ambulance, Loraine worked frantically to keep the patient stable. His heart rate was erratic, his blood pressure dangerously low. She grabbed a blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around his arm, but the reading was far from comforting.
“His pressure’s dropping fast!” Loraine shouted toward the front of the ambulance. “We’re losing him, Conrad!”
“Do whatever you can, I’ll get us there!” Conrad shouted back, weaving between cars with terrifying precision.
Loraine knew she had to act fast. She checked the man’s pulse, which was weak and thready. He needed fluids, and fast. She grabbed an IV line and quickly inserted it into his arm, hooking it up to a bag of saline to help replenish his blood volume.
But it wasn’t enough. The bullet had done significant damage, and the man was bleeding out internally. Loraine’s hands shook as she reached for more supplies, knowing that without immediate surgery, the chances of saving him were slim.
“We’re a few minutes away!” Conrad yelled over the sound of honking horns and screeching tires. “How’s he holding up?”
“Barely!” Loraine shouted back. “His pulse is getting weaker. I need you to get us there faster!”
“I’m doing my best, Loraine, but this traffic is insane!” Conrad’s voice was tense as he swerved around another car, narrowly avoiding a collision. “Is there anything else you can do?”
Loraine’s mind raced as she tried to think of a solution. The man’s chest was still rising and falling irregularly, and his oxygen saturation levels were dropping. She needed to keep his airway open and his blood circulating, but without the tools of an emergency room, her options were limited.
She leaned over the man, checking his pupils. They were sluggish, a bad sign. Time was running out.
“Conrad, we’re going to lose him!” Loraine’s voice cracked with fear, but she kept her hands steady, pressing down on the wound to slow the bleeding. “He’s crashing!”
“Hold on!” Conrad’s voice was a mix of determination and panic as he slammed his foot on the gas, the ambulance lurching forward. “We’re almost there, just keep him alive!”
Loraine felt the man’s pulse weaken even further. “Stay with me!” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re going to make it, just stay with me.”
She grabbed the portable defibrillator, readying it in case the man’s heart stopped. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she watched the heart monitor, the erratic beeps growing more infrequent.
And then—flatline.
“No!” Loraine gasped, grabbing the defibrillator paddles. “He’s coding! Charging to 200 joules—clear!”
She pressed the paddles to the man’s chest and delivered the shock, his body jerking from the electrical current. But the flatline continued.
“Come on, don’t do this!” Loraine cried, charging the defibrillator again. “Clear!”
Another shock, but still no response. The heart monitor remained silent, the flatline cutting through the tense air like a death knell.
Conrad glanced in the rearview mirror, his heart sinking as he saw the look on Loraine’s face. “No…”
“I’m losing him!” Loraine’s voice broke as she continued chest compressions, desperate to bring the man back. “Come on, come on…”
But it was too late. The man’s body lay still, unresponsive, and the heart monitor showed no sign of life.
Loraine’s hands fell limp, her breathing ragged as tears welled up in her eyes. She had done everything she could, but it hadn’t been enough. She couldn’t save him.
Conrad pulled up to the hospital just as the realization hit him. He turned off the engine and rushed to the back of the ambulance, opening the doors to find Loraine slumped over the patient, tears streaming down her face.
“He’s gone,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Conrad reached out, pulling her into his arms as she sobbed against his chest. “You did everything you could, Loraine. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I couldn’t save him,” she cried, her body trembling. “I couldn’t save him…”
Conrad held her tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of their failure. But there was nothing more they could do. All they could do now was move forward, and try to save the next one.