Meet Me On The Midway. Amie Denman

the dark in a crowded venue for a person having a heart attack was torture. Minutes could mean the difference between life and death. Why had no one turned on the lights?

      She shouted to the worker at the door to hit the emergency lights, but it was noisy and the girl didn’t hear. Evie considered running back and doing it herself, but she didn’t want to leave Scott alone to face whatever they found. She squinted her eyes and tried to focus.

      “Where is he?” Scott said aloud. “Fire department!” he shouted. “Anyone know who called us?”

      A summer worker ran from the other direction and met them under a replica of a planet.

      “I called it in,” the kid said. “A man was clutching his chest and gasping, his wife was crying. But they disappeared. I swear.”

      Evie felt sorry for the teenager. He was clearly shocked by what he’d seen.

      “Why didn’t you stay with them?” Scott growled. The employee shrank back, looking desperately around, holding up his phone with the flashlight app.

      A little boy who appeared to be about ten stepped out of the line, tugged at Evie’s arm and pointed. “I know where they went,” he said. “I saw some people go through there.” He gestured toward an emergency exit that would open onto the beach side of the structure if her orientation wasn’t a complete disaster.

      Without hesitation, Scott climbed over the silver rail and headed for the emergency exit. Evie stayed right behind him, clambering through the waiting guests, cell phone in hand, wishing she knew what awaited them on the other side of the door.

      Scott burst outside with Evie at his heels. The bright sunshine reflecting off the sand and water blinded them temporarily. Scott was the first to recover. He whirled and dropped to his knees next to the man on the ground.

      Evie gasped. The man was about fifty years old. Overweight but not obese. Ghastly gray. Sweating. Clutching his chest. A woman sat on the ground next to him, sobbing. Two pre-teen children stood behind their mother, their faces tearstained and panicked.

      Scott zipped open his bag and pulled out oxygen tubing. He turned briefly and handed his radio to Evie. “Call it in, give our exact location and get me an ambulance. Now.”

      She dropped her cell phone and took the radio. With trembling fingers, she pressed the button on the side. In all her years at Starlight Point, she’d never had to use a radio in an emergency.

      “Dispatch, this is Evie Hamilton.”

      “Go ahead, Evie,” a woman said. Evie knew the voice. Louise Higgins had worked dispatch at Starlight Point for years. There was curiosity in her familiar voice.

      “I need an ambulance on the beach side of the Space Race.”

      “Is this the same call, the possible MI?” the dispatcher asked.

      “Yes. Definitely an MI. Beach side emergency exit. Space Race.” Repeating the exact location made her feel better. As if it could bring help faster.

      And they needed it.

      The man was apologizing, clutching the hands of his wife and kids and telling them he was sorry for every unkind word he’d ever said.

      He clearly believed he was dying.

      “Tell them to drive the ambulance right down the midway,” Evie told the dispatcher. “Whatever it takes.”

       CHAPTER SIX

      SCOTT HAD SEEN this same thing a dozen times in his years as a firefighter paramedic. It was serious, but the man had a shot at living if they got him to the hospital. Where is that ambulance? He’d heard Evie call it in, noticed her trembling voice but clear directions. Maybe there was a reason she was the Hamilton in charge of safety forces. Or maybe she’d lost the draw in the family lottery.

      He put a mask on the victim and loaded him with oxygen. Monitored his vital signs. Listened for an approaching ambulance. Getting the man to the hospital before he went into full cardiac arrest was his only hope.

      It would be a lot easier to hear the victim’s heartbeat through the stethoscope if the wife wasn’t sitting there crying. Blaming herself. And the kids... They looked like they were soon going to need medical attention themselves.

      Scott laid his hand on the wife’s arm. “Trust me,” he said, “we’ll get your husband to the hospital and there’s a great cardiologist on staff there. They’ll take care of him.”

      The woman nodded, eyes locked on Scott as if he could single-handedly determine the fate of her husband.

      “I need you to do something for me,” he said. “Breathe slowly and deliberately, and get your husband to do the same thing. Count two seconds in, two seconds out. Do this together and it will help all of us.”

      She nodded. Turned her attention to her husband and counted slowly, breathing in and out.

      “Good job. You’re doing great,” Scott said. He turned to the kids. Wished he could think of something for them to do.

      Where is that ambulance?

      “What can I do?” Evie asked, leaning over him so that her long blond hair fell across his shoulder. She placed a hand there and he could feel her breath on his neck.

      It was oddly reassuring to have her beside him.

      “Radio Dispatch and get an ETA on the squad.”

      He assumed she’d straightened and moved away because her touch, her hair, her warm breath, were all gone. He heard her talking with the dispatcher on the radio.

      A police officer raced up and dropped down next to Scott. “I’m a first responder,” he said. “Trained in CPR.”

      “Good. Stand by. But I hope I won’t need your help.”

      The officer glanced at the access road leading to the ride. “Here’s the squad.”

      Scott let out a breath, relief rushing through him. He had to get this victim to the hospital to improve his chances of recovery, to relieve his family of the agony they were suffering. And there was another reason. He took a quick look at Evie and didn’t like the expression on her face. Shock. Fear. Grief? He had no idea if she’d ever witnessed something as terrifying as this, but it was obvious she wasn’t taking it lightly.

      She would need someone to talk to when this was over. At the fire station, the team did their own form of group therapy after calls that were ugly. A heart attack like this was, sadly, quite common. But they needed the camaraderie, the dark humor, the friendships born of hardship.

      The squad pulled up and Scott’s shift partner jumped out and opened both back doors. He rolled a gurney over without asking. Together, Scott and his partner loaded the victim.

      “Can we come along?” the man’s wife asked. “We’re not from around here. I have no idea where the hospital is.”

      Evie stepped close. “I’ve arranged a ride for you and your kids.”

      Scott hoped Evie was not driving. The vulnerable look he’d seen on her face a minute ago was now replaced with a professional expression, but he wondered about her. Worried about her.

      “We have a company car waiting right outside the gate,” she continued.

      When had she arranged that? Must have been when she was talking to the dispatcher. She thought ahead. He respected that.

      Scott climbed into the back of the ambulance and signaled his partner to start driving. He hoped the precious minutes they’d wasted locating the man and getting an ambulance hadn’t jeopardized his chances for survival.

      That was something he needed to discuss with the head of safety at Starlight Point.

      * * *

      THAT