Endorphin Conspiracy, The Read Online Free PDF Page A

on their headsets. There was no other way to communicate easily over the thunderous noise of the helicopter.
    “She gonna make it?” he asked.
    “Too soon to tell, but her chances are better than they were ten minutes ago,” Ceravolo said.
    “Her vitals seem to be stabilizing,” said Santos.
    “Looks like you two have things under control. Don’t you think it’s time to call in? Wouldn’t want to piss off the boss on a Sunday night,” said Rick.
    “Guess you’re right. I’m sure he’s going nuts waiting to hear from us. Patch us in. Tell him the radio was out for a while,” said Ceravolo.
    “You tell him. He’s on the line now,” said Rick. “Good luck.”
    “Shit,” muttered the medics in unison.
    “What the hell’s been going on? How’s the girl?” boomed the voice of Dr. George Spiros.
    “Vitals weak but stable. Probable closed head injury, pupils five millimeters and sluggish. May have a collapsed lung and internal hemorrhaging. This pobrecita has had better days, Dr. Spiros,” Santos said.
    “Have you given her any dopamine?”
    “No. Just normal saline, as much as her little vein can take. Her pulse is regular at 120, her BP 75 over 35. We’re bagging her at 24 breaths per minute.”
    “Ceravolo, you there? I haven’t heard from you today. How’s the girl’s cardiac rhythm?”
    “A little fast, but regular.”
    “Sounds like we’ll need the neurosurgeons as well as the general surgeons on this one. What about that crazy Parks Department guy? Anything left of him?”
    “The coroner’s picking up the pieces,” Santos said.
    “Can’t say I’m upset about that. What’s your ETA, Davidson?”
    “Two minutes, sir.”
    “Good job. But call me sooner next time. See you at the landing pad in two.”
    “Roger.”
    They breathed a shared sigh of relief, and the helicopter thundered north, flying high above the once- majestic Hudson River.
    Enrique Santos, seasoned medic, devout Catholic, and father of five, reached into his pocket, and clutched his rosary beads in one hand, caressed little Jessica’s blood-stained, bandaged forehead with the other. Dios mediante—God willing—you will make it, pobrecita.

Chapter 4
    “Nice job assisting in the OR, Karen,” said Geoff. “You’ve really gotten your feet wet in a big way on the first day.”
    Geoff looked at his wrist, checked his watch. One-thirty p.m. So much for morning rounds. He inserted his ID card into the security panel outside the NSICU. A green “enter” sign illuminated, and with a whoosh, the doors parted.
    “Thanks. I really like being in the OR, and it helps to have a good teacher.”
    Geoff and Karen entered what amounted to a decompression chamber, where white coats had to be removed and kelly green jumpsuits donned. They cleansed their hands with the disinfectant soap, then put on surgical gloves.
    “Ready?” Geoff asked. The door opened and he stepped into the room, Karen following right behind him. The antiseptic aromas of iodine cleanser and surgical adhesive wafted their way, the distinctive scents reassuring, familiar, to Geoff.
    “Well, Dr. Davis, I thought you’d never get here,” said Cathy Johannsen, charge nurse of the day shift. Cathy was about thirty-eight, had long white hair pulled back in a pony tail, sparkling blue eyes and a fine, chiseled nose emphasizing her Scandinavian decent. She was a bit too big bottomed for Geoff’s taste, though many of the male residents considered her a knockout.   “Cathy, with you in charge, I knew everything would be under control. All I have to do is sign the orders.”
    “I wish it were that simple,” she said, “It’s good to have you back, Geoff. I hear you had a long morning.”
    “A typical day at the Trauma Center. Good experience for Dr. Choy, here.” He motioned to introduce Karen Choy. “Sorry. Let me introduce you two properly. Cathy Johannsen, Dr. Karen Choy, first year resident.”
    The two women shook hands. “Pleasure,” said