THE PHOTO TRAVELER (THE PHOTO TRAVELER SERIES - BOOK 1)

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

I’m crying and my whole body is shaking. “Bud! Don’t do this to me! Please, Bud!”

      “Bud!” Estelle’s voice echoes. She’s standing right behind me sobbing, and as I reach for her hand, she staggers, then faints. Fortunately a waiter catches her and sets her down on the carpeting. Another waiter grabs a glass of cold water and a napkin and runs over to her.

      I don’t know what to do. I feel helpless... paralyzed. All I see is Bud convulsing on the floor with his mouth shot open. Parts of his body thrusting sporadically as if he is being shocked.

      A middle-aged man kneels down next to me and pulls off his belt. “I think he’s having a stroke! Or a seizure!” he shouts, and wedges the leather strap between Bud’s teeth. As the man places his hands on Bud’s chest to start CPR, Bud’s eyes open suddenly, then roll up and back into his head.

      I try to wipe away my tears, but they keep coming, and I’m flashing back to the convenience store watching Leyla bleed to death. No! Not again! Please, not again! The sound of sirens getting closer pull me back, and I shout to the man performing CPR, “What can I do? Please don’t let him die!”

      At that moment, Bud convulses again. His arm jerks out and his right hand hits the floor with a soft—but to my ears, earsplitting—thud. A team of EMTs carrying stretchers and emergency equipment run in. The crowd parts to let them through.

      The waiter who’s tending to Estelle yells at one of the paramedics for help. Her eyes are open, but she looks dazed. He starts checking her vital signs while another EMT brings a stretcher over. They place her on it gently.

      Everything around me is a blur—shifting colors and shapes and noises and nothingness. “Why isn’t anyone doing anything?!” I shriek.

      I stare blankly as the paramedic who’s been searching for Bud’s pulse sits back on his heels, then places his palm over Bud’s eyes and closes his eyelids. He and the other EMT who’s been leaning over Bud, exchange glances and nod at each other. She looks at her watch and makes a note on her clipboard.

      He stands up and turns to me. I avert my eyes and turn away. I don’t want to hear it!

      “I’m very sorry, sir.”

      I fall to my knees again next to Bud’s body. “Come back! Come back!” But he doesn’t. He never will.

      I can’t stop sobbing as I watch the paramedics place his body on a stretcher. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t take my eyes away.

“No! Bud, no! I can’t do this without you! You can’t die!”

      An elderly lady about Estelle’s age puts her arm around me and holds my face against her chest. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”

      “Estelle! Where’s Estelle?” I break free from the woman and push through the crowd searching frantically. “Where is she?”

      The waiter who had been helping Estelle takes my arm. “They took her outside—”

      I bolt out the door and am momentarily dazed by the flashing glare of the ambulance lights. I see Estelle on the stretcher. An EMT is checking her blood pressure. I run over. “Is she okay? Tell me she’s okay!” She’s so pale that she looks as if all the blood has drained from her body.