"Jeanette ... help ... me."

She put his wrist down, then stroked his arm. "Hold on. I'm calling 911."

Rushing to the portable phone, she picked it up and dialed the emergency

number as she hastened back to Charles's side. Pulling the afghan from the back of her couch, she wrapped the rapidly weakening man in it. "Damn.

Don't they answer this double-damn number."

"Nine-one-one. What's your emergency, please?"

"A medical emergency. My friend is having some sort of attack. His pulse is

thready. 100 beats per minute. He's losing consciousness. Please send someone fast."

"They're on their way, Ms. LaFleur. Is 56 Chartres Place still your correct

location?"

"Yes. It's Apartment 2A. Please hurry."

"They're less than three minutes away, ma'am. Please stay on the line until they

get there."

"I understand." Jeanette sat on the floor, close to Charles, hoping her body

warmth would keep him from going into shock.

"Ma'am. The EMTs would like to know if the patient has a history of cardiac problems."

"I don't know."

Jeanette looked at Charles's face and found him watching her, as if she were a

lifeline. She saw knowledge in his eyes. He knew something was horribly wrong.

"Charles. Can you hear me?"

He blinked his eyes once.

"Does that mean yes?"

He blinked them once again.

"Do you have a family history of heart problems?"

He blinked his eyes twice.

"Operator. Tell the EMTs no history of heart problems."

"Thank you. They just pulled up to your building. You can cut the

connection, ma'am."

"Thank you."

"Good luck, ma'am."

Luck, Jeanette thought, as she shut off the phone, then gently lowered Charles

to the floor. Charles needed more than luck. He needed a miracle.

A pounding on the door indicated the arrival of the emergency crew. She got

up and ran to the door to let them in.

"Where's the patient?"

Jeanette pointed toward the sofa. "On the floor. He slipped off the couch. I

kept him warm, but I think he's in shock anyway."

The EMT who'd asked the question, nodded. "How long has he been like this?"

"It came on so fast. Maybe a total of eight minutes. Or less. You got here

quickly."

The EMT and his partner moved the coffee table out of the way. One of them started an IV, while the other took vitals.

"Damn, we're going to lose him." The man taking vitals sent an urgent glance to his partner, who had a drip flowing and had started to administer oxygen.

"Let's get him on the stretcher and hit the road."

As Jeanette watched in growing horror, the two men efficiently loaded up

Charles. He made no motion. No sound.

A cold, dark feeling lodged in her heart. It felt like death. She recognized it from when Paul died.

"Charity, this is EMT Unit 55. We're about to transport a white male, approximately 30 years of age..."

"Twenty-seven. He's only twenty-seven."

Jeanette choked back the hysteria threatening to escape. She had to hold it together. She couldn't do Charles any good if she panicked.

She followed the two emergency personnel out to the ambulance.

"Correct that dispatch. Twenty-seven years of age. He's unconscious and diaphoretic. We're giving him oxygen, 4 liters. His pulse is 150 and thready.

His BP is 60 over 40. I think we're losing him. Any advice you could give would be appreciated, Charity." The lead EMT spoke calmly.

Yet, Jeanette heard the underlying urgency in his voice, saw it in the fast,

efficient movements of the two-man team. Something niggled at her. There was something she needed to make sure they knew.

Damn, how could she have forgotten?

"Tell them he mixed prescription allergy medicine with alcohol about thirty minutes ago."

"Charity. Friend of patient says he took allergy medication with alcohol about thirty minutes ago."

"How much meds and alcohol?"

"One 25 mg capsule of Claritin and one glass of white wine, maybe six ounces tops."

The EMT repeated the information, then listened and shook his head. He looked at Jeanette. "Doc says that wouldn't cause this kind of respiratory arrest."

"You're taking him to Charity?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The EMT who answered her climbed into the back with Charles. The other

got into the driver's seat. Then, with no further discussion, they were off.

"Thank you."

They couldn't have heard her. They were half way down the block before