One Stupid Thing

Ten Times a Normal Dose

JJ lays on the truck horn to announce our arrival when we pull into his cousin Ricky's driveway. He puts the truck in park and practically flies out of the vehicle. "Ricky! Hey! Bro!"

Sarah turns to me. "Here, come on," she encourages.

I wave her off. "No. I'm fine. Just go help Pope. I'll catch up." Hesitantly, Sarah nods and joins the rest of the group.

"You good?" Kie asks Pope, but he is too preoccupied with his condition to answer her. Kie and John B resume their positions on either side of their friend and help him up to the house.

"Ricky! Ricky! Hey, Ricky!" JJ yells. He hurries up to the front door and bangs on it relentlessly.

Carefully, I shift towards the open door and adjust so that my legs are dangling out. Using the seat as well as the door handle, I step down onto the ledge, but my sandal slips and I slide down, hitting my back against the truck on the way to the ground below.

I take a second to breathe and recuperate before managing to get to my feet and limping the rest of the way to the front door. While I was struggling, the rest of the Pogues had disappeared inside the home.

As soon as the screen door slams behind me, a half-naked, burly man with dark, curly hair glances at me and rolls his eyes. Pope had been laid on top of what seems to be the dining room table. "Oh great, there's more of you," the man, who I assume to be Ricky, groans. He turns back to the group and sighs. "What's his name?"

"Pope," Sarah replies quickly.

"Hey, Pope. Hang tight. I gotta get my kit." Ricky turns tail and hurries down a hallway.

"Hang tight? Ricky!" JJ protests.

"He's looking for a kit. Go help," John B says to him.

"Kit?"

"Yeah. Go help," John B repeats. JJ nods and hurries after Ricky.

"Just breathe a little, okay?" Kiara pleads to Pope, taking his head in her hands. "I just need you to focus. Focus on your breathing, okay?"

"What does it look like?" JJ shouts, his voice strained in frustration.

"Like a duffel bag!" Ricky shouts back, reappearing in the main room and hurrying past us.

"Where's your kit?" Kiara cries out.

"Out in the garage maybe?" Ricky replies calmly, heading through another door.

"Focus on your breathing," Kie repeats, her voice softening once more. Pope, however delirious he is, listens to her and he inhales and exhales a few shallow, shaky breaths. 

"Okay, I got it! I got it! I got it," Ricky announces, returning back from the garage with a duffel bag in his hands.

JJ heard him and immediately returned to Pope's side. I had been using the edge of the table for support, but now JJ has taken up the position with his arm once again wrapped around my waist. I lean into him to take the weight off of my bad leg. "What do we do now?" JJ asks Ricky.

"You don't do anything 'cause you're not a paramedic." Ricky searches through his bag for the correct equipment and prepares a dose of medication. "Okay. Hey, Pope. How you doing, man? You look like shit. Here's the thing. This is a pediatric dose of epinephrine," he warns us.

"Is that gonna be enough?" Sarah questions him.

"He's not a kid!" Kiara shouts.

Ricky holds up his free hand, asking for silence and preventing them from jumping to conclusions. "It is ten times a normal dose. So if... if it doesn't stop his heart, it'll help him. But I gotta use the whole thing, or it won't work. And I'm not going down if he dies." Ricky turns to JJ and waits for permission.