“Unlocking Secrets: What Lies Within Carrie Mac’s Mysterious Three Envelopes?”
“Why can’t you just call it?” he says.
“ALS can call it.” I lock my elbows and pump on her chest. “Not me.”
Could I call it? I’m not sure. If she was decapitated, or decayed, I could call it. But her head is mashed in and she’s still not quite dead and she should be, but she isn’t, and the truth is that I’m not sure if we should stop CPR or not. I know she’s dying. I know that she’s mostly dead. But still.
“This is almost a joke,” he says. Squeeze. Squeeze.
“This is a joke.” There’s a crunch as her sternum cracks. We should stop. Should we stop? “Know what?”
