Red Threat: Dr. Whyte Adventure Series, #3.5

By CB Samet

Lillian Whyte's day started as any other--medical emergencies followed by touring the new ER and ICU tower construction. But when armed gunmen storm the building and take hostages, Lillian won't be idle on the sidelines. Determined to uncover their motive, Lillian comes face to face with danger and she may never leave the building alive.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: CB Samet
• Release date: Dec 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215003534

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

"I s there a doctor on the plane? Please come to the front of the aircraft."

At the overhead announcement, Lillian closed the book she was reading and slipped it into the backseat pocket of the chair in front of her. She stood, checked she had her cell phone in her blue jeans pocket, and walked down the aisle to the front of the plane. When she arrived in first class, there was a man in his fifties wearing a brown suit and standing in the aisle as he talked in hushed tones to one of the flight attendants.

Hi— Lillian began cheerfully.

I’ve got this, the man said tersely after less than a brief glance at her.

He seemed to take one look at her blue jeans, green Appalachian Trail t-shirt, and messy red bun and think she needed dismissing.

Lillian crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. Do you now?

The flight attendant scrutinized the pair of them with a no-nonsense look. What type of doctor are you? she asked the man. Her name tag read Amanda.

He puffed his chest slightly. I’m Dr. Whitlow. Neurology.

Lillian slipped her hand in her back pockets, looking as nonconfrontational as she could muster. Emergency room medicine. She pulled out her phone and pulled up a picture of her license from her credentialing app.

We need her, the attendant said.

Lillian didn’t hide her smirk. The man shouldn’t have discredited her so readily without at least asking her the same question. But she was more amused than angry. She’d spent most of the last twenty years being underestimated by colleagues and patients. Yet, for every person who dismissed her talents, there was at least one who did not. She’d learned not to take people’s preconceived notions personally. She’d also learned not to submit to them. Slinking away was the easy path, but not the one best for patients. Victory wasn’t winning a pissing contest; it was being the one to provide patient care when she knew she was the best person for the job.

This gentleman is having chest pain. Amanda gestured to a man in the aisle seat.

The large man in the chair looked to be about Lillian’s age, perhaps forty, and was sweating through his blue button-down shirt. Beads of moisture had formed along his forehead, and he glanced up nervously at Lillian. He held one hand to his chest and appeared to be focusing on breathing.

Heart attack, the neurologist said, who hadn’t had the good sense to go back to his seat.

Maybe. Lillian knelt down and laid two fingers along the man’s wrist. My name is Dr. Lillian Whyte. I’m an emergency room physician in Atlanta, just heading home after a medical conference. She smiled as she said the words and kept her tone soothing. How about you?

Name’s Kirk. Business trip. He spoke the words in broken sentences between breaths.

His heart rate was fast, probably over one hundred fifty beats per minute, and there was an irregularity to it.

On a scale of one to ten, how bad is that chest pain? Lillian asked.

Five. But can’t catch my breath.

All right. Let’s see if we can get a rhythm on you. I think you might be in atrial fibrillation. Is that something you’ve ever had before? As Lillian spoke the words, she slipped off her smart watch and fitted it onto the man’s wrist.

Yeah, I take medication for it.

Okay, Kirk, let’s see what we have here. She pressed the icon to go to the EKG app. Yup. Atrial fibrillation. And you already took your medication today?

He nodded.

Do you have it with you?

Yeah, in my bag.

As she reached for his carry-on, she caught sight of an empty bag of chips and a can of cold brew coffee in the back pocket of his seat. Maybe his business trip had been a bit stressful. Tack on a triple-shot caffeine and a pound of salt to his pre-existing condition and et voila—an irritated electrical system in the heart.

Can you give us permission to go through your bag to pull out your medication?

Yeah.

Lillian withdrew his tote and started searching. Hey, Amanda. As a precaution, can we bring your first aid kit and the AED over? She didn’t call the machine what it was—a defibrillator—so as not to alarm Kirk. Airlines carried automatic external defibrillators, but the basic machines were capable only of either instructing the operator to shock or resume CPR based on the detected heart rhythm in a pulseless patient. As Kirk still had a pulse, he didn’t need the machine… not yet.

By the time Amanda returned with the emergency medical kit and the AED, Lillian had Kirk’s medication in hand. She pulled the sphygmomanometer out of the airline medical bag and took his blood pressure. Good news, Kirk. Your blood pressure is high enough, you can take another one of these pills.

Another dose of his beta blocker might do the trick.

Anyone have something they can jot notes on so we can give a full report to EMS when we land? Lillian asked.

Amanda looked expectantly at the neurologist.

Uh, yeah, sure. Whitlow pulled out his phone and started typing notes.

Lillian rattled off the blood pressure and time of the dose of Kirk’s medication when he swallowed it. She rummaged through the plane’s emergency kit. Atropine—definitely didn’t need anything that would speed up his heart rate. Epinephrine—hopefully wouldn’t need that to restart his heart should it