Cardiac Arrest (2 page)

"Just forget it," Bud said. He took out a handkerchief and mopped his face.

"Look, if Mom has a heart attack---"

"Knock it off!"

"We're tied up," Joyce said. Then she 
squirmed against the ropes to show that she couldn't get free. "We aren't going anyplace," she told the man. "Listen to me. It's important that you get the pills." "I'm not moving." He shot a nervous look at the clock.

Joyce let out a deep, shaky breath. Her mother, tied to a chair near the table corner, suddenly gritted her teeth. "Mom!"

"I'm all right," her mother said in a tight voice. "Just...a little pain in my arm."

"Your left arm?"

Her mother nodded. "I'll be all right." Joyce glared at Bud. "You better get those pills!"

"This is none of my business."

"That's what you think! If Mom has a 
cardiac arrest...Haven't you ever heard of felony murder?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"It means that you don't have to shoot someone to be a killer," Joyce said. She looked the man in the eyes. "You guys are committing a felony by holding us here and robbing the store. The law says that if someone dies while you're doing it---even by accident---you're both murderers." "You're nuts." He wiped his face again with the handkerchief.

"It's the same as if you shot someone." "That's not fair!"

"It's the law!"

"Oh!" Mrs. Walther gasped. Her lips peeled back, baring her teeth. In pain, she squeezed her eyes shut and fought against the ropes.

Bud shoved the pistol into his belt. "A brown bottle?"

"Hurry! Quick!"

He raced from the kitchen.

J
oyce twisted her hands, trying to free them from the ropes while her mother gasped for air and jerked her head from side to side.

"No!" Joyce cried out. "Bud! Please! Hurry!"

The man raced into the kitchen. His hands were empty. His face was red, his eyes full of fear. "I couldn't find them!" he blurted out.

"They
have
to be there! No---wait.

Maybe they're in the bedroom. Try the bedroom. Look on the dresser."

He dashed away again.

The legs of Mom's chair bounced against the floor as she bucked and squirmed.

Then the chair fell sideways. The chair hit the floor with an awful crash.

"Mom!"

Her mother lay on her side, fighting for each breath. Her body struggled against the ropes. The overturned chair pounded and squeaked on the tile floor. Her face was very red. Joyce saw blood trickling from her mother's nose.

Suddenly Joyce pulled one of her hands free. Her left hand was still tied to the chair frame, and both feet were bound to the metal legs. But her right hand was free. Twisting, she started to pick at the 
knot on her left wrist. It was very tight. She heard rushing footsteps but kept pinching and tugging at the rope. It wouldn't give at all.

"Hold it!" Bud shouted.

Joyce looked up. He was drawing the revolver from his belt, aiming it at her.

"I've got to help!" she cried out.

Then Bud saw the woman lying on the floor. His eyes grew very wide. "Oh, lady," he said. "Don't do this to me!"

"The pills," Joyce gasped. "Did you find them?"

He shook his head. He rubbed his arm across his face to wipe the sweat off.

"Untie me," Joyce demanded. "I can find them."

"No way." He kept staring at Mrs. Walther. His tiny eyes were wide open.

He licked his lips as he tried to figure out what to do. He paced up and down the kitchen like a nervous animal trapped in a cage.

"If you won't untie me, then call the paramedics!"

"Are you nuts?" he asked. But he stopped by the phone.

"Quick! There still might be time to save her!"

"I can't call no paramedics," Bud said. He moved away from the phone.

"Do you want to go up for murder?"

"I can't call no...His words stopped. His eyes bulged. Joyce's mother had stopped her wild shaking. She lay on her side, still bound to the chair, her cheek against the floor. Her eyes were closed now. She didn't seem to be moving at all.

F
or a few seconds Bud stared at the limp body. Suddenly he dashed to the counter. He shoved the gun into his belt and grabbed a butcher knife.

Falling to his knees, he started to cut the ropes that tied Joyce's mother to the chair. While he sawed with the big knife, Joyce tried to pull her own left hand free. The rope dug into her wrists. Turning again, she tried to pick open the knot.

"Stop that!" Bud shouted, giving her an angry look as he cut through the rope around the older woman's right foot.

"You stay put!"

"But I know CPR," Joyce cried. "Let me loose. Maybe I can---I've got to try to save her!"

When Mrs. Walther was free of her 
ropes, Bud grabbed her by the ankles. He pulled her to the center of the kitchen.

"Please!" Joyce cried.

But Bud wouldn't listen to her. He got down on his hands and knees beside Mrs. Walther's body. He lifted one of her arms and grabbed her wrist.

"She's got a pulse," he said. "Yeah, I think she's got a pulse." He sounded relieved, but his eyes were still wide with fear.

"Is she breathing?" Joyce asked.

Bud put a hand close to Mrs. Walther's mouth. He held it there. He took a quick look over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. "Come on, Murph," he muttered.

"Is she breathing?" Joyce shouted.

His head jerked around as if he had been slapped. "How do
I
know?" he shouted at 
her. "No," he said more softly. Then---"I don't know. I guess not."

"Cut me loose!"

"I'm not going to cut you loose!"

"I know CPR! You've got to let me try to save her. Please! If she dies, you're up for murder as sure as if you'd shot her!"

Bud crouched there, thinking.

"There's no time to think!" Joyce shouted. "Just hurry up and get me untied!"

Bud did what Joyce said. He got to his feet, stepped over Mrs. Walther's body, and got down on his knees next to Joyce. Quickly he sawed through the rope at her wrist. He cut open the ropes that held her feet. Joyce sprang from the chair. She grabbed Bud's elbow and pulled him after her.

"OK," she gasped. "We haven't got much time. Get down and hang onto Mom's shoulders."

"Huh?"

"Just do it! I've got to heat up some water."

With a shrug, Bud fell to his knees beside Mrs. Walther. He took hold of her shoulders.

"What's with the hot water?" he asked, looking confused.

"Don't you know anything?"

At the stove, Joyce turned on the gas burner under the teapot. "OK, Mom!" she shouted. "Now!"

Joyce grabbed a heavy iron pan and swung around. Raising it high over her head, she dashed toward the kneeling man. Bud cried out in surprise, but Mrs. 
Walther held his wrists tightly. As he struggled, Joyce brought the heavy iron pan down on top of his head.

M
r. Walther stepped through the front door ahead of Murph. A hand reached out quickly, grabbed him by the elbow, and pulled him roughly out of the way.

A police officer against the wall suddenly had his revolver against Murph's ear. Two more police officers, who were kneeling on the floor, had pistols aimed at his chest. "Don't even blink," said the officer by the wall.

Joyce, watching from her hiding place behind the end of the couch, got to her 
feet. Her mother peeked in from the hall.

Then they hurried over to Mr. Walther, while the four police officers took Murph's gun and put the handcuffs on him.

"Are you both all right?" Mr. Walther asked, hugging his wife and daughter.

"Sure," his wife said. "Tip-top."

"Mom got a nose bleed," Joyce said.

"Well, I hit the floor pretty hard."

"What on earth happened?" he asked.

"Nothing much," Joyce told him. "I just made up a new story, and Mom acted it out."

"That Bud was a great audience," her mother said, grinning.

Her father looked puzzled. "I don't get it."

"You tell him, Mom," Joyce said. "OK? I don't want to miss anything."

Stepping away from her parents, Joyce watched the police search Murph. The man looked shocked, but at least, she thought, he was better off than Bud, who was still out cold in the kitchen.

"Have you read him his rights?" Joyce asked.

"Not yet," said one of the officers.

"Would you hang on for a second, then, while I get my tape recorder? It's research, you know. I'm a writer."