“Call Emergency now!” Decker yelled, turning Bram onto his back. He tore open the priest’s shirt while blood spurted from inch-round bullet holes in his chest and stomach, dousing Decker’s face and clothes. Decker placed pressure on the priest’s chest with one hand, fished for his keys with the other. Attached to the ring was a Swiss army knife. He unlatched the blade, sliced into Abram’s flesh and inner fascia. His fingers dove into a blind hole of viscera, searching desperately for the ruptured arteries. He shrieked out, “Somebody call it in?”

“It’s been called in, Pete,” Marge answered.

Decker screamed, “Michael, get over here!”

Immediately, the med student leaped into action.

“Hold this spot,” Decker said, guiding his hand into the priest’s insides.

Bram whispered, “Your father was a good man, Michael. Don’t let anyone tell you diff—” He was suddenly seized with uncontrollable cramps. “Oh God have mercy!”

In Oliver’s hands Dolly wailed, “I want to die. I’m supposed to die! Please let me die!”

“Get her out of here!” Decker barked.

Again, Bram attempted speech. “A…tortured man…even so, he remained faithful to Mom to the end…He swore to me…” His body writhed in agony. “Oh sweet Jesus!”

“Just hang in there, Abram,” Decker whispered. “You’re going to be—”

“A good man, Michael…and Mom’s a good wo—” He cried out as searing pain swept through his body.

“Shhhh,” Decker purred. The priest’s body was still spewing blood. Decker frantically tried to staunch the flow. “Press down right here,” he ordered Michael. Out loud, he said, “I need more hands. Marge, get over here!”

Marge froze with indecision, regarding her ungloved hands.

“Move it, Dunn!” Decker ordered.

She ran to him. Decker grabbed her hand. “Press here.”

Bram looked at Marge. “My blood’s clean. I haven’t…” His body broke into spastic convulsions.

“Hold his legs with your knees, Michael.”

“I hurt, Peter.”

“Shhhh,” Decker cooed. “You’re gonna be all right—”

“No, I’m not—” More spasms. His face sweating profusely, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. “Rina had faith in me.”

Decker’s fingers found another ruptured vessel. He tightened his grip as best he could around the slippery, wet cord. “She had unshakable faith in you. Don’t talk, Abram.”

His voice was barely audible. “Tell her—” He began shaking uncontrollably.

“Shhhh.”

“Do you know…Psalms, Peter?”

“Not by heart, Abram. I’m sorry.”

“Rina knows Psalms…Tehillim.” He broke into a series of spasmodic coughs, hacking up gobs of blood and sputum. “Tell her…”

“I’ll tell her, Abram.” Decker gently wiped his mouth. “I’ll tell her to say Tehillim for you.”

The priest nodded. “I’m cold…”

Michael’s face was wet with tears and blood. He stuttered out, “He’s going into shock.”