“I want you to stop crying, do you hear me? Stop crying now and sit up, there’s a good girl.” His voice was calm, professionally confident as the two men watched her, but there was growing anxiety in his eyes. Slowly her sobs grew quieter and she lay still, the harsh rasping in her throat dying away. Cohen bent closer, his hand still on her shoulder. “Joanna.” Gently he shook her. “Joanna, are you hearing me? I want you to wake up. When I count three. Are you ready? One…two…three…”

Under his hand her head rolled sideways on the matting. Her eyes were open and unblinking, the pupils dilated. “ Joanna , do you hear me? One, two, three.” As he counted Cohen took her by the shoulders and half lifted her from the floor. “Joanna, for the love of God, hear me…”

The panic in the man’s voice galvanized Sam into action. He dropped on his knees beside them, his fingers feeling rapidly for a pulse in the girl’s throat.

“Christ! There’s nothing there!”

“Joanna!” Cohen was shaking her now, his own face ashen. “Joanna! You must wake up, girl!” He calmed himself with a visible effort. “Listen to me. You are going to start to breathe now, slowly and calmly. Do you hear me? You are breathing now, slowly, and you are with William and you have both eaten. You are happy. You are warm. You are alive, Joanna! You are alive!”

Sam felt his throat constrict with panic. The girl’s wrist, limp between his fingers, had begun to grow cold. Her face had taken on a deathly pallor, her lips were turning gray.

“I’ll call for an ambulance.” Cohen’s voice had lost all its command. He sounded like an old man as he scrambled to his feet.

“No time.” Sam pushed the professor aside. “Kneel here, by her head, and give her mouth to mouth. Now! When I say so!” Crouched over the girl, he laid his ear to her chest. Then, the heel of one hand over the other, he began to massage her heart, counting methodically as he did so.