She couldn't have been older than twenty.
Her expression changed the moment she saw the little girl's hands.
“Oh my God.”
She dropped the clipboard she was carrying.
Then she leaned close enough for only the manager and me to hear.
“Don't let go of her.”
I stared.
“What?”
The young woman pointed toward the child.
“She's signing SICK.”
My stomach tightened.
The little girl made the gesture again.
The pharmacy clerk looked toward the man near the end of the aisle.
Then her face drained of color.
“She's not asking you to protect her from him.”
The clerk's voice trembled.
“She's trying to tell you something's wrong with her daddy.”
I turned.
The man in the gray polo had one hand pressed against his chest.
His shoulders were hunched.
His eyes looked unfocused.
And sweat was running down his face.
For a second, he stared directly at me.
Then his knees began to buckle.
“CALL 911!” I shouted.
The man collapsed before anyone could reach him.
His shoulder struck the side of a display.
A cardboard sign fell.
Then he hit the polished floor.
The little girl screamed without making a recognizable word.
She tore herself away from my vest and tried to run toward him.
I reached after her, terrified she'd fall into the scattered merchandise.
The pharmacy clerk moved alongside her.
“Stay with me, sweetheart!”
I was already on my feet.
My replaced left knee protested with a sharp burst of pain, but I ignored it.
I hurried toward the fallen man.
Someone was shouting.
Someone else was crying.
A shopping cart rolled into the middle of the aisle.
The Walmart manager stood frozen for one terrible second.
Then I heard myself shout again.
“Call an ambulance! Get the AED! NOW!”
I knelt beside the man.
His eyes were partly open.
He wasn't responding.
I checked for normal breathing.
There was none.
A woman nearby asked whether he was dead.
I didn't answer.
I had taken CPR refresher training through our motorcycle club, but nothing about training in a quiet community hall prepared you for doing it while a little girl watched her father lying motionless on a supermarket floor.
I told the manager to confirm emergency services were on the line.
Then I began chest compressions.
Behind me, the child dropped to her knees.
She reached toward her father's face.
Her trembling little hand made the same sign.
SICK.
SICK.
SICK.
The pharmacy clerk knelt beside her and gently kept her clear of the people helping her father.
The girl's eyes were enormous.
She stared at the man she'd been trying so desperately to save.