Little Do We Know(46)

Luke pressed PLAY.

“Three years ago,” she began, “my family and I were driving to a local restaurant. We went there every Sunday night. My dad was driving. My mom was in the front seat. My sister and I were talking about this band we both liked, and my mom turned around to say something about them. And that’s the last thing I remember.”

I looked at Luke. His eyes were glued to his screen.

“The police told me later that a truck had run a red light and slammed right into our car. It hit the passenger side, killing my mom and sister on impact.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “My dad and I survived. I was fine, aside from this,” she said, as she traced the length of her scar.

I wanted to reach over and click the PAUSE button. I didn’t want to watch. This was horrible.

“I was in a coma for three days. According to the paramedic’s report, I was unconscious when they arrived. And I might have been unconscious in the traditional sense, but inside, I was fully present, conscious on a level I’d never experienced before. I was there. I could hear the sirens and the voices as they tried to revive me. If I were to ever hear them again, I’d know those voices in an instant.”

Sienna looked off to the side, like she was bringing herself back to that moment. And then leaned in toward the camera.

“According to the paramedic’s report, my heart stopped. I was clinically dead for a little over two minutes. And while I was, I got to say good-bye to my mom and my sister.”

She pressed her lips together. And then a slow smile spread across her face, making the scar on her right side even more pronounced. “The experience changed everything. I’m happy to be alive, and I know that someday I’ll see my mom and sister again. They’re waiting for my dad and me.”

The video ended.

“Do you think that’s crazy?” he asked.

And even though I’d been having doubts of my own lately, I pushed it all from my mind and told him what I knew he needed to hear.

“No. I don’t think that’s crazy.”

It was as if the word no gave him the permission he needed to keep going. He reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out a piece of paper. He handed it to me, and as soon as I unfolded it, I recognized the logo on the top from the back of the ambulance.

Dispatched priority 1 to a residence. Upon arrival to scene, found 18-year-old male unconscious in driver’s seat of car. No response to questions. No response to painful stimuli. No pulse found. Pupils nonreactive. Skin cold, lung sounds CTA.

Patient was carried to stretcher by EMTx2, leaned back into lower Fowler’s position, with feet elevated. Crew began transport. Crew member heard weak groan from patient and began resuscitation with paddles. Patient revived. Pulse: 80. BP: 60/30. Oral and written report given and care turned over to hospital staff.



“The doctors said the brain can only handle three minutes without oxygen, otherwise there’s a high likelihood of permanent brain damage. According to everything I’ve been told, for about three minutes, I was dead.”

My eyes kept going back to that one line in the report: No pulse found. I thought about the girl in the video. “Do you remember what happened?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Every second.”

We were both quiet. Neither one of us seemed to know what to say next.

“What was it like?” I asked carefully.

He thought about it. “Have you ever woken up from a dream that seemed so real, and you can close your eyes and picture being back in it, but when you try to explain it to someone, it never comes out right?”

“Of course.”

“It was like that. Only when you wake up from a dream like that, you know it was a dream. This felt so real. I know I was someplace else, Hannah. Someplace real.”

“What was it like? What did you see?” I needed specifics. Was there a rotating tunnel? A bright light? People he’d loved waiting to welcome him to the other side? These were the kind of details I’d been searching for, the kind of things that would prove I was right to believe all those things I’d believed my entire life. I had to know more.

“Have you tried to tell your parents? Your doctors?”

“Sort of. The nurse in the hospital said she’s seen a lot of people flatline, and those who wake up always have a story to tell. She said that when the brain can’t make sense of something, it automatically fills in the blank with random images.

“My parents took a more science-y approach. My dad said what you see when you die is just the brain losing oxygen and beginning to shut down. It puts pictures together, but none of it is real. But everything that happened that night was real. It was as real as the conversation we’re having right now.” He shook his head slowly. “It’s so weird. I’ve never really thought about what happened when we died. Not until five days ago. And now…” He trailed off. “And now, it’s all I can think about. I don’t know how to stop thinking about it. Something strange happened to me that night and I haven’t really been able to explain it to anyone.”

He closed his eyes.

“I was here, but I wasn’t. I heard your dad’s voice. He was muffled, but I could hear him talking. And then everything disappeared. And I didn’t feel scared or alone anymore. Like I was ready to go. Just totally at peace with the whole thing. And then I heard you.”