Sometime after midnight Sam stirred. He was immediately at her side. He could feel the heat radiating from her. Her breathing had become more rapid and she seemed to be struggling with each breath. She opened blue eyes that looked through him, not seeing. Her cheeks were flushed and she started pushing off the quilts that covered her. "Must get out of here," she muttered, trying to disentangle herself, only succeeding in becoming more wrapped up. "Find the Colonel."
"Shhhh, it's alright. I'm here," Jackson soothed her. He put his hand on her cheek, only to pull it back hurriedly. "High fever, labored breathing, working on pneumonia," he diagnosed to himself. He quickly moved to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Inside he saw all of Karen's medicines. He had refused to throw them out. As her condition had worsened, he had turned to different drugs to keep her comfortable, not fight the cancer itself. He shuffled through the medicine bottles until he found an antibiotic that he had used when Karen had developed an upper respiratory infection. Grabbing this and picking up a Tylenol bottle he hurried back to the bedside. He saw that she had become more agitated and was trying to push herself off the bed, crying out as her cracked ribs protested. He quickly settled himself beside her. She looked at him with unseeing eyes and kept muttering as she tried to draw away from him. He opened the Tylenol and picked up a cup of water from the bedside table.
"Let's get these into you," he said calmly. He lifted her head until she was partially sitting. He held the cup to her lips and helped her take a small sip. She swallowed the liquid he poured into her mouth on reflex, not understanding what was going on. He then put a capsule in her mouth, followed by a sip of water. She gagged, but managed to swallow. He repeated this until the medicines were gone, gently laying her back onto the pillow. She continued the fretful tossing and turning for a while longer until slowly she quieted down. He still wasn't pleased with her breathing, but she did seem to be sleeping peacefully. He moved to the bathroom again and returned with a damp cloth, which he used to sponge her face and neck. Again he noticed the dog-tags around her neck. He carefully lifted them over her head and put them in his pocket.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him he had not eaten since breakfast. Taking one last look at her, he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. He turned on the tv in the kitchen and sat down, but did not see what was on as his mind was back in the bedroom with Sam. He knew she wasn't Karen, but part of him stomped down his rational side. He knew that someone would be looking for her. She didn't wear a ring, so probably not a husband, but maybe a boyfriend? A father or mother, siblings perhaps, someone would notice her gone. Oh, and Uncle Sam would want to know where she was too. She couldn't just disappear without questions being asked. But that didn't matter to him. She was here, now. She was like a gift from heaven. She would become Karen. He went back into the bedroom, settled into the bedside chair and closed his eyes. Sleep came swiftly and he dreamed of the life that he would have again---that they would share again.
"Shhhh, it's alright. I'm here," Jackson soothed her. He put his hand on her cheek, only to pull it back hurriedly. "High fever, labored breathing, working on pneumonia," he diagnosed to himself. He quickly moved to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Inside he saw all of Karen's medicines. He had refused to throw them out. As her condition had worsened, he had turned to different drugs to keep her comfortable, not fight the cancer itself. He shuffled through the medicine bottles until he found an antibiotic that he had used when Karen had developed an upper respiratory infection. Grabbing this and picking up a Tylenol bottle he hurried back to the bedside. He saw that she had become more agitated and was trying to push herself off the bed, crying out as her cracked ribs protested. He quickly settled himself beside her. She looked at him with unseeing eyes and kept muttering as she tried to draw away from him. He opened the Tylenol and picked up a cup of water from the bedside table.
"Let's get these into you," he said calmly. He lifted her head until she was partially sitting. He held the cup to her lips and helped her take a small sip. She swallowed the liquid he poured into her mouth on reflex, not understanding what was going on. He then put a capsule in her mouth, followed by a sip of water. She gagged, but managed to swallow. He repeated this until the medicines were gone, gently laying her back onto the pillow. She continued the fretful tossing and turning for a while longer until slowly she quieted down. He still wasn't pleased with her breathing, but she did seem to be sleeping peacefully. He moved to the bathroom again and returned with a damp cloth, which he used to sponge her face and neck. Again he noticed the dog-tags around her neck. He carefully lifted them over her head and put them in his pocket.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him he had not eaten since breakfast. Taking one last look at her, he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. He turned on the tv in the kitchen and sat down, but did not see what was on as his mind was back in the bedroom with Sam. He knew she wasn't Karen, but part of him stomped down his rational side. He knew that someone would be looking for her. She didn't wear a ring, so probably not a husband, but maybe a boyfriend? A father or mother, siblings perhaps, someone would notice her gone. Oh, and Uncle Sam would want to know where she was too. She couldn't just disappear without questions being asked. But that didn't matter to him. She was here, now. She was like a gift from heaven. She would become Karen. He went back into the bedroom, settled into the bedside chair and closed his eyes. Sleep came swiftly and he dreamed of the life that he would have again---that they would share again.