Chapter Two-Hundred and Eighty-Eight
Asher pushed Timothy out of the room, nodding to Nancy and ordering her to check on John. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He snapped, shaking the teen and pushing him into a chair. "You'll be lucky if you didn't paralyze him." He paced before the young man, his face turning red with anger. "You'd better hope that my nephew isn't hurt in anyway. And even if he isn't, I'm going to press charges for attempted murder."
Timothy glared at the man, shoving past him before he called back. "If he's such a fag he doesn't deserve to live!"
Nancy moved John back onto the pillows, filling a syringe with a sedative and injecting it into his veins. She sighed as his breathing started to come easier, gently fitting a oxygen mask over his mouth and nose before she injected an anti-inflammatory into his IV. "Shh… you're okay." She soothed, watching as his breath fogged in the mask. "You're okay…" She brushed his hair back, starting a vital check on him by pressing her hands into his torso and listening to his heart and lungs. "Shit…" She cursed, listening to the rattle in his chest with each breath he took.
"What?" Asher asked, fear rising in his chest for his nephew's wellbeing. "What's wrong?"
She took the stethoscope off, holding the ear pieces out to him and letting him listen. "He's got pneumonia." She touched his forehead, feeling the slight temperature as his eyes closed. "We're gonna have to add another medication."
Asher nodded, squeezing John's hand in his own. "Do what you have to. Just keep him alive."
Clarissa picked up her crocheting, listening to John's breath and the beeping of his heart monitor. She hummed as she worked, looking up occasionally when his heartrate changed or he seemed to twitch in response to something.
Sara smiled as she stepped into the room, taking her Airforce jacket off and placing it on the chair beside John's bed. "How's our cadet doing?"
Clarissa chuckled, shaking her head at the inactive Pilot turned medic. "He's still out of it. He woke up twenty minutes ago and asked why there was a cat on his face." She nodded to his beard, working another stitch into the baby blanket she was working on.
Sara laughed, patting John's leg before she checked his feeding tube and the placement of his head on the pillows. "I'd say his beard looks more like moss on a tree right now." She dug into the bag she'd brought, pulling out his razor and a bar of shaving soap. "I think it's time for a shave." She lathered the soap over his face, gently pulling the skin of his cheeks tight over his facial bones and cutting the scraggly hair away.
Clarissa smiled, happy that John was sleeping for the moment and not feeling any pain. "He was starting to look like wolfman there for a while." She started on another row in the blanket, rolling her eyes as John mumbled some nonsense in his sleep. "It looks nice when he keeps it kept up, but not when it gets like that."
"Asher's can be the same way sometimes." Sara wiped the blade of John's razor on a towel, starting on his chin. "That Cherokee in him makes it a little thinner though."