Corn, Cows, and the Apocalypse

Overnight Guest

"Like this?" I asked August for the third time.

"Not so hard. You're just stimulating with pain, not trying to bruise him.

I eased the pressure of my knuckles on Priest's sternum as I rubbed them up and down his chest. "Is this all I can do?"

"If he starts to stir, try to wake him up. Conscious is always better. If he stops breathing, resuscitate. Keep his airways clear and..." August chuckled. "...Pray."

I rolled my eyes at the irony before responding. "I'm sorry to put you in this position. I know you'd rather he just die."

August frowned. "I care about you. I don't want him to hurt you. By that reasoning, I want him to live, very much."

"Thank you."

August left me alone to tend to my patient by the light of the living room fire. Sheets and blankets had been laid down to protect the carpet from any unintentional body functions, upper or lower. Without much to do but play nursemaid to a coma victim, I cleaned him up.

I washed the vomit from his face, and put drops in his half-lidded eyes to keep them moist. In a perhaps fruitless effort to encourage breathing, I removed his clergy collar and unbuttoned his shirt. I couldn't help but touch his chest to feel his inhalations and heartbeat against my hand. Despite the joke, I did offer a silent prayer that was more an observation than a plea.

You didn't want him before. Why take him now?

After repeated efforts to wake him, I finally gave up and settled in for the night beside him. Close enough to hear his slow breaths. Throughout the night, I woke to him rousing, but he was out again too fast to bother doing anything else.

The next morning he was still alive, and that was the only improvement, aside from not having to clean up vomit. The sun wasn't up yet, but Haden came in off her post. She looked over the scene of me sprawled beside Priest fretting about respiration, brain damage, and other such things I didn't understand.

"I can watch him. Get some air," she commanded.

I shook my head. "I know you guys don't care about him. I don't expect you to help him."

"I don't, but I'm not offering to help him, I'm offering to help you. I'm running on three hours of sleep, and you still look less rested than me."

I almost smiled at her for the joke, but I could tell from the dryness in my throat and eyes that I probably looked worn down. I nodded and pushed myself up off the floor, regaining most of my bipedal mammal status. I grabbed Priest's clergy collar off the fireplace mantel and I headed outside to bathe my worries in fresh air.

Haden grabbed my arm before I hit the door. It wasn't gentle, but as usual, she didn't know that. "You know he can't save you, don't you?" She didn't mean my life. Her eyes were stern, begging me to protect myself.

"I know," I whispered. "But there's still a chance I can save him." I didn't mean his life either.