Call of Duty Oneshots

Go Live (Zussman)

"We have a few new in," your friend lowered her voice and handed you the clipboard. "Take your time with them."

In nervousness, you nodded and stepped past the more experienced nurse to the large room. Lined with beds down either side and a shallow walkway down the center, the ward was bright. Outside the sun was shining through the tall windows and it helped to warm the room, yet on the flip side the fans slowly turning overhead kept it comfortable.

Men of a variety of ages and builds were in the beds. Luckily they weren't filled and most of the men seemed to have no major injuries like you'd seen before. Some of the men were sleeping, some were doing things that calmed them- like reading or fiddling with an heirloom.

"Mr. Robert Zussman?" you spoke as you made your way over to a younger soldier.

He shifted in the twin bed, his sunken in cheeks showing off starved cheekbones. Underneath his white shirt had to be nothing but skin and bones, muscle once there gone. The dark bags under his eyes proved heavy dehydration and abuse from lack of sleep. His green eyes looked tired as they moved up your form to your face.

"I need to check vitals," you set the clipboard down on the foot of the bed and walked towards where Robert was propped up.

"I didn't think I was living there," he spoke with a raspy voice as you proceeded to take his bony wrist in your palm and check his pulse. "They treated us...like animals."

You hummed acknowledgement that you heard, but didn't know how to respond. It was obvious he'd come from a concentration camp, probably one that'd been labor based on the fact that he was from the United States. You immediately wanted to know more, but refrained because you knew knowing wasn't your job. You were there to care for and tend to.

"I'm going to check your heart now," you pulled away, checking something off on the assigned clipboard, and then leaned back to him.

Taking the stethoscope from around your neck, you plugged your ears and then touched Robert Zussman's chest with the diaphragm. He knew the drill, taking some deep breaths before you could ask him to. You heard his strong heart beat proudly into your ears; he was strong on the inside and had surely once been on the out. Knowing such made you a little happier.

"Why do you check these things when I don't need them?"

"It's procedure," you responded gently. "Temperature time."

"But I don't need it," Robert commented as you pulled the freshly cleaned thermometer from your pocket.

Before he could argue more, you pressed the tip of the instrument into his mouth. His eyes blazed into a little bit of life, making your mouth twitch in a smile. He reminded you of a child. He was probably very amusing in his normal state.

"I've gained twenty pounds since I've been here," Robert blurted out once you took the thermometer away. "I'd rather talk to someone about everything than stand another moment with these procedures."

"That's what your weekly groups are for," your mind was in a mode that only had you repeating exercised statements.

"Fuck the weekly groups."

His crude language made your shoulders bounce in surprise. You felt one of your eyebrows raise in apprehension. Robert only smirked, his quirky attitude clear for the first time since meeting him.