DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by 
sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading 
now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes 
without the consent of the author.

John Carter
By
Lazlo Zalezac 
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003


Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass

Chapter 8

John sat at the desk in his laboratory mulling over a paper. This 
paper had been buried under some equipment in the corner of the 
lab. He found it last fall when he was cleaning the lab in 
preparation of setting it up for his experiments. The experiment 
described in the paper had been proven incorrect several years ago, 
but the experimental part is not what had caught his attention. 
There was a small section of the paper that suggested the reason 
for the current temperature of the planet might be due to a slow 
cold fusion process within the planet. 

He sat there thinking about that line wondering what kind of 
physical environment within the earth could support a cold fusion 
process. This, of course, was not his research project. He 
occasionally wrestled with this little problem when he could no 
longer concentrate on his real research. 

His real research required intense concentration in lining up 
mirrors, checking the beam path of the lasers, and regulating the 
flow of dye into the laser. It could take him a month of effort to set 
up a particular experiment. One moment of inattention to detail 
could set him back a whole day. 

Sometimes, he wondered whether it was worth a month of work to 
collect a day of data. It almost didn’t seem reasonable, but that was 
the nature of his research. Everything needed to be perfect. The 
original laser beam was broken into eight separate beams using six 
beam splitters. The eight individual beams were individually 
amplified. They were then arranged to meet at a single point in 
space coming from eight different directions. The path lengths of 
each beam were intended to assure that all beams impinged the 
meeting point with equal phase. At that point, a droplet of a liquid 
was suspended. The experiment used a separate low-power laser to 
probe the droplet for surface deformations.  

However, today, the paper was not keeping his attention. He was 
distracted by some inner force urging him out of the lab. He tried 
to ignore it, but the urge just kept getting stronger. He knew it 
would only be a matter of time before he would give in to it. He 
checked his watch and decided that he would quit early today.  He 
stood, grabbed his walking stick and headed out of the lab. It was 
springtime and he had been in Austin since August. 

An hour later, he was roaming the Austin streets of a rather poor 
neighborhood. As he walked, he took in details of his 
surroundings. The houses were set back from the street by a mere 
ten yards with small little lawns. Some homes were well kept; the 
lawns were lush and green, the houses painted, and the curtains in 
the window washed. Freshly planted flowers lent blues, yellows, 
and reds that pleased the eye. Other homes were just the opposite; 
weeds and trash littered the yard, the paint was peeling, and 
windows were broken. Many of the houses had porches with two 
or three chairs. Usually, the chairs were occupied by elderly 
couples chatting and watching the world. John would wave to 
couples and often stopped to exchange pleasantries about the 
weather. Many of the older residents recognized him from his past 
wanderings through the neighborhood.

His passing through the neighborhood was a subject of much 
discussion among the people living there. It had been noted by 
them that his presence in the area often meant that something bad 
was going to happen, but that the worst consequences would be 
prevented. He had been in the area when people had heart attacks 
and provided medical care until an ambulance arrived. He had 
been nearby when a car accident occurred and had coordinated the 
treatment of the people involved until the authorities came. He had 
performed an emergency tracheotomy on one of the victims and 
prevented another from being moved. He had told someone else 
how and where to apply pressure to halt the bleeding of another 
victim. Two lives were saved and paralysis avoided for the other. 
Some people knew of at least six different people that he had 
saved.

Tonight, he stopped in front of a home with a couple sitting on the 
porch. He called out, "How are you feeling, Mr. Johns?"

The old black man yelled back, "Much better, thank ya. Docs put 
inna pacemaker and a sum sort a spring. I guess the ol' ticker 'ell 
keep agoin' for some time yet. Can't use the microwave to make 
ma popcorn, tho."

It always took John a moment to make sense of the old man's use 
of English and his heavy accent. He wondered if the spring Mr. 
Johns was talking about was a shunt. He answered, "Glad to hear 
that. Guess the wife is going to have to make the popcorn from 
now on!"

"Ol woman can't cook wurt a damn!" 

The woman sitting next to him elbowed him in a friendly fashion 
in the side. She mouthed, "You ol fool. No greens for you!"

"Sheet woman, thas what give me the heart tack!" he replied with a 
grin that showed more than one missing tooth.

"No biskits and gravy for yer brakfast in the mornin'!"

John was laughing at the couple. They would carry on that way all 
evening and neither one of them meant the threat or the insult. He 
remembered how worried she was when Mr. Johns had the heart 
attack last fall.

"Be good ol' woman or I won't take the vigra!"  he chuckled, "We 
all knows how much ya like my sexin' you!"

John was about to interject a quick farewell when a piercing 
scream sounded from across the street. It wasn't the kind of scream 
made by kids at play or a woman scared or angry. This was a 
scream from a man in excruciating pain. John looked around and 
saw flames through the window of the house across the street. As 
he raced towards the house, he shouted, "Call 911!"

Reaching the house, he leapt onto the porch clearing all three steps 
in a single bound. Not stopping, he kicked open the door; there was 
no time to find out if it was locked. He charged into the house. In 
the front room, a man's body lay on the floor in flames. It was clear 
that he was dead. There was a bottle of liquor on the floor next to 
him, from which pale blue flames were emerging. The source of 
the fire was centered on a chair where the man must have been 
seated. 

The flames were rapidly spreading and smoke was billowing out of 
the room. There was no way he could extinguish the fire. He heard 
a noise down the hall. He ran in the direction from which the noise 
came. Halfway down the hall, a small boy was standing in the 
doorway of a bedroom. His eyes were wide in shock and he shook 
in fear. He was frozen in indecision, unable to decide in what 
direction to run. 

John grabbed the boy and ran back the way he came. The smoke 
was so thick that it was difficult to see his way. The light on his 
walking stick came on and he thrust the lit end in front of him. He 
didn't remember turning on the light, but it helped him see through 
the smoke.

The heat was unbearable. He held the child on his left side, placing 
his body between the flames and the child. Now that the child had 
been freed from his paralysis, he started whimpering in fear. John's 
lungs burned from inhaling smoke. He reached the front door and 
raced out nearly tripping his way down the stairs. He coughed as 
his lungs tried to force out the irritating smoke. He set the child 
down on the sidewalk and took several deep breaths. Cool clean air 
displaced the smoke. 

"My sister's in there!"

John, voice rough and harsh from smoke, ordered, "You stay here 
until the police, firemen, or your mother comes!"

"Yes, sir!"

John ran back into the house. As he raced past the door into the 
living room, there was an explosion from within it. A can of air 
freshener exploded from the heat. He felt a sharp pain in his left 
leg. It stung with each step, but he continued into the back of the 
house. The smoke was so intense that he could hardly make out the 
way down the hall although he was holding the light of the walking 
stick in front of him. Fire blasted into the hallway and, as he ran 
through flames, it felt like his skin was blistering. 

Confused and unsure of the layout of the house, he realized he was 
lost. He moved away from the flames as much as he could thinking 
he would be moving to the back of the house. He heard a small 
sobbing noise from behind a closed door. He opened the door, 
entered the room, and closed it behind him as quickly as possible.

The air was filled with smoke, but it was nowhere near as bad as 
had been in the hall. He looked around the room with tearing eyes 
and didn't see anyone. He was about to leave, when he thought to 
check in the closet. Opening the closet, he searched and still found 
nothing. Frustrated, he turned to leave believing that he had 
misinterpreted the source of the noise. As he reached the door, he 
heard sobbing behind him. He turned and still did not see anyone. 
He looked under the bed finding the little girl hiding in fear. He 
gently reached in and pulled her out as he said, "Don't worry little 
girl, I'm going to get you out of here!"

Now that he had found the child, he realized that he had several 
options on getting out of the building. He could go out the back 
and was about to head that way, when it dawned on him that he 
could exit through the window. He tried to open it, but it had been 
painted shut over the years. He stepped back and broke out the 
glass with the brass tipped end of his walking stick. He ran the 
walking stick around the window frame to clear out as much glass 
as possible. Satisfied that he could exit without being cut to shreds 
by the glass he looked out the window. He saw that he had a 
considerable drop and couldn't lower the girl out the window. He 
was now faced with the task of trying to get out with the child in 
his arms.

He threw the walking stick out the window and climbed onto the 
sill while holding the little girl. She looked up at him with wide 
eyes. John whispered to her, "I'm going hold you when I jump 
down. Don't worry, your brother is waiting for you out front."

The light on his walking stick lit up the ground below him. He slid 
off the sill to the ground below, a drop of eight feet. A horrible 
pain ran through his back as he went down. A metal bracket that he 
had not noticed before had cut his back as he slid across it. 
Bending his knees to absorb the shock, he landed cleanly and 
ended in a kneeling position. He set the little girl down. When he 
tried to stand, he found that he didn't have enough strength in his 
legs. He reached out for his walking stick. It took several sweeps 
over the ground to locate it. With the stick in one hand and the 
child in the other, he leveraged his way to his feet. He staggered 
around the side of the house to the front while holding the girl's 
hand.

He gave the hand of the little girl to the boy. His voice cracking 
from the abuse of the smoke on his throat, he ordered, "Watch your 
little sister."

"Yes, sir!"

John seated himself on the ground and lay back in exhaustion. Mrs. 
Johns from across the street arrived and hugged the kids. He heard 
the sirens in the distance and knew that everything would be okay. 
The world spun and then faded away as he lost consciousness.

The world slowly came back into focus. An oxygen mask was over 
his face. He tried to speak, but his throat was too sore. He looked 
at the figure leaning over him and recognized Harry from the EMS. 
Harry saw that John was coming back and spoke, "Well, Hero. It 
looks like I'll be carting you off this time!"

John tried to speak again, but his effort was interrupted by Harry, 
"Don't worry, the kids are alright. My partner checked them out. 
The police have talked to them and given them over to the 
neighbor lady across the street. She'll watch them until the mother 
gets back."

John tried to get up and Harry pushed him down, "Not this time 
Hero. You have shrapnel in your leg, a bit of a burn, and a gash 
down your back that requires stitches. You're coming with me to 
the hospital."

John wanted to fight it, but there just wasn't enough energy left in 
him. Harry and his partner lifted John onto the gurney and rolled 
him to the ambulance. It took them half a minute to load the 
gurney into the ambulance and fasten it down. Another minute 
later they were headed to the hospital. He lay in the gurney staring 
at the ceiling of the ambulance trying to mentally construct the 
route it was taking. He felt more than a little embarrassed at being 
in this position. Harry broke the silence, "Hero, you're not going to 
believe the reception you're going to get at the hospital."

John wondered about Harry's comments. He was used to Harry 
calling him hero, although he always insisted on being called John. 
He decided to try again, but Harry interrupted him, "I know you 
want me to call you John. You aren't John to many folks; you are 
the hero. So even if you don't like it, that's what I will call you 
because that is what you are."

The ambulance pulled to a stop and the back door opened. As they 
removed the gurney, John looked around and saw a huge crowd of 
people by the door. He pulled on Harry's sleeve and managed to 
croak out, "If there's been an accident, treat the others first. I can 
wait."

Harry shouted out to the crowd, "The Hero says that if there's been 
an accident to treat the others first. Says he can wait."

His announcement was greeted with laughter. John watched with 
confusion as several people elbowed each other in that knowing 
fashion people have when they are sharing an inside joke. He saw 
one man reach into his pocket and pull out a wad of bills. He took 
one out and handed it over to the guy next to him. The money was 
greeted with a smile.

The gurney was rushed into the emergency room. He was followed 
by the crowd that had gathered at the door. When the gurney came 
to a rest, a doctor stepped forward, "So we meet at last John 
Carter."

"What?" he croaked. He was confused by the fact that the doctor 
knew his name.

The doctor bent to the task of examining the patient. A middle-
aged nurse was removing his pants using scissors to cut them off 
his body. A male nurse was inserting something in his arm, but he 
couldn't see because of the people crowded around him. A younger 
and prettier nurse stepped up with a cloth and started wiping the 
grime from his face. She stated, "John Carter! You are a legend 
around here. I wondered when we would finally get a chance to 
meet you."

"I don't understand."

The doctor rolled him over onto his side. A nurse stepped forward 
cutting away the shirt. It took the doctor a minute to examine the 
back. Satisfied he laid him back down on the gurney.

The doctor spoke up, "Okay, take Mr. Carter over to x-ray and get 
the operating room set up. The shrapnel's in there pretty deep and 
it's bleeding. The back looks bad, but it's not as bad as it looks, so 
we'll wait to suture it."

 Even as the doctor was speaking, others were lifting John off the 
ambulance gurney onto one that belonged to the hospital. In 
seconds, it was rolling down the hall. The only clothing on him 
was his underwear. He was partially covered in a blanket. It didn’t 
cover his left leg. As they pulled into the x-ray room, the 
technician stated, "Welcome, John Carter. The film is loaded. Let 
me position you and you'll be out in three minutes."

John was amazed at the efficiency of the hospital. Then he 
recognized the technician as the one who had gotten the money 
from the other man. He went to look at the man's badge for his 
name, but the guy was already moving his leg into the proper 
position for the x-ray. Someone else threw a lead-lined cover over 
this chest and genitals. Everyone left the room. The x-ray machine 
made a low hum. The technician came in with another plate, slid 
the old one out, and replaced it with the new plate. He disappeared 
as quickly as he had appeared. There was another low hum from 
the x-ray machine. The technician entered the room and shouted, 
"He's ready to go."

A crowd swarmed into the room and he was just as quickly 
wheeled out. Another doctor appeared beside the gurney and 
started asking questions about the last time he ate or drank 
anything and details about allergies. John was croaking out his 
answers as fast as he could, but his throat was killing him. The 
doctor stepped away to be replaced by another nurse. John 
recognized her, "Betsy, what's going on here?"

Betsy made a double take. She was amazed. He remembered her 
name although he had met her once and that was four months ago 
during a blood drive. "You remember me?"

John smiled weakly, "Yes, you were nice to me and you do very 
important work with the blood drive."

Betsy shook her head in amazement. This guy was cute. She knew 
he was modest and never talked about his heroic deeds. She put her 
mind back on business. "I've got a unit of your blood here in case 
you need it. We saved it for you."

"I'm so glad that you're here. It's nice to see a friendly face you 
know."

Betsy was moved emotionally, even as she was pushed out of the 
way by an administrator. The woman held up a stack of papers and 
said, "Mr. Carter, I need you to sign these so the doctor can 
operate."

She patiently proceeded to explain each form. After each 
explanation, John signed the form in each place that she pointed 
out to him. As soon as they were done with the forms, the 
administrator thanked him and moved away. It was only at that 
time, John realized the forms had been fully filled out with his 
name, address, and occupation. He couldn't remember giving that 
information to them.

The doctor that had talked to him earlier returned. He fiddled with 
something in the IV and then stated, "Count backwards from 100."

John replied, "Huh?"

He woke up feeling as if he had been run over by a truck. His body 
was sore, his eyes bleary, and his thoughts muddled. He tried to 
focus his eyes, but all he could make out were indistinct shapes. 
One of the blurs moved around and bent over him. He tried to 
focus, but without luck. He closed his eyes and worked on his 
breathing. His throat was still sore.

After several minutes, he tried opening his eyes again. This time he 
was able to focus a little better. The moving shape returned. He 
took a minute to focus and saw that it was a male nurse. The nurse 
leaned over and smiled. He stated, "John Carter, I see you're 
awake. I didn't expect you to wake for another half an hour."

John stared at the man for a minute. His eyes flicked down to the 
badge. His voice was still raspy, "Robert Fish, do I know you?"

Robert laughed, "No, but I know all about you."

"How?"

"I've had thirty-two patients in here that wouldn't have made it if it 
wasn't for you. You've saved thirty-two patients in nine months. I 
know ambulance personnel that haven't done that well. You've 
saved almost one person a week. Every one of those patients talks 
about you. You're a legend around here."

He croaked out, "No, I'm just lucky."

"I heard that you would say that." The nurse reached over and 
picked up a glass of water. He held a straw to John's mouth and 
stated, "Sip a little bit. It'll help your throat."

John took a little sip and his throat felt much better. He paused for 
a minute and then took another sip. He felt his energy returning. 
Robert shook his head, "Looks like you had a rather rough time."

"Not too bad. At least this time I didn't die," he replied in a matter 
of a fact voice. He took another deep breath, "How long do I stay 
here?"

Robert heard the part about not dying this time and mentally filed 
it away. The statement was made in such a matter of fact manner 
that he didn't doubt it was true. "You'll be in recovery for another 
hour or so. We want to make sure that you are recovering properly 
from the anesthetic."

"Okay. Anyone else in here?"

"Yes, we have another patient. He's going to be wheeled out of 
here soon." He glanced at the monitor and noted John's heart rate 
and blood pressure. His vital signs were good and very stable.

John looked around and saw the other patient across the room from 
him. He was very pale and looked like he was still half-asleep. He 
hoped that he didn't look that bad. He lifted his arms and then his 
legs. Everything worked correctly, although his left leg hurt when 
he moved it. He tried to sit up, but there was a general pain through 
his back. He moved his head around working out some of the 
tension in it. Satisfied that everything was okay, he stated, "Not 
bad, not bad at all. A little pain in the leg and some general pain in 
the back. I should be as good as new in a couple of days. You guys 
do great work here."

Robert had watched him flex in amazement. This guy should be 
looking like a half-dead, pale gray version of himself. Instead, his 
skin color was good, he moved with dexterity, and was taking an 
interest in his surroundings. This guy was trying to sit up and was 
talking as if nothing had happened. He stated, "I need to check on 
the other guy. I'll get right back to you."

"No problem. Take your time," he motioned Robert to come closer 
and continued in a softer voice, "That guy isn't looking too good. 
You may want to watch him a little more closely."

"Thanks, I think I will."

Robert went over to the other patient and examined him. The 
patient was recovering nicely. He moved over to the desk and 
picked up the telephone. He chatted a minute with the 
anesthesiologist and then went back to the other patient. He kept 
glancing in John's direction.

The doctor arrived and walked over to John, "Hello. I hear you're 
awake."

John looked at the badge and caught the name, "I'm sorry that I 
didn't catch your name earlier, Dr. Melborn. I'm John Carter, but 
then I guess you know that. Things were rather hectic when I 
arrived. I must say this is a very efficiently run hospital. I don't 
think I was in here ten minutes before you guys were operating on 
me."

The doctor smiled, "Well, you are a special patient."

"There's nothing special about me."

The doctor shook his head. Almost every other day, some story 
went around the hospital about a heroic action performed by this 
guy. He asked, "Do you know who I am?"

"Sure, you're the anesthesiologist."

"What day is today?"

He glanced down at his wrist to check the time. His watch was 
gone. They had probably put it with his other stuff. The medallion, 
though, still weighed heavy on his chest. They had been unable to 
remove it. He answered, "Should be Thursday. Of course, I can't 
tell if it's after midnight, so it might be Friday. In fact, if I think it 
through it must be a little after midnight, so today is Friday."

The doctor nodded. There were additional questions that he meant 
to ask, but after hearing John reason out the day, he was satisfied 
that John had recovered his cognitive skills. He asked, "Do you 
know how you came to be here?"

"Yes, there was a house on fire and a couple of kids inside. The 
first one was easy to find and get out. The second one was hiding 
under her bed. Took a lot longer to find her."

"So you ran into a burning building twice?"

"Yes, of course. Anyone would do that, if they knew there were 
children trapped inside. I'm very sorry that I was too late to save 
the man. He was already dead when I entered the building the first 
time."

The doctor shook his head. He was about to ask how he knew that, 
but changed his mind. He imagined the kind of sight that John had 
seen in the midst of that fire. He called over to the nurse, "Call 
down and tell them that John Carter is ready to be moved."

John smiled, "I'm glad to know that. Will I be seeing you again?"

"Probably not. Anesthesiologists don't get many opportunities to 
talk with their patients. The patients tend to fall asleep."

John laughed at the joke. "I guess they do at that. You have a very 
important job to do. It's just a shame you don't get to know the 
patients better."

The doctor looked at John in surprise, "Well, I do miss the 
opportunities sometimes. Now you take care of yourself and heal 
quickly."

John smiled, "I usually heal quickly. It's been very nice meeting 
you. I hope that we have the opportunity to talk in a less sterile 
environment."

"Never heard it called that. Perhaps we will. Good bye John 
Carter." The doctor turned and left the room. 

Before the door had a chance to shut behind him, another nurse 
entered the room. She was about fifty or so and a little overweight. 
Her eyes looked kindly, but they were also tinged with a sadness 
that came from seeing too much misery. He decided that she 
needed a little more happiness in her life. She walked over to John 
and stated, "I'm here to take you away!"

John smiled. He took her hand and kissed it, "Take me away and 
do with me what you will. I'm all yours fair maiden."

She laughed. It had been years since she had been fair and even 
more years since she had been a maiden. She turned to Robert, 
"Are you sure that he's not hallucinating?"

John laughed, "No, I'm not hallucinating. I'm wounded and it's 
affected my sense of humor. All I can make are lame jokes."

"Oh, no! A punster!" The nurse shook her head as she prepared the 
gurney for the trip. Her late husband used to make puns all the 
time. She had forgotten that over the past few years. "You really 
are sick!"

He glanced at her badge, "Well, Ms. Smith, wait until we get 
moving and then I'll really get going!"

She laughed. She seldom had burn patients that were able to laugh 
and joke. He was refreshing. She smiled really sweet, like a kindly 
old grandmother, and stated, "Remind me to pick up some surgical 
tape on the way out of here. I need something to hold those jokes 
inside you where they belong."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. As the bed rolled out of the room, he 
called back, "Hey Robert, she's gonna tape me up and do all kinds 
of kinky things to me! By the way, nice meeting you! Come visit 
me, but wait until she's done!"

A hearty laughter followed him out into the hall. She chuckled, 
"John Carter, you really are a nasty little boy. I bet I have 
grandchildren older than you. What are you, eight or nine years 
old?"

"Oh, I'm wounded," groaned John as he clutched his heart. 
Looking around, he asked, "By the way, where are you taking 
me?"

"I'm taking you down to the burn unit."

"I was burned seriously enough for there?"

"Yes. You don't think you can walk through a burning building 
without proper protection and not get burned."

"Oh, I didn't know I was that burned. No wonder I feel a little pain 
when I bend my leg. I thought it was from the shrapnel."

"A little pain?" she asked. If he had tried to bend that leg, then he 
should have been screaming in pain. She wondered if there was 
nerve damage. She'd have to report this to the doctor.

"Yeah, a little."

They arrived in the burn unit and he was wheeled into a single 
room. She lined the gurney along the bed to facilitate the transfer 
from gurney to bed. She locked the wheels and lowered the guard 
on the side next to the bed. He looked around for a moment and 
then sighed, "Home sweet home. By the way, how long will I be in 
here?"

She was about to push the attention button to get some help 
moving him into the bed, but John eased himself over. She stared 
at him for a minute, amazed at his mobility. Ms. Smith frowned, "I 
don't know. People heal at different rates."

"Okay. I can deal with that."

The nurse unlocked the wheels on the gurney and pulled it away 
from the bed. She slipped next to the bed and raised the guard on 
the bed to prevent him from falling out of it. She stated, "Let me 
move this out of our way."

"No problem. You know, I'm sure you have other patients to check 
up on and I must admit that I'm a little tired. It's been a long day," 
replied John. He looked up, "I'm sure I'll be here for a day or so. I'll 
see you tomorrow night?"

"Oh you'll see me sooner than that. I'm supposed to change your 
bandages in the morning."

"Great, I'll see you then."

The nurse left the room pushing the gurney in front of her. She 
knew that in the morning, he wouldn't think it was great that she 
was changing his bandage. He'd be hollering in pain. She knew he 
would loose that sense of humor then. She had heard of John 
Carter before. Everyone in the hospital had heard of him. She 
wondered if he would be the same after his experiences here.

John slept very soundly. The bed reminded him of sleeping on the 
ground when hiking. It was likely that he was the only patient in 
the hospital that found the bed comfortable. Despite the late hour at 
which he went to sleep, he still woke up before dawn. He looked 
out the window and was disappointed to find that it faced the 
wrong direction to watch the sunrise. 

Ms. Smith entered the room quietly. She was pushing a tray that 
held bandages and salves for the burn. She was surprised to see 
that he was awake. He smiled at her, "Good morning. I thought 
you would never get here. I was beginning to think that you’d 
found a younger man and run off with him."

"Why John Carter, you know you are the only one for me!" she 
retorted and then added, "Of course, there’s that stable of young 
men I have locked in my basement at my home."

John bent his left knee up and looked at Ms. Smith. "Do you need 
any help removing the bandage?"

She looked at him in wonder. He should have been climbing the 
walls just attempting to bend his leg. She shook her head, "No 
that's okay. I'm a pro at this. Now, it will go a lot easier if you 
straighten your leg."

John straightened his leg. The bandage ran from the middle of his 
thigh to the middle of his calf. He watched as the nurse went to it 
and peeled back enough to really be able to grab it. He expected 
her to rip it off in one smooth motion. It would lead to just a 
minute of sharp pain as the hair was pulled out, but it would be less 
than trying to remove the bandage slowly. He told her, "I'm ready 
any time you are."

Ms. Smith yanked the bandage off. John jumped a little, but mostly 
in surprise. She stood there staring at him. He smiled, "That wasn't 
too bad at all. Now, let's look at the burn."

The nurse looked down at the burn. It was still there, but a 
tremendous amount of healing had already occurred. The surgical 
incision that ran through part of the burn looked like it had been 
healing a week. She nodded, "It's healing nicely. Would you 
excuse me for a minute? I forgot to bring something."

She left and returned a few minutes later. A doctor entered with 
her. He walked over to John and looked at the burn. John let him 
look for a minute. Reaching out a hand, he stated, "Hello, I'm John 
Carter."

The doctor looked up at him and automatically shook hands with 
him. He answered, "I'm Dr. Hilbert. I treated your burn yesterday 
evening."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't remember seeing you."

"You were already in the operating room," he bent down and 
looked at the burn closer. He looked at the surgical incision and 
shook his head. He stood there a moment thinking about the 
healing progress. Finally, he said, "It looks to me like it is healing 
very well."

"Great! I'm glad to hear that. I know that burns are probably the 
worst injury that a person can have. After all, the skin is the largest 
organ in the human body."

"Yes, of course."

"So can I get up and walk about today?"

"Your other doctors will have to check you out first. I'll let them 
know that if they feel you are up to it, then the burn won't be 
keeping you in bed." The doctor examined the wound again to see 
how much scarring would result. There probably wouldn’t be 
enough to require any skin graphs. The small area that had been a 
third degree burn looked like new skin was forming over it. That 
was unusual.

"That is really good news," John replied. "I bet there are kids here 
that are starved for some attention. Is it alright if I go and read to 
them or something?" 

Ms. Smith turned away so that he couldn't see the tears forming in 
her eyes. This was a particularly painful subject to her. She hated 
the reactions that people had to the children. They would get their 
first glimpse and then a look of horror would spread across their 
face. It would take some time, but a few would get control over 
their expressions and try to act friendly. The kids knew better, they 
had seen the horror.

The doctor stepped back for a moment as if doubting what he was 
hearing. He decided to break the news to John gently, "Some of the 
kids have very extensive burns and some of them are pretty 
disfigured."

"They're still kids, aren't they?" asked John in puzzlement. 

"Yeah, they're still kids." 

After the doctor left the room, Ms. Smith came back to the bed and 
replaced the bandages. She was quiet and her expression suggested 
that she didn't want to talk. John respected her wish and just 
watched with interest in how she went about applying the 
bandages. When she finished with the bandages, she stated, "I'm 
going off duty now."

"Okay, I'll see you tonight."

A different doctor entered the room. This same doctor had greeted 
him at the door. John spoke up, "I didn't get a chance yesterday to 
learn your name, doctor."

"I'm Dr. Capstone," replied the doctor. He added, "It was a 
pleasure to finally meet you. I've treated many patients that you've 
helped. You've kept them from getting hurt worse than they were. I 
really appreciated the tracheotomy that you performed. It was first 
class work and definitely saved his life."

"Thanks, I just did what little I could. It was a pretty bad accident."

Dr. Capstone cleared his throat, "Well, they tell me that your 
incision is healing well. Let me check your back."

John sat up giving the doctor access to his back. The hospital gown 
didn't cover his back very well. The doctor removed the bandages 
and looked at the red line down John's back. The healing was 
phenomenal. At this rate, he would be able to take out the stitches 
in two days time. The doctor told the nurse to replace the 
bandages. 

As the doctor was about to leave, John spoke up, "Ah, Dr. 
Capstone. I have two quick questions. First, can we get rid of all 
the plumbing? Second, can I get up and walk around?"

"The answer to both questions is yes. I'll make a note on your 
chart."


