Then he took a metal toothpick-looking instrument out of its sterile wrapper and pricked her arm.
“There,” she said. “On my left forearm.”
“Good.” The doctor moved to Margo’s torso and poked hard enough for Margo to squirm.
“Ow, yes, I felt that,” she grimaced. “On my right side just over my ribs.”
“My apologies,” Gentry mumbled as he continued his exam.
He moved the instrument to just where Margo’s belly button would be and hovered for a good ten seconds before pricking her belly. Margo didn’t even flinch. Dr. Gentry tried another location along the same line but more toward her hip. He pricked her through her hospital gown but again, no response.
“You’re still using your instrument on me, aren’t you doctor?” Margo’s voice sounded hollow.
“Yes, Dr. Winter. I’m going to try something; you’re free to open your eyes.”
Margo did and asked to be raised back in a more upright position so she could see what the doctor was trying.
Once the bed was situated to her liking, the doctor handed the instrument to Margo herself.
“I can’t remember ever doing this, Margo, but I believe you may want to examine yourself. Just remember to watch where you’re pricking so you don’t unintentionally make yourself bleed.”
The residents stayed absolutely silent as everyone watched Margo take the instrument from Dr. Gentry’s hand and feel the sharp tip with her finger. Her eyes wide with fascination as much as fear she took the instrument and ran it from the center of her chest down her stomach slowly. Once she reached her lower abdomen, she stopped. Her eyes filled with tears. She took the instrument and tried again, this time on her left side. Again she stopped when she reached just below the curve of her waist. Fat tears slipped down the sides of her face as she lay back and stared up at the ceiling.
Everyone was silent, giving the woman her moment’s peace, as she had to swallow what was surely a bitter pill. Being a doctor, she knew exactly what this meant.
“May I please have everyone leave the room except family?” Margo’s voice was steady.
The residents and Dr. Gentry nodded, murmuring how sorry they were and shuffled out of the room.
Creed made a move to leave, too, but Meg held his hand firmly at her side and stopped him. He was family and needed to stay.
Once everyone else had left, Theo sat in the seat right beside his fiancée and reached out to hold her hand. “Margo, it will be okay. I know this wasn’t the news you were hoping for.”
Meg could sense something different coming from her mother. She wasn’t angry or bitter. She was prayerful.
“Mom?” she started.
“I should have died in that courtyard, but I didn’t,” she began, her eyes looking earnestly around the room at people she loved.
“I was shot three times in the back and the one bullet not stopped by my bullet proof vest hit me in the spine. That alone should have killed me, but I lived because my children refused to leave me.” Her voice was soft but strong as she looked between Meg and Creed.
“Then on the ten-hour flight back to the States, the only reason I stayed alive was because of the skilled hands of my Evan and sweet little Sloan.”
“Here I am, by the grace of God, able to talk and laugh, remember and reason. I can hold your hand, Theo, and I can hug my children. The devil meant it for evil, but God turned it to good. I am blessed beyond measure.” Her eyes were still wet with tears, but she was smiling too.
“Like I said Mom, you’re the strongest, most beautiful woman I’ll ever know.” Evan reached down and hugged his mother gently, kissing her on the forehead before pulling away.
“We’ll get you the most beautiful wheelchair, Margo, and I’ll have the house fitted to be wheelchair accessible today.” Theo nodded supportively.
“I would be honored if you’d allow me to help you with your physical therapy, Dr. Winter. I’ve learned to have faith from watching you and your family.” Creed spoke up, a rarity for him with more than just Meg. “I have faith that something will happen and you’ll get your legs back.” Creed said the words so assuredly that everyone turned to look at him in worried surprise. For a moment, everybody held their breath, not sure how Margo would take Creed’s statement.
Margo’s eyes lit up. “Yes, Creed! I will take you up on your offer and we can begin therapy immediately. I believe you are right. Someday, somehow, if it is truly God’s will, I will not just walk, but run again!”
She clasped her hands with joy at the hope Creed’s words planted in her heart. No matter how faith-filled Margo was, she had the heart of a fighter. Sitting back to let the others do battle without her was going to be a real lesson in humility. She needed to know she would keep herself physically capable and not think of herself as physically handicapped. Margo reached out to Creed and pulled him in for a hug.
She whispered something in his ear before she let him stand. “Well, call those doctors back in here. I want to know how soon I can go home,” Margo announced.
“What did Mom whisper to you?” Meg asked discreetly as the doctors discussed Margo’s possible discharge the next day.
“She told me she loved me,” he blushed then added, “and she told me she wanted me to enjoy life with you at my side.”
Meg frowned, “What did she mean by that?”
“I was kinda hoping you’d tell me.”
“It sounded like…no, it couldn’t be. This must be the meds talking.”
“What?”
Meg sighed and tried to keep the blush from creeping any further up her neck.
“It sounded as if she just suggested I marry you.”
Creed’s face went white while Meg’s turned bright red.
“Yeah, it must be the meds.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“That’s just …”
“Yeah, wow.”
Chapter 35 Alik’s Evolution
“How’s he doing?” Sloan asked Farrow when they happened to run into each other in the kitchen.
“His fever is still really high.” Farrow was filling a popcorn-sized bowl full of ice. “Evan told me we can’t give him anything for it—something to do with the fever playing an important part of his evolution. All I’m allowed to do is pat him down with a cold cloth.” She scowled at the ice as though it was responsible for Alik’s illness.
“I asked Cole about it. He says he remembers having the high fever, too and it lasting for several days when he went through the change,” she offered. “It has to have something to do with…”
“Sloan!” Cole’s voice echoed through the house.
“Sorry, that boy needs a swift kick in the…”
“Food?” he hollered.
“Cocoa Balls coming up!” she yelled back. Sloan was mumbling to herself as she finished preparing Cole’s breakfast tray by pouring milk over the chocolate cereal. She added a glass of fruit juice and a slice of melon on the side and hurried out of the kitchen.
Farrow was right on her heels, but her patient wasn’t calling for her, however much Farrow wished he would. He was still unconscious. Farrow balanced the bowl of ice water in one hand and reached into the linen closet with the other. She wanted to use a fresh washcloth on Alik. She knew that doing little things for him would have to be enough for her to feel peaceful right now. However sure everyone else was that this was all part of Alik’s evolution, Farrow was worried for him.
She’d never seen someone go through a change before. She was dosed as a little girl, so she had no memories of even her own experience.
When she walked into his room, she put the bowl on his bedside table and reached out her hand to place it on his chest. She just needed to feel it rise and fall before she could do anything else. Her hand waited on Alik’s wide chest, but it felt no movement. She tried not to panic but shifted her hand to where she should feel his powerful heart beating. She only felt a soft erratic thrumming. Using her other hand, she searched his n
eck for a pulse. His skin was slick with sweat and hot to the touch.
Oh, dear God no! She pleaded.
“Sloan! HELP ME!” she yelled as though calling to a soldier a mile away, her fear giving her voice strength.
Seconds later, the young, blonde doctor came running down the hallway and into Alik’s room. “What’s going on?”
“He’s not breathing and I can barely feel his heartbeat.” Farrow’s face was waxen with fear—an emotion she really didn’t even know what to do with as a trained soldier.
To her credit, Sloan’s face was calm and her movements efficient. She came and felt for a pulse herself. “It’s fluttered to a stop. Shoot!”
She climbed on the bed and knelt beside the young man to start chest compressions. She placed the heel of her right hand in the middle of Alik’s chest then her left hand on top of her right and intertwined her fingers. She used her whole little girl’s body weight to press down and began counting, “One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand…”
“What can I do?” Farrow asked over Sloan’s counting.
“Breathe for him when I tell you,” She said without missing a compression.
Farrow’s sharp ears heard painful sounding pops and cracks as Sloan’s forceful pushes invariably injured some ribs, but it was no matter.
This is normal and necessary to get his heart beating and him breathing again, Farrow told herself though she cringed at every crunch. Sloan may look small and powerless, but she was a metahuman and was much stronger than she appeared.
“…Twenty-nine one-thousand, thirty one-thousand.” Sloan stopped compressions and looked up expectantly at Farrow.
Remembering her training, Farrow had already taken the pillow out from under Alik and tipped his head back. Now she pinched his nose leaned over him, wrapped her lips around his feverish ones and pushed a powerfully deep breath into him. She stopped and watched his chest rise then fall.
“Again,” Sloan ordered.
Farrow complied, repeating the breathing process, trying desperately to keep panic at bay and focus on what she could do to help Alik instead.
Sloan resumed the compressions and counting.
“Come on, Alik!” Farrow begged.
“Stay with us. We need you. Take a breath! You can do it! Wake up and say something annoying! Please wake up!” Farrow didn’t even notice the warm tears slipping down her face and splashing onto the sheet beside Alik’s unresponsive face. “I need you, Alik Winter. Please don’t leave me when I just found you. I can’t do this without you! What would be the point, Alik? Oh, God please give him back!” Farrow began praying—something she had never tried before.
“Breathe,” Sloan ordered again.
Again Farrow took Alik’s lips with hers and pushed her breath deep inside him, watched his chest rise and fall with her efforts then repeated the process. Her tears fell on his closed eyes making him look as though he were crying, too.
This time, instead of starting compressions right away, Sloan used her pointy knuckles and ground them into Alik’s sternum, rubbing back and forth, up and down, trying to rouse him.
“Wake up Alik Winter. You have a lot of work left to do! And if I have learned anything about your sister, she’s going to come kick your butt for lying down on the job! Then she’s going to come after me all martial arts crazy for not pulling you back. WAKE UP!”
Just as Sloan was breathing a sigh of frustration, about to resume compressions, Farrow saw Alik’s eyelid twitch. “I just saw him move!” she called out.
Sloan stopped grinding her knuckles into his sternum and watched for his chest to rise and fall on its own. It was faint, but yes, there was definitely movement. Sloan hopped off the bed and felt his throat for a pulse.
“We got him back,” she nodded reassuringly for Farrow’s sake.
“Alik! Open your eyes!” Sloan ordered. “Do it now!”
Instead, Alik groaned softly.
“That’s right. Wake up Alik. You’ve slept long enough and definitely scared the heck out of us just now.”
Alik’s eyes fluttered opened a little before he blinked a few times. Each time he could open his eyes a little further until he was looking at Farrow through very bright-blue eyes.
Farrow watched them with a little confusion. His eyes were sky-blue before, I’m sure of it.
They looked so different. They were mesmerizing. Bright violet-blue eyes, framed with his familiar long dark lashes stared back at her.
“Alik, you stopped breathing. Farrow and I had to perform CPR on you just now to bring you back. I’m going to get you a fresh bag of intravenous fluids and work on stabilizing your system. Farrow’s going to stay right here with you,” Sloan nodded at the metasoldier, the only person in the room as far as Alik was concerned.
“Farrow, if he closes his eyes, rub his chest as you saw me do—it’s painful to him, but it’ll wake him until I get back, and we can make sure he’s stabilized. Okay? Give me one minute to get what we need?”
“One minute, okay,” Farrow’s voice sounded distant. She didn’t look away from Alik’s gaze to see Sloan hurry out of the room.
“Sloooaaann!” Farrow heard Cole call for his personal physician.
“Suck it up, Cole Andrews!” Sloan yelled back.
Farrow let out a relieved laugh. She had already been silently thanking God for the skills of that little girl and now she giggled at her spunkiness, too. That’s what Cole got for spending every moment with her. She was obviously a fast learner and Cole was inadvertently teaching her to be like him.
“Thank God you’re okay, Alik. You scared the hell out of me, you know.” Farrow smoothed Alik’s long bangs back first with her bare hand then with the washcloth wet with ice cold water. He offered a weak smile and blinked slowly. Those brilliant violet eyes stared back at her.
Wanting desperately to keep him focused on staying awake until Sloan returned, Farrow started chattering away.
“You’ve been out of it for two days, Alik. Evan is sure you’re going through your evolution. Everyone’s wondering what your enhanced gifts will be,” She looked back into his even more beautiful eyes. “But I don’t think anyone was expecting your eyes to change color.”
Alik’s eyebrow rose slightly.
“Yes, it’s true. You used to have blue eyes. They’re definitely a different color now. They’re striking—a bright violet Caribbean blue.”
Alik looked incredulously at Farrow.
Sloan walked into the room just then with her IV supplies in hand. She walked around to look at what Farrow was talking about.
“Wow, that’s different,” she commented over Farrow’s shoulder. “Unusual eye color is caused by genetic mutation. His eye color is proof that he’s going through his evolution. I would love to study your blood. Do you mind if I take a sample later?” the young doctor asked. Most little girls her age were excited about the newest album from their favorite boy band, but not Sloan Mor. She was giggling enthusiastic at the prospect of studying Alik’s blood under a high-powered microscope.
“A genetic mutation? How could that happen at age fifteen?” Farrow asked.
“That’s what I want to know.” As Sloan spoke, she was taking away the old IV bag and setting up the fresh one. “I really want to stimulate him to keep him awake for a while, but I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize his evolution. So instead,” she pulled something out of the pocket of her cargo pants. “I brought him a caffeinated soda.” She handed the cold drink and a straw to Farrow.
“Try to get him to sip a little of this every few minutes. The caffeine should be enough to keep him going but not too much to cause him harm.”
Farrow nodded at the girl and took the soda, popping the pull-tab open and adding a straw.
Sloan busied herself taking his blood pressure and pulse. She wrote her findings on the spiral notebook they started using as his “chart” and left the room with a reminder to “yell if you need me.”
Farrow watc
hed as Alik took the straw she offered with his lips and the dark liquid fill the straw as he sipped. “There, it probably feels good to have some cool liquid in your mouth.”
“You…” Alik’s voice came out raspy at his first attempt to speak. He swallowed hard and tried again, “You gave me CPR?”
“Well,” Farrow blushed. “Sloan did the compressions. I just did the breathing part.”
Alik’s pale lips smirked.
“I know what you’re thinking Alik Winter and it wasn’t like that! I was trying to save you!”
“With the kiss of life?” he teased. He raised his hand to her face and stroked her smooth cheek with his trembling finger.
“You must be feeling better if you’re ready to tease me,” Farrow feigned frustration with a scowl, but held his hand in place against her cheek, nuzzling into it as though willing him to feel how much she cared.
“I am feeling better, thanks to you. Have you been here the whole time?” Alik noticed the dark circles under her beautiful round eyes. And she had given up on her pixie hair. She was wearing a pink bandanna tied at her nape.
Farrow shrugged softly, “Where else would I be?”
Alik’s eyes closed for just a moment. The conversation was wearing him out. “Where is everyone else?”
“Everyone’s at the hospital with your mom except Cole, Sloan, you and me. But I have some good news and some bad news and some more good news. Dr. Andrews proposed to your mom and she said, ‘yes’!”
“Wow, that’s awesome.” Alik tried to put some of the enthusiasm he felt into his voice, but it still came out weak.
“Yes, it is. But then Dr. Gentry, your mom’s surgeon, came in and gave her a neurological exam. She showed no improvement. Dr. Winter has lost the use of her legs. I’m so sorry, Alik.”
“I bet mom will still do amazing things, and give God the glory for it.” Alik was barely speaking above a whisper, now feeling so drained.
“She already has,” Farrow smiled remembering Meg’s retelling yesterday’s events at the hospital. “Her faith makes her stronger than any metahuman I’ve ever known,” Farrow complimented. “She’s coming home tomorrow Alik. So you have to be well enough to greet her, okay?”
Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga #4) Page 16