Copyright
©
2019 - This is an original work by Zeb Carter and is protected under copyright by U.S. copyright law. It is only submitted at Literotica.Com and any submission to any other site has not been authorized by the Copyright Holder/Author.
Note:
This is the second in the John Abernathy series. There is no sex in this story. I will be posting other John Abernathy stories in the future in the order they should be read.
Order of the John Abernathy Adventures...
1. Aftermath
2. Time and Again
3. The Kings Undoing
4. The Lives of John Abernathy
5. Rerun
6. Winds of Change
Time and Again
A John Abernathy Adventure
Falling through the grayness, lost in a reality of my own, I dropped through the air hitting the ground hard. How long I lay there, I do not know, but when I woke, I was cold. Cold wet snow blurred my vision. I struggled to my feet, staggering a few meters down the hill on which I landed. Falling forward, I tumbled in the snow, further down slamming against the trunk of a tree. Stunned, I sat there looking up watching the snow, fall from the sky, along with flashes of lights from out of nowhere. My bones ached and my joints tingled. They told me they would.
I don't know how long I sat there watching the snowfall, surprised by the wetness that hit my face. I started to shiver as a gust of wind swirled the white flakes around me. Pulling my canteen from its holder on my belt, I drank until the liquid quenched my need. Searching in the cold snow beside me, I found my rifle. Shaking it free of the clinging white flakes, I slung it over my shoulder. Groaning loudly I struggled to my feet again to continue my journey.
Looking around I found a landmark and knew instantly where I am. Pushing off the tree I headed west through the woods. I had to find the house. I knew the address, but not which house it was on the street. It was dark, the streetlights glowed an eerie greenish white, casting shadows in the recesses of the shrubbery. Finding the house among the row of houses, I saw it all was dark inside. Around the side of the garage peeking in the window, I saw both bays were empty, nobody home. With my back to the wall, exhaustion overtook me as I slide down to rest, hoping she would be home directly.
After a significant passage of time, I decided my waiting was over. I struggled to my feet and turned back toward the woods. Once beyond the tree line, I turned north. There was another who could help me. I hoped she was home and would be kind enough to give me shelter while I regained my strength. The snow continued to fall as I struggled through drifts knee deep. Staying out of sight was imperative. I stuck to the woods, only crossing roads when no traffic was present until I came to the interstate. Fifty meters to the east of where I came upon the bustling freeway was an underpass for animals and hikers.
Two hours later, I was on the front porch of her house. I rang the bell, but there was no answer. I was too exhausted to continue. I needed rest and nourishment. I needed her help. My last thought was of her smile, as I crumpled to the wooden deck of the porch.
~~~ [
time
] ~~~
As I pulled up in my driveway, Missus Jennings, my neighbor from across the street, was standing by my mailbox staring at my porch. I stopped my car at the mailbox and rolled down the window.
"Marge, what are you doing out in this weather?"
"Oh, Susan, I'm glad you're home. There is a man on your front porch. He's been lying there for quite some time. I was just about to go check on him when you pulled up."
I put the car in park, opened the door and climbed out. With Marge by my side, I walked up to my front porch. There was the form of a man lying there covered in snow. I could see the vapor of his breath coming from a hole in the snow cover. Climbing the rest of the way onto the porch I gently cleared the snow from around his face. I pulled back in shock as I saw who it was. I recognized him immediately.
"Marge, help me clear the snow off him, please," I asked her brushing the snow from his body.
Marge joined me and we had him uncovered in minutes. I knelt beside him pulling my glove off my right hand. I pressed my palm to his forehead. He was feverish and as I watched, his eyes flickered open.
"Should I call 911, Susan?" Marge asked.
"Please, no," he croaked, looking at me with sparkling blue eyes.
"No thank you, Marge, I can handle this. He's a friend and I know just what to do," I told her, smiling down at him.
"Is he some kind of soldier?" Marge asked.
"Uh, I don't know, though it sure looks like he is, doesn't it. Maybe he's just home from Iraq?"
"With his rifle," Marge said pointing at the muzzle of the gun sticking out from under him.
"Marge, could you help me get him inside please?"
"Sure, sure, get the front door open."
I had to run back to the car to get my keys. I pulled the car up the drive, shut it off and hurried to the front door. Once the door was open, I bent and with Marge's help, we were able to drag him indoors. We put him on the hearth by the fireplace for now. Stepping back out on the porch I retrieved the rifle and brought it in, placing it against the wall by the door.
"Thank you, Marge. Could you not mention this to anyone until we talk again?"
"Sure thing Susan, you will tell me who he is, though?"
"Yes, I will. I will tell you he has been a patient of mine for a long time."
"Oh, okay. I just didn't want to worry about you over here alone with a stranger with a gun."
"No need to worry Marge, really. Now I need to get him warmed up..."
"And I would just be in the way..."
"No, no, not at all..."
"You don't have to entertain an old lady Susan. I know the way out. Tell your friend it was nice meeting him, even though I didn't really."
"I will, and thank you again, dear."
Marge was out the door and I couldn't hear her response. I knew she would be talking to me all the way back to her house. Marge was a dear, but sometimes got lost in her past. Her son would be looking for her shortly so I didn't have to worry about her.
Stripping off my coat and the other glove, I walked to where he lay. He was breathing shallowly and still shivering. Stepping over him, I realized too late, that he was awake and I am wearing a dress. Shaking my head, I bent over and lit a fire in the fireplace. Turning, I knelt down next to him. He was smiling at me as I started to undress him.
"I have..." he coughed.
"Shush, don't talk," I told him, pulling the jacket sleeve off his right arm.
Rolling him toward me, I pulled the left sleeve off. I unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it from his pants. He wore a gray-green t-shirt so I pulled his shirtsleeves off too. Moving to his feet, I untied his bootlaces and pulled them off. His socks were soaking wet and stained with blood. Gently as I could, I peeled them off also. The blood was coming from raw places on the sides of his feet. They weren't too bad but would be painful for the next couple of days.
I undid his belt, both of them, unzipped his pants and pulled them off as gently as I could. His legs were red from the cold. Holding his pants in my hand, I noticed blood on the back of them. Picking up his right leg, I saw that it had multiple puncture wounds. I was never in the service, but ever since nine-eleven, we had training on what shrapnel wounds looked like and how to deal with them just in case. Shrapnel peppered the back of his leg making it look like raw hamburger. So was his left leg.
Ever so gently, I rolled his torso to the right. Bending down I looked at his back. Blood was soaking his t-shirt and dripping down onto his shirt. Shrapnel wounds covered his back. He was a mess, from the back of his neck down to his calves. I pulled a blanket from the couch and covered him. I stripped out of my dress and crawled under the blanket with him. He was still shivering. His head turned toward mine his eyes open.
A smile crossed his lips as I slid my arm across his chest.
"Thank you..."
"I told you not to talk. I should call an ambulance to take you to the hospital, you know that."
"Yes..."
"Shut up and close your eyes," I told him.
I lay next to him under the blanket until he stopped shivering. Once he was warm enough I crawled out from under the blanket, went upstairs and got dressed. Slacks and a t-shirt were the uniform of the day. I collected some peroxide and sterile gauze from the medicine cabinet. Pulling my bag from the table by the bedroom door, I was back beside him in next to no time. He was still smiling when I knelt down beside him.
~~~ [
time
] ~~~
My back was on fire as were the backs of my legs. Thousands of little needle pricks up and down my back. Having Susan pressed against me was delightful, and it was warming me up. The shivering stopped and she got up leaving me covered.
She returned shortly frowning at my smile. I couldn't help myself, smiling I mean. She always made me smile.
~~~ [
time
] ~~~
I pulled the blanket from him as I knelt beside him. He was still smiling at me and for some reason this made me frown. I hadn't meant to frown but I did, so I kept it there. Pulling on his shoulders, I rolled him toward me so he was resting on my legs. He grunted.
"If you..."
"I told you to be quiet," I said as sternly as I could.
He remained quiet as I picked the scissors out of my bag and cut his t-shirt up the back before he could say anything. I then went to work on his back with tweezers and a flashlight. Most of the shrapnel was big enough to see with the naked eye, but some I needed a magnifying glass to see it so I could pry it out.
Once I had his back clear of those little pieces of metal I started to clean the wounds. As gently as I could, I dabbed the bloody wounds with gauze soaked in peroxide. With its reaction to blood and bacteria, his back glistened, covered in soft foam. After a while, I cleaned the foam off with warm water. It was then that I discovered some of his wounds were deep enough to require stitching.
"Damn," I whispered.
"Butterflies," he croaked.