Remedy




John watched Kerry abruptly fall back into the deep pillows. Beads of sweat clung to her for head and rolled down her cheeks. Her auburn hair lay wildly around her head. Kerry’s rose irregularly . . . sometimes too slows and other times too fast. Her facial musculature appeared to have gone flaccid. John could see that Kerry’s sinuses and her submental and sublingual glands were swollen. John used a tissue to wipe away the dried vomit from her lips. Kerry began to moan softly.

John walked into the living room where Kerry had left the bag of medical supplies that she intended to use to nurse him back to health. He waded through the bottles of antibiotics, bags of saline, and the boxes containing IV kits. John fished out the Tylenol elixir and a thermometer. He started towards the bedroom but returned to the bag to retrieve and IV kit and saline.

“Kerry, I’m going to take you vitals and put you on an IV,” he stated. John knew that Kerry would not wake up, but the doctor in him still wanted to follow standard procedures.

John placed the thermometer deep within Kerry’s armpit and then started the rest of his assessment. He gingerly took her wrist in his hand so he could measure her radial pulse. He carefully wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her tiny upper arm and recorded her blood pressure. Using a tongue depressed, John checked Kerry’s mucus membranes for dryness and abnormally thick secretions. He made sure to complete each part of his assessment carefully. The last thing her wanted to do was wake her.

“Shit, pulse is tachy at 110; respirations are irregular at 14; temperature his high at 102.1 F; blood pressure is elevated at 134/92; mucus membranes are dry upon inspection,” he repeated to himself as he recorded all his observations on a notepad that he found in his desk.

John remembered the sudden onset of his illness, but the symptoms seemed even more dramatic in Kerry. He remembered taking care of the little girl with the long blonde hair. She had been sick for a week. He diagnosed the Asian flu. John remembered the little girl crying about being so sick. John remembered the agony on the little girl’s face when he told her that she would not be able to go home with her mother that night. He tried to explain that she needed special hospital drugs to make her better. The little girl cried as her tired body dry heaved. John wondered what had happened to the blonde little girl.

Several hours after taking care of the blonde little girl, John remembered the exhaustion and muscle aches that spread through his body like a wild fire. The sweat permeated his blue, starched dress shirt. Kerry had seen his symptoms and asked him to go home. Dave grumbled about having to stay longer so Carter could go home. Abby had offered to have Luka drive him home, but John had insisted that he felt good enough to take the El home. He did not feel good enough. His body felt tired like the little blonde girl.

Mark had offered to call him later to make sure he was okay. Kerry had offered to let him stay with her until he felt better. Deb had offered to call his grandmother to have her send a car for him. His body felt smothered like the little blonde girl.

The El ride made him nauseous. His body was rattled and tossed about. His head felt light, but his legs felt heavy. These symptoms were only the beginning of four days of pure hell. The vomiting, photophobia, chills, sweats all seemed to toy with him. Was this what he deserved? He was given four days of solitude to think about what he had done. It was all his fault.

“Kerry, I’m going to start an IV on you,” John said. He carefully examined her right arm for a vein. John carefully swabbed the area and prepared to slide the needle into her soft peach skin. Epidermal, deeper, dermal, deeper, flash. He carefully taped down the inducer lines. He hung the bag from the curtain rod and adjusted the clamp to slow the flow of the liquid into her veins.

“Sweet dreams, Kerry,” John whispered as he kissed her forehead.

John picked up the telephone in the kitchen and dialed the ER’s reception line. Ring once, ring twice. The ringing kept getting louder. John felt dizzy and tired.

“County General Emergency Room. This is Randi. How can I process your call?” Randi said in a flat monotone voice.

“Randi, it’s Carter. Is Mark there?”

“Yeah, I’ll page him. Are you feeling better?”

“Thank you. Randi, I haven’t felt this awful since . . . you know.”

“Sorry, Carter. Here is Mark. Feel better, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Carter, are you okay?” Mark said. John could hear the fear in his voice.

“No, I feel horrible, but right now you could say that we have bigger problems.”

“What?” Mark asked. Now the fear was more apparent. Mark’s slight hesitation and shaky questioning voice.

“Kerry’s here.”

“I know that. She wanted to come check up on you.”

“She did. Now she is tachycardic, febrile, dehydrated, and slightly altered. Her breathing is irregular. Her onset and progression were more rapid and severe than mine were. Shit, she was only here for two hours.”

“Do you want me to come over and take her home?”

“No, I have a feeling that until I ventilate the apartment and Kerry and I are healthy, it might not be a good idea to expose anyone else to the virus. . . I’m sure that you don’t want to lose another member of your staff.”

“Do you know what strain you guys have?”

“Asian Influenza B. I diagnosed it in a little girl the day I went home sick.”

“Well, I’ll pull the file, do some investigating, and call you back with a treatment course.”

“Thank you, Mark.”

“No problem, Carter. If you need anything please call.”

John hung up the telephone. His head felt heavy again. This time the heaviness could be attributed to Kerry. His head was heavy with thoughts of her and thoughts of him. Her breasts were firm and pert. Her nipples were a beautiful crimson. He wanted to touch those breasts and take the nipple into his mouth. He wanted to taste her sweet flesh. He wanted to please her. More than anything, he wanted Kerry to let her guard down.

Thoughts of the lovely red head continued to heighten his arousal. Her breasts, her hips, her legs were all so perfect, and John wanted to experience each part of her individually. John wanted to explore all her regions . . . to learn her body as if it was a map. Her curves, her valleys . . . everything that was concave and convex.

John reached into his pants and exposed his erection to the hot, humid air. He gently stroked its base and its head. John could not believe how excited his boss . . . his former landlady was making him. He wanted to walk into his bedroom and make love to her now. His desire was mounting. His erection throbbed in his hand as he imagined the pleasures of making love to Kerry. John could close his eyes and picture everything as though it was actually happening. Her hips grinding her wetness around him . . . drawing him in further. Kerry’s climax violently taking over her body and coating his arousal with her warm juices. John’s climax would be equally as powerful. His semen would infiltrate every inch of her insides filling her with his warmth. He would collapse on top of her coated in sweat. John would touch her lightly and rest his head between her breast. He would not draw himself out of her. They would lay together for hours without speaking.

“Oh, God. Kerry,” John whispered in a low, hoarse voice as he climaxed.



********


Kerry lay in a pool of sweat. Her fever continued to rise. She lay moaning and breathing hard. Her body was paralyzed by the illness, but her mind wandered freely in vivid hallucinations.

The water around her was warm. It hugged all the curves on her body. It swelled around her legs and clung to her shoulder. It was blue like an aquamarine . . . a vivid blue. She looked up at the skies. It was full of white, puffy clouds plastered on a sea of oranges, pinks, purples, and greens. Trees were cast black and bushes cast brown.

Kerry felt safe. She waded further into the water until its surface lightly grazed her chin. She felt nothing but solitude. All traces of her deformity were erased and all traces of her broken spirit were sucked out of her body into the surrounding water.

Someone was watching her from the beach. She could feel the eyes burning holes in her back. The gaze felt warm and inviting. Kerry slowly turned around and gazed at the dark figure on the beach. She could not see the figure’s face. Kerry started to slowly make her way back to the shore.

He was standing there in front of Kerry offering his hands to her. It was a simple gesture of kindness . . . though she did not need help climbing the small slope separating the water from the shore. Kerry accepted his hands and allowed him to draw her near.

He touched her naked bodies gently and carefully. He caressed her buttocks and the small of her back. Kerry was not ashamed of her nakedness . . . her body willingly accepted the attention. She could feel her pink folds becoming moist as he fondled her breasts. He covered her lips with his and began to explore her mouth. His invasive probing excited her.

His thick fingered explored her slippery, pink folds. His finger entered her slowly . . . rubbing all her sensitive areas. First one finger, then another entered her wet folds. His fingers ravaged her until her climax spread over her body.

Kerry fumbled with his pants desperately trying to free his arousal. She let his pants and boxers fall to the ground. Kerry knelt on the soft white sand and took his arousal into her mouth. She gently tongued its head and slowly pulled its base into her mouth. His hot, skin was soft against her tongue. His erection throbbed with desire and the need for release. Kerry kept pulling him in and pushing him out with increasing intensity. He exploded in her mouth. He pulled Kerry to her feet and kissed her again.

“John, thank you,” Kerry said softly.

Kerry still lay in a pool of sweat, while John watched her sleep from the doorway. He had heard her thank him, but John wondered for what?


**********

John wiped the semen off his hands and splashed his face with cold water. He looked in the mirror and for the first time in days saw himself. His face was white and withered. John wondered if he really had aged that much in the last year. He looked him the mirror for his laugh lines. Ever since he was a child he had laugh lines, but over the last year, they had grown less prominent. There was not much to laugh about over the last year.

John put the thermometer underneath his tongue. He pulled out a large bath towel and one of his terry cloth robes while he waited for the thermometer to beep. He placed his toothbrush and shaving kit out on the bathroom counter. The thermometer beeped interrupting his thoughts.

“99.0 . . . does not seem too bad compared to how I felt this morning,” John mumbled to himself as he began to take his clothes off.

John stood naked in front of the mirror examining February’s scars. The colostomy scar, abdominal scar, and knife scar were silver against his pale skin. The scars were slightly elevated and smooth to the touch. Gamma had offered to pay for plastic surgery to cover the scars, but he had refused. He told her that wiping away the scars would not wipe away the memories. Gamma would never understand . . . not many people would. The people at the treatment center could not even fathom his pain, physical or emotional.

John stood underneath the hot water trying to wash all the hurt, anger and memories away.



Part 3
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