“Go where?” I asked.
“To get checked out,” the nurse said.
I stared at her in confusion. I glanced at her name tag. Ursula.
“Ursula, I don’t need to be checked out. They just sent me with the senior chief.”
“I’ve worked here long enough to know you team guys are always banged up. So, let’s get you checked out.” She shuffled me into an exam room.
I got checked out, and the nurse and doctors reminded me I had a knee that needed some love. I nodded, giving them the same song and dance, then asked about Adam.
“Where’s Senior Chief DuBois?”
The nurse said she would send in Adam’s doctor. I knew a stall tactic when I saw one.
“How about you take me to him?”
She sighed, but did as I suggested. When I got to Adam’s room, his doctor was waiting at the door for me.
“Chief Jones?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m Dr. Ott. Your buddy is in a bad way. Can you tell me what happened to him?”
I stared at the guy. He knew better.
“How is he?”
Dr. Ott sighed. “Well, you already know he’s in bad shape. He’s severely dehydrated, which may be the cause of the cardiac issues, but what’s really concerning me is the infection. He’s septic. He was shot in the side and outer thigh. Both rounds missed anything vital, but wherever he was after being shot was not a good environment. The wounds would have been cleaner if he’d been living in a pigsty.”
“So, he’s septic. What’s the prognosis?” I asked.
Septic was fucking bad, but it could be dealt with.
Dr. Ott groaned under his breath. “Septic shock is a concern, and until I see some improvement in his condition, I’m listing his condition as critical, but stable.”
“Can I see him?”
He shook his head. “You might as well. You team guys are all the same. I won’t be able to keep you out anyway.”
I pushed into Adam’s room and came to a stop at the foot of his bed. He’d been cleaned up and dressed in a hospital gown. I don’t know how I’d missed it, but he was so thin compared to his typical fighting weight.
I pulled a chair up next to Adam’s bed, placing myself between him and the door. I angled the chair, so it was close enough that I could prop my feet up but still watch the door and reach out to him.
The doc hadn’t said as much, but looking at the shit they had running through the IV, Adam was going to be out of action for a bit. Which was good. He needed the fucking rest.
I texted Foster.
Brock
The doctor said critical but stable.
Foster
Get some rest. We’re headed your way.
Sleep took me quickly. The dreams that plagued me woke me regularly. Visions of Adam dying in front of me, of the team not getting to him in time. I couldn’t decide what would have been worse. Him dying alone or watching him die.
