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Post by America on Apr 13, 2013 23:01:55 GMT -5
If he had been feeling better, and if it had been under any other situation, America would have laughed. It would beat the point of being put in quarantine. It seemed neither of them cared very much, though. England seemed willing to break a few rules to be there, and America was more than willing to allow England to be there (though, in his state, he wouldn't be able to force anyone to do anything; he was probably too weak to even beg). "Thanks," he managed to mumble. "Means a lot."
His voice wasn't shaking as much anymore, sure, but it still didn't stop all the words from slurring together. He was finding it more and more difficult to speak properly now. Side-effect from the blood loss, probably. But they were almost there. England was shifting him around, and America got a little ray of hope that maybe they had arrived at the warehouse sooner than expected.
But, as he forced his eyes open, he realized they were still in the forest, and England had just grabbed his gun. He blinked in confusion, but when England mentioned the visitors, America felt fearful. They had come back. They were coming for him, despite what England said. America knew he was the source of the zombies. He wasn't sure how loud he had cried out earlier, but they must have heard, and even if they didn't, the smell of his blood would be enough to drive them straight towards him and England.
He wanted to help fight them off, so he cautiously started to take his hand off of England's body. However, when he felt himself leaning backwards slightly, he panicked, and scrambled for purchase on England's shoulder once more, instantly burying his face into the crook of his neck in despair. He couldn't even grab his gun. What good would he be in a fight? If England wanted to run away, the only choice America had was to be left behind.
So he held on tighter, knowing England would never put him down, and being comforted in that fact.
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Post by England on Apr 13, 2013 23:34:48 GMT -5
"Don't move around," England briefly lost his balance when America tried to move, and re-adjusted him with a warning squeeze to the upper thigh. "I'll get this. Don't worry about it, alright?" Briefly tilting his head down, he kissed America's right hand, tightly grasping onto him, and then his temple, close to his cheek. It comforted him to have America so close, and the proximity reassured him that he was fine, and would be fine as long as England was there to make sure of it.
It took a lot more effort to hold America up like this with one hand, so England's arm quickly went numb and trembled under the weight. His free hand, though, stayed miraculously steady as he quickly glanced behind him to make sure they weren't in immediate danger from behind. He could already see a couple of zombies in the back, blurred silhouettes ducking between the trees, but the most pressing danger was the zombies trying to cut them off from the side or the front.
Leveling his gun, England took a breath breath, and shot the first one between the eyes as soon as it got close enough.
"Don't worry," he repeated, as if he was comforting himself as well. "I've got you. I won't leave you behind." Another shot to one on his left side. "You're going to be alright, America, do you hear me?" His grip tightened on his gun and he gritted his teeth aggressively, shooting another so that he could swerve around a tree and walk over the corpse as he continued his journey. He spun around to shoot one that was tailing them too closely for comfort, and then slowly but steadily began moving down the small hill that led them down to the path cut in the middle of the forest. He was glad they'd made it this far, since the plains were only a couple of minutes away.
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Post by America on Apr 14, 2013 6:36:57 GMT -5
The comforting kisses calmed America down slightly, and he nodded again, trusting England's word. He kept glancing to the side of them, trying to catch a glimpse of the zombies that were chasing them, but he was still too exhausted to properly see. And he was still too angry with himself to properly leave it all in England's hands. He wanted to do something. He wanted to help, more than anything, but he was just a useless sack of weight in England's hands.
He saw one or two go down under England's gun, and he tried to keep track of how many times it was going off. He had a number, but quickly lost it in the hazy fog that was his thoughts. Because keeping track of how many zombies England shot wouldn't do them much good, though, America didn't care all that much. It was more of something for him to do, anyway, since he couldn't (and didn't want to) fall back into a state of unconsciousness.
With all of England's words, the smallest of my smiles formed on America's face. "Mm, I tru-trust you," he panted out, then winced at the headache that was beginning to form. He was trembling, too, as he struggled to keep from slipping as much as he could, as he rejected all of sleep's glorious advances. He couldn't fall asleep, not now. That would mean all of his weight would go to England's one hand, and he couldn't do that to his boyfriend, not when he was already working hard enough.
At least they were almost there, though. Once they were there, everything would be fine.
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Post by England on Apr 14, 2013 13:44:12 GMT -5
"You'd better," England smirked, briefly glancing back at America's face. From the brief glimpse he got, though, he could see that he'd gone sheet white, and that definitely was not a good sign. He was losing too much blood, and England wouldn't be surprised if his body just shut down and went into a coma to try and repair itself.
Distracted by the sight of America's face, England lost his footing on the way down the hill and slipped on a patch of mud. Letting out a small cry of surprise, he stumbled messily until his shoulder hit a tree, stopping him in his tracks. Thankfully, America was not hurt, and at worst had been slightly jostled around. England took the moment to regain his breath and aimed his gun upwards at the zombies emerging at the top of the hill, ready to come down at them like a wave.
He let out another cry of surprise when a hand suddenly shot out from behind the tree, fumbling before grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip. Thankfully, the zombie's nails were not sharp enough to pierce his arm, but the slimy touch was enough to startle England. He quickly turned the gun to the wrist of the zombie, cleanly blowing off the hand and splattering blood on the ground, and then followed by doing the same to the zombie's head.
"Are you alright?" he asked, panting as he whipped around and continued his way down, quickly but more cautiously until he got on the dirt path. Everything would be easier now. Without any roots of mud to hamper his progress, England re-adjusted America, ignoring his burning arm's protests, and began the fastest walk he could manage.
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Post by America on Apr 14, 2013 14:33:50 GMT -5
Definitely not expecting the sudden jostling, America gasped out, grip tightening on England in fear of falling. He almost didn't hear England cry out, but when he did, he was alarmed to note that a gun sounded just right after it. Hopefully, England was still all right himself. Hopefully, the zombie didn't bite him (for America assumed it was a zombie; what else would it be?). He wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure if he could speak.
He tried to re-adjust himself to help England run better, but got absolutely nowhere in his efforts. Instead, England re-adjusted him, and, once again, America felt useless. He opened his mouth to answer to question, but nothing came out, save for a low, moaned, "Uh-huh," slurred until it was nothing but a small noise from the back of his throat. He took a few harsh breaths, finding it more and more difficult to even breathe correctly. Everything hurt, and he was almost tempted to stop breathing to save himself the pain of taking the effort to do so.
Almost.
He needed to know if England was okay. After all, the man had cried out, and America knew that was never good. But whenever he attempted to repeat England's own question, he just gave small pants. He didn't want to give up on asking since he needed to know, but when he couldn't even talk, it was difficult. And if he tried to nudge England, or gesture anywhere, he was afraid the elder nation would think something was wrong with him.
But if they were almost out of the forest, that meant they were almost to the warehouse. Once he was there, America might be able to take the last bit of energy and ask. Until then, he could conserve it all and wait.
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Post by England on Apr 14, 2013 19:14:23 GMT -5
England conserved his breath because he was full-out panting now, his chest aching as he willed his heart to pump faster, for his lungs to expand and contract faster, for his brain to analyze his surroundings faster, anything to reach the warehouse faster because every second that ticked by was another drop of blood that carried away America's life with it.
The trees around the path began thinning out, and England had to shoot one more zombie that had tumbled down the hill and was snapping at their feet before exiting the forest with an exclamation of relief. He only had two more bullets left, and though his coast was clear, he could never be sure. The warehouse was now right across the field, but he couldn't let up.
Knowing that he wouldn't need his gun unless something drastic happened, he holstered it without turning the safety back on (because really, at this point, what was the worst that could happen?) and relieved his left arm from pressure when he readjusted America to divide his weight on both of his hands. It was tricky to try and hold him in places that weren't too close to his wounds, and England hoped hard that he wasn't hurting America when he grabbed his upper thighs from underneath, shifted both of their weight to the front, and led his trembling legs into one last stretch of jogging.
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Post by America on Apr 14, 2013 20:20:33 GMT -5
The shifting brought another noise of protest, but despite all the pain, America couldn't do much else other than a quiet whimper. He was frightened beyond belief; the zombies were right behind them, England was shooting them, and he just sat and listened to the sounds. He trusted England with all his heart, but he didn't trust the zombies one bit. If they were sneaky enough to grab at him from under the mud, they were sneaky enough to find someway to kill them both.
Luckily, as America blinked groggily to the side, he noticed there weren't anymore trees. So they had made it out of the forest? Or perhaps his vision had gotten to the point where he could no longer make out the difference between the trees and the ground, so they had become merged together. He didn't know what to expect. Maybe they were still roaming the forest, an maybe they were almost at the warehouse.
Oh, he did hope they were almost there. He didn't think he could hold on any longer, both literally and figuratively. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness, and if he had to be perfectly honest with himself, he just wished he could stay unconscious until he was all fixed up. However, his stubborn will forced him to stay awake, to stay with England. He wanted to reassure his boyfriend everything would be all right, just as much as he wanted England to reassure him that everything would be all right.
He gasped out when England's grasp on his thighs became a little bit tighter than it had been, but he made no move to shift around to ease the stinging pain, mostly because he didn't have the strength to move.
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Post by England on Apr 15, 2013 0:14:04 GMT -5
"Sorry," England panted out, turning back just for a moment to see where the zombies had gotten. Since they weren't far enough to be negligible, nor close enough to be urgent, he turned his eyes back to the field that he was crossing, eyes out for anything lying in the long grass. Now wasn't the time to trip. America could seriously get hurt if he was jostled around more, and the shock of a fall could kill him on the spot. England had to go fast, but be careful as well.
"We're almost there," he encouraged, going up a small hill that led to the asphalt road that they used when they left on motorcycles, crossing the road without a look back, and then easing down the hill on the other side. The warehouse was now right in front of his eyes and he couldn't be happier. "Come on, hang on just a little longer for me." It was a wonder that America had not slipped into a regenerative coma yet. Or perhaps his body had gone into such a panicked state that even his instincts didn't work, and he needed to be helped before he could even begin regenerating himself.
Whatever the case was, they were only a couple of minutes away from the warehouse now, and though England's arms and legs did not feel like they could support anything anymore, he readjusted America one last time and pushed himself to walk as quickly as possible.
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Post by America on Apr 15, 2013 5:34:05 GMT -5
It had gotten to the point where England's words had become jumbled in America's ears, and he couldn't understand what his partner was saying. All he could do was hold on tightly and hope that they made it back to the warehouse soon. He closed his eyes, as they were now just as useless as his ears, anyway, and focused on trying to level out his breathing. It didn't work, of course, and he resigned himself to the fact that he probably had to breathe in such a manner to stay alive.
He let his head bump along with England's shoulder, for there was nothing he could do to stop that, either. He had become nothing more than a burden of weight, and he couldn't even muster up the strength to feel displeased about such a thing. He just knew he was, and that was that. He didn't even know if he had any strength left to fill any sort of emotion.
Even the pain seemed to be subsiding.
He was drifting off again. He realized that as his limbs began to relax and his body lost it's tense posture. He was slowly letting himself fall back into an unconscious state, and he found he didn't mind that one bit. Within minutes, he allowed himself to faint, uncaring of when or where he would wake up.
[[are we bringing Israel into the thread shortly, or...?]]
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Post by England on Apr 15, 2013 20:45:40 GMT -5
America had definitely fainted, since there was a sudden deadness in the weight in his arms. England just hoped he hadn't died. If he died, they'd be able to save him, but since his circulatory system wouldn't be working, they'd have to do this messy, very delicate operation to inject the vaccine directly into his brain, and England didn't they were nearly close to having all the necessary supplies for an open-brain surgery, including specialists in open-brain surgery. England didn't want America to be paralyzed for months, either, because someone made a millimetre of mistake while operating.
"We're here," England panted out hoarsely, his throat screaming for rest and water, and his limbs trembling, but he discarded all of that in favour of skipping to a stop in front of the warehouse door and punching in the access code violently, glancing back at the zombies that were not too far from them. The door opened immediately, and England slipped inside, closing it before the zombies could come in.
He didn't have time to catch his breath, though, as a glance to his feet showed him that America was still leaking blood on the floor. He had no time to spare. Seeing as America was unconscious, he actually jogged as one last push, and ran headfirst into the tarp closing off the hospital wing from the rest of the space, stopping once inside to look around frantically.
"Hello? Anyone? Please help, we need a medic here!"
((I'll get him =w=))
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Israel
Apprentice
Medic
Posts: 61
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Post by Israel on Apr 16, 2013 21:22:27 GMT -5
Israel's afternoon was at first expected to be nothing short from dull and rather lonely. The two other medics had abandoned him in order to run 'errands' or 'take inventory' thus leaving the nation longing at once for a companion. At first he offered to come along, not liking solace in the at times eerily quiet make shift medical center but they both declined his offer as politely as they could stating that they needn't trouble himself and that they needed at least one medic to stay behind in case of an emergency. He didn't believe the first excuse, believing it to be a hinted message that they didn't want nor need him in the slightest. It seemed that since he arrived the two medics were treating him like a rookie who couldn't even open a bottle of advill. He might not of been an advanced surgon or anything but he had treated people in his nation after gruesome bombings and knew how to administer medicine or vaccines now that he had been taught by Egypt. But no, they decided to leave the little baby behind so that he wouldn't cause trouble. He did however agree with the the latter reason as to why he should stay; emergencies had a tendency to pop up at the most inconvient of times when no one who could be of help was there. Well he intended to be there just in case such an emergency occured and would be ready to help.
Then he came across another nation who seemed to long for someone to console with, that being the lovely Czech Republic. Apparently she was spending the afternoon searching for her apprentice San Marino, who had dissapeared in the usual timely fashion. When he told her he had not seen the little girl he found that she decided to stay with him so that they could do some catching up. She seemed to have no other pressing duties that would force her to leave him so suddenly. So the two stood together talking with one another in a very casual fashion as they would between the two friends. The topic as of now was clothing, a favorite subject that the two seemed to have in common with one another. Right now he was retelling her of the most beautiful amsemble he had put together as a present for his sister, Syria (quickly adding that he only did because he had to of course).
"So I took some white silk and wrapped it around the skirt in a sort of sash and--"
"Hello? Anyone? Please help, we need a medic here!"
His eyes shot up suddenly from his conversation looking to greet whom ever entered but who he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. He saw that the voice had belonged to England but was not what shocked him; it was the fact that his best friend America was in England's arms currently bleeding all over the floor covered in mud and even more mortifying, had his eyes shut. He blinked once then wasted no time, his instincts telling him what to do now.
"Put him in the surgery room now!"
He ran to the sink immediately going to scrub his hands not bothering to ask what happened to America knowing that asking was a waste of precious time that he knew they had to use. Looking over his shoulder he looked helpless for only a moment when he realised he was all alone here with this, but this his eyes fell onto Czech Republic who no doubt was full of shock and panic as much as he was. "Czech! Scrub up and follow England into the surgery room and find out whats happened." He asked her to do this because he needed to gather some supplies he needed and knew that it would be better to have someone else ask what caused this so that she could relay it back to him in a less paniced and desparate manner that only hindered progress.
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Post by England on Apr 16, 2013 23:57:59 GMT -5
England was extremely relieved to find Israel if the hospital wing. If nobody had come to his help, he didn't know what he would have done. Sometimes, there were no people in the hospital wing, especially around lunch and dinner rush hours, and in the night, so being caught with an emergency at those times was like a curse. Thankfully, he had nothing to worry about for he'd found help. Not just Israel, but Czech Republic would help him, too. England felt lightheaded both from the panic and relief.
Walking over to one of the beds, he turned around and very gently undid America's arms from around his neck, tipping him back and easing him onto the white sheet which immediately turned red with blood and brown with dirt. He let go of his legs when his upper body was well rested on the mattress and turned around, hooking his arms under his ruined knees and his back to set him further up on the mattress until his head rested on the pillow. He could now get a good look from above at his injuries, and the dizziness returned, probably from shock.
He did not lose his senses, though, and immediately gripped the metal support of the bed, using his foot to unlatch the breaks on the wheels. He carefully moved the bed, wheeling it back into the open space of the main corridor, and then pulled him faster, jogging up to the tarp tent that made up their surgery room, for a lack of an actual room. He pulled the tarp back and wheeled America in, setting him in the middle of the room and locking the wheels again. Once he made sure that America was safe, he stepped outside the surgery tent, and anxiously fidgeted as he waited for someone to pay attention to him.
Because boy did he have a lot to say.
((I guess it's Czech's turn now?))
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Post by Czech Republic on Apr 17, 2013 7:01:15 GMT -5
Czech's day consisted of a usual schedule, wake up, wake up San Marino, eat breakfast head out on patrol, train San Marino, then go searching for San Marino who always seemed to disappear from her sights sound the afternoon. She never knew where the little micro nation was hiding so she'd usually have to check every room top to bottom before the little rascal could be found. But in her search, the nation made time in her orderly schedule to talk with a very close friend of her's, Israel who was staining alone in the Medical Center. Taking one look at him her sharp eyes recognised his want for someone to talk to, and so she decided to provide him with one knowing Marino wouldn't mind another thirty minutes or so of extra free time before she'd continue her search.
Thirty minutes soon turned to an hour as the friends spoke of many things and then the topic turned to fashion and Czech was hooked; she didn't like to brag, but she really thought herself to be an expert in the subject. Listening to Israel describe his ensemble, she began to paint a very pretty picture in her mind thinking of the nation Syria and how she would look in such a outfit. She about to add her input only to find something stopped her from doing so.
"Hello? Anyone? Please help, we need a medic here!"
Like Israel, her eyes turned to the voice and saw that it belonged to her long time friend England to which she flashed a sweet, welcoming smile only to find it completely wiped off her face when looking at the horrifying image before her. There were actually tow of her very close friends, the other being America who was limp in England's arms both of them covered in mud yet her sharp nose could smell something, something sharp, metallic and in no way welcomed. Blood. Her eyes trailed down seeing that America was the source of the blood that was literally pouring from his body. Her mouth was left agape feeling like someone had kicked her in her chest. What had happened? Why was America bleeding? What was with the mud? Why was America's eyes closed!?
Her eyes were wide as saucers looking like she was about to scream at the sight before her yet couldn't will words to even leave her lips in a whisper feeling dizzy to see the blood losing all sense of what to do. But someone quickly brought her back to reality, that being Israel. Her eyes fell over to the sink seeing him scrub up the look of urgency clear in his dark pools. She listened to his request his eyes seeming to beg her to do this for him. She blinked back her tears then replaced her distressed look with one that was very serious as she gave a nod to him as to say she'd do it. Running to the sink and scrubbing up her eyes were now directed to England who had placed America into the surgery room and went right to him. The usual sweetness and almost childlike innocence that she'd show was all but gone, all that showed was her very serious side that rarely ever came out except for instances like this.
"England, tell me what happened."
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Post by England on Apr 17, 2013 8:24:17 GMT -5
England almost jumped out of his skin when Czech Republic approached him, rubbing his bloody hands on his shirt and feeling frustrated when it didn't do a thing to clean off America's blood.
"I-I don't know," he stammered, eyes nervously darting to the side, at the tent flap, and back to Czech Republic, whose gaze he could not hold for long, and he quickly looked behind her to Israel, who was bustling around. The sight made him too nervous as well, so he turned his gaze back to the tent flap and repeated the process. "W-We were out to gather firewood and he... He was walking and sank into a bog of some kind." He had to stop because he didn't know what to say.
He'd let him down. How did he explain that?
"I thought it was suspect that there were no zombies in the area. He found out, though, that they had all sank into the mud, because when he did, they just... grabbed his legs and tore them right off." He stopped again and took a deep breath to calm himself down. It would do him no good to panic. Not externally, at least. Right now, they all needed a level head to save America. "I pulled him out, and he was bleeding really badly, so I stopped at a spring nearby to bandage him so that he wouldn't bleed out on his way here." He shivered and crossed his arms, appearing nonchalant, but actually just trying to keep the heat in. "I suppose you'll see it when Israel takes the bandages off, but there are pieces-"
His breath hitched, and his face contorted in an angry, distressed grimace. He clenched his fists and his teeth.
"There are bloody pieces of his legs missing. Literally holes and missing bundles of muscle where you can see the bone, a punctured artery, damaged ligaments-" He stopped himself before he could go too far and took a deep breath, exhaling loudly.
"Sorry," he gulped down, looking at the ground and moving away from the tent as if staying too close would kill him. "I'll uhh... I'll go wash off all of this blood and mud so that I don't contaminate anything." Looking at himself, he realized that his arms, up to his elbows, were covered in blood, and that his pants were soaking through with the blood that America had leaked on him during their trip.
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Egypt
Neophyte
Medic
Posts: 125
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Post by Egypt on Apr 17, 2013 20:43:27 GMT -5
Egypt's eyes swept over a vast selection of antibiotics, medicines, and herbs (from all over Canada's wilderness). With in the quiet, well lit walls of the Medical Ward's Medicine storage room, Gupta though that he could have a peaceful day to himself to take catalog of the rest of the stocks. Boy was he wrong. Yelling could be heard as several people made their way into the room that was conjoined to the storage room. The Mediterranean Nation chanced a peak through the double doors that connected the two rooms. He grew pale at what he saw. America unconscious and bleeding out from several large wounds on both of his legs, with Israel, England and Czech Republic worriedly looking over the downed Nation. Israel voiced several ideas for what to do but none seemed to suffice. 'Oh dear Ra, what happened to America?! Was he ambushed by sinkers!? That has to be what happened!' Egypt flew into action, grabbing several containers of herbs. He quickly and quietly listed them off as he hurried about the small room. "Okay, okay-- I'll need Fever-few for the swelling. Mullein and Comfrey to help stop the bleeding and Cayenne and Fenugreek sprout capsules to try and boost his immune system to temporary ward of the virus. I'll take some Marigold and St. John's Wart for when he wakes up. Oh! I also need to send one of them to run and alert the Scientists to prepare a large douse of the serum for when America is stabilized enough to receive it." Everything else he and Israel needed was out there in the various cabinets and drawers. Egypt gathered all of his supplies up into a metal push cart and after scrubbing up in the small sink by the doors, swung one of the doors wide and quickly pulled the cart through with his pinky and ring fingers. "I've got a pretty good idea as to what happened but I would like to know the details on the situation." As he listened to [whom ever responds next?], Egypt started hunting down the rest of the supplies he and Israel would no doubt need for the upcoming task. He once again started mumbling to himself as he went. "Hemostats and clamps are in the bottom drawer. The scalpels, stapling gun and nylon suture thread are with the needles in the drawer on the far end. I.V. fluids are hanging in the cabinet above the sink," Pausing his mumbling for a brief moment to address the small group of people. "Oh and would anyone know what blood type America is so I can run one of you off to do several tasks? We need to run and tell the scientists that are here to prepare a large douse of the vaccine for America. I was hoping that whoever goes can pick up several bags of blood on the way back." As Egypt finished of his ramble, he moved to the head of the gurney. Opening one of America's eyes, he shown a light onto the iris to start a running list of his stats. Once Gupta started off the list he looked to Israel as he spoke. "Lets get what's left of the lower half of America's pants cut away and get a Heart monitor and oxygen tank set up and running. Just judging by the amount of blood I saw on England alone there is at least two or more arteries openly bleeding maybe more. We will have to stabilize America before we administer the vaccine. We could even try to speed up the healing process by grafting skin, muscle of fat from another part of his body or a donor." Looking over to England as he left, his eyes softened just for a moment. He knew of the relationship he and America shared and couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for him. 'He must be tearing himself up on the inside about what happened. Seeing his lover in this much pain must be driving him into the deepest depths of sorrow. Having him in here during the operation will no doubt be to much for him to handle, he should go immediately take account of everything that transpired out there.' Egypt looked to Czech as the doors swung closed once again. 'Czech on the other hand, looks like she is staying as level headed as a girl her age will be in this kind of situation. It looks like Israel has already made the decision to allow her to stay and aid us.' Egypt cleared his throat softy to get Israel and Czech's attention. "Okay, here's where we sit. We need to cut away any loose hanging skin and muscle. It won't heal properly if it's left there. Czech, I need you to run and tell any of the scientists that we need a larger vial of the vaccine mixed up and ready in under two hours. (#OOC: Even if none of them are active right now.) If we wait any more we risk loosing him to the infection and virus. I will hook up the E.C.G and start an I.V. for him. You can grab four or so bags of blood on the way back. Egypt turned and wheeled a device over to behind America. Plugging it in, Gupta quickly adjusted the settings on the device, then proceeded to clip one of the white clips around America's wrist. The room quickly filled with a steady, albeit higher pitch, beat that represented America's heart beat. Some other readings popped up as well; the blood pressure and cardiovascular readings. Egypt watched them for a moment, then went over to where he had left his clip board. He picked it up and wrote down those readings as well. He had started a graph for America's stats to they could track his progress through out his no doubt long stay in the medical ward and the Quarantine sector. Gupta then walked to the other side of the room and wheeled over an oxygen tank with a mask already attached. He set it along side the E.C.G machine and unscrewed the nozzle just enough to let out a steady flow of oxygen. Gupta put the mask just close enough to his face to feel the faint stream of oxygen, then placed it over America's mouth and nose. He took a spare head cover out of his pocket and gently pulled America's hair into it. (You don't want loose hairs or dandruff the contaminate anything. ) Egypt turned to his companions after he finished, taking a quick glance at America's E.C.G in the process. "Well friends... We have a long night ahead of us. Ra's speed to us all." With that he set to work prepping America for surgery. Between him Israel and Czech, Gupta knew that America was in good hands. Time was not on their hands but they had to do everything in their power to save their friend. (( WOW... What a way to come out of Hiatus~! LOL *sobs* My fingers hurt so much~~~ I've been typing for a straight hour, no joke. but I think it was worth it LMAO~)) **oh and E.C.G. stands for Electrocardiograph if anyone was wondering** EDIT: ok.... I've tried to shorten the post some but I can't really take much off with out making it to confusing to read... sorry...
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