DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by 
sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading 
now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes 
without the consent of the author.

John Carter
By
Lazlo Zalezac 
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003

Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 11

John left the room feeling very good about his morning spent with 
the children. The bookcase had arrived and they had assembled it 
as a team. The kids took turns on each of the jobs; one reading the 
instructions, one bringing the parts, one helping to hold the various 
parts together, and one to provide the tools when they were 
needed. John was the only one that used the tools. The kids had a 
fun time and kept correcting him whenever he was about to make a 
mistake. He left after it was assembled to allow them a chance to 
fill it with the books. 

A well-dressed gentleman was standing outside the room wiping 
his eyes with a handkerchief. His well-tailored gray suit spoke of 
money. He was about 65 years old or so with thin gray hair. He 
was a little over weight with the build typical of men his age. John 
asked, "Sir, can I help you in some way?"

The man looked up and stated, "You must be John Carter."

"Yes, I am and you are?"

The man blew his nose and then put up his handkerchief. He was a 
little embarrassed at showing emotion in public. He answered, "I'm 
Fred Maxwell. I donated the bookshelf to the burn unit."

John reached out with his hand, "I'm very pleased to meet you. 
Your generosity means a lot to those kids."

The man's eyes misted again, "I watched you put it together. That 
was the nicest thing I have ever seen in my life. The looks of joy 
on their faces will live with me for the rest of my life."

"It sounds a little personal for you."

"You're observant," replied Fred.

"Why don't you come into my room and tell me about it? Maybe I 
can help."

Fred stood in the hall for a minute thinking about the offer. He was 
from a generation that didn't like to talk about their problems. He 
was about to refuse the offer, but changed his mind. He had lived 
with this for more than forty years. He answered, "It just might be 
time for me to talk about this."

John led him to his room. Once they entered, John closed the door. 
Fred sat down in the single chair while John sat on the bed. Fred 
rested his right ankle on his left knee and sat there playing with the 
bottom of his pants legs. He stared at his right foot as he thought 
about his past. John sat there watching Fred work through his 
internal issues. Finally, Fred broke the silence, "I served in the 
army during the Korea Conflict."

"Most Americans under appreciate the conditions that our soldiers 
experienced there. That was a tough war." John had heard many 
stories about that war from people that he had talked with in the 
past. Many Americans did not realize that the war had never 
ended. There were still causalities because of hostilities at the 
border between north and south.

 "Yes, it was," replied Fred. He continued, "I … Well, I carried a 
flame thrower."

"That was exceptionally dangerous. One stray bullet and you'd 
have been the one on fire."

"I have not had a good night sleep since then. Every night I have 
nightmares. I see the faces of each and every man that I burned." 
Fred sat staring down at the floor lost in his thoughts. Even now, 
the faces of the men that he had burned floated before his eyes. It 
was odd, but he had no other memories of Korea. He couldn't say 
where he had been stationed or who served with him. 

John understood the inner demons that plagued Fred. Because of 
his sense of duty to country, he had committed acts that rocked the 
foundation of his moral sense. In a way, it was amazing this man 
had not reacted violently on his return to the states. John knew that 
talking would not save this man from his inner conflict. He needed 
to work as a means of atonement. He said, "Well, I can tell you a 
few things that might help you. That is, if you want to hear them."

Fred looked down at his shoe getting prepared to hear the standard 
argument. With a sigh, he answered, "Talk away. I'll do my best to 
listen."

John sat there for a minute and then stated, "Last year I died."

Fred looked up and stared at the young man. His expectations had 
been a few words that he didn't do anything wrong. He had already 
made those arguments with himself. He knew it wasn't his fault 
that he had been put in that position. It didn't help.  His fingers 
continued to fondle the hem of his pants, but his attention was 
focused on John. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question. 
John nodded and then continued, "That's right, I died. I can tell you 
from personal experience, that it's not bad. In fact, it is very 
pleasant."

The evidence of shock made his voice quaver, "Could you tell me 
more about it?"

"No, I can't. Words can't convey what I felt. Can words adequately 
explain the horror you feel at what you have done? No, they can't. 
Just know that death is the opposite of that kind of horror."

This answer was not what Fred had been expecting, but he 
recognized the truth that some things couldn't be explained to 
others. He asked, "So what are you trying to say to me?"

"I'm saying that the men that you may have killed are not in pain 
any more. They are in a different place now; a place that has no 
room for pain. You don't have to accept that on faith, but as fact."

"I can understand that. They are in heaven now," commented Fred. 
Religion had become increasingly more important to him. In part, 
he had wanted to find solace in it from past. In part, he had reached 
the age where death had become more of a reality and it was 
through religion that he was attempting to come to grips with his 
mortality.

"I think if you talk to the people here, you'll find the rest of the 
answers that you are looking for. You will find out what it is like 
to survive the burn and that, perhaps, will allow you to come to 
better grips with what you've done."

"I feel like I need more than just answers."

John smiled and nodded. He could understand Fred's position and 
his need for some sort of redemption. He suggested, "Those kids 
have a bunch of books that someone should read to them. I'm 
checking out soon and then there will be no one. A new sadness 
will settle in that room."

Fred sat quietly lost in private thoughts.  He recognized that a need 
that had been within him for forty years could now be answered. 
He slowly stood and turned to the door. With soft steps, he left the 
room without saying another word. John watched him leave. He 
smiled as he recognized that Fred was a man about to undertake a 
mission of his own making. It was now only a matter of 
summoning up sufficient courage.

An hour later a very petite young nurse entered the room. She had 
short brown hair, green eyes, and oval face. She wore a white skirt 
rather than the white pants that were the most frequent garb worn 
by nurses within the hospital. Even with the loose over-shirt, it was 
easy to tell that she had very small breasts. She had a very nice 
smile that reminded John of Lily, the woman that had been 
vacationing by working as a waitress. She broke the silence, "John, 
I'm Susan."

"Nice to meet you Susan. Are you here to collect more blood?"

"Oh, nothing so bad. I'm here to give you a bath."

John blushed as he thought back to the last sponge bath he had 
received. He had covered almost the entire hospital looking for 
Betsy, but no one would tell him how to reach her. He was sure 
this would be a regular sponge bath. He laughed, "Good, I was 
afraid that I'd die of blood loss if a mosquito bit me when I leave 
here." 

"So long as you die outside the hospital, it isn't our fault," laughed 
the nurse. She continued, "Now get undressed while I get 
everything ready."

John sat there puzzled for a minute and then got undressed down to 
the hospital gown. He assumed that this is what she meant. In the 
meantime, the nurse had gone into the bathroom and filled the 
basin with warm water. John had just returned to the bed when the 
nurse exited the bathroom. His jaw dropped and his cock rose 
when he saw that she was completely naked. Her body was thin, 
but not so thin that her bones showed. She retained a feminine 
figure. Her breasts were almost non-existent, but her nipples were 
the twice size of erasers. He had once heard that the nipples on 
small-breasted women tended to be very sensitive. He wondered if 
it was true.

She laughed on observing him in the bed. His reaction to her body 
was given away by the nice tent in his hospital gown. She said, 
"You're still dressed, silly. Now take that off while I get everything 
else ready for your bath."

 John slowly removed his hospital gown. His emotions were 
divided between embarrassment, desire, and reluctance. His 
embarrassment arose because of his extremely visible erection. His 
desire was rooted in the normal sex drive of a healthy male. His 
reluctance was rooted in his wish that it was Betsy giving him the 
bath rather than Susan. However, the sex drive knows no 
boundaries of right or wrong particularly when one is not in a 
committed relationship. It won out as the excitement of a naked 
woman fueled it. 

The sponge bath proceeded very normally. There were no overt 
sexual advances as she washed his back, legs, arms, and chest. 
Even when reached his groin, her touch remained professional. She 
had avoided directly touching his cock and balls. As soon as she 
finished washing him, she stated, "Well, that wasn't too bad was 
it?"

John's erection had remained through the whole bath. In fact, it had 
become even harder. As she had moved around, she had given him 
very nice views of her body. The contrast between the view she 
presented him and her professionalism while bathing him had a 
strangely erotic effect. His voice cracked, "Not bad at all."

She smiled, "Now we have to increase your blood flow. We don't 
want you to get bedsores."

She proceeded to lightly massage him. Her touches were feather 
light and brushed his entire body. It sent ripples of pleasure 
through his body. He was moaning from desire by the time she 
finished. He was about to relax when she took his cock into her 
mouth. She started humming as she worked her tongue around all 
of the sensitive parts of his cock. She paid particular attention to 
the shaft just below the head. He couldn't believe how quickly he 
approached the point of no return. He blurted out, "I'm coming."

Simultaneously, Susan pulled her mouth from his cock, wrapped a 
hand around it, and fondled his balls. The multiple changes in 
sensations delayed his orgasm only by seconds. He came as she 
massaged his balls with a soft touch.  As he recovered from the 
orgasm, she cleaned the semen off his body.

John stated, "Thank you so much. That was incredible. I've never 
experienced anything like it."

"You're welcome." She went into the bathroom for a minute while 
she dressed. John was totally amazed at the quality of the orgasm 
he had just experienced. Relaxing, he felt happy just to lie there 
and enjoy the feelings.

Susan came out of the bathroom fully dressed. She gathered the 
bathing materials and prepared to leave. She smiled, " I just wanted 
to thank you for helping my aunt."

John asked, "Who was she?"

Susan smiled, "Mrs. Sardon"

John nodded as he recalled the woman. She had a panic attack at 
one of the major department stores in town. He had helped calm 
her down and get her home. It was a little thing, but he 
remembered that she had sent him a thank you note. He replied, "I 
remember. She's a very nice lady; she just doesn't like crowded 
areas."

Susan eyes misted, "You really do remember her."

John smiled, "She sent me a thank you note. I really appreciated 
that."

Susan nodded, "She's kind of old fashioned that way. It would 
have surprised me if she hadn't sent you one."

John sat back and looked at Susan for a moment, "You really care 
about her, don't you?"

"Yes, she's my favorite aunt," Susan sighed. Susan worried about 
her aunt. The episode in the store had really upset her. That had 
been the latest in a series of anxiety attacks. She was afraid that her 
aunt would become housebound. If that happened, she had no idea 
how she could help her. Her hours at the hospital tended to change 
from week to week and she always worked overtime. She would 
not be able to do anything for her aunt with any kind of regularity.

"And you worry about her anxiety attacks," suggested John.

"Very much."

"I currently rent a room from a retired woman. She doesn't get out 
much. I do the shopping, fix things around the house, and deal with 
any strangers that have to come in the house. It works out well for 
everyone. She has me around to take care of things and I get a 
cheap place to live. Her family appreciates it because they know 
someone is around to take care of her."

Susan was thoughtful for a moment, "Thank you again. You've 
given me a good idea."

"Well, if you need someone then let me know. I know most of the 
graduate students on campus and can recommend someone that 
would be very good. Knowing your aunt, I would suggest one of 
our female students. I can leave contact information with Nurse 
Betty."

Susan smiled, "I just might do that. Goodbye, John."

"Thank you, Susan," replied John. He watched as she left the 
room. He knew he would be getting a call from her sometime soon. 

After dressing, John strolled out of the room and to the nurses 
station. Nurse Betty was on duty. His arrival was met with a 
knowing grin, "Did you enjoy your sponge bath?"

"Yes, very much. It is nice of you to take such interest in my 
personal hygiene," replied John. He knew that Nurse Betty was the 
one that had arranged the special treatments. He was curious about 
what would happen next.

Nurse Betty laughed, "Just part of our service plan for heroes."

"I know you won't believe this, but I’m not a hero. I'm just an 
ordinary guy that happens to be at the right place at the right time."

"Modest too," replied the nurse. She still couldn't get over the 
changes in the kids in the ward. After John had returned to his 
room, Fred Maxwell had come to her station to talk to her about 
John's suggestion concerning reading to the kids every day. He 
stated that he was going into semi-retirement and needed 
something to help fill in his days. 

When she had warned him about the children's appearance, he had 
replied that he had already seen the children and that there wasn't 
anything wrong with them that he couldn't handle.  The 
introductions to the kids went smoothly. He had complemented 
them on the construction of the new bookcase. They positively 
glowed as a result of his complements and now had a permanent 
storyteller. She knew that a hero didn't just rescue the maiden; he 
also made sure that she was going to be all right after he left. John 
had done that.

John shook off the compliment as though it were undeserved, 
"Would it be alright if I went for a walk around the hospital?"

"No problem. You might want to stop in the cafeteria though. Most 
people take their breaks there and you would be catching them at a 
good time to chat."

"Thanks for the suggestion, I'll do just that."

John headed directly for the cafeteria hoping that the person he 
was searching for would come in. He wasn't there for long before 
people started gravitating to where he was seated. All of them told 
him how honored they were to finally get a chance to meet him. He 
thanked them for all of their attention. Occasionally, he would 
mention Betsy and ask if anyone knew where she might be 
stationed. No one seemed to know anything about Betsy. After an 
hour, John was thoroughly convinced that either no one knew who 
she was or that they were protecting her from him in some way. He 
gave up and headed to his room.

Stepping off the elevator, he looked around. One more day and he 
would be gone. In fact, it probably wasn't even a full day now. 
Discouraged, he walked towards his room. As he passed the nurses 
station, he got an idea. Stopping suddenly, he asked, "Nurse Betty, 
I need some help."

"What's the matter?"

"I'm trying to find someone and no one seems to know her."

"Who?"

"Betsy."

"Betsy?"

"Yes, the woman that was here yesterday."

Nurse Betty frowned for a moment and then realized to which 
woman he was referring. She laughed, "Of course, no one here 
knows her. She doesn't work at the hospital."

"Oh," replied John. He didn't know how to interpret that. If she 
didn't work here, then how was it that she was here to give him his 
sponge bath yesterday. Had Nurse Betty hired her? He didn't think 
that was right.

"She works at another medical facility. If you want, I can let her 
know that you wanted to talk to her."

"Please, I would appreciate it so much," replied John. He caught 
the look that Betty was giving him and blushed in embarrassment 
as he thought back to yesterday. He stuttered, "It's nothing like 
that. I'd like to take her out on a date."

Nurse Betty just smiled and nodded. She watched him squirm. She 
had seen how much Betsy had wanted to be the first one to give 
him a sponge bath. She could see the excitement that the idea had 
for Betsy. The girl positively glowed as she talked about the times 
she had met John. She knew that Betsy would be calling him, 
particularly since Betsy had continued to rave about John after the 
sponge bath. 

John misinterpreted the silence for disbelief. He added, "Really. I 
just want to take her to dinner and a movie, maybe have a chance 
to talk to her."

 Betty laughed, "Okay, John. I do believe you. I'll give her a call."

Betty turned to fill out some paper work thinking that everything 
had been settled. John stood there waiting anxiously. He kept 
glancing at the telephone and then at Betty.  Betty noticed that he 
was still there. She suddenly realized he was waiting for her to 
make the call. She smiled, "John, I'll call her later. Don't worry. 
Now find something to do, okay?"

John nodded and walked away. He went in his room and sat in the 
chair waiting to hear from Nurse Betty. While sitting there, he 
turned his thoughts to the cold fusion problem that he had been 
working on before leaving the lab the other day. Again, the 
question arose as to what geological process could produce a cold 
fusion reaction. He thought about volcanoes, tectonic plate 
movement, and other such processes. None of them seemed likely 
candidates. He wondered if the paper could have been wrong in 
that area as well. There was still the difference between the actual 
temperature of the earth and the temperature that the earth should 
have been. Something had to account for that difference. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of lunch. The 
nutritionist, June Anderson, brought in another great meal. Lunch 
was a grilled cheese sandwich served with a bowl of tomato soup. 
Dessert was a bowl of Jell-O. June sat down and watched as John 
ate. His obvious pleasure at the meal pleased her a great deal. She 
had been surprised when he had asked for that particular lunch; she 
had been expecting him to ask for a roast beef sandwich or shrimp 
salad. John looked up and saw that she was watching him. He 
joked, "If I had known that hospital food was this good, I'd have 
gotten burned a long time ago."

June laughed, "You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm serious. I spend all of my time working or walking. I eat 
very simply, mostly cereals for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly 
sandwiches for lunch, microwave dinners. You've been really nice 
to me and I appreciate it."

June looked at him puzzled, "What kind of life do you live?"

John laughed, "I basically live like a monk."

"What, you live in a monk's cell?"

John nodded, "You know when I was working on my master's 
degree, I lived in a closet that I rented in a house. I'll admit, it was 
a big closet, probably six by ten feet in dimension. I slept on the 
floor, my clothes were on hangers, and my camping gear was on a 
shelf. When I moved here, I mailed all of my possessions to the 
university. It was three small boxes."

June frowned, "You're kidding."

John shook his head, "Not at all. Like I said, I live very simply."

June was shocked. She asked, "How do you live now?"

"Oh, I rent a room from a little old lady. She's nice, but she doesn't 
really trust me to use the kitchen," replied John. He changed the 
subject by requesting, "Tell me more about your grandmother."

"My grandmother?"

"Yes, I still don't know who your grandmother is. You told me that 
I helped her, but I can't place her to save my life."

"Let me give you a hint. She taught me how to cook."

John sat there and thought about that. Suddenly he realized that 
there was one woman that was always trying to get him to come 
over for dinner. She had tried to bribe him with pot roast, turkey, 
ham, and seafood. He tried to recall the name and then he 
remembered, "Your grandmother is Marge?"

"Yes," replied June. She added, "and one of these days you will 
have to come to her house for dinner. I assure you that you will 
enjoy it a lot."

"I'm sure I would. The problem is that I usually work in the lab 
until late at night, so I don't think I could do that on a weekday. I 
usually go hiking on the weekends."

June looked at his leg. She smiled, "I don't think you'll be hiking 
for a couple of weeks. You're getting out tomorrow, so why don't 
you let my aunt cook for you next Saturday?"

John nodded, "Okay, I'll be there."

"I'll let her know to expect you. She'll be delighted to hear the 
news."

John finished eating. June took his tray and left the room. John sat 
there for a few more minutes thinking about Betsy. He walked 
down to the nurses station and waited for Nurse Betty to notice 
him. When she looked up, she asked, "What can I do for you?"

He asked, "Did you call her yet?"

Nurse Betty looked at John for a minute. She thought about teasing 
him and pretending that she didn't know about whom he was 
talking. She noticed the serious look on his face and decided to 
relent. This appeared to be very important to him. She shook her 
head, "I'll talk to her. Now, I have to work."

John frowned, "I'm sorry to keep bugging you. It's just that I really 
want to see her again."

"You like her?"

John smiled, "Yes. I wanted to ask her out when I gave blood at 
the school, but I didn't have the nerve."

Betty smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'll call her and tell her you are 
serious."

"Thanks."

"So what are you going to do now?"

John thought about it for a moment and then laughed, "I'm going to 
teach the kids how to play Hunt The Bug Eyed Monsters."

Betty frowned, "I hope that it doesn't involve running around."

"Don't worry. It's a great game. Even kids that can't move at all can 
play it. They can be pilots, captains, navigators, gunners, and 
repairmen." John smiled, "I've never met a bunch of kids that didn't 
like it."

"Well, don't get them too excited."

John smiled and walked down the hall. He entered the kids room 
and sat down on the floor. The kids noticed him and formed a 
circle around him expecting him to read to them. Instead, he 
started to explain how to play a new game.

An hour later, Nurse Betty looked in the room to find the kids 
sitting in front of him with their backs to him. One of them 
shouted, "Captain, the Bug Eyes are straight ahead."

John stated in a serious voice, "Okay, pilot. Take us there. 
Gunners, prepare your weapons."

The kids shouted back, "Aye, aye, captain!"

One of the kids shouted, "There they are."

Two of the kids started making 'zzzzing' noises. John called out to 
the pilot, "Pilot, avoid their torpedo's."

John shouted, "Oh my, they almost got us."

The kids laughed as they insulted the Bug Eyed Monsters for their 
bad shooting. There was lots of laughing and giggling, as some of 
the insults were poor. John laughed along with them.

Nurse Betty smiled to herself as she returned to her desk. The kids 
had been smiling and enjoying the game. It was amazing to see the 
difference that John had made in the Burn Ward. He had done 
more for the kids and their mental health in two days, then the 
psychologist had managed in months. She returned to her desk and 
made a call to Betsy.