[Immunity] David Kay - Ch.7: A Pulse Of Hope

Instructions

Morning light trickled weakly through the hospital blinds, casting a soft glow that made the room feel less like a war zone and more like a place to wait for bad news. Deacon stood at the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring off into space. He hadn't really slept. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw the explosion flash in his mind. He heard Annie scream. He saw his kids running for their lives. He went over the things he couldn't change. A quiet knock came at the door. Hondo straightened up from his chair. "Deac. Doctor's here." Deacon turned just as Dr. Mendez walked in—calm and steady, holding a tablet close like it had some kind of judgment on it. Deacon's throat went tight. "Just tell me." The doctor nodded once. "There's an update on your wife's condition." Every muscle in his body tensed up. Hondo stepped in closer, silent. Dr. Mendez moved further into the room, her voice gentle yet clear. "Her neurological responses are getting better." Deacon blinked. "Better?" "Yep," she confirmed with a slight, controlled smile. "Last night, her intracranial pressure leveled out. And early this morning, she reacted to a pain stimulus." Deacon's breath hitched. "She—she moved?" "A finger twitch, but it was purposeful," Dr. Mendez explained. "That's really good news. It means her brain is starting to wake up." He sank into a chair next to Annie, gripping the bed rail like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His eyes burned; he didn't blink. "So she's waking up?" he whispered. "Not yet," Mendez said carefully. "This is still a delicate stage. But it's the first positive sign we've seen since the surgery. And..." She hesitated and added, "We've reduced her sedation by thirty percent. If her body responds well in the next twelve hours, we can lower it even more." Deacon swallowed hard. "Twelve hours." "Every hour matters," she said. "This could be the start of a real recovery." A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He quickly wiped it away, feeling almost embarrassed. Hondo put a hand on his shoulder. "That's some good news, brother." "It's better than good," Deacon murmured, gently brushing his thumb over Annie's knuckles. "It's something we can hold onto." The doctor nodded. "Just be ready for the fact that when she does wake up, she might be confused or agitated. She may not remember the incident. There might be some temporary disorientation." Deacon nodded. "That's fine. I don't care if she doesn't remember the last ten years. I just need her to wake up." Dr. Mendez gave him a rare, warm look. "She's fighting. You should too." She stepped out quietly. Once again, the room fell silent, but it felt different—lighter, yet more intense. Hope felt fragile, almost painful since it had been absent for so long. Hondo watched him for a moment. "This changes things." Deacon shook his head. "No. It just makes things clearer." "What do you mean?" He looked at Annie. Really looked. The bruises. The wires. The machine doing what her body couldn't manage alone. "She's coming back," Deacon whispered. "And when she does... I'm going to make sure nothing in this world can hurt her again." Hondo's jaw clenched. "Deac—" "This isn't about revenge," Deacon said quietly. "It's about protection. It's about survival." Hondo assessed him, realizing there was no changing his mind about whatever decision he'd reached. Finally, he nodded once. "Then we do it the right way. Together." For the first time all night, Deacon took a breath that didn't hurt his chest. His wife was still fighting. And now... so was he.