Chapter 2 - The President Needs You

I'd better revert to my plan and go home. 

The following day, I went for a run before tending the garden. 

This is one of my favorite things I do to relieve boredom or stress. 

I went to my room to have a shower before striding to my kitchen to get something to drink. 

As I was drinking, I heard my house phone ring. I jogged toward the phone and picked up the call. 

"Hello," I said. 

"General Rossini here, Captain Smith open your garage, the president needs your help," he barked and immediately hang up. 

I peered at the window and saw a Bentley parked in front of my house and there were other cars parked around the corner.  

In haste, I picked up a gun that was in my drawer near the phone. 

I tucked it behind me before I strode and went outside. 

I have to make sure who was in the car.  

I'm not stupid to open my garage because I was ordered by my superior. 

Who knows. Perhaps it's a hoax. 

I used my left hand to knock on the rear passenger seat while my right hand was at my back, ready to pull my gun. Just in case. 

The window rolled down. 

Greeting me was the president's pale face, obviously in pain. 

"Mr. President?" I whispered. 

I was surprised and yet I still remembered to protect him. So I did not speak loudly. 

"Open the garage," he said while he winced in pain and my eyes trailed to where his hands were. 

I saw blood and quickly, I darted to the house, opening the garage. 

While my comrade maneuvered the car towards the garage. I ran towards the small surgery room. 

I was glad that my grandfather built this for me, so that anyone would come to me when they needed me. 

I opened the lights and took the surgical instruments I might be needing and sterilized them before I went back to the garage. 

My comrade had already parked the car and was about to help the president get out of the car. 

I held the president's arm and wrapped it around my shoulders. 

My hand held his waist while my other hand pressed his injury to stop the bleeding. 

He hissed in pain as I pressed his injury. 

"Bear with it Mr. President, I have to stop the bleeding," I told him, earning a grunt from him. 

"What happened?" I asked my comrade. 

"We were hunting and a bear attacked him," my comrade answered my question. 

I wasn't surprised. This side of the country has many reported bear attacks. 

That was why my grandpa insisted that I have a small surgical room in the house so I can readily help. 

The nearest hospital from the forest was twenty five miles while the military base was thirty miles away. 

So it was a wise move to bring the president to my house, which was just about three miles away from the forest. 

That was the reason my superior called me. 

"Where were you? Shouldn't you be protecting the president?" I voiced out. 

Maybe, it's just my natural reaction whenever I see someone in pain. My concern would naturally show. 

My comrade was silent and did not answer me. Hence, I didn't pursue the matter. 

What matters most now is to tend to the president's injury. 

"Lay him on the surgical table," I ordered while I put on hand gloves. 

I heard a hiss coming from the president as my comrade lay him on the surgical table. 

"Do make calls in the base and let them bring blood here. The president might need blood transfusion, we better get ready," I instructed while using the scalpel to tear the president's t - shirt. 

Though the cut wasn't too deep. I was still nervous as it was the president I was treating. 

I forced myself to calm down. My forehead was covered in sweat when I was done. 

By the time I was done, Major Kavanaugh arrived with the bag of blood.