A Cry for Help

by Donna and Abby

Since Phoenix was still asleep, Sarah Jo left the older Immortal’s breakfast in the warmer of the woodstove. Going back upstairs to the room she had slept in, she put on her veil and slipped her simple wooden cross over the top of her habit. Leaving the house, she headed down the street towards the mission church.

As she walked inside the sanctuary, a sense of peace and calm washed over her. It was at that moment, she somehow knew that everything was going to be all right, one way or the other. After lighting a candle, she dropped to her knees and crossed herself. Lost in prayer, she had no idea how much time had past. But her inner reflection was broken by a faint cry for help. Jumping to her feet, Sarah Jo raced outside. Lying in a crumpled heap near the entrance of the mission was the unconscious body of a priest!

As the nurse knelt down to check him, Dr. Helm came running out of his surgery. He too had heard the desperate cry for help.

"Who would do this to a priest?" the doctor wondered aloud. "Here, help me get him up and I will carry him in to the surgery."

He moaned softly as they turned him over. Blood was streaming down the side of his face. As Sarah Jo steadied him, Dr. Helm lifted him to his feet, placing the priest's limp arm over his shoulder. The young nun took the other side, and together, they half carried, half dragged the unconscious man towards the surgery. Halfway there, he roused somewhat, and started to struggle to get away.

"Shhh," Sarah Jo said soothingly. "We are here to help you. No one is going to hurt you any more, Father." The priest groaned in pain, and tried to take a few steps before passing out again.

Helm took his full weight for a moment; then he lifted the man off his feet and carried him the rest of the way. "I hope I can help him!" he cried, distraught. "I am going to need your help, of course, Miss McCants, but I also think Methos needs to be told of this. If there is this level of crime here . . ."

They got him inside the small medical clinic, and onto an exam table. As the doctor checked the priest's vitals, his new nurse found some bandage material, and applied a compress to his wounds to slow down the bleeding. Already there were visible bruises forming on his face. The injured man's pulse was racing, but was still strong, even though his unequal pupils showed signs of a severe concussion at the very least.No other bones seemed broken, but it was hard to tell about the skull. As they assessed his injuries the priest regained consciousness again. Seeing the young nursing sister beside him, he remained calm, even though he was obviously in a fair amount of pain from the beating that had been given him. She made soothing sounds to him as she tenderly cleaned him up. Once the blood had been washed away, Dr. Helm closed the wound with a couple of stitches and then wrapped a bandage around the patient’s head.Amazingly, just as they finished, Methos came in. "She was right. Dammit, she was right." When they asked who, Methos said, "Lupe. Either she heard you bringing him back here, or she smelled his blood. She told me there was an injury."

He went to look over the drugs on the counter. "This should work on the pain, Robert," he advised

"Thank you, Methos," replied the physician. "Now, after I administer this, you and I will get him upstairs to one of the rooms. We'll draw the curtains, so it is as dark as possible, and Nurse McCants, if you would stay with him?"

"Of course, Doctor," she said, looking nervously at the Immortal who had walked into the room. Once the priest had been given his pain medication, the two men carefully carried him up to a small room where he was laid on the bed. Sarah Jo took off his clerical collar, and loosened his shirt, but left his robes on. Drawing the curtains to darken the room, she took up her station beside him.

"Thank you, Sister," he said weakly. "My name is Alec."

She shushed him, telling him to lie quietly and not try to talk. "Ah'm Sarah Jo, Father," she said softly. "Dr. Helm and I are taking good care of you. Ah’ll be right here beside you. Right now, you just need to rest."Helm and Methos withdrew. "I hope he doesn't need surgery," Methos said. "The operating room you have here is bound to be archaic!"

"Actually," Helm said, "it is very modern. Still, I shouldn't like to have to drill into his skull. They rarely come out well, what with infection . . ."

Methos suppressed a smile. Helm's idea of "modern" was anything after 1817. But he had seen some antibiotics with the medicines on the shelf. Odd place, this.

Upstairs, the pain medication kicked in, and Father Alec drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep. Each time he would rouse, the nursing sister would speak to him softly, soothing his fears. From what he told her, he was from Poland, and had been kidnapped by Secret Policemen, who had been in the process of beating him to death when he had broken away. Apparently that had been the moment he had been whisked away to this new world by whatever power that was bringing people here.

After awhile, he seemed to be resting easier, with his vitals stabilizing. He asked the Sister to pray for him, and as she did, he fell into what seemed to be a peaceful sleep.