Who: Molly and Jesse When: Sunday, Spring, 1,185 AP Where: Tasmania What: A day in the life of the stricken children...
Molly walked down the corridor, Jesse trying to keep up with her. Clack Clack Clack, her shoes went on the floor, Jesse always wondered how she could work so many hours in three inch shoes. Jesse was always in sneakers and jeans most the time, sometimes she would wear dressy flats and a nice skirt, but not very often. Molly on the other hand was always in high heels, feminine business suits of either pants, or skirt. She always looked professional, was efficient, polite, and cared about all her patients, even if they were in a coma most the time. The little staff she had around her adored her, and thought she was a sweetheart. However, they did notice something hidden in her eyes, a sort of sadness in her eyes that she tried to hide to give everyone else hope around her for the situation.
They got to the room they were going to, and she stopped, looked at the chart, and walked in. It was a young girl that was fourteen now, but had been there since she was twelve and fell into a coma when she hit puberty. She sighed, walking into the room, while Jesse had hurried in a little before her and had the sheets pulled back. Molly did her exam, and looked up at Jesse. "No, change either way." This little girl had been with them the longest, no one knew why she was surviving so long, most would linger in the coma for a few months to maybe a year, but this little one was a fighter. She looked at the little girl petted her hair back from her face, and thought about the child that she could have had. Well, if things hadn't happened the way they did, however even though she kept her burden to herself, it seemed that her tragedy when she was younger was her savior now. They weren't sure, but it seemed to be becoming a fact that this virus didn't attack those that were sterile, or of a certain age where there hormones were at a certain level.
She gave a little smile to Jesse, and then went to the next room. Jesse was now left to do those things that all the comatose children got from the people that were on staff at the Tasmanian facility. Jesse began to move the young comatose girl's legs arms, turned her into another position so she wouldn't get bed sores, and looked for any bed sores that could be on her to report to a nurse to dress. She looked down at the young girl, and was glad that she had been just that much older. She knew that was mean of her to think, but one really couldn't help but to think that when young children hitting puberty had been coming here, now they only had a few. But it was enough.