I picked myself off the ground, groaning as I felt a slight twinge in my wrist. Hey, at least that hangover was gone. But what about...
'Dad! Dad!' My eyes hurriedly scanning his, as they slowly glazed over from unconsciousness. His eyelids closed over drowsily... I punched the ground. I had no idea where we were, some woodland area. Must be just outside DC. I checked for all the signs...pulse was good, there wasn't anything weird where it shouldn't be. Just lack of oxygen. I tugged the canister off my back and as I administered what should be enough for now, I couldn't help giggling. Ironic how the rookie was helping the boss. Then again, all that stuff that had just happened. It was still a bit blurry, and that was without any alcohol fogging up my memory. He'd put his life before mine...then I'd managed to save him from-He could have died.
'Don't you quit on me,' I addressed his limp form, a little sternly but only because I could feel my eyes getting a little teary. 'I can't lose another parent. I only just found you.' I stood and looked around. If I were to carry him out of the woods, I might be able to gain contact with one of the others. I turned to see...Dad. Yeh. That sounded kindof right now. Like Foster would just be disrespectful. And you can't be disrespectful for people who'd throw themselves between you and Death. Ok, then, Dad, here we go. I picked up his arms, and started to half-drag, half-carry him.
'Sorry about this,' I mumbled. The conversation seemed to lighten the fact that I was carrying my unconscious father and was going to have to make this canister last until I found the others, or he woke up. 'But...to be brutally honest, you are a little heavier than I expected...not an insult!' I sighed. It was the fact that he couldn't pick himself up a little. Everything is weighed down when you're not thinking about it.
About half of the way along, or so I calculated, I decided to make another check up. They said at the first aid that in these cases you had to carry routine checks. 'Hear that, Dad?' I asked as I opened his eyelids up. 'Full marks in that first aid course. Well..nearly full. But I know my stuff.' I looked at the canister of rapidly dwindling oxygen.
He's my father, and I love him, but please, God, do not reduce me to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Much as we're bonding and that, I don't think fathers and daughters should ever be that close.