Long Live the Rebel

by E L Irwin

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Shiv, come boy. Help me dig,” Ryler said as he began to claw the dirt from under me. Shiv soon joined in. Between the two of them they made quick work of it. “All right, boy. Let’s get her out. Pull!”

  Ryler grunted at the weight of the tree as he strained to lift it from me. Shiv grabbed my jacket in his teeth and pulled, jerking me. Ryler had to set the tree down again to get a better grip on it. Then we continued our efforts. Slowly but surely, I made it out.

  Ryler helped me roll to my back then gently looked me over. I was pretty sure he just needed to make certain I wasn’t about to pass out or even bleed out on him. When he was apparently satisfied I wasn’t dying, he said, “There’s a little clearing about ten yards uphill and to the west. We’ll head there, and then I can take a better look at you, okay?”

  Tears hadn’t stopped falling from my eyes since he’d found me. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of climbing or moving, but I wasn’t going to be left behind, so I simply agreed, barely moving my head at all.

  “We’ll take it slow,” he assured me as he pulled my left arm over his shoulder and wrapped his right arm around my waist. “There’s no rush.”

  Even with Ryler bearing most of my weight, it took us nearly half an hour to reach that clearing. Every step hurt. Every step brought a flash of burning, searing heat through my battered body. When we finally stopped, I just wanted to cry. I did whimper as I slid to the ground. Ryler knelt beside me then helped me take my zippered hoodie off and had me lie on my back again.

  Now that he had more room to work, he gently, painstakingly examined me. “Well,” he said after a minute or two. “I’m pretty sure your leg is broken. And your shoulder is dislocated. I’ll need to set them both.” He looked around, for what, I wasn’t sure. Then he rose to his feet. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back. Shiv, stay.” He walked off a few steps. I tried not to panic at his going. I heard some snapping noises, then he came back with two sticks, each a little less than two feet long.

  “I’m just going to try and support your leg until we can get you to the hospital, but your shoulder I can do here.”

  With the barest of movements, I agreed and watched as he worked in careful, swift motions. Soon my leg felt a little more secure, though the swelling was killing me. My only compensation was knowing that the brace he’d made was temporary, and that I’d get a proper cast once we got to the hospital. Ryler was kneeling beside me, giving me a look as he viewed my shoulder.

  “Is this where you do the countdown thing, making me think you’re going to move it on three, but instead you move it on two?” I quavered.

  “Please.” Ryler rolled his eyes at me. His thumbs tenderly stroked my skin where his hands rested on me, trying to calm me for what we both knew was coming. “That wouldn’t work on you. Besides, you already know about it, and you’d tense up, and that would make things worse. No, I’m just going to have to do it the—” Without any warning at all he jerked my arm back into place. “—old-fashioned way.”

  The pain flared sharply, then the flare was gone, and only a dull throbbing was left behind. “I am going to kill you, Ryler.” I gasped and clutched at my shoulder.

  He just chuckled and said, “I think you mean kiss. You’re going to kiss me, right? I did just fix your shoulder and made it as painless as I possibly could. And I rescued you. So…”

  “Whatever.”

  “Ah, c’mon, banana.”

  Despite the pain, I couldn’t help the chuckle. “I’m lying here practically dying, and you’re mocking me.”

  “You’re not dying, banana. Trust me.”

  “It sure feels like it.”

  “Yeah, I know. Look, all joking aside, we need to get you out of here. I don’t want you to panic, but I’m pretty sure someone took a shot at you today.”

  Dread coated me. “What?”

  “I heard a gunshot… and then later, I found you like this.”

  “I, I heard it, too. Then the tree beside me exploded.”

  Ryler nodded, confirming what he already suspected, his jaw tight. “Let’s get you home.”

  He helped me to get upright then said, “You’re going to be sore, and you’ll need to be careful as we go. We’ll get back to the cabin then get you down to the hospital for X-rays.”

  “I hate hospitals,” I groaned.

  He chuckled. “I know. I’m not a fan either, but we need to make sure that nothing internal is damaged.”

  That thought brought on a whole new round of panic that I tried to overcome. Slowly, we trudged up the mountain.

  Seeing AJ’s bloody, torn up body was one of the scariest things that Ryler had ever experienced. And it was only through the grace of God Almighty and the training the Army had given him that allowed him to stay calm and focused. It held him together when he wanted to vomit and tremble. Hearing her voice, pained and shaky as it was, had been one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. He’d had to touch her, feel her at that point.

  Ryler had allowed all his field training to come in to play as he’d assessed her injuries and the position she’d been in. He’d been able to isolate and compartmentalize. And soon he’d devised a plan to get her out, all the while working swiftly, wondering if another shot was coming, if the shooter was still out there. He wondered if they’d moved to a better position, or if he was even now in the crosshairs. Ryler ignored those possibilities and just continued to work.

  He’d wondered these last several days if something was cooking. There had been too much tension. Too many things were lining up, indicating AJ’s attacker was closing in, planning to make a move. Things had calmed somewhat, but it hadn’t felt calm. It had felt like they were standing in the eye of a massive storm that was bearing down on them. And he’d felt helpless to do anything other than ride it out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  No Safe Haven

  I wasn’t sure just how long it took us to hike up that mountain. It seemed like days and days — which I knew wasn’t accurate — but it sure seemed like it. Ryler wanted to try and follow the path of my near destruction as we ascended. Several times he had me sit and rest while he scouted around. What he was looking for exactly, I wasn’t sure. Then, we found — hours later, it seemed — where I’d been standing when we’d heard that shot. The trail and the soil were gone, having slid down the mountain, though the tree was still there, somehow clinging to the side of the hill.

  Ryler had me sit several feet away, then he carefully inspected that tree, using his phone’s flashlight to see. At one point, I saw him take out his knife and dig around in the wood. He put whatever it was that he’d dug out, the bullet maybe, into his pocket. And he took pictures, lots of pictures. He also studied the angle of the explosion point. He shook his head, lost in thought, as he approached me, and we continued on.

  Once back at the cabin, he had me rest and got me some water. Shiv stayed glued to my side, concern stamped across his furry face. Ryler called Chief and let him know I’d been found. Told him he was taking me to the hospital. Ryler said something about going the back way, and that they had some work to do the next day. He called the Sequim Police Department and left a message for the detective there. He also called Detective Whitaker and left a message, letting him know what had happened. Then we headed out.

  Ryler led me through his bedroom and out the door there. Whether due to the pain or the darkness, I barely registered what his room looked like. I noticed the bed mainly because we had to walk right past it to reach the door. It was dark at the back of the house. Really dark.

  “Careful now,” he said as he helped me down the steps. We shuffled around the cabin to where his Bronco was parked. And then he silently, carefully lifted me inside. Shiv whined, wanting to come with us, but Ryler said, “Stay, Shiv. Guard.”

  And in somewhat surprised shock, I watched the dog head off into the trees, looking for all it was worth that he understood and intended to stand guard for us.

  “
How does he know?” I asked Ryler when he climbed into the driver’s seat. “It’s like he understands you and knows what you’re saying to him. Not only now, but also back in the trees when you told him to find me, to dig.”

  “He just does,” Ryler said as he started the Bronco. Instead of backing up to then heading down the driveway to the main highway, Ryler drove forward across the back yard. He didn’t use the headlights, just the running lights. Not until we were well into the trees did he turn the full lights on. The road we followed was barely cleared, barely more than an overgrown trail. The grass was tall; the swishing sound filled the cab as it brushed against the bottom of the Bronco.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, my lips tight through with pain.

  “You should always have a secondary means of escape. Never allow yourself to be bottled in and trapped.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Ryler tried to go slow, to not bump along the ground so that I wouldn’t be in too much discomfort. But that made it seem like we were barely crawling. Toward the bottom of the mountain, we crossed over a swift moving stream. About twenty feet on the other side of it were two smaller trees lying across the road. Ryler stopped the Bronco and got out. It didn’t take him long to move them, then he climbed back inside, and we were off again. About five minutes later we came to a locked gate. And again, he climbed out to unlock it.

  I must have fallen asleep, because I remembered the gate, going through it, but then everything else became murky as sleep claimed me. The next thing I knew he was carrying me into the ER at the Olympic Medical Center in Port Angeles.

  Chief was already there waiting for us, as was Caleb Andrews. Ryler got me to the triage station, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass from the window. Blood and dirt were streaked and smeared across my face and down my neck. A deep cut was above my right eye near my hairline that had bled quite a bit. My lips and cheek were scraped raw and bleeding as well. I hadn’t realized how bad I looked, all that had happened to me, until this moment. And I couldn’t stop the tears that welled up and spilled over, a new ache filling me.

  Ryler hugged me closer, even as the nurses brought a wheelchair over for me. They wanted to get me into imaging to see what, if any, damage had been done to me internally. I didn’t want to let him go, so I clung to him, to his hand.

  “Hey,” he said, his grip warm and comforting. “I’m right here. You’re safe. You just need to get checked out, all right?”

  “Stay with me,” I pleaded with him, too tired, too scared to worry about the fact that I was begging.

  “I will.” He looked to the nurses, his voice firming. “I’m staying.”

  They agreed and then let him push me toward the imaging department. Over the next several hours, I was poked and prodded and photographed. Questioned. Questioned some more. From everyone. The nursing staff, the technicians, the doctors, the police. I’d kept my eyes glued to Ryler the entire time. And while that kept me calm, allowing me to deal with everything, he seemed off. Distant and withdrawn, as if he was being ratcheted down. I didn’t know what to make of it. And my head hurt too much to try and solve that mystery right now. At one point he’d pulled Detective Andrews aside and had given him something from his pocket. Then he showed him the pictures he’d taken earlier.

  The detective looked everything over, had Ryler send him the photos, and said he’d send whatever Ryler had given him off to be evaluated.

  At the end of it, I had what they were calling a closed, fibular, shaft fracture, which I was assured was actually a good break, as those were quite easy to set. Ryler was praised by the doctor for having done such a good job stabilizing my leg earlier. My right shoulder was all right thanks to Ryler having properly set it, though it still ached some. My right ankle was sprained, and I’d bruised some ribs as well. Basically, my right side had taken the most abuse, but at least I’d be able to use my right arm, which meant that I would be able to continue writing. My leg would be out of commission for a while, though, and in a cast. The cut near my hairline had to be stitched. It took four. The rest of my body was covered in a myriad of bruises and minor scrapes, and it was believed that I had a mild concussion. But at least I was still alive, I reminded myself.

  We didn’t leave until close to four in the morning. Exhaustion was weighing heavy on me by this point. I was told I’d need to keep my leg elevated and still as much as possible, even though it was in a bulky cast, so they’d rolled me out in a wheelchair. Chief pulled Ryler aside while I was filling out paperwork, and they had a short, yet tense discussion. As I was finishing up, Chief patted Ryler on the shoulder. It looked like he might have been about to say something more, but then he turned and headed in my direction and said, “Well, kid, you’ve looked better.”

  Chuckling at that, and wincing as I did, I said, “No doubt, thanks.”

  “You just need to rest. We’ve got this, all right?”

  I dipped my head slightly, not sure exactly what it was that he had, but still, he was so confident about it I just agreed with him. And now, as Ryler drove us back toward Sequim, I turned to him. At first, I just stared at his profile, tracing each contour with my eyes. And even with the pain throbbing mildly, I felt a warmth stirring in my middle and a pang in my heart. “What’s up?” Ryler asked after several minutes. He shot me a look before returning his focus back to the highway.

  “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all this, Ryler. I didn’t mean for this to happen, and it’s not fair to you, and… I’m sorry.”

  I’d begun thinking about that look in his eyes at the hospital, that distant, locked-down look and wondered if he was just reaching overcapacity with all the stress that I seemed to bring. Wondered if he was now regretting becoming involved with me.

  “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do this. Don’t you dare apologize, AJ. This isn’t your fault.”

  Unsure how to respond to his statement, I just remained quiet.

  “Is that what you think?” he asked, the tone in his voice making me shiver. “That I’m somehow mad at you or something?”

  “I don’t know, Ryler. You just seemed… off. Distant. I thought maybe… maybe you were regretting… things.”

  “No. I don’t regret anything, other than that I haven’t nailed this guy yet.”

  “Something was bothering you at the hospital. I could see it.”

  Ryler inhaled, long and slow. Then let it out. “I don’t like hospitals. Too many bad memories.”

  “Because of your injuries?”

  “That. And other things.”

  “Those men… Moose and them?”

  He agreed silently then said, “And your dad. Just a lot of bad memories.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “that you had to deal with all that again. That those memories came up.”

  “It’s not your fault. None of this was your fault.”

  “Is there anything else? Bothering you, I mean?”

  He shot me another look, and something flashed in his eyes, turning the blue-gray to cold steel. “Someone took a shot at you today, AJ. That wasn’t lightning, wasn’t an accident. This person is dead serious. And I want them dead. Not caught, just dead.”

  “Oh,” I agreed. “Yeah, me, too.”

  We pulled into Jake’s long driveway, and it occurred to me that we weren’t going the back way. “No back way this time?” I asked.

  “Chief had a couple of his boys clear the woods along the drive and around my place. So, it’s safe now.”

  “You mean?”

  “They did a sweep, making sure the shooter was no longer in the area.”

  “I take it they were gone?”

  “Yep. But they left a burnout mark in the gravel a quarter mile or so from Jake’s drive.”

  Just nodding at that, I looked around us. It was dark; I couldn’t see beyond the headlights. I tried not to be fearful, but I couldn’t help but worry. Couldn’t help the way my eyes darted between the shadows, looking for those things that go
bump in the night. The realization that someone had taken a shot at me today was, was terrifying. And even though I’d experienced the event, I was still having a hard time processing that truth in my brain. Ryler’s haven suddenly didn’t seem as safe as it had before.

  Shiv ran to greet us as we pulled up. After parking and turning the Bronco off, Ryler came around to help me out. Carefully, he lifted me down then carried me inside.

  They’d cleaned me up some at the hospital and given me a clean hospital gown to go home in, but blood and dirt and grime were still in my hair and on my skin. So, as we moved to the couch, I stopped him. “I’m dirty. I need to clean up, somehow.”

  Ryler paused, considering my request. He glanced to the staircase and back and said, “All right.” Then without further comment, he gently readjusted me in his arms and carried me up the stairs to my room.

  “Why, thank you kindly, Rhett,” I said in my best Scarlett O’Hara accent. It helped that I was already breathless from my bruised ribs. The rumble of his laughter sounded in my ear, bringing a warmth with it. He helped me into the bathroom and had me sit carefully on the toilet lid. He looked toward the shower then the tub then back to me. “Uh, which one? Can you stand all right? Or do you need to be sitting?”

  “I need to wash my hair.”

  “Can you lift your arms up to do that? Try.”

  Lifting my left arm didn’t hurt too bad, except for the fact that my ribs screamed as I stretched them. And my right arm was basically out of commission due to the dislocation. Tears pricked my eyes again at the sheer frustration of the situation.

  “No…” Ryler shook his head. “…you can’t. Look, I’ll help you. If you want.”

  Through my tears, I just nodded, grateful beyond words.

  “Uh, my shower is bigger. How about I take you down there, and we’ll get you cleaned up?”

  “Okay,” I whispered through my emotion. Ryler lifted me again and carried me back down the stairs. We went through his room and into the bathroom. He was right, this shower was much bigger. “You sit here for a sec. I’ll go grab my office chair. It reclines, and it’s mesh, so the water won’t hurt it. Then I can wash your hair while you’re sitting down. How’s that?”