Repatriate Protocol Box Set 3

by Kelli Kimble

  I grabbed the tablet and started flipping through the subjects. She was right; there was a first-aid section. “Okay, first, this says I need to assess your injuries — even the lesser ones. Take your clothes off.”

  “What? I can’t take my clothes off. I can barely move.”

  I pulled out my knife. “I’m going to cut your pant leg free, then we’ll just scoot the other leg off, all right? Can you get your shirt?”

  She came into a semi-sitting position and pulled one arm out of her coat with a grunt, followed by the other, and shrugged it off. She did the same with her shirt. When she was settled back against the bedroll, I cut a slit down the side of her pants and peeled it back to reveal the injury.

  I blushed. I didn’t need her to take off her clothes; I could see her injuries mentally. “Don’t be so stupid,” I whispered to myself.

  “What?”

  “Uh, nothing. Okay, next, it says I need to check you for bleeding. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

  “Just scrapes, I think.” Her voice sounded weaker.

  I had to finish this up fast.

  I gently rolled her onto the side and looked at her back. I could see bruises forming, but no open gashes or cuts. I set her back down. She groaned. “You can breathe, right? There’s nothing obstructing your airway?” I crouched beside her head and mentally scanned her neck. It seemed okay.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I can breathe fine.”

  “Good. That’s good. Okay. Next . . . next, I need to check below the injury for circulation and feeling. So, can you wiggle your toes?” I glanced down at her feet. She was still wearing her boots, but I could mentally see her toes moving in her boot. “Great. Now, I just need to find a pulse below the injury. Just a second.” I felt around above her ankle, but her boot was in the way. I’d need to remove it after all. My fingers felt clumsy, and I fumbled with the ties.

  “What’re you doing?” she asked. Was her speech starting to sound slurred? What did that mean?

  “Um, I’ve got to take your boot off to check for a pulse. I’m sorry; I think this might hurt a little.” I gave myself a little mental shake, and then used my mind to untangle the strands of the laces. When they were more manageable, I loosened them all the way down the boot, careful not to disturb her leg. Cupping one hand under the heel of the boot, I pulled it down and away, easing her foot out of the boot. Then, I rolled her sock down over her ankle and around her heel until it came free.

  The tablet said there should be a pulse right above her ankle bone, on the inside of her foot. I smoothed my fingers over the area and mentally scanned it.

  I couldn’t find her pulse.

  I tried again; this time, I lowered my face until my eyes were inches from her ankle. I added light inside my mind and looked for a visual cue. Shouldn’t there have been a line of blue, or a ridge to indicate a blood vessel of some kind?

  I poked around her ankle bone one more time, then turned back to the tablet. It said there was another place to check — on top of the foot. But there was nothing there, either.

  I took off her other boot and looked for her pulse in her other foot. It was easily found in both places.

  Not good.

  The tablet didn’t say what to do if the pulse wasn’t present. It only said to make sure it was present. I read through the entire document again. It mentioned not setting the bone; it said to leave that to a professional, so as not to inadvertently cut off the circulation. But, clearly, her circulation was already cut off. Maybe I needed to try and move the broken bone?

  For a moment, it was all too much. I jumped out of the shelter, heaving in deep breaths as fast as I could get them in. I leaned over and rested my palms on my knees, then studied the ground around my feet. Get yourself together, Nimisila. She’s going to lose her leg or die if you don’t.

  To the east, the horizon was starting to lighten. Thank God, it was nearly daylight. I desperately needed a rest, and I couldn’t have one at night — especially while Gayle couldn’t move.

  Nimisila? Are you there? Gayle called for me from inside the tent.

  Yes, sorry. I just – I’m a little squeamish. I needed a minute, is all. I gulped in as much air as I could and went back into the shelter.

  “I’m getting cold,” she said. I cast my mental light over her face and was surprised to see she seemed to be turning blue.

  Shit.

  I laid the shirt she had shed over her torso, then helped her put her coat on backwards so that she wouldn’t have to lift herself up.

  I tore off my own coat and settled it over her legs. “I have to move your leg,” I said. “I’m going to do it with my mind, okay? I think, if I concentrate, I’ll be able to see the bones, and I just have to move them a little. I think the break is cutting off your circulation to your lower leg, and the tablet says that’s bad. I’ve got to fix it. Okay?”

  She gave me a slight nod. Her teeth were chattering too much for her to speak.

  “All right. Here goes. You want to hold my hand?”

  Her hand grasped for mine, and I held onto it. Then, I turned my attention to her leg. I closed my eyes and focused on what the surface of her skin looked like, and what was underneath. My thoughts slid under her skin and moved slowly down to settle on her thigh bone. I moved up the bone, looking for the break. It was easy to identify; there was a swelling mass of blood all around it.

  I suppressed a harsh intake of breath and forced myself to remain calm. Gayle needed me to do this one time and do it right. I couldn’t risk moving it more than once.

  I studied the break from every angle, floating around it. The break looked clean, but a blood vessel had slid between the two broken halves and was pinched there. To one side, blood was backed up, and it was swelling like a balloon. On the other side, the vessel looked limp and weak.

  “I’m going to do this now,” I said. “I’m going to count to three and do it. Okay?”

  She squeezed my hand in reply.

  “One,” I said.

  I concentrated on the break — then, without counting any further, I lurched the two bones apart and swept the vessel out of its pinched position. Then, I pushed the bones back together.

  Gayle screamed, her hand reflexively clamping down on mine. Holding her hand had been a mistake; she’d nearly broken my fingers. What if I’d let that pain interrupt my concentration? I mentally berated myself. Couldn’t I do anything right?

  I managed to keep my eye on the blood vessel. The balloon evened out and went away after only a few beats of her heart. I watched to see if anything was leaking out of the vessel, but it seemed okay. I mentally turned my attention down her leg and her foot, looking for some visual confirmation that blood circulation had been restored.

  Everything looked fine.

  I opened my eyes and checked for the pulse in her foot. I found it. “Gayle! Gayle, I did it! You’ve got circulation back.”

  She didn’t answer, and I looked up at her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth hanging open. She must’ve lost consciousness from the pain.

  I rearranged the coats, and then wrapped the bedroll over her so that she’d be as warm as possible. I went back to the tablet. According to it, she needed a splint. I needed two sturdy boards or limbs to wrap either side of her leg in, and then I needed to tie the boards to her leg.

  Carefully, I rolled her sock back onto her foot to keep it warm, and I left the shelter. Glancing around, the closest trees were on the ridge above us. I floated up, keeping a mental eye on the shelter as I went. I found two sticks about an inch in diameter and went back to the shelter. I dug some rope out of my pack. I set the fabric of her pant leg back into place and placed the sticks on either side of her leg. Then, starting at the bottom, I tied the two sticks to her leg. I was careful not to tie it too tight; after all that work to get her circulation back, I didn’t want to revisit that issue.

  By the time I was done, the sun had fully risen. Gayle’s face was almost a normal color, and her hands and feet didn
’t feel so cold. I kept her legs elevated slightly and snugged the coats around her a little tighter.

  Then, I decided I probably ought to build a fire.

  Again, the closest source of tinder and firewood was the ridge above. I scanned the area for animals, and after finding only small animals, like squirrels and birds, I floated up to the ridge and picked up an armful of firewood. From that vantage point, I scanned the area around the tent. It was a strange, low-lying area, against the cliff. From up there, it looked quite rocky, but I knew there were level areas, as well, because I’d pitched the shelter on a flat section of sandy dirt.

  Beyond the rocky area, grass spread away from the shelter in a large, bowl shape. The forest encroached on the edges of the bowl, but that was a distance off — maybe a mile or two. Between here and there were only high grasses and weeds. The trees were mostly pine, but I could see a handful of deciduous sprinkled among them. A large bird circled above the bowl and dipped down suddenly to catch a rodent for its supper.

  Our location didn’t look ideal. It felt exposed and was likely visible, sticking above the grass. The steep hill might have provided some protection, a wall to back up against. But we had come down it ourselves, so surely, an animal could descend it, as well. After I got a fire built and maybe found some fresh water to fill our canteens, it would be a good idea to scout for a nearby spot with more protection.

  I finished collecting wood and went back to the shelter. I dropped the firewood and poked my head in to check on Gayle. She had her hands folded across her belly, and she was snoring. I took that to be a good sign.

  The rocks did provide the benefit of an easy fire circle. I stacked a circle of them together and had a fire going in hardly any time at all. Satisfied I’d accomplished something, I sat down and pulled a spyro bag from my pack. I was about to drink it – disgusting as it was – when it occurred to me we wouldn’t be going far anytime soon. I’d better keep it for later and try to scavenge food instead.

  I sought out a nearby rabbit mentally and snared it. It still didn’t sit right with me — catching an animal and eating it. But I wasn’t going to find much else to eat around here. I cleaned and gutted it mentally from a distance, not willing to do it with my actual hands. I brought it to me and settled it on a stick over the fire. Then, I took out the tablet with the maps on it and looked for a source of water nearby.

  The map showed a good-sized river nearby, so close that I should have been able to see or hear it. But, even when I closed my eyes, floated out of my body, and moved beyond the edge of the bowl, I couldn’t find it. I suppose that was to be expected; surely, a map couldn’t be 100% accurate after a thousand years. Even so, it annoyed me, and I cast the tablet aside.

  I was going to have to find water farther from Gayle than I was comfortable going, so I’d have to do it mentally. But I was just too tired – mentally and physically – to do it.

  When the rabbit was done, I picked the carcass clean, eating half of it and setting the rest aside for Gayle. I poked my head into the shelter; she was still asleep.

  The sun was coming upon mid-morning. With the fire going, and the shelter up, I felt just safe enough to crawl into the shelter for a nap. I curled up against Gayle’s left side so that I wouldn’t disturb her leg, and I was asleep in minutes.

  ◆◆◆

  I woke up late in the afternoon, when Gayle shifted beside me. I sat up and checked on her. Her forehead felt good: nice and dry, not too hot. Her eyes fluttered open when I touched her. Nim, she projected to me.

  I’m here.

  It hurts. A lot.

  I know. I’m sorry; I wish I had something to give you for the pain.

  I’m thirsty.

  I uncapped her canteen and held it to her lips. She gulped down three or four mouthfuls, and then dropped her head back against my pack.

  She lifted her arm and dragged the back of her hand over her lips. “Am I . . . is my coat on backwards?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “I took it off to check you for injuries. It just seemed easier to get it back on without lifting your torso.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “We’re almost out of water,” I said. “I need to go and find some. But I don’t want to leave you here alone. I’m going to have to do it telepathically, okay? I’ll be right here beside you, and all you have to do is touch me or talk, and I’ll be back.”

  “Okay,” she said. Her face looked a little vacant. I’m not sure she understood only my shell would be there to protect her — and it wouldn’t do any protecting unless she called my mind back to the shell.

  “All right. I’m right here, just to your left. Try and touch my knee, so I can be sure you can reach me. Okay? Gayle?”

  She moved her hand towards me, grasping with her fingers until she touched my knee.

  “There’s no such thing as too hard, Gayle. Don’t be shy.”

  She clenched her fist and rapped at my knee, as if she were knocking on a door.

  “Good. That’s great. If you’re scared, or you need something — anything — then that’s what you do. Just knock on my knee bone like that. Got it?”

  She nodded, and her hand retreated to her side.

  I took a deep breath and mentally grabbed a canteen before floating my mind out of the shelter and above, heading towards the trees. It seemed likely water would be hiding there, and maybe the leaves and needles of the trees were dampening the sound of the water so that I couldn’t hear it.

  I came up over the trees and paused to decide which direction to go. Water flowed downhill, so I opted to move to my left, where the trees seemed to be forming a depression in the height of the canopy. I couldn’t see through the dense upper branches, so I floated down, touching my feet to the ground and walking.

  There, the woods sounded enchanting; a bird tweeted, and another returned the call. A moth fluttered by, and a squirrel was scampering between the trees.

  As I turned in a circle, listening carefully for the sound of water, a hint of movement caught my eye. I moved up among the branches again, floating towards what I had seen. At first, I didn’t see what it was — but then, it raised its head and looked around.

  It was a big cat.

  Though I knew it couldn’t see me, it could see the canteen I held, floating through the air. The cat looked at the canteen and drew its tongue in a slow revolution, around all its teeth. It tipped its head to one side, and then took several halting steps towards me. I wasn’t sure what to do. If I dropped the canteen, I’d have to come back for it — and the cat might have stuck around who-knew-how-long, waiting for me to come back. If I took it with me, it could just follow me right back to Gayle — and I certainly didn’t want Gayle to know there were cats around.

  I started to float up, taking the canteen with me. Maybe I could have perched it up high in a branch, and the cat wouldn’t be willing to exert the energy to get it.

  But, I wasn’t so lucky. The cat jumped to the nearest tree and began climbing, neatly keeping pace with me as I rose.

  I stopped where I was, and the cat stopped, too. It was positioned upright against the trunk, the enormous claws in its paws on full display as they gripped the bark of the tree.

  I gulped. This was not ideal. How could I protect Gayle from this constant threat? I had to sleep, at least occasionally.

  I nearly dropped the canteen when a voice spoke inside my head. I see you, it said. I could swear the cat smirked.

  Could it? Could it see anything more than the canteen?

  I dropped the canteen, but the cat’s eyes didn’t follow the bottle’s descent. My stomach felt like an empty pit.

  Aha, you didn’t know. But, I can. I can see you. I can see you’re afraid. I see. I see.

  I knew what I had to do.

  The poor cat didn’t even see it coming, despite its teasing.

  I bashed it in the head so fast and hard, it didn’t have time to make a sound. The cat fell to the ground with a sickening thump.

&nb
sp; I fought the urge to throw up. It was getting to be commonplace for me to kill. I did not like it.

  I dove back to the cat and checked for signs of life. It was dead.

  Just for a moment, I wondered what the meat would taste like. Then, I remembered the cats back home, and it just seemed wrong.

  I grabbed the canteen and moved towards where I had first seen the cat. A small pond of water was there, collected in a shallow depression of mud, with reedy grass all around. “Thank you, Mr. Kitty,” I said. I wouldn’t have found it without him. I filled the canteen and floated back up through the trees, looking for something unique to mark my way. There was a single half-dead oak tree, its branches scratching at the sky, like the dead cat’s claws. I moved towards it, and then allowed the tug in my belly to pull me home, towards my body. It was getting close to sunset, and I couldn’t leave Gayle alone any longer.

  I’d have to come back tomorrow to get rid of the cat.

  ◆◆◆

  I kept the fire going all night and sat beside Gayle in the shelter. The nap I’d taken during the day had gone a long way to refreshing me, but it wasn’t enough to keep me going all night. I took out the tablet and started reading through the history documents again. I came across some of Silver’s notes in the margin, and after checking for danger, I traced my fingers over the letters.

  A scene snapped into my head, brighter and crisper than the last one had been. There were people sitting all around a fire at dusk. Silver’s hands were extended in front of me, warming themselves over the fire. To my right was the woman who I thought might be Tabby.

  On my left, there was a man. He was talking to Silver. “We need to consider what to do. We can’t just hope this is going to go away.” His voice was quiet. His gaze darted around the circle, and then back to Silver. He leaned towards Silver and said even quieter, “People are going to panic. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

  I wasn’t sure at first Silver had heard what the man said. He didn’t respond, and he continued to rub his hands together over the fire. He was quiet for so long that it startled me when he finally spoke. “I know, Leif. I know. I wish I had some answer to give, but I don’t.”