Far Country
Page 10
When David had cut through the rope, Steve’s outward arc had carried him away from the base of the rock wall. His twenty foot free fall had ended in rain soaked grass instead of the rock strewn base of the cliff. It was definitely a softer landing, and the reason he was still alive at all, but even so he had bounced on impact, shattering ribs and at least one leg. He was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated as well. The helmet had done its job and kept his skull from cracking open. It had done nothing, however, to protect him from the throbbing ache that made it nearly impossible to think of anything but how to make it stop hurting.
Steve was conscious for perhaps the third time that he remembered since the fall. He had come to the first time during the night, probably shortly after the impact. Shock, and the cold night air sent wracking shivers through his broken body so that he vomited from the pain, and mercifully, passed out again. He remembered a brief time when the sun had first warmed his body and the convulsive shivering had ceased. He had tried to crawl then in his confusion, thinking that he would stand up and walk out of there, but the attempt had instantly wrapped him in excruciating waves of pain, and once again he had passed out. Now he was awake again, and trying desperately not to move. Even so, tears ran down his cheeks with each ragged and agonizing breath. The sun was high in the sky now, the unrelenting rays burned the skin on his face and the sodden heat made inhaling even more difficult. Steve could feel himself weakening as his body grew more dehydrated.
Drink some water.
The voice was clear and firm. Steve’s heart leapt in incredulous hope. Someone had come for him! For the first time since the fall, Steve opened his eyes, expecting to see someone from a rescue team kneeling beside him, but no one appeared. The disappointment was overwhelming. He should have known better! No one knew where he was. No one would even notice he was missing until he didn’t report for work. He suddenly remembered the doctor appointment scheduled for that morning. They would probably think that he was in Winston Salem still, at the appointment that would certify him to return to full duty at last. Steve almost laughed at the thought. It would be hard to certify a dead man! Steve let his eyes close again. He knew he couldn’t survive much longer with his injuries. Better to simply fade into the twilight zone of unconsciousness, and allow nature to do its job.
Drink the water, Steve.
The voice again! Startled, Steve opened his eyes, and slowly lifted his head from the ground, squinting against the yellow glare of the sun. Who was out there? Why didn’t they show themselves? Something brushed his cheek, and he blinked to help himself focus. It was the drinking tube to his camel pack! Water…! Greedily, his cracked lips closed around the tube and the water poured into his mouth, bathwater warm, but still wonderful. Each painful swallow brought relief to his parched throat. He could almost feel the liquid flooding through the cells of his body!
Suddenly exhausted by the effort, Steve allowed the tube to slip out of his mouth, the momentary relief instantly replaced by bitterness. What good would the water do, except postpone the inevitable?
You do not have to die here.
Then Steve had a startling thought. Had David returned to enjoy the fruit of his handiwork? Was he was sitting out there, somewhere just beyond his sight, watching Steve die slowly and painfully? If so, reminding him of the water pack on his back was simply David’s way of ensuring that Steve did not die too quickly or easily. He would want Steve to suffer as long as possible, in payment for what he had done to Sarah.
Well, let him watch, then, Steve thought tiredly. It was an end he deserved. After all, it was the end he had given Sarah. For the millionth time, Steve replayed the image of the rescue teams gently lifting Sarah’s limp and bloody body from the mangled wreck of his car in the ditch. The white glare of the halogen lamps that had been set up to illuminate the scene had burned that last sight of his beloved Sarah indelibly into his memory. She had been so still, he had believed that she was dead already. Instead she had lingered, neither alive nor dead, for all of these long years. If David wanted to watch him die as slowly as his twin sister had, Steve could not find it in his heart to blame his boyhood friend.
This is not the plan I have for your life, Steve. You still have time . Choose to live. For Me.
Steve sucked in his breath, crying out as the action caused pain to streak through his lungs. He groaned aloud in his agony. Where was that voice coming from? Was he so far gone now that he was hearing things? And why would David say something like "Choose life?" Unless he could read Steve’s secret thoughts, and was taunting him with an impossible hope? Because, much to his eternal shame, he did want to live!
All these years, he had believed he was waiting for Sarah, but when he had not been able to kill himself the night he’d learned of her death, he knew that he would never carry out his final promise to the girl he had loved. Despite the shame of his betrayal at the very end of her life, he had stood there by his bed, holding the worn velvet bag that contained Sarah’s ring, and knew that he could not do it after all. He could not bring himself to follow Sarah into death. Not having the key to his gun box was simply one more in the long list of miserable excuses that he had used to justify the fact that he still lived.
“It was an accident, David,” he mumbled. “Please forgive me, David. You know I loved Sarah.”
Ask Me to forgive you, Steve.
That voice again…a wild thought struck Steve, and if he had not been so immersed in pain he would have laughed out loud. “Hey, Reverend Graham, I think your god is talking to me,” he whispered. And then, “Hi God, where’ve you been?”
Waiting for you to need me more, Steve. What do you want most now? You can survive and go back to the way your life has been, or you can turn it all over to me. You can be free of the guilt. You can have peace.
Steve licked his lips. He was hallucinating, he supposed, yet…suppose he did live through this? Would he want to go back to the way he had been living? The emptiness and unending guilt? He thought of Reverend Graham’s God. In his anger he had denied that god and chosen to carry the guilt and sadness alone. But he had grown so tired. Deborah had shown him how lonely his life was. He knew he wanted to live, yes, but he didn’t want to go back to THAT life…could it be so simple? Could he choose to make Reverend Graham’s God the God of his life, too? And be forgiven? Be free of the guilt?
He felt himself surrendering to the possibility.
Thunder rumbled overhead and a sudden gust of cool wind whipped across his sun baked body, making him shiver painfully. An afternoon thunderstorm meant that there was little chance of being discovered by a random hiker, and it also meant that there would be no scent left for the dogs to track. He did not think that he could survive another night in this field. It seemed nature would soon do for him what he had not been able to do for himself.
He felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness but he struggled against it. It seemed a futile gesture, with his death almost certain now, but he was tired. He was tired of being angry, and tired of running from this God that had pursued him since he crawled out of the ditch over five years earlier. He found the drinking tube again and filled his throat with the tepid water. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.
“God, if you’re there, I give up,” he rasped painfully. “I don’t care if I do live or die anymore; I just want to be free. I give you what’s left of my life. Forgive me. Be my God too.” He paused. Was there something else? “Oh, and amen. Thank you, God.”
Steve lay still, panting from the effort. He was probably insane but he didn’t care. He knew he was glad he had finally said the words.
Thunder cracked overhead and the first drops of rain smacked the ground around him. Steve felt his body relax as a sense of peace and comfort suffused him. He smiled a little as his eyes closed and he faded back into oblivion. His struggle was over at last. What happened next was up to his God.
.
Ch 14
Running on a Hunch
Stopping only long enough to collect their rappelling gear, a tent, and an emergency first aid kit, the two rangers had set a brisk pace up the Moore’s Knob trail to the promontory cutoff. The storm was a fast moving system, though, and they had less time than they had hoped to complete the climb. Each rumble of thunder spurred them to move even faster, until they were nearly sprinting over the rocky terrain. They had reached the Wall trail at last, but they would have only minutes before the storm overtook them. Already the wind was picking up. The men stood at the neck of the outcropping, searching anxiously for Steve’s gear bag.
Pete’s heart fell as he scanned the bare rock. There was nothing! No ropes, no gear bag, nothing!
“I don’t get it!” Pete exclaimed to Chuck, his shoulders slumping wearily.”I was so sure he’d be here! This is his favorite spot.” Pete shook his head in defeat. “If he’s not here, he could be anywhere.”
“Yeah,” Chuck agreed glumly. “He could even be back at home while we’re out here jogging up mountain trails.” He took several deep breaths to slow his heart rate from the race up the trail. A pained look crossed Chuck’s usually carefree features, and he glanced sideways at Pete. “Pete,” he began hesitantly, “isn’t it possible Steve just – left? Walked away?”
Pete shook his head dismissing the possibility out of hand. “Steve would never do that. Until this summer I don’t think he’s ever missed a day of work!”
“That’s what I mean,” Chuck continued uncomfortably, but determined to make his point. “Since this summer – since that girl died – he’s been wound up. He’s different, Pete. I’m not so sure...”
Pete closed his eyes. Steve was different lately, he couldn’t deny that, but still Pete was certain beyond reason that something was very wrong, and that time was fast running out. Not willing to give up so easily, he walked further out on the promontory, wincing involuntarily at a flash of lightning that was quickly followed by a crack of thunder. That one was nearly on top of them! They would never make it back down before the rain hit.
Out from the protection of the trees, a strong wind gust caught Pete off guard. He stumbled, caught his foot in a small crevice and dropped to his knees, hard. That hurt. He took a deep breath and went to push himself back to his feet, but stopped abruptly. A rock hammer. Pete picked it up and held the tool up for Chuck to see.
Chuck crouched a little against the wind and joined Pete on the promontory. “That doesn’t prove anything, Pete,” he growled, unconvinced. “It could’ve been dropped there days ago.”
Pete’s jaw set in a stubborn line. Something had happened to Steve. He felt it as clearly as if a hand shaking his shoulder to get his attention. He wasn’t ready to give up. Carefully, he began to make his way further out onto the tongue of rock that jutted far out from the protection of the mountainside. Chuck sighed and followed Pete, working his way as close to the edge as he dared, searching the distant valley floor for any possible clue. The wind whipped his curly blonde hair into his eyes, and he brushed it aside in irritation, peering intently into the distant gloom. Suddenly he stiffened. It was a patch of neon yellow, definitely not a color found in nature, just visible in the brush, some distance from the cliff base.
“Pete!” Chuck said, placing a hand on his friend’s arm to gain his attention. “Pete, look over there – behind those bushes!”
Pete raised his eyes to search an area much further out than he had anticipated, and in the half light of the approaching storm he caught a glimpse of what Chuck had seen.
“What do you think it is?” Chuck asked.
Pete shook his head, but quickly shrugged out of his pack. “It could be a lot of things, but I guess I’ll climb down and take a look,” he replied grimly, as he unpacked his ropes and carabineers.
Chuck stared toward the streak of color, trying to imagine what was down there. Was it somebody’s forgotten windbreaker? A piece of trash that a careless hiker let blow off the promontory? Suddenly he knew, and a sick feeling of foreboding washed over him. He dropped to his knees beside Pete, helping him sort and prepare the equipment for the descent. “His new gear bag is yellow,” he said to Pete. “I was with him when he bought it last month.”
Pete nodded and slipped into the harness. Lightning streaked across the sky and the fat drops of rain began to spatter on the rocks. Neither ranger even bothered to look up at the sky.
“Ready?” Chuck asked.
Pete nodded in reply and gave a final tug on the rope anchor, then leaned back and released the decender. Chuck watched as he disappeared over the side. After what seemed like an hour, Chuck’s radio finally crackled to life. “It’s him! Get down here, fast!”
Chuck waited a few seconds, but the radio remained quiet. Chuck clicked the button. “Pete, is he alive?”
Another few moments passed before Pete answered. “For the moment,” he replied grimly.
Chuck’s hopes sank. Pete wasn’t one for dramatics. Steve’s condition must not be good. But then, years of training kicked in and he pushed his feelings aside. Quickly he radioed the Center and informed them of the accident and the location. Then, ignoring the rain that was now falling in earnest, Chuck followed Pete over the side of the cliff.
Ch 15
Going Home
“There.” The nurse, a middle-aged woman with unnaturally red hair and penciled in eyebrows, deftly withdrew the IV needle and covered the mark with a fluffy white cotton ball. “Put some pressure on this with your other hand while I get a band-aid,” she directed.
Steve complied and flexed the stiff arm. What a relief to finally be free of his “leash”, and the constant steady beeping of the IV machine! Day and night, for nearly three weeks now, he had lived by its sound, steady as a metronome.
In an eerie replay of Shane Davis’ accident in June, Steve had been med-evacued by helicopter from Moore’s Knob at dawn, following a wild night of wind and thunderstorms. Not that he actually recalled any of it. Truthfully, he only had the vaguest impressions of Pete and Chuck strapping his body onto the board and being carried up the trail to meet the waiting helicopter. Of the night, huddled in the stuffy 4 man popup tent while Pete and Chuck struggled to keep him alive, he remembered nothing.
Doctors had rushed him into surgery to repair a damaged spleen. They had wrapped his cracked ribs, set his dislocated shoulder and broken right leg, and hooked him up to the IV to re-hydrate his body and dispense medication. Then they all waited nervously to see if Steve would wake up, for of course, he had another concussion. Other than that, the doctors had shaken their heads in wonder. Considering how far he had fallen, and how long he had lain, exposed to the heat of the sun, and the chilly night air, Steve was in incredibly good condition.
“You are a very lucky young man,” Doctor Harris announced with satisfaction, as he completed his final exam before releasing Steve from the hospital.
“No,” Steve contradicted him with a shake of his head, remembering the unearthly voice. “No, I am blessed.”
Doctor Harris, an energetic man in his fifties with coke bottle glasses, smiled at Steve’s quiet statement. “You may be right” he agreed. “I hope you are sending out the appropriate ‘Thank You’ notes?”
Steve smiled back ruefully, nodding at the heavy cast that encased two thirds of his leg. “I can’t exactly hit my knees right now, but I’m working on it.”
Doctor Harris nodded. “See that you don’t forget,” he advised, then switched the subject. “I’ve been in contact with a Doctor Tate in Jacksonville. He’s the orthopedic doctor who will be overseeing your therapy while you are home.” Doctor Harris studied him with a stern expression. “I want to caution you to be patient and diligent in following through on your therapy. You can’t cut corners. It is
going to take months for all of your injuries to heal completely, and longer to regain your strength in your leg. You must be patient!” He reiterated.
Steve nodded. “I understand, Doctor Harris.” He smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I know you worked hard to put me back together. I won’t mess up your efforts.”
Doctor Harris grinned back, appreciatively. “That’s what I wanted to hear! Now, how long before your ride comes?” He asked looking at his watch.
“Reverend Graham will be here in about an hour,” Steve replied.
“You’ll appreciate being able to stretch out in their RV, with that cast. It’s good of them to take you home.”
“We’re from the same town,” Steve explained.
Doctor Harris raised an eyebrow. “Really? What a coincidence!” Then he shook Steve’s hand once more, and continued on his morning rounds.
“What a coincidence…”
“I’m beginning to doubt that,” Steve mused half aloud. What were the chances of so many coincidences occurring in one short summer?
A knock on the door made Steve look up, and there was Pete, grinning his lopsided grin. Steve’s face lit up. “Come in!” He invited his friend.
“It’s all right, don’t get up for me,” Pete quipped.
Steve rolled his eyes. “Very funny. How’s work?”
“Your replacement arrived yesterday,” Pete informed him, settling into the chair beside Steve’s.
“Yeah? What’s he like?”
“First off, ‘he’ is a ‘she’.” Pete corrected him.
Steve made a face and sighed. “I’ve been replaced by a woman, huh?”
Pete grinned enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, tall, brown eyed, and best of all, a transfer from the Cliffs. She already knows the ropes.”