by catt dahman
“He’s okay, I think. Kelly said Durango had to rest until his head was clear. He took a few hard blows, but he wasn’t injured badly, other than that.” Helen decided she was making it worse for Connie.
Connie nodded and watched the water as she picked at her cuticles.
Next to her was her stepdaughter Vera who rolled her eyes and said, “Can you believe this shit? Shipwrecked? Dad is going to have someone’s ass over this.”
“Language.”
“You aren’t my mother,” Vera snapped. It was a usual response.
“That will be difficult to lay blame since it was a storm that caused it,” Helen said.
Storms…they happen. No, someone made a mess, and look at it! Dad is going to be livid.”
Helen shrugged and tried again. “I’m sure he’ll see this was a terrible accident.”
“I thought help would be here by now. I’m hungry,” Vera announced.
“Are you injured?” asked Helen.
“My thigh.” She showed her a gaping cut. It wasn’t life threatening, but it was bad, and Helen was shocked that Vera was calm about it. There was no understanding fifteen-year-olds.
“Let’s get it taken care of so you don’t have an infection.”
“I’ll wait for the ambulances. They’ll have drugs, so it doesn’t hurt to fix me up.”
Scott scowled and said, “I don’t see any ambulances, I don’t see buildings or people either, so we can assume it may be a while. I doubt you want an infection setting in, and it can within a short time. You need it cleaned and bandaged.”
Vera howled and cursed as Helen cleaned it, and the girl tried to twist away and slapped at Helen until Scott took her hands and held them. Helen dried the skin as best she could, considering the blood still oozed, and she taped the wound closed. She wrapped it. “Kelly will have to stitch you.”
“That crazy bitch is not touching me. I hate you! That hurt.”
“She’s your brother’s girlfriend. That’s pretty hateful. She’s a nice person. And by the way, you didn’t bother to ask, but Tom is fine.”
Vera stared at Helen blankly with no interest. Then she said, “What’s for pain. I hurt.”
Helen reluctantly gave her two sips of the rum. Vera tried to yank away the bottle, but Helen was stronger and told her, “Be glad you got that!”
“Whatever.”
Connie didn’t say anything the entire time.
Helen knew that Vera was spoiled and not a very pleasant person, but even shock didn’t excuse her bad behavior.
“Dude! Glad to see you.” Davey ambled over from behind a section of the boat. He wasn’t injured past bruises and a few cuts covered with bandages. With him was Tyrese who had a splinted and bandaged hand; thick gauze was wrapped around Tyrese’s forearm, and he had cuts and bruises on his face that he ignored, saying he and Davey had cleaned them. The blood there was already becoming crusted.
Between them, Davey and Tyrese dragged Brian over as gently as they could. Normally, Brian used crutches and had a little feeling below his knees but still managed well. Because they hadn’t found the crutches yet, they pulled him along the ground, and the pretty, white sand behind him was marked with a red trail of blood.
“Set him down,” Scott directed.
“Here’s an extra med kit. I’m not great with it. Like…yanno?”
“You did good, Davey,” Tyrese said, “and you patched me. I thought you were as good as any nurse.”
“How do you feel, Brian?” Helen asked.
“My feet hurt. Weird, I can hardly even feel them.”
Helen examined them and wondered how both his feet had been crushed to mangled pulp. Anyone else would be screaming. It was a blessing in disguise. As far as Helen could tell, there was nothing that could be done; just like Jordan’s mashed head was beyond her help, Brian’s feet were too far gone. It made her sick. Brian was woozy but didn’t complain, just groaned at times.
To the side, Connie vomited. “Can you do that some other place?” She stared with her face etched with disgust.
“You….”
Helen put a hand out to stop Scott. There was no use. “We’re doing it here. I suggest you stay here with the group and rest so you don’t bleed or cause yourself to go into shock, but you are free to go. Vera, you might bleed out, so think on that. We’re all in a bad way, so try to be patient and calm.”
Helen went back to looking over Brian. He had a deep stomach wound that she didn’t dare clean, so she packed it with gauze and wrapped his injury. She didn’t think he would live unless he went to a hospital. With deep concern, Davey and Tyrese watched Brian. They had hoped help would be right there.
“We’ll find some tee shirts to wrap your feet, Brian. I can’t give you rum since you have a stomach wound, but Kelly will know more about that stuff,” said Helen.
“I’ll just lie here and rest. I don’t like rum anyway,” Brian said.
“I’ll help you two, “Davey said, “like the vibes here are bad, yanno. I need a doobie, but I bet they all got wet.”
“Druggie,” Vera sneered.
Davey shrugged and said, “Oh, little rich girl, better that you call me only that when some others could call you far worse.” He had a quiet, calming energy about him. Helen and Scott traded glances with Tyrese, wondering how Davey had done such a good job with first aid.
Stu Jones and his brother Vaughn stood close to the other wreckage. Neither looked very badly hurt. Stu pointed and said, “Beached whale.”
“Dumb ass, that’s Lisa.” Helen was furious. They just looked and didn’t try to help anyone. Vaughn, away from his brother, was a good kid, but now he was scared and followed Stu’s lead.
Helen ran down the beach a short ways. Lisa stirred but began crying hysterically at once. She was badly bruised, her jaw was greatly swollen, and the cuts and bruises in her hair were staining her almost curls red and pink. She was scraped all over and almost skinned in some places, but her cuts were not very deep. The salt water cleaned her injuries but also stung them. The guys helped her up, and they walked over to the rest.
She sat with her raw skin exposed to the sun.
Hearing someone crying for help, Helen, Scott, Davey, Stu, and Vaughn went to the other-but-very-twisted small part of the boat. There was a small hole to climb in or out, but only Scott went in. He said to wait while he checked it out.
He felt uncomfortable in the small, claustrophobic space, and he saw two men. Strangely, a small fire was burning out. “Hello?”
“We could not wait. Are the ambulances here? We need help,” Fish said.
Scott sighed. Same question. “No. There’s no one. Yet. We’ve been giving first aid and trying to get everyone to one spot on the beach. We lost a few, and some are still missing. There doesn’t seem to be anyone or anything near this place.”
Fish nodded. He was a crew member and one they liked a lot, too. He was lively, but his almost musical, unusual way of speaking even now made them smile. “We have had some bad luck, but then some good luck because I was here for the captain. We are hurt, and yet we are alive. That is most lucky.”
Scott knelt beside the captain. “Sir?”
“He has passed out, but his heart beat is slow and steady; he is breathing well. It is one of the better parts of this situation,” replied Fish.
“He’s so pale.” Scott’s shoes slipped on the floor. He touched the liquid that was so slippery and wasn’t overly shocked to see that it was blood.
Fish cracked his knuckles. “We were mighty lucky. I have some broken wood and papers and other stuff to make a fine fire, you see? It was hot before.”
“I can tell. It’s hot in here,” Scott said.
“It kept him warm to prevent shock, and I needed it for the light and for the heat,” Fish said as he nodded.
Scott realized Fish was without his shirt and belt. He asked, “Are you hurt?”
“Bruises and scrapes but nothing much. The captain was not so fortunate. Hi
s arm is lost, see?”
Scott looked. the captain’s arm…well, it was bandaged with Fish’s shirt. A belt lay nearby. It was…wait; it was short, the arm was. Scott cocked his head, trying to understand.
“I had nothing but my brains and will power, a lighter and something to burn, and my wee wicked knife.” Fish showed him a huge knife, eight inches long and razor sharp.
“I don’t understand.”
“His poor arm was caught under that metal over there and crushed. There was nothing left of it, but he was caught in a trap. He was bleeding to death, and I, well, I removed him from his crushed arm.”
“You cut off his arm?” asked Scott.
“Oh, yes, I did. He passed out after a bit. I had this good fire and used my knife again and got it very hot in the coals, see? And then….” He made a motion. “I seared the blood vessels closed. The bleeding has almost stopped.”
Scott blinked a few times. “You. He. His arm?”
“Above the elbow, yes.”
“And with just that, and all alone. You did that?”
“What else could I do? I was indeed all alone, and I knew he would die. I did what had to be done. I used my head and thought what to do. You don’t think I was wrong? Was I?”
“No, you’re brave. I’m just shocked. I couldn’t have done it,” Scott replied.
“Oh, yes, you could do anything to save a life. You even could do it to yourself if pressed. People are far stronger than they think they are. You have some people out there crying over little cuts? The captain will not say a word about his pain. He is of strong stock.”
“Fish, you, let me see,” Scott said as he touched Fish’s jaw and turned the man’s head.
“Oh, my ear, you mean. It is gone: lost in this wreck, but I will be fine. Let’s get him to a dry place on the beach as you said and make a nice fire. Someone will see it and come help, and in the meantime, we can be warm and dry and feel a bit better. Fires always cheer people.”
Scott wasn’t sure what to think. He had finished his degree to raise his credentials and was a history teacher. He didn’t understand how these things worked: psychology and medicine. He was over- whelmed, but he helped Fish raise Captain Worthington up so the others could carry him to the beach and start a fire. Fish gave the orders and took charge.
“Helloooo,” a man called. It was Joe the cook and he was uninjured but tired because he had been swept farther down the beach. Picking a direction, he set out walking and found the rest. His face showed the relief at seeing other survivors. He happily took a few drinks of the rum and settled before the fire, watching over Captain Worthington and shaking his head at times.
Joy and Alex, down the beach in the other direction, saw the fire, smelled the smoke, and came to join them. Joy was so happy and upset, at the same time; she wept and kept her head against Alex, crying and shivering. “I thought everyone except us was dead and we were alone. I was so sad and scared.”
“No, Joy, we are here. We are alive, and that is a very lucky thing,” said Fish as he smiled and patted her foot.
“My jaw hurts. I mashed my lips; see how swollen they are and cut? I knocked out two teeth,” Alex said.
Joy shared, “Not so lucky.”
Fish shook his head and said, “No one had to cauterize your wound. You have both hands. You are lucky, dear.”
Joy looked at the captain, shivered again, and said, “They were back teeth…like they broke off. It could have been the front.”
“See? How lucky that was. I have a cut above my eye, but it could have been an eye I lost. My mouth hurts, and I bit my tongue, but I still have it. Loose teeth but all intact. Who needs an ear? I have the one!” exclaimed Fish.
Joy smiled. Fish had a way to cheer people, it seemed. She was glad he was there. On the beach, she and Alex had seriously thought everyone was dead and that they were alone. Seeing others made them feel better, and Joy was glad someone was there to take charge.
Within an hour, the rest were brought out of the damp wreckage with Kelly leading. Kelly and Tom asked Stanley to help the injured because he seemed the most untouched of any. He said he was barely sore, but then he had been drunk, and some say drunks fared well in car crashes, too.
Strangely quiet, Durango hugged Connie and sat with her and his daughter. He had always been a loud, forceful man, almost a bully, but he was broken in spirit; whether from his head injuries or the wreck, no one knew. The survivors just knew that he had hardly spoken, and when he did, it was to say something like he wished help would arrive or that he was glad his family was safe. As the time passed, he spoke less and stared at the sea more.
Connie frowned often at him, wondering what the hell was wrong with him but guessed maybe his head ached and he was still confused. She missed her husband’s strong, loud voice giving orders.
Kelly checked him again, shook her head, and said, “Concussion, at least. Without a hospital, I can’t be sure, but his pupils are slightly off. Unfortunately, we’ll have to watch and wait.”
Two more of Tom’s friends and some of the other crew members never came out of the wreckage, and everyone felt the crew had been carried away by the waves, had drowned, or something. No one could image why they didn’t appear, alive or dead, on the beach like the others had when swept there by the waves. So many had been out in the storm, but when the rogue wave hit, they were lost over the side of the boat.
“They may be farther down one way or the other. We’ll have to look later,” Tom said.
Fish shook his head and answered, “The wave washed them away, over the railing and into the sea. Neptune claimed them. The captain and I would have drowned except for the sea’s mercy.”
“I think we should go in and get everything useful we can find. Food, water, liquor, medical supplies, tarps, clothing, towels, sheets…anything…bowls even. We can dry most and then….” Tom said.
“I agree,” Scott said, “I’ll help head that project with you.”
“My brother,” Tom said as he smiled, “thank you.”
Stu glowered. Scott wasn’t his brother. Why did Tom say that?
“Rescuers should be here soon. Why bother?” Joy asked.
“They should be. They could be. So this tells me we washed up on one of the little uninhabited islands or on the backside of a small inhabited place. There are no people around, or they would be here,” Fish said. “We are not fortunate in that way, I feel. We may be on our own a while, for all we know. It is best if we can be smart about that. Let’s get everything out we can. Eh, Tom?”
Several of the shipwreck survivors joined in, and big piles of supplies began to form.
Wondering if she would ever be finished, Kelly stitched flesh while the others scavenged. She was already down to using common thread for her work. She felt that some of her patients might be all right, especially if someone came to help soon, but she knew that others she worked on had little chance of making it more than twenty-four hours. Brian’s smashed feet and torn stomach, Captain Worthington’s severed arm, and Wanda’s torn arm were the worst, but Vera’s injury could go septic easily. The head injuries of Durango and others also worried her. Some could have inner cranial bleeding, and others could be bleeding internally for all she knew.
Kelly didn’t have the supplies she needed, the help, or experience in this sort of triage. She needed clean gauze, more stitching material, a new needle, antiseptic cream, bandages, splints, and above all, antibiotics and painkillers. She felt as if she had been cheated.
“Twenty-three of us made it. That is lucky,” Fish said.
Kelly wanted to add, So far, but didn’t.
“Three dead. Many missing,” Stu added.
Scott spoke up, “Since it’s getting dark, why don’t we use the cooler temperatures to bury the ones who died? Rob was hurt and walked that way, and he died. We found these bastards chewing on him up there.”
“Crab bastards? Sea gull bastards?” Fish asked.
“No, lizard bastards,�
�� answered Scott.
“They are too little to chew on a person,” said Fish as he smiled.
Scott frowned and replied, “Not these. They’re as big as a chicken or a rooster and walk on their back legs. And they have teeth and….”
Stu exploded, “And all of you bitch about me scaring people? In fact, I said it looked bad, and true enough, the storm was bad enough that we wrecked. Now, he goes on about big lizards, and no one says a word?”
“I was just about to say it is impossible. There are no such things,” Fish countered, ignoring the fit.
“I saw them, too! Scott killed one with a rock. They are just like he said and colored yellow, bright green, and a darker green in some mottled pattern,” Helen said.
“Oh, unreal!” said Stu as he kicked sand.
Alex leaned forward and asked, “Anything else about them stand out?”
“I couldn’t tell. I wanted to look again, but I think they had feathered tails and maybe tuffs of feathers or something on their shoulders or whatever that part of a lizard is called,” Scott continued.
“Scott, you are a lying piece of shit. I was berated, and now you tell a ghost story around the fire, and everyone thinks it’s cool. You said it was chicken-sized, but you called it a lizard, lizard bastards, I believe was the term, and now you retract, and say, oh maybe it had feathers. Wow,” Stu said.
“He didn’t retract, Stu.” Helen added. “We both called it a lizard,” she said.
“Stupid,“ and then he called her a very nasty word. Everyone cast him looks of disapproval for the word he used.
“Ok, Stu bastard,” Helen replied, plenty mad.
He cursed again to himself and moved away from the rest to sit on the other side of Vera who also glared at the group. “This is my dad’s trip. He is boss.”
Durango Jones said nothing.
“I want to see. We can come back with torches and bury him, but let’s go before it’s dark,” Alex said.
“Me, too,” Sue said, “we Korean chicks bees good at science, yes. We wish to see bastard lizards.” She spoke in a Korean accent, over-done, and made everyone laugh. Her messed up nose made her voice funnier.
Helen, Scott, Fish, Sue, and Alex left. They could still see the dried blood trail on the sand. Rob was still there, less shiny, some of the blood dried, but when the people came close, there was a flurry of yellow and green things, all legs and arms, running away. Sickeningly, the creatures had returned to his body and finished eating the middle section, throat, and face. They had started chewing on his arms and legs, the second or third choice of food.
