by E. C. Marsh
“Sam, I am not very experienced with heat or sunstroke, and it's just very obvious that Marty is also a bit confused. I don't know why. Maybe it's that new medication you mentioned, in combination with the sun and the heat. Either way, I think we have a problem, and I have this feeling in my gut that we had best get off the river fast. And who is Jack?”
“Jack?”
“Yes, Marty was referring to you as Jack. Jack the hunk, I might add.”
“Jack was an old boyfriend of hers, well before my time. She was pretty serious about him. He was a superficial, pretentious jackass. She almost married him, but he left town and married some east coast socialite. She was pretty bitter about that for years. I'm surprised you didn't know that.”
“You know Marty and I haven't been that close.”
“What do we do now?”
“Well, let's check on her first. Then we'll see.”
Coffee in hand, we walked back to the tent. Before Sam could open the flap, Marty came out. She had changed into a large tee shirt that went almost to her knees -- probably one of Sam's. She had combed her hair back, and I was finally able to see her without sunglasses or headphones on.
Her face was no longer as swollen as it had been earlier in the day, but there were some puffy areas below her eyes. The earlier redness had been replaced with a pale yellowish color and when I looked closer the skin on her face just hung loosely off her cheekbones.
“Marty how are you feeling,” I asked. She stretched and twisted her torso.
“I'm so sore! I think I can feel every bone in my body and then some that I didn't even know I had. Sam, be a dear and get me something to drink please.”
Sam left and I reached up and felt Marty's forehead. Without a thermometer I had to rely on Dr. Mom. Marty's skin felt hot, and dry like old leather -- like an old worn out glove. I let my hand slip to her upper arms and hugged her.
“We've been worried about you, honey.”
Marty smiled at me, That's sweet, but I think I just have a flubug or something. I just don't feel real well.”
“Like what?”
“Well, dizzy, nauseated, lightheaded. You know that sort of stuff. My shoulder hurts. Actually my whole left side hurts. My throat’s sore and I have a terrible taste in my mouth. Chris, I really do not feel well, but what a lousy time to get sick!”
“Its gonna be ok, Marty. You'll refill on fluids tonight and you'll feel better in the morning.”
She looked at me kinda funny with tears in her eyes.
“I'm soooo scared, Chris. I really am afraid I won't be around in the morning.”
I could hear my heartbeats in my ears. I felt the hairs on my neck rise and goosebumps form on my arms. I hugged Marty.
“Why do you think so?”
“I don't know, I just feel so miserable. My left shoulder hurts, even my jaws hurt. I probably just lay wrong in the canoe. And the heartburn! It's probably nothing, but I'm short of breath, and when I stand up or just take a few steps, I'm dizzy. Chris, what's wrong with me? You're a nurse, can you figure this out?”
I couldn't. I didn't know what to think of Marty's symptoms. I was pretty sure that it was just the sun and the heat, getting a bit dehydrated, something like that. And that should improve with all the fluids we were giving her to drink.
She did not look well and I thought that if she were an older person and complaining of these symptoms, we'd be concerned about something cardiac. But Marty was in her thirties. I helped her back into the tent and got her comfortable with her drinks close by.
“I'm ruining y'all's weekend. “
“You're not ruining anyone's weekend. Close your eyes and rest while I figure out what is going on.”
“I'm so scared, promise me you won't let me die.”
“Marty, get real. You are not going to die.”
“Promise it”
“Okay, I promise.”
But I couldn't settle her down, she started to cry and held on to my hand. She kept on telling me over and over how scared she was and how miserable she felt and I didn't know what to say to her or how to comfort her, let alone what to do.
I know I sounded firm and confident, but I didn't feel that way. As she held on to my hand and closed her eyes, I sat thinking. I have never been close enough to Marty to know of her medical problems. What could be going on with her? Just when I thought she was finally asleep and I tried to peel her fingers off my hand, she gripped tighter.
“This is going to be the best day of my life,” she whispered. “Don't tell anyone, especially Jack, I want it to be special for him.” I nodded. Her eyes were glazed and her face looked flushed. I couldn't think of anything to do.
“We've been going together for such a long time. I just know that he'll ask me to be his wife tonight. I just know it. And I'll say yes. I'll make him wonder for a few minutes, but then I'll say yes. Do you like my dress? It's my special dress. My Mom went and found it in Kansas City for me. She had to go there on business, and she said she saw it in a store window and she bought it for me. You can't borrow it until after the wedding.”
She closed her eyes. Her breathing was shallow and fast. When she was lying down, her face and neck were full of wrinkles where the sunburned areas had been, but the skin looked just as wrinkled and detached in areas that had not been exposed. I just sat there, stroking her hair. Her forehead was covered with big drops of perspiration and she felt very hot. At least she finally appeared to be asleep.
“Sam,” I called out, “Get in here!”
He was there in an instant. Our eyes met and he followed my look to Marty's face. I raised an eyebrow.
“What happened?” I asked him quietly. “Look at her, she is in bad shape not just the areas we knew were sunburned, but she is like this all over. Did she sunbathe in the nude?”
I didn't remember seeing her nude, not that it would be the first time. We all had a penchant for skinny-dipping after midnight on moonlit nights and had lost what modesty we may have had a long time ago, at least with each other.
But Sam just shook his head.
“No,” he said. “We were just ahead of all of you. Marty did what all of us did: Nothing different.”
“Except when she decided to work on her tan while we were having lunch?”
“Well yeah. She did spend a couple of hours in the sun then. So, do you still think this is a sun burn?”
“No I don't. I haven't a clue what's going on with her. Just when I think all this is sun and heat related she acts just fine and then turns around and does something completely goofy.”
“Goofy?”
“Yeah, she's talking to me, but it doesn't make much sense. And look at her now, she is sound asleep. Completely out of it.”
“Why is her skin all wrinkled?”
“I don't know, maybe she was all puffy and swollen from the sun and the heat or whatever and now it's much cooler and the swelling is reducing and the skin is still stretched. I'm guessing, Sam. I'm guessing.”
Tom stuck his head in the tent. “What's up with Marty?”
I looked up to him, I wanted so much for him to hold me, take me away from here.
“This is so weird,” I said softly. “There is something really, really wrong.”
“Sunburn?”
“No, I think it's something else. Sam said she's on some new medication, but somehow it just doesn't fit either.”
I felt her forehead again, it was hot and dry, her heart rate was up too, I counted 120 and irregular.
Sam told us he was planning on staying in the tent with Marty for a little while and I thought that would be a good idea. She felt so hot to touch, I was sure that she was really dehydrated, and so I encouraged Sam to give her lots of fluids to drink, even if it meant waking her up.
Tom pulverized a couple of aspirin for her and dissolved that in some soda. Sam was spoon feeding the mixture to Marty as we were crawling out of the tent.
When three hours passed, I fed her two more dissolved asp
irin and then joined the others in front of the tent. For awhile, nobody said anything. Then I spoke up: “Marty is pretty sick, we need to get her off this river as fast as possible. Sam, if we push, really push, how fast can we be at the takeout point?”
“Daylight?”
I nodded.
“Oh, four or five hours.”
“That's not too bad, but we need to do it faster. Sandy, did you bring your famous cell phone?”
“But of course,” she said with a fake British accent. I could have kissed her. I had counted on her vanity, on her need to show off, and she did not let me down. Quickly I dialed the number to our ER. There would be a doctor on duty and I wanted help, but in this valley I never even got a signal. I was back to square one.
“Well, guys, for now she is holding her own, but we can't let her just lay there until morning. I think we should just take turns checking on her.”
“I will be sleeping in that tent,” Sam said. “I'll handle the checking”
I nodded. We sat there in silence. This wasn't what any of us had envisioned and I was pretty scared. I didn't know what was wrong with Marty and I could only hope that what I was doing was actually helping her.
Chapter 9
Saturday 5:35 p.m.
Ken Messer, Jeff Craft and Dave Smith carried a large canvas bag each. Neither had any additional clothing. Each pack contained electronic equipment they would be mounting on trees. The equipment would obtain readings during the night and make sure everything was working. This was supposed to be confirmed by the computer center. Once confirmation was received, the men were free to return to the retreat and continue the remote monitoring. Their reaction to hiking into the backwoods area with military reservists was mixed. Ken Messer enjoyed the young peoples' vigor and energy and was interested in their stories. Dave Smith and Jeff Craft wanted as little as possible to do with their temporary companions. When they realized that one of them would need to spend the night in the wild, it was only logical that Ken stay behind. He didn't mind. He rather enjoyed the company, and having always been a camper he enjoyed the reprieve from the more formal corporate life.
Chapter 10
We helped Sam move his tent closer to the fire. That way, he could check on Marty and still be a part of the group conversation. The coffee was replaced by hot chocolate and we settled down and got comfortable.
“It's a shame Marty isn't feeling well” said Ralph. “I was just thinking about that one trip we took, just the guys, and we took a bunch of beer along.”
He chuckled and punched Tom on the shoulder.
“Well anyway, we were fishing all day long and drinking beer. Didn't think anything about it until it started getting dark outside. We had no place to camp, but we had a bunch of fish. Mr. Conservation here came to the rescue. He found a spot. It was just big enough for us to tie up the canoes. We couldn't cook, make coffee, nothing. Not that we cared; if we got worried about it, we just had another beer. Anyway, we spent the night in the canoes. It was wild! I'll never complain about my waterbed again! But that's not all of it: The next morning we finally realized that we did not have water with us to brush our teeth, so we brushed with toothpaste and beer. It was absolutely gross.” He laughed.
“Yeah,” Sandy stood up and stretched. “ You guys came home so fucking hung over, it took you three days to recover. Some weekend that was! One for the books, for sure.”
Tom looked over and winked at me. “Oh, it wasn't that bad now was it?”
“Don't look at me, pal!” I said. “Allen was at my parents that memorable weekend and I had to work. I came home after a weekend of puking people in the ER and there at home is this man - whom I used to love so dearly - and he is puking his guts out. Yes, Dear, it was that bad.”
I took a sip of my Hot Chocolate and almost burned my tongue.
Sam crawled out of his tent and I turned to him.
“How is she?” I said between puffing air onto my too Hot Chocolate.
He sighed.
“Well, she is sleeping and she doesn't feel quite as hot to the touch as she did earlier. I've been getting some fluids into her, actually quite a bit.”
“That's great! Maybe she just had too much sun? Besides, she's on some new medication which may have had something to do with it. I'm sure she'll feel better after some sleep.”
“I think so too. What was all the laughing about?”
We cracked up again and told him. He produced a bag of little tiny marshmallows and passed it around. I love little marshmallows in hot chocolate. I leaned back in my seat and looked up at the sky. The stars were so clear and bright, I wished I had binoculars. The others were also enjoying the evening, even Sandy, who seldom relaxes until all the dishes are done. And it was Sandy who surprised me.
“This is a night for a moonlight swim,” she said. “As soon as the moon is overhead I'm in the water, I don't care what you all do or say.”
“I may just join you,” I said to my own surprise. “I just don't want to slip into that wet swimsuit.”
Sandy just laughed lustily, “Who said anything about a swimsuit, anyway?”
I looked at Tom. “Go ahead, Babe,” he said. “You don't need my permission. Besides, I may join you. This place is about as private as it gets.”
What else can you do when you are on the edge of a river, away from everything else, on a clear, starry, moonlit night? I could think of a few more things. But I spread my swimsuit out by the fire hoping it would dry just a little bit. Before too long the topic of the campfire conversation turned toward the friendship we were sharing. I looked at the river bathed in the pale moonlight, the ripples shimmering like liquid silver, and felt drawn to it. I closed my eyes and imagined slowly slipping into the warm, black depth, with each step shutting out more of the world around me.
I looked at Tom, momentarily at a loss for words. My wonderful husband read my thoughts, took my outstretched hand, winked at Ralph and Sandy and followed me to the water.
About three or four feet from the water's edge was an old weather beaten tree trunk. Although almost half submerged in the gravel and sand, it still provided us with a dry spot for towels and clothes. We undressed, clasped hands and walked into the now considerably cooler water.
I had to hold my breath for these first few steps when my body, hot from the long day out in the sun, entered the cool darkness of the river. I felt my my breasts ache, and as the water embraced me I found it difficult to breathe. Once we were fully submerged it was easier and I actually started to feel warmer again. Tom snuggled up to me and whispered into my ear, “I love the way your nipples are sticking out, baby. Makes me horny. You better watch out, I might just ravage your body right here and now.”
I reached for him and with a big grin he guided my hand to his erection. Yes, it would be a memorable night. I pointed to a huge fallen tree on the opposite bank. “Let's go over there, Tarzan, and see what we can stir up.”
Just a few strokes brought us to the other side, and when Tom climbed onto the fallen log he found the remains of an old boat dock hidden behind it. The tree had actually landed on a flat section of concrete that now was just barely above the water and maybe 20 feet offshore. Giggling, I sat on the edge of it letting my legs dangle, my back turned toward our camp. Tom did not waste any time. With his hands, he urged me forward until I had to lean back to keep from slipping off the dock. By the time my upper body rested on my bend arms, his mouth was on me and I didn't care if there were birds or bees or turtles watching. I love making love with Tom. We share the same passion for sex, and over the years we have turned pleasuring each other into an art form. Tom is gentle, firm and passionate, and he knows just where and how to touch me.
I really don't remember how long we were on this concrete platform. I didn't keep track of time. I didn't care.
Then we rested in each other's arms, breathless, warm and satisfied. I couldn't think of anything but my love for Tom, and felt almost overwhelmed by the stars and the moonlight an
d the shimmering current of the river flowing past us.
The rhythm of the water splashing against the concrete was hypnotic, and I turned on my side snuggling up to Tom. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement on the bank. For a split second I saw a man standing there. He lit a match or a lighter and was gone again. Startled, I sat up, at the same time bumping my elbow on the concrete and scraping an ankle.
“Tom,” I whispered. “Tom, there's somebody watching us.”
“Mmmmm, its just our guys babe.”
“No, on the other shore. I'm serious. I just saw a man there, he lit a cigarette or something.”
Tom turned toward the bank. “Where?”
