by E. C. Marsh
“Sandy, let's not fight, not now nor later. I'm hurt, and whether or not I blame you will not change anything. Right now we've got to sit down and figure out what to do next and frankly, you and your feelings aren't real important at this moment.”
I couldn't agree more, but I was still stunned. In all the years I have known them, Ralph has never stood up to Sandy. At least not openly. I probably should have cherished this moment, but under the circumstances I didn't feel like cherishing anything. For now I had more pressing issues. I went for the first aid kit while the rest of the group came closer. While Ralph talked, I used some of our thawed ice and Betadine from the kit to wash his leg.
“I just can't believe it,” said Ralph through clenched teeth. “These guys were just kids, kids in uniform. We were not even remotely close to the military reservation, we were not trespassing and still I get shot. When we get back I'll talk to an attorney, I'll talk to the media, anybody. We'll see who has the last say in this. And even if we had been trespassing, that still doesn't give anyone any right to just up and shoot us. We didn't destroy anything and we volunteered to leave right away.”
He flinched while I scrubbed. Tom and Sam watched over my shoulder.
“What do you think?” Tom asked, ignoring Ralph.
“Well,” I wiped my forehead with my forearm and sat back on my heels for a moment. “There's no doubt that this is a gunshot wound. I don't think there is bullet left in his leg, because here is the entrance and there's the exit. But I am worried about infection and I don't think that Ralph will be doing any walking for a while. Oh, by the way, when was your last tetanus?”
He looked at me in disbelief. “I can't believe that you're worried about that now? We need to get out of here and we need to do it fast. I don't want to spend any more time here than I absolutely have to. My tetanus is irrelevant now. I refuse to worry about it! Just put a bandage on and let's get the hell out of this fucking place.”
He caught me by surprise. I didn't know what to say, so I chose to ignore him. That seemed a better alternative than slugging him. After all, Ralph is used to being ignored.
“Listen to me,” I said after a while as I was washing his leg. “I am very worried about this getting infected. That bullet wasn't sterile, you know. Neither was your T-shirt or the river water that got all over you. Just lay back and try to ease up a little. Sam and Tom are already working on a way out.”
Ralph didn't respond. He just gave me a nasty look. I decided that I didn't like him any longer, but he needed my help, and the nurse in me took over. He was drenched in sweat and he worried me. I didn't have much to work with other than a few bandages, and we had no pain medication besides the Aspirin.
Sam had been standing behind me, quietly watching as I worked on Ralph's leg. He turned to Tom. “It's getting late. Whether we like it or not, we will have to spend one more night. As much as I want to get off the river myself, now is not the time for it. We cannot just run off half cocked or we'll all get hurt. Right now we have one dead, one hurt and the US Army pissed off at us for whatever reason.”
Tom nodded, but before he could respond, Ralph cut in.
“If you're suggesting that we spend the night in this fucking place you are nuts. I'm getting out of here and that's that. We're probably surrounded by a bunch of crazed lunatics in camouflage right now. No way am I spending one more night. And besides, what do you mean with one dead?”
“Marty died.” Sam spoke with a matter-of-fact voice, void of emotion.
“Oh my God, Sam!” Ralph leaned back and closed his eyes, exhaling loudly. “Wow, that's a helluva reality check. What happened?”
“I really can't talk about that right now.”
“Ralph, Sam is right.”
I couldn't believe my ears, was that really Sandy talking?
“Sam is right. We have no plan, we have no gear, it's getting dark soon and it will be really dark down here because of the bluffs. My cell phone doesn't work because it too got shot. Ralph, we have got to get ourselves organized before we can do anything. Accept that.”
“I'm telling you, I don't want to spend one moment longer here than I absolutely have to.”
Ralph's voice had an edge to it, and I couldn't help but wonder if beneath all the earlier bravado was just a scared little kid. I continued to wash his leg, thinking that while I have him lying down, at least he cannot just run off and get himself into further trouble. Tom's hand had remained reassuringly on my shoulder. Now he moved away and I watched him gather firewood. Sam joined him, and in no time they built a small fire. Ralph still was not satisfied.
“Do you really believe this will do any good? A fire will just lead those bastards to us faster. You'll see! We'll all be dead by morning.”
I had begun to wrap his leg and his movements were very frustrating. Finally, I had enough, “Hold still and shut up until I'm done or I'll strangle you. I can't get this bandage on as long as you're moving. I know you're scared, but so are all of us. We all want to go home! So help me God, if you don't hold still, I will clobber you.”
He grabbed my upper arm.
“Chris,” he said, “I'm not just scared, I'm terrified.”
He lowered his voice. “I'm not used to being this helpless. I'm the level-headed one in the family. When Sandy panics, she has absolutely no sense about her. If I don't get out of here alive, who will take care of her? Who will take care of the kids?”
I hugged him. I know, I just said I didn't like him anymore, but I was scared too and I could most definitely understand how he felt.
“Listen,” I tried to sound convincing. “I am just as scared as you are and I also do not like being here any longer than we have to. But we have got to look at our situation realistically. We're not going anywhere now, we don't know the terrain and with the recent drought we don't know what the river is like from here on.”
“Yeah, and Sam miscalculated the distance, don't forget that.” He sounded bitter.
I brushed mosquitoes off my arms and sat down beside him.
“Yes, I think so too. But that doesn't matter right now. Instead of focusing on whom to blame, we need to focus on what we can do for ourselves.”
“How come you are so wise?”
I wanted to laugh, but I didn't feel like it. “I'm a Mom, Ralph. It's my job.”
Chapter 17
To Jeff Craft, it seemed as if a lifetime had passed when the call finally came. The helicopter pilot, a young tall man with tense bony features and piercing blue eyes, did not sound enthusiastic. His facial expression did not belie the sound of his voice. His demeanor made it quite clear to everyone around that this was not his idea of fun, especially on his day off.
Finally, they were on the way. The pilot, still unhappy, seemed impatient, grimacing and frowning whenever Jeff Craft tried to initiate a conversation. They followed the river as it formed the boundary to the civilian world. No matter how hard they looked and how many times they circled, they were unable to spot either the perimeter patrol or the reported civilians. As dusk set in, their search was called off.
Chapter 18
Sam and Tom had build the fire on a nice level spot and had started dragging the canoes closer, turning them on their sides, so we could use them as shelter. Sandy had scrounged up an empty coffee can, scrubbed it with sand and then proceeded to boil water. We carefully moved Ralph closer to the fire. It wasn't easy and he couldn't help. Every time he moved, his wound started to bleed again and I would end up reinforcing the bandage. I was getting worried about my meager supplies.
Tom and Sam had carried Marty's body out of the canoe to the water's edge, where Sam washed her. Although the rest of the group had turned their backs to him to give him privacy, I walked over. I couldn't believe what had happened to us. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect this -- and I have had some wild dreams! I expected rigor mortis to have set in and thought he might need a helping hand. But he was doing well, at least physically. Emotionally -- well, the tears
in his eyes said it all.
“Sam, let me help you.” I said when he finally looked up.
“Chris, why did this have to happen? Why?”
My heart was breaking. It hurt to see this grown man stand there with tears running down his face. I had no answer for him. I just hugged him and he sobbed on my shoulder.
“Oh honey, I don't know. I'm sure that somehow, somewhere there is meaning for all of this. I have no idea what it could be, though.”
What do you say in a situation like this?
I helped him dress Marty in a pair of shorts and one of his tee shirts. “Try to think of all the good times you have had. What would Marty want you to do? Some things just can't be explained.”
Sam started to comb her hair.
“I don't know why I bother with this. Look, her hair, her beautiful hair! It's coming out in clumps!”
“Just hang in there, Sam.” What was there to be said? I felt inadequate for not being able to come up with something better.
“Chris, how much experience do you have with death?”
Well, now that's a good question. I had to think about my answer for a moment, wondering what Sam was getting at. Finally I said, “Well, I've seen my share of people die, if that's what you mean.”
“I know that, but do you have any experience with taking care of the body later on?”
“Not really, I usually call the Funeral Home. Why?”
“I've mostly dealt with animals, you know. There is a length of time from death until rigor mortis sets in. That lasts for some time, then it passes. I don't know for sure what the average is, I think maybe one to four hours, but I'm not sure.” He hesitated, stopped and looked up at me.
“I know Marty died on the water. When we got here, she was already stiffening up. I noticed that when I tucked her in. That was maybe ten or fifteen minutes later. While you were taking care of Ralph's leg, I wanted to get the wet clothes off her and put something dry on her, but rigor mortis had fully set in, she was rigid. So I decided to wait it out. But then, while you were still working on Ralph, it was all gone again. That would have been the shortest four hours in history.”
He stood up and stretched. I waited. Sometimes Sam can be an agonizingly slow speaker.
“That's just too fast, at least as far as I know. And now look at her body. You know how particular Marty was about her appearance. That wasn't for me, it was for her. She liked herself that way and as long as Marty was happy, so was I.”
He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and I waited. This has got to be hard for him.
“She looks like a woman of eighty, Chris. Look at her! That's no bad sunburn, or dehydration. This is something else. Not only is her skin all wrinkled, but it feels hard. Actually, her whole body feels hard and it was changing while I was bathing her. I don't know how to say it. You're a nurse, maybe you've seen this before?”
He looked searchingly at me. I knew he was desperately seeking explanations and I felt rotten because I had none for him.
“Chris, she is drying out in front of us, shriveling up and I don't understand how that is possible or how to stop it.”
“Maybe if we wrap her in plastic?” was my feeble offer to help. We still had a good amount of large trash bags. Sam stood there for a moment and I wondered if he had even heard me. Then he said, “Yeah, that's an idea. That could work. At least it's worth a try. If we use some of the extra rope we can tie the plastic close to her body and have a way of holding on to her too. Yeah, lets do that.”
“Let Tom and me do that. Try to keep her in your memory the way she was.” But Sam just shook his head.
“When I married her it was for good times and bad times. We've had the good, now it's the worst, and this is the last good thing I'll ever be able to do for her. I have to, Chris, I have to.”
We called Tom over to help and the two men sent me after something to drink. They obviously needed to be alone. The task had seemed straight forward and simple, but from where I was standing it looked like quite a struggle. Finally Sam just walked away and Tom waved at me to come over. They had stayed near the edge of the water, and when I got there I realized why. Even in this short period of time Marty's body had deteriorated much further than it should have, and the odor was pretty intense.
I looked at Tom. “What's happening here? I was just over here a moment ago and it wasn't like this. Oh God, this odor is bad! Is the heat doing this to her? Oh Tom, this is bad!”
“I know,” Tom looked up at me. “Just keep in mind, this is my first corpse. I normally deal with the living. You're the nurse, what do you make of this.”
I was stunned; I didn't know what to say, or what to think of this. Too much was happening to us, and far too fast.
“I don't know. I don't deal with dead people every day either.”
I knew I was stammering, but I didn't know what to say. I have been a nurse for a long time, but I had never before encountered anything like this.
“I can only guess the heat and humidity are doing this to her.” I looked at Tom for support and encouragement, but he just shrugged his shoulders and signaled me to give him a hand. Together, we slowly and carefully slipped Marty's body into the huge bags and used rope from the canoes to tie the bags around her, like a package.
Handling her body felt strange. Every joint I touched seemed to give, and I was reminded of the Thanksgiving turkey I overcooked one year. It felt solid and hard on the outside, but when you touched the extremities, the bones came right out. The task was difficult, and I felt horrible. More than once did I start to say something, but held back when the stench hit me and I gagged. I may be a nurse, but I get nauseated like anyone else. I was glad when we were done. Our final act was placing Marty into Ralph and Sandy's shot up canoe. We counted on the breeze on the water to keep the smell away from the campsite and the cool water underneath to perhaps slow down the deterioration.
While we were taking care of Marty, Sam and Sandy had taken all of our supplies and spread everything out by the fire. Sam had not looked at us as Tom and I worked on Marty, but I'm sure he knew precisely what was going on. Sam and Sandy also had started to inventory our precious possessions by the flickering light. There wasn't much. Ralph and Sandy's supplies had gone downriver, and cooking gear was probably at the bottom of the Coon a little ways upstream. We still had their cooler and several half-gallon milk jugs filled with drinking water. It's something Tom had been teaching all of us. Wash the empty milk jugs out, fill them almost full of drinking water, and freeze them. If we decide to go anywhere, we not only have instant ice, but as the ice melts we also have drinking water. At the end of the trip, we throw the empty jugs away or burn them in the last campfire.
Sam doesn't like this method. He hates plastic things, and has told us many times that he would rather use river water. Well, one time we made him use river water he had purified with iodine pills for coffee. It tasted nasty and took care of Sam's feelings about plastic jugs. He couldn't drink the coffee, couldn't even get past the smell, and had to admit that maybe bringing water from home is not such a bad idea. It worked well for us in the past and now provided us with plenty of fresh water.
We also found a baggie full of assorted hard candy and chewing gum, and another with tea bags and a couple of those individual coffee bags. That these were flavored, didn't matter. That they had caffeine did! Tom had emptied our canoe. Despite precautions, most of the clothing had gotten wet, and he now spread everything out over the canoes and near the fire. The sleeping bags were soaked, and we gave up on them.
We still had three tents, but only two sets of poles. We had one air mattress, and Marty's body was lying on that. Then Tom got to our camping box. It was nothing special, just an old plastic box that fits perfectly into the canoe and is usually packed full of goodies to take along on a trip on a moment's notice. I held my breath. I couldn't remember all that was in it. Tom pulled out an old skillet and wet paper napkins and a plastic bag with matches and plastic utensils. Th
ere was a small jar of instant coffee and a baby food jar containing sugar. He also produced a couple of cans of pork and beans. There were paper plates and cigarettes and lots of other stuff, but it was all soaked and was useless.
I just sat down. I couldn't think any more and felt totally overwhelmed. I cried, big, silent tears as my Tom brought out his pocketknife with the can opener and started to open the cans of pork and beans. I just wanted to go home, hug my baby and feel safe again.
Night arrived just as quickly as we had anticipated, and the wood Tom and Sam gathered made a nice fire, with plenty of wood close by to keep it going. There is something comforting about a fire, and we sat there, close to each other, as we ate. Even Ralph finally seemed to settle down. I nestled closer to Tom. I needed physical contact with him to comfort me and he didn't seem to mind.
“I saw some mosquitoes a little while ago,” I whispered.
