by Cadle, Lou
When he had his clothes off, she took his arm and scrubbed the blood off with snow. She saw the bullet wound, in his bicep, and turned his arm, thought she saw a second hole. “I think we’re in luck,” she said.
“One of us more than the other,” he said.
“Granted. But I think it went right through your arm. If there were a bullet in there….” She shuddered at the thought. “Let me get it bandaged. What I’d give for a bottle of alcohol.”
“I don’t drink anymore.”
“Disinfectant,” she said. “I should have gone back for the aspirin, too.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Are they dead?”
“One is, for sure. I killed the bastard. I didn’t see the other two. Dead, or buried, I think.”
“We should check for sure.”
“I will, in a second. Let me get your bleeding stopped.” She hoped she could. The wound was bleeding freely from the exit wound, but maybe that was good. How dirty were bullets? Infection could kill him. Hell, shock could kill him, too. “Are you with me?”
“Where would I go?” he asked.
“I’m making sure you’re mentally here.” She ripped the shirt she’d taken off the dead man into strips.
“As much as I ever am,” he said, then “OW! Shit, Coral,” as she bound his wound.
“Sorry.” She finished tying the fragment of shirt over the arm. “I want that up in the air. You lie down flat, the arm in the air. Hold it up there with the other arm.”
“Yes, doc.”
“Do you think more of them are headed this way?”
“I sure hope not. I used up all the dynamite.” He lay down and she covered his chest with his sweater. He held his arm in the air as she’d instructed.
“But do you think?”
“Maybe they went out in different hunting parties. They might not have found our trail for a while. Maybe others were searching for us in other directions.”
“I hope.”
“They’ll know something’s up when these three don’t come back by dark.” He dropped his arm. “We should go now.”
She lifted his wounded arm back in the air. “Not until you stop bleeding. We have that much time.”
In silence, they sat together, catching their breath. After a few minutes, she checked the bandage. Blood was still seeping out, but more slowly. “Are you okay?”
“Hurts some.”
She took that to mean it hurt a lot. “Dizzy? Confused?”
“Hungry.”
“That’s a good sign, I think.”
“Thirsty, too.”
Yes, he’d need more fluid than the mouthful of melted snow could provide to replace what his body lost through bleeding. She’d have to find wood and build a fire. Could it wait until later? No, best to try and find fuel now, let him recover while she melted enough drinking water to see them through to nightfall, and walk as far as he could manage before night.
“If you think you’re okay, I’m going to go strip the body. You’ll be able to use that sweater he had on. Maybe I can turn the jeans into a splint, so your arm isn’t bouncing around so much.”
She checked Benjamin’s eyes and color, decided it was safe to leave him for a few minutes, and climbed back over the ridge to plunder the body of the cultist. She hadn’t been paying attention the first time, but this time, she saw it was Calex, though his face was pretty torn up. She stripped him, pawed through his pockets, and searched in a wide circle around him for anything else he might have had. There was no backpack, nothing else. Maybe one of the others had more gear, but she would start a fire first before searching through the rocks for their remains. There was no sound or movement anywhere, so she thought—hoped—they were dead.
She’d find fuel nearby and build a fire next, get plenty of water into Benjamin and they’d manage to move another few miles in before dark. She’d have to carry both sacks, and probably the meat, but somehow, she’d manage.
With any luck they’d get a hard snow tomorrow, or the next day, and by the time a search party tried to come after Calex and the others, she and Benjamin would be long gone and untraceable.
They had fewer supplies than they’d had before their capture. But they had a fortnight’s meat and the fishing gear and a rifle. As long as he recovered from the gunshot wound, they just might make it for two weeks. And after that? Only time would tell.
The End
The tale is concluded in Gray III
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Peg, Lois, Ralph, and Sally for proofreading. Thanks to Jeff for shipping container information, and to many cult researchers and journalists for inspiration for The Seed.
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Also check out my stand-alone novels:
Quake
Erupt
Storm (coming soon)
