by LENA DIAZ,
“Oh no.” Her words clogged her suddenly tight throat as she stared in horror at the thick length of splintered wood that pierced his left calf, protruding through bloody holes torn in the front and back of his pant leg.
“Are you okay?” he repeated, his voice a gritty mixture of concern and raw pain.
“What? Yes, yes, I’m fine. But you, Adam, I can’t even imagine how much that hurts.” She reached for his left leg, but he jerked back.
“Leave it. We have to get moving. They’ll lick their wounds, but they’ll be back. It’s not about whatever information you have anymore. It’s about revenge. They’ll kill both of us when they get the chance. We have to get out of here.”
“But your leg. You can’t possibly walk on that. You have to let me help you. I’ll fashion a splint—”
“I made it this far. I can make it a little farther. We have to get to a defensible position. Hurry.” He shoved the pistol into his front pocket then braced himself against the downed tree, pushing himself up.
Jody scrambled to her feet and stood beside him, reaching out to help him. Then she saw the body lying in the middle of the clearing. It wasn’t Tattoo Guy or Owen. It was Thad. Sightless eyes stared up at the dark sky with its threatening storm that was still holding off, a single small dot of red in the center of his forehead. The ground beneath his head was saturated in blood.
She pressed a hand to her throat.
Adam’s jaw worked, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “That’s the handiwork of our nemesis, Tattoo Guy. My guess is he didn’t want to leave anyone behind who might give us information about him.”
Her gaze flew to his. “He killed his own man?”
He nodded. “Which means he won’t hesitate to kill us, especially since you managed to hit him with that knife. He doesn’t strike me as the forgive-and-forget type. As soon as he binds his wound and is able to come after us again, he will. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he brings reinforcements. We have to get out of here, fall back to somewhere more secure, keep moving until we get in range of a cell tower and can radio for help.”
He wobbled on his feet, then braced himself against the tree.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out in sympathy. He was being unbelievably strong, had managed to somehow crawl out of that hole where she’d left him. And even with his leg so horribly damaged, he’d come to her rescue. Somehow she had to find the inner strength to match his, so she could get him somewhere safe and finally look in his backpack for a first-aid kit. Her mouth twisted bitterly. He needed far more than a kit. He needed an emergency room with a trauma unit.
“Let’s go. That way.” He pointed off toward the left.
“Deeper into the mountains? Are you sure? Shouldn’t we head back toward town—”
He shook his head. “Our only real chance is to get in range of a cell tower so I can radio for a rescue team. Back the way we came is by the broken tower, the one destroyed in the wildfires. If we head west, we should be in range of a working tower within a few minutes.”
“A few minutes?”
“Give or take.”
Relief made her legs go weak. Soon they would have other rangers with guns to protect them, and medical help for Adam. And then they could bring in the FBI or whoever they needed in order to find her friend Tracy. And Sam, if he was still alive. Then they could put Tattoo Guy and Owen in prison where they belonged.
Maybe, just maybe, they’d make it out of here after all.
Adam turned and limped forward.
“Wait.” She motioned for him to stay where he was and hurried around the downed tree.
“Jody, what are you—”
“This.” She held up the thick piece of branch she’d used like a bat to defend herself after the thugs had caught up to her and surrounded her. “It’s thick and heavy and just about long enough to work as a cane.” She rushed over to him and held it out.
The lines of pain bracketing his mouth eased, and he offered her a small smile. “That should do the job. Thanks. The one I used to pull myself out of the hole broke in half or it would have been a perfect walking stick.” He tested it out, pressing the length of branch against the ground as he took a step forward. He grimaced but quickly smoothed his features. “Works great. Let’s go.”
Together they hobbled and walked west, keeping near the tree line to give them cover in case the bad guys came looking for them. By staying out of the woods, the going was easier, with fewer obstacles for Adam to navigate around.
“Shouldn’t we stop and pull that wood out of your leg?”
He shook his head. “It’s controlling the bleeding. It’s better to leave it in, even though it hurts like the devil.”
She nodded, unconvinced. But since her most recent medical training was CPR in the fifth grade, it wasn’t like she had any true wisdom to offer.
“At least the storm is holding off. That’s good,” she said.
He looked up and nodded. “Looks like it’s moving east. We should be okay.”
At first, he managed a steady clip. But as they began a gradual climb into the foothills of the next mountain, his pace began to lag. He was leaning heavier and heavier on the makeshift cane. If the broken piece of wood piercing his leg was truly stanching the bleeding, she couldn’t imagine how bad it would be if the wood was out. A dark, wet spot was slowly spreading down his pant leg.
She glanced at the ground behind him. Bright spots of blood marked their trail. She worried her bottom lip, not sure whether it mattered at this point. They weren’t going fast enough to outrun anyone. Once the bad guys decided to come back to look for them, they’d find them pretty quickly, with or without a blood trail to follow.
“What is it?” Adam asked, his voice husky from the pain.
“Nothing.”
He stopped, using the cane for support as he drew a ragged breath. “It’s not nothing. What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that, well, we’re leaving a pretty obvious trail. I doubt it matters, but—”
He glanced back, then swore. “My backpack. There should be an extra shirt inside. We can wrap it—”
“I’m on it.” She moved behind him and quickly located the shirt, then zipped the pack. A moment later, she stepped back to take a look. The shirt had been wrapped tight around his leg, just under where the stick protruded. It was soaking up the blood and had the added advantage of stabilizing the stick. There’d been some white-lipped moments as he’d endured her ministrations. “That should do the trick,” she said. “Hopefully it will help ease the pain a bit when you walk, too.”
He took a step forward then another. No blood was left on the ground behind him. But his white-knuckled grip on the makeshift cane told her the pain, if anything, was worse.
They had to get him help. Soon.
“Do you think we’re in range of a tower yet?” She moved to his side, wedging her shoulder beneath his to help him hobble forward. It was a testament to his agony that he didn’t refuse her help like he’d done earlier.
“Let’s give it a few more minutes before we try,” he said. “I can picture the park map in my head. I think once we get right about to that tree over there—” he waved toward a group of trees about a football field’s length away “—that should do it.”
As they hobbled toward their goal, she said, “I never thanked you for saving me in the clearing. I don’t know how you managed it. But I was a goner until you got there. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m just doing—”
“Your job, yes, I know. But I guarantee most people wouldn’t go to the lengths you’ve gone to in order to help a stranger. So maybe instead of arguing with me when I thank you, you can just say ‘you’re welcome.’”
His mouth twitched but didn’t quite manage to form a smile. “You’re welcome.”
She squeezed his side
in response, and they continued forward.
An eternity seemed to pass before they reached the trees he’d pointed to. She helped him turn around and sit on some rocks.
He let out a shaky breath and gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be okay, Jody. We’re going to make it.”
“No offense,” she said, “but once your fellow rangers finally get here and get us off these mountains, I’m never planning on coming back again. I’ve had my fill of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.”
He chuckled and unsnapped his radio from his utility belt. Then he lifted it and froze.
Jody swung around, looking behind them. But she didn’t see anyone. Or hear anyone. As far as she could tell, they were alone. “What’s wrong?” She turned back around to see him staring off into space, a defeated expression on his face. “Adam?”
Without a word, he held up the radio. A bullet hole had been blasted right through the screen.
Chapter Nine
Jody stared at the bullet hole. “Maybe...maybe the radio will work anyway.”
He turned some dials. “It’s busted. Useless.”
“But—”
“Forget it.” He snapped the radio back onto his belt and looked past her, his gaze scanning the horizon. “I figure Tattoo Guy will get that shoulder stitched up and some painkillers on board before he and reinforcements come after us. As fast as he got that third guy out here—”
“Thad.”
He nodded. “Thad. As fast he got him out here, he’s probably got more resources close by. It won’t take long.” He pulled Thad’s pistol out of his holster and popped out the magazine. Then he popped it back in and shoved the gun into the holster. “Six shots left in the magazine and one in the chamber. It’s a .40 caliber, like my Glock was. So the extra magazines in my backpack will work. We won’t be completely defenseless. We’ll need to find a defensible position and settle in, make a plan.”
“A plan sounds good. What’s our first move?”
He shrugged the backpack off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. “That first aid kit you’ve been nagging me about?”
“I don’t nag.”
He winked, which was amazing considering that he had a piece of wood sticking through his leg.
“The kit is in the bottom of the pack. Can you get it for me?”
“Of course.” She dropped to her knees, grimacing when the cuts and scrapes on her skin started stinging all over again. She rummaged through the pack, noting he had some water and energy bars, which would come in handy when they weren’t busy running for their lives. She grabbed one of the bottles and handed it to him. “Drink that.”
“Not yet.” He set the unopened bottle on top of the rock.
She pulled the medical kit out and handed it to him. “You need to hydrate to help your body fight its injuries and replenish the blood you’ve lost. Why won’t you drink now?”
“Because there’s something else we need to do first.”
He clicked the top of the plastic box open, rummaged inside, then pulled out a spool of black thread and a long, wicked-looking needle.
“If we’re going to face off with our enemies,” he said, “I can’t afford to lose any more blood. And I need to be mobile. I’m going to pull the stick out of my leg. And you’re going to stitch me up.”
* * *
ADAM WOULD HAVE sworn Jody’s face turned green when he asked her to sew him up. Now it was completely washed out, almost translucent. Her right hand went to her stomach.
“St...stitch you up?”
“It’s a lot to expect,” he said. “And I hate asking it of you. But once I pull out the wood, I’ll be bleeding from the front and back of my leg. It’s going to take both of us to stanch the bleeding and sew the wounds closed.”
She shook her head, stepping back from him. “I threw up earlier just because I was upset. Sticking a needle in someone’s flesh is a whole other level. I can’t do it.”
“You can. You’re much stronger than you think you are. How many people do you know who could have taken off like you did, leading the bad guys away from me? You saved my life, Jody. You know it. And then you faced down three men with guns and knives and lived to tell the tale. You’re a hero and a fighter. You can do this.”
Her shoulders straightened as his words sank in. Some of the color came back to her cheeks. Then she glanced down at the needle and thread and went pale again. “Please tell me you have anesthesia to numb the pain.”
He slowly shook his head. “No. I don’t.”
“Alcohol?”
“The drinking kind or the rubbing kind?” he teased.
“Either! You have to have something for the pain, and germs.”
“Afraid I’m all out of whiskey. But I do have an antiseptic spray. And rolls of gauze.”
She raised a shaky hand to her throat. “It will hurt like crazy.”
“It already hurts like crazy. Nothing you do could make it worse.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “I need your help. We’re sitting ducks out here. Not enough cover. I’d keep going, look for somewhere better to do this if I could. But in case you hadn’t noticed, that shirt you wrapped around my leg is soaked through already. We’re leaving a blood trail again. And I’m getting woozy. We have to stop the bleeding, now, or I won’t be any use to you at all. I won’t be able to defend you. I’ll be passed out.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He frowned, thinking she was still refusing to work on his leg. But then she took the thread and needle from him and dropped to her knees. She was probably apologizing because she didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone more sensitive and kindhearted than her.
She set the first-aid kit beside her and located the antiseptic spray. He stretched his leg out in front of him to give her better access. She used his knife to slit his pants and roll the ends up to his knee, out of the way.
Once Jody Ingram set her mind on something, she fully committed to it. She was like a drill sergeant, giving him orders, setting out what she needed.
Getting his boot off to give her more room to stitch the wound was agony. But it was over quickly.
Another of his shirts, the only other one he had in the pack, was sacrificed for the cause. She wrapped it around his calf just below the entry and exit points of the piece of wood, ready to apply pressure as soon as the wood came out.
The confidence she’d displayed as she prepared his leg seemed to evaporate when she looked up at him with shiny eyes. “I’m going to do this,” she assured him. “But I’m probably going to cry the whole time and I might even throw up. You’ll just have to deal with it, all right?”
He was surprised that she could make him laugh when he was in so much pain. “All right.”
She nodded. “Go ahead, then. I’m ready. Pull it out.” She squeezed her eyes shut and braced his calf.
In spite of the pain—and the even more pain that was yet to come—he couldn’t help but smile at her and admire her. He’d meant what he said. She really was courageous, heroic and strong. She was also sensitive and kind, a rare combination these days.
He crossed his ankles, using his good leg as a brace to keep his other leg still. Then he grasped the two-inch-thick length of tree branch that had impaled him when he’d slid into the pit. His calf already throbbed just from grasping the wood. This was going to hurt like the dickens. And he had to be quiet, no matter how much it hurt, so he wouldn’t upset Jody any more than she already was. And so he didn’t broadcast their location to the thugs in case they were already back in the mountains looking for them.
He mentally counted. One. Two. Three. He locked his good leg down hard on the bad one, and pulled. The pain was instantaneous, blinding in its intensity, molten lava searing every nerve ending. There was a sickening sucking sound as he tugged and
pulled the stick forward and up. It slid through his leg, scraping against bone, rough bumps on the wood tearing his flesh anew much like an arrow might have done. It finally came free with a popping sound.
Jody gasped and clamped her hands down hard against his leg to stop the fresh rush of blood.
Agony ripped through him. He had to clench his jaw not to yell. His lungs heaved. Sweat poured off him. He gasped for air, quick pants as he tried to breathe through the pain.
“It’s bleeding too much. I can’t stop it.”
Her words came to him through a long black tunnel. He struggled against it, desperately tried to clear his vision.
“Adam? Adam!”
He surrendered to the darkness.
* * *
JODY’S HAND SHOOK so hard that she almost couldn’t sew the last stitch. Only the fact that it was the very last one kept her going. Because she knew it would soon be over. Her stomach clenched as she pierced Adam’s skin and pulled the last of his ragged flesh together. She shuddered as she used the knife to cut the thread.
He was still unconscious. But his chest rose and fell in steady, deep breaths. And she’d checked his pulse about ten times out of fear. It too was strong and steady. Maybe the universe was being kind to him by knocking him out so he wouldn’t experience the pain of being stitched up. She’d barely managed to keep him from knocking his head when he’d fallen back. But she hadn’t been able to keep him from sliding off the boulder.
Now he was lying on his side on the ground, which had ended up being easier for her to stitch the wounds. But without him awake to help her put pressure on them while she stitched them up, he’d lost far more blood than he could probably afford. And she’d had to work fast to try to limit the bleeding. There’d been absolutely no finesse in her needlework. He was going to have horrible scars.
She bent over his leg, inspecting her work, and winced. Hopefully men didn’t care about such things. Or maybe a plastic surgeon could fix it later. She glanced around. If there was a later. He was right about them being out in the open here. It was called a bald, if she remembered right from the brochures she’d seen. A part of the mountains where there was a huge gap in the trees, where nothing but grass grew. It could have been caused by disease, but judging by the charring on the few trees that were close by, more likely it was a part of the woods that had burned all the way to the ground, leaving nothing in its wake.
