Sam scanned the river, searching for the large hole that would be the last of the white water on this river as he worked his way to the right bank, better to bypass the reversal. They came around a bend and he saw a strainer, an ancient cottonwood, lying halfway across the river, blocking his line to the right. If they got caught up in that, they were goners. Sam dug in his oars, pulling frantically to move to the left of the hole. “Hang on, Dana.”
They almost made it, barely catching the edge of the hole. The raft dropped in with a splash and tilted upward on the left, threatening to overturn. “High side!” Sam leaned uphill. Dana threw her weight onto the uphill side also, and the raft stabilized for a moment before the front of the boat soared skyward over the wave, bucking like a bronco and bouncing everything in the raft.
Dana slid off the thwart, but quickly recovered her balance. Sam lifted the oars from the water so they didn’t catch and throw him, letting the raft ride out the wave. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red go over the edge of the raft and Dana’s look of panic. Before he could react, she grabbed at it just as they reached the crest of the wave and dropped down the other side. The jar sent her headfirst into the churning river.
Sam dropped the oars and stood, scanning the water, blood pounding in his ears. The loose oar hit something and landed a blow to his left side, sending a sharp pain shooting through his left arm and knocking him into the oarsman seat. He scrambled up again and spotted Dana, bobbing beside the raft. Thank God for the PFD. He grabbed the loop behind her head and dragged her into the boat.
The raft bobbed along in the choppy water below the rapids. Sam grabbed an oar with his right hand and used it as a rudder to guide the raft to the bank of the river, underneath a curving bluff. The boat beached on the gravel and they came to rest.
He sucked in a lungful of oxygen and ran his eyes over Dana, looking for signs of damage. Completely soaked, of course, her eyes huge, but she seemed okay.
She scrambled to her feet. “Sam, your arm.”
He looked down. His left arm dangled uselessly just below the elbow. Blood ran from a jagged tear. A dispassionate voice inside his head warned that when the adrenaline wore off, this was going to hurt. A lot.
Dana scrambled to the back of the raft and burrowed like a terrier through the equipment until she unearthed a white case with a red cross. She pulled out a thick dressing and looked at his arm, then at his face, obviously not knowing what to do.
Sam took the wad of gauze and pressed it against the bleeding gash. “Thank you. Are you okay?” He could see a few scrapes on her arms but nothing serious.
“I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Sam.” Dana checked through the contents of the kit. “What else do you need?”
“First I need to stop the bleeding.” The wound wasn’t spurting, so he hadn’t ruptured an artery. That was a plus. What happened to cause her to go overboard? They were through the worst of it by then. He looked around. “Where’s Kimmik?”
Dana stood and called him. The dog came running up the shoreline to the edge of the raft. He must have gone into the water when Dana did. He gave a mighty shake, spraying them both with river water. Not that it mattered. They could hardly be any wetter. Sam was glad to see he was safe, but he didn’t need an exuberant Labrador in his lap right now.
“Kimmik, stay.” The dog stopped and sat. “Good boy.” Sam turned to Dana. “You know first aid?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Sam needed to assess the situation, but his brain seemed to be operating in slow motion. “Um, could you help me get this helmet off?”
Dana removed his helmet and hers, tossing them into the back of the raft. Her cheeks were pink, her breathing fast but not labored. No sign she’d inhaled river water. She might have some bruising, but seemed to be moving fine.
He, on the other hand, wasn’t so fine. Judging from the ache each time he took a breath, he had a couple of cracked ribs as well as the compound fracture in his forearm. He pulled the thick dressing away from the wound, pleased to see it was starting to clot. He was going to have to rely on Dana.
She stood beside him, waiting for his next instruction. Better give her one. His safety training emphasized giving everyone in an emergency situation a job to avoid panic. Besides, he needed her help. He swallowed. “I’m going to need a splint.”
Dana picked over the contents of the raft and pulled the plank he’d been polishing from the mesh bag. “Would this work?”
“Perfect. Can you break it in two lengthwise?”
Dana propped one side of the plank on some rocks and jumped on the middle, splitting it along the grain. She climbed back into the raft where Sam still sat on the oarsman seat.
At his prompting, she cleaned the edges of the wound with an antiseptic wipe, gingerly so as not to start it bleeding again. “Now, you’ll need to line up the bones as best you can and sandwich them between the boards. Then use that stretchy bandage to wrap it.”
Dana bit her lip. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“I can almost guarantee it. But it will save me pain in the long run. Pull down and away so you can line up the bones.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. When she straightened his elbow and pulled on his wrist, flashes of fire shot up his arm and through his spine. Sam closed his eyes and ground his teeth, waiting for the pain to stop.
Once she had the splint in place and made the first couple of wraps, the shooting pain subsided into a throbbing ache. Sam opened his eyes. Dana’s hands were steady as she wrapped the bandage around the splint. Tears streamed from her eyes and ran down her face, but she ignored them and continued to wrap his arm until she reached the end of the bandage and secured it. He had to give her credit. The woman had guts.
She looked up at him and managed a tight smile. “How’s that?”
“Better. Thank you.” He nodded toward the first-aid kit. “Use one of those antiseptic wipes to clean those scrapes on your arms. You don’t want an infection.”
She nodded and tore a foil package open. “Then what?”
“Well, since I’m basically useless, I suppose you’d better make camp.” He looked at the splint on his arm. “I guess we won’t be cooking that planked king salmon tonight, after all.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DANA HOVERED NEXT to Sam in case he needed help climbing out of the raft, but he managed on his own. He stumbled over to sit on a fallen log, hugging his broken arm. His expression seemed almost normal—only the tightness around his eyes and mouth signaled his pain. Kimmik came to sit at his feet and gave a low whimper. Sam used his good hand to give the dog a reassuring pat on the head.
After tying the raft to a tree, Dana started to unload the gear. By the time she’d finished, the quick-dry clothing she wore had almost dried. She found a bottle of water and brought it to Sam. Even in the late-day shadows, his face seemed pale. He took the water and drank, but his body was shaking and he spilled some of the water.
“You’re cold.”
He nodded. “Shock.”
Dana tried to remember what she knew about treatment for shock, but since her education on this subject came entirely from old British novels, all she could think of was sweet hot tea or brandy. She was pretty sure they had neither. But if Sam was shivering, he must be cold. She brought a sleeping bag and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“What else do you need?”
“This is helping.”
She lit the stove and set a pan of water to boil. While she waited on it, she flipped through the booklet from the first-aid kit and read about shock. Not good. She found some packets of instant cider in the food bin and carried a mugful to Sam.
“Here. Something warm to drink.”
His hand still shook, so she helped raise the mug to his mouth and let him sip. He swallowed. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Do you want to lie down?”
“I’m fine.”
“If you’re in shock, you should lie down, elevate your feet and stay warm.”
Sam’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Since when are you a Girl Scout?”
She shrugged. “I can read. I’ll build a fire, and then I’ll spread out a sleeping mat so you can lie beside it and keep warm. Humor me, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dana gathered up a load of firewood and used Sam’s knife to shave some of it into kindling. With some coaching from him and a dab of his magic fire-starter paste, Dana got the fire going and fed the dog. As the sun disappeared beyond the mountains, Sam dozed next to the fire, covered with a sleeping bag, his feet propped up on a section of log, and Kimmik stretched out beside him. Sam seemed to have stopped shivering.
Dana cut off a few chunks of king salmon and stewed them in boiling water, adding a packet of chicken and noodles. When she checked on Sam, he opened his eyes. She brought him a mug. “Here. This is the closest I can come to chicken soup.”
With her help, he sat up, propped against a log. Dana handed him the soup. He took a sip. “Not bad.”
She smiled and drank from her own mug. “I should start a new career writing a camping cookbook. I’ll call it the Freeze-dried Gourmet. Maybe I’ll become famous. What do you think?”
Sam snorted and then winced. “Ouch, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“I’ll try not to be funny.” She brushed a strand of hair back from his forehead and her expression grew more somber. “What do we do from here?”
Sam took a breath as if speaking was an effort. “Since I can’t oar, we have two options. We can call for rescue, or we can wait a couple of days until the group behind us catches up and get one of them to oar us to the pickup point. With hard rowing, we’re only a few hours away.”
Considering his condition, the choice seemed clear. “I think we should get you to a hospital sooner rather than later. How do we call for rescue?”
“With the sat phone.”
Dana’s blood ran cold. “In the red bag. The one with the camera and our cell phones.”
“That’s right.”
“Sam, I’m so sorry. It went overboard.”
“What?”
“I forgot to clip the carabiner when we got into the white water and when we went over that last bump, it flew out. I tried to grab it.”
“That’s when you fell in?”
“Yes.” She slapped her hand against her forehead. “I can’t believe I was so stupid. This is all my fault.”
Sam shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t give you enough warning before the rapids.”
“I still should have—”
“Don’t. We both made mistakes, and we can’t change them. We have to move forward.”
She would have argued more, but she could see the effort was tiring Sam. She nodded. “Won’t the pilot report us missing when we’re not at the pickup the day after tomorrow?”
“Maybe, but he won’t necessarily think it’s an emergency. He’ll probably do a flyover up the river, but with the bluff here, I doubt he’ll see us. We’ll just have to wait for the next group to come by.”
They could do that. They had plenty of food and fuel for the stove. If it weren’t for Sam’s pain, she would have enjoyed an extra couple of days on the river. “Is there anything I can do for you now?”
“Throw another log on the fire, and then come sit here beside me. Keep me warm.”
* * *
DANA DOZED ON and off through the night, occasionally getting up to feed the fire. She considered moving them into the tent, but Sam seemed relatively comfortable where he was, and with the fire, two sleeping bags, and she and Kimmik pressed against opposite sides of his body, he seemed warm enough. At least it wasn’t raining, and the mosquitoes weren’t bad.
Sam seemed to drift between sleep and restlessness. Her only clue about how much pain he felt came during his interludes of slumber, when he would moan in his sleep. The sun had just peeked over the northeastern horizon when she finally fell into a deep sleep for a couple of hours. When she woke, sweat beaded on her forehead.
The fire had burned down, but Sam seemed to be radiating heat. Dana placed a gentle hand on his forehead and drew back almost as if she’d been burned. Fever. Not good. His breath seemed more labored. He didn’t stir under her touch.
She slipped out from under the sleeping bag and checked the first-aid booklet. Fever, a symptom of infection, along with redness around the wound, and eventually muscle weakness, confusion and nausea. There weren’t any antibiotics in the first-aid kit, but Dana did find a bottle of ibuprofen.
She returned to Sam, trying to decide whether to wake him or let him rest. The decision was taken out of her hands when Kimmik crawled out from under Sam’s arm and gave a big shake, flapping his ears. Sam opened his eyes.
Dana knelt beside him. “Hi. How are you feeling?”
His eyes seemed glassy, unfocused, but he gave a little smile. “Not great. How about you?”
“I’m fine. But you’re feverish, so I want you to take these.”
“What are they?”
“Ibuprofen. To get your temperature down. And you need to drink water.”
“Okay.” With some effort, Sam sat up and swallowed the pills and some water. He struggled to his feet, wobbling a bit. He seemed noticeably weaker than yesterday.
Dana rushed forward to support him. “Where are you going?”
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a private matter. Can you pass me that stick?”
Leaning on the walking stick, Sam made his way into the edge of the woods, past a cow-sized boulder. At his pointed look, she waited on the other side of the rock until he gave the okay before returning to escort him back to the fire.
The medicine seemed to help, and Sam swallowed a few bites of scrambled eggs before he fell asleep. Dana did the camp chores. Still plenty of freeze-dried food along with all that fish. They weren’t going to starve. But Sam’s fever worried her.
A couple of days until they could expect the other rafters to come along. Surely, Sam could hold out until then. But a flash of panic shot through Dana as a thought occurred to her. What if the other group passed without seeing them?
She checked the first-aid book to see if there was some sort of distress signal, but that didn’t seem to be covered. Maybe a white flag? Or was that surrender? Not that it mattered since she was fresh out of white flags. She tore a strip from the bottom of her light blue thermal top and used a charred stick from the fire to spell out HELP on the shore.
She tied the makeshift flag to a long stick and planted it along the bank where anyone passing on the river would be sure to see it. Then she went to check on Sam. His temperature was back up. She applied a warm compress to his arm and dosed him with ibuprofen again.
She kept busy the whole day gathering firewood, organizing the equipment and taking care of Sam. She was worried. As each dose of medicine wore off, his temperature seemed to spike higher. In between, he shivered with chills. He slept more and she could hardly coax him into eating at all. He said food made his stomach churn.
Once again, she spent the night beside him, giving him space when the fever would spike, wrapping the sleeping bag around them and pressing herself against him when he would shiver with chills. Finally, he fell into a fitful sleep and she closed her eyes and held him tight, as if she could somehow protect him from the infection. The sky had turned the pale silver of just before dawn when she heard him moan. She spoke softly. “You okay?”
“I don’t think so.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I shouldn’t have dragged you here. I’m so sorry, Dana.”
“I’m fine.”
“If I don’t make it—”
“Shh. You’re just sick. You’ll be okay once you get to a doctor.”
“Be quiet a minute.” The effort to talk was obviously costing Sam, so she quit protesting and listened. “I want you to be safe. Just flag down the rafters when they come. They’ll get you to the floatplane.”
“I know. And you’re coming with me. Hey, you promised me you’d show me how to make planked king salmon. You’re not going back on your promise, are you?”
He smiled before his eyes fluttered closed. Dana scrambled to her knees. “Sam? Sam, don’t you dare leave me.”
“S’okay, Dana. I’m right here.”
She gave Sam another dose of medicine, tucked the sleeping bag around him and kissed him on the forehead. Almost immediately, he fell asleep, his breathing rapid and shallow.
Once he was settled, Dana went to work, packing the raft. She was not going to sit around and wait to be rescued while Sam grew weaker. The floatplane was due at the lower lake today at noon, and one way or another, she planned to be there to meet it.
She made sure every single thing was strapped down this time. Then she woke Sam. “Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up. It’s time for breakfast.”
Sam made a face. “Not hungry.”
“That’s okay. It’s only cider. You need a little sugar in you before we get on the river.”
He struggled into a sitting position and took a sip of the hot liquid. “They’re here?”
“No, but we’re not waiting. The plane is coming at noon, so we need to get going.”
He shook his head. “Too dangerous. You might get hurt.”
“We’re past the white water, right?”
“Still ripples, backwater. You’re safer here.”
“But you’re not. Come on, Sam. You said it. I can drift or I can paddle my own boat. I’ve decided to paddle and you’re coming with me.”
He took another sip and met her eyes. “You’ve never oared a raft.”
The Alaskan Catch Page 16
