by J. R. Tate
It would definitely hurt like hell. Ryan contemplated the option a few more minutes, hesitating. “How long ago did this happen?” He still wasn’t sure how much time had passed. If he could get an accurate timeline, it’d help him make a decision.
“You were out for a good forty-five minutes.”
“And I’ve been awake for about fifteen, so an hour, give or take. And it’s still bleeding.” Ryan shook his head yes. “We can try it. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.” He wanted to give it more time, but they didn’t have any more time to waste. “The sewing kit is in the big pocket of my backpack. There are different size threads and needles. Probably should get a thicker thread.”
Steve gathered the supplies and laid them out beside Ryan. He poured alcohol on a cotton ball and smoothed it down the needle, including the tip. Eying the spool, he smirked and unrolled several feet.
“We don’t have flesh color, so you’ll have black stitches. We’re gonna have to pull your pants down so I can get better access to it. Don’t want to cross contaminate with your clothes.”
Ryan edged his jeans down, thankful that he still had a pair of boxers on. The fabric clung to the caked on blood on his skin and he was already anticipating the horrible pain. He wished they had something to numb him. If only his dad were there with his flask of whiskey. If he had a good buzz going, he wouldn’t care what Steve did.
Steve pulled Ryan’s belt through the loops and handed it to him. “I’d bite down on this. It might help a little.”
Ryan let out a sarcastic laugh. It was shocking how willing Steve was to do it, like he was his special science project or something. When Steve removed the gauze and cloth, Ryan got his first real look at the injury. The gash was about half of a foot long and deep enough that he could see tissue. More blood oozed out, along with some pus, which wasn’t a good sign. The gauze stuck to the dried blood like his jeans had, and he cringed at the sight of what had happened.
Steve dabbed a few drops of alcohol on a clean piece of gauze and held it right above the wound. “You ready?”
“Do it. Just get it over with,” Ryan said between breaths, closing his eyes when the bandage soaked in medicine ran over his skin.
Painful was an understatement. He could feel the alcohol bubbling in and around the affected area, the discomfort feeling like a million needles were jabbing into him. He bit down on his belt so hard that he almost split the leather. Sweat flowed down the side of his face and he tasted the salt on his lips. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should’ve given it a little more time to heal up on its own.
The pain subsided for a moment, the wound going numb from the trauma. Steve set the gauze and bottle of alcohol aside and made sure the needle was clean again. Tying the thread through the eye, he secured it and looked at Ryan through the corner of his eye.
“Maybe that was the worst of it.”
“You’re about to stick a needle in my skin. I’m not sure what to...”
Steve didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as bad as cleaning it had, and he felt the tension pull the damaged flesh together. There was a dull ache deep in his leg, but the stinging had subsided. It felt weird, having thread weave in and out, but Ryan finally gained up enough courage to open his eyes and watch. Steve was better at stitching him up than expected. He must’ve done it a lot on his farm.
As the needle moved in and out, a few more drops of blood came out, but it was a small sacrifice to make in comparison to the amounts of blood he’d lose if they hadn’t taken action. His skin didn’t match up perfectly, but it would help aid his body in healing. He wasn’t going for a beauty contest. A scar would just be a mark to remind him of the adventure they were on.
Finishing the job, Steve cinched it up and cut the remaining thread with his pocket knife, leaving about two inches for some slack. For safe measure, he ran another cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the stitches. Another sensation of pain hit Ryan, but it ended quickly.
“I should work in the O.R.,” Steve said, laughing. “What do you think, Ryan?”
“My leg looks like a damn football.”
“And you stopped bleeding,” Steve replied as he gathered up the supplies.
“Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it. I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. You got me away from those looters. And besides, we’re not keeping score. We’re in this together. I can’t have you bleeding all over the damn place. The coyotes will surely track us then!”
Ryan felt a smile part his lips, and it wasn’t forced. His eyelids were heavy and he felt like he had just got done running a race. Sitting up, he fought the wave of exhaustion and drank some more water. Since they were by the river, they could easily get a refill.
“We should get going if that storm is gone.”
Steve’s eyes widened again as if Ryan had spoken another language. “Are you kidding me? You’ve got a massive hole in your leg! I just stitched it up. Your ass isn’t going anywhere!”
“We don’t have the time to wait around. Whether we go right now or hours from now, my leg is going to hurt. I wanted to get to Harper Springs before the sun went down today.” He attempted getting up again, but this time, Steve made it impossible, gently putting his hand on Ryan’s chest.
“What good will you be if you won’t rest? Rushing it is just going to slow us down more. You took a detour for me to get water. Now do it for yourself, would you? You’re a stubborn ass!”
Steve’s assessment of Ryan made him laugh, and laughing made him hurt, but he couldn’t stop himself. “My wife says the same thing about me.”
“I know you wanna find her. I get it. But you can barely hold your eyes open as you’re talking to me. You said so yourself before I stitched you up – you’re worried about infection. Going too soon will weaken you, including your immune system.”
Ryan held his hand up and bit his bottom lip. “Alright. Point made. You sure you’re not a car salesman, because damn! And I’m the stubborn one?”
“We’ll rest this evening and see how you feel in the morning. That’ll give me time to fish and make supper. You need something to keep your strength up.”
Ryan didn’t respond. Steve knew what he was doing, and it was nice to witness him finally coming out of his shell. As much as Ryan liked to lead, sometimes it was a nice break to follow for a change.
Waiting around made him worry about several issues, but things he couldn’t ruminate on until the situation actually arose – another storm coming through was the main thing on his mind. He wasn’t mobile, and he wouldn’t be able to get away. He also worried about more coyotes coming. He was in a prime position to be a quick meal. He escaped from two. The third time, he might not be so lucky.
Steve carried his sapling to the edge of the water and threw it in. Another catfish would hit the spot if he was able to catch one. Ryan closed his eyes and tried to rest. One second at a time. That’s all they could do.
Chapter Twenty
Ryan woke up to his leg throbbing. Lifting his head off of the tree, it took a second to remember what happened, but when he tried to stand, his memory came back to him, and he groaned out in pain. He looked around for Steve, not finding him. The humid air was thick on top of his chest and he had to tell himself to breathe slowly, even though the pain in his leg was unbearable.
“Steve?” It didn’t come out as loud as he anticipated. “Steve?” Had he left? Did a coyote get him? Ryan tried to stand up again, but a shadow blocked the sun bearing down on him, and he saw the silhouette of his travel buddy towering over him.
“I wouldn’t get up, Ryan. Wouldn’t want to bust those stitches.” Steve moved to where Ryan got a better view of him, and he was holding two catfish on the end of Mrs. McElroy’s thread. “Dinner tonight. They aren’t big, but they’ll feed us.”
“Want me to clean them?”
Steve shook his head and laid them out on a flat rock. One of the fish’s fins moved, but it was its las
t bit of life before it came to a rest next to the other.
“I want you to rest, Ryan. I can clean a fish. I’ll even get the fire going. If you take it easy the rest of the day and tonight, we probably will be able to go again tomorrow. The weather has held up for now, but we are about due for something big soon. I don’t think I can carry you, and if I could, we still wouldn’t move fast enough.”
Ryan tried to move his leg to keep the blood flow going. It felt numb like when his foot would fall asleep, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. When he was running from the coyote, his adrenaline was going, and he didn’t even feel the brunt of the injury when he fell, but now that it was wearing off, the ache was strong. Steve offered him two ibuprofen and the canteen and he downed the pills with a large gulp of water. It was refreshing and tasted good, so he took a few more pulls before giving it back to him.
“I know I already said it, but thank you, Steve. I’d have been that coyote’s dinner if it wasn’t for you.”
“He almost got you, but you’re fine. It’s no problem. Besides, I need you alive. I’d be lost out here. Probably already dead.”
Ryan lifted his injured leg a few inches off of the ground and cringed, but he had to keep moving it. His dad had gotten a knee replacement a year ago and the first thing they did was make him get up and walk. He assumed it was the same in this instance to ensure he wouldn’t stiffen up and make his body unable to do anything. Stiffness was also a symptom of tetanus, and he had to make sure he wasn’t showing any signs of it.
“How far would you say we are from Harper Springs?” Steve asked as he cut one of the fish from tail to head.
Ryan looked around, trying to get a good vantage point. With the bend in the river and the bridge, it helped him in figuring out how far down the highway they had gotten. “Rattlesnake Bridge is about three miles out from town. Back when things were normal, you’d hit houses and businesses before that. I even think there was a ranch house just over there, across the river.” He pointed to the west, but there was nothing there. It was like life never even existed where Ryan had grown up.
“You think you can do three miles on that leg tomorrow?”
“I’m going to have to. Ty is in bad shape and so am I. I’m hoping we run into someone in town, but I’m thinking it’s going to be the same story. Ghost towns with leveled houses and businesses with nothing to show for it except the foundations that the damn weather left behind. But I can at least go to where my business was and see if there’s anything I can gather. With a car, we could hightail it out of here and get out of the storm zone. I could find a hospital for Ty and me.”
“And your wife?” Steve asked, glancing up from the fish.
Ryan took another sip from the canteen and screwed the lid back on. The question was a simple one, but complex in his mind. “She’s dead, Steve.” He choked on his words, his voice cracking. He had to look away to prevent Steve from seeing the tears gather in the corners of his eyes.
“How do you know that?”
“Look around us.” He spread his hands wide. “Houses gone. Horses and cattle, gone. Human existence, almost gone. The chances of her surviving all of this are slim to none.”
“We did.”
“I was lucky enough to be right by my cellar when it hit. My wife was in her car on the way to town.”
“You can’t say she’s dead until you are certain. Don’t give up, Ryan. The fact that we’re still alive proves that this weather system didn’t clean out every living thing. The coyotes made it. They are trouble for us, but there’s more proof. And your son and dad. What about them? Didn’t your dad travel from his ranch to get to you? He’s still alive.”
Ryan ducked his head and closed his eyes. Thinking that Cecilia was dead felt like a huge person was sitting on his shoulders. “Excuse me if I’m not Mr. Optimistic at the moment, Steve. Something tells me she’s gone. Where’s her car? She was right along this highway we’ve been following this whole time.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ryan. You gotta do what you gotta do. You’ve made it this far. No sense in stalling out now.”
“I know. Just give me a minute. Once we start making progress again, I’ll feel better.” He wasn’t one for sitting still. Even though he was injured, the time they sat around to allow him to rest was time wasted. They were only three miles away from Harper Springs. Shouldn’t they be running into more people? Three miles! That wasn’t far, but it was like the fates were trying to keep him away for a reason.
~~
Darryl had lost track of what day it was. With no calendar or sense of time, he didn’t know what day of the week it was. His watch’s battery had died, but he had somewhat of an idea of what time it was. When the sun would finally show through the clouds, he could estimate, but with the dusty haze and the dark skies, he spent most of his time trying to guess.
It didn’t help that Ty kept asking him questions that he didn’t have the answer to. There would come a time when he would have to make a decision to get Ty out of there and try to find someone who could help them. The food was running low, and though they had things to eat, both of them were losing weight. They were rationing what they had, only able to eat small amounts that didn’t provide near the caloric intake they needed to sustain their nutrients. With Ty injured, he needed more intake, but his appetite was gone and Darryl had to force him to eat the little that they had.
His clothing was getting baggy. He tied some willow switches together to make a belt, but it barely held his pants up enough for him to get any work done. He needed energy, and the potted meat, crackers, and canned goods weren’t good enough anymore.
He had stopped trying to gather supplies from the pasture. He used to take Ty with him to get him some fresh air, but the boy was so tired that he didn’t want to get up from the lawn chair. Darryl couldn’t blame him – he didn’t want to do much either. With the lack of sun, it also put a damper on their moods. Things were going bad to worse, and it was a bitter pill to swallow when he thought that they were just slowly dying as they waited.
Doug was still tied up, and Darryl checked on him occasionally. The wound on his shin wasn’t near as bad as Ty’s arm, just a small scrape from the bullet that had grazed him. He hadn’t said much, but continuously glared at Darryl when they made eye contact. He’d eventually have to let the thief go. He was taking some of their food and it was another worry that Darryl had to give attention to. Right now, freeing him wasn’t an option. He was still angry, and Darryl couldn’t risk retaliation against Ty or Ryan if Doug did eventually find him. For the most part, Doug was keeping to himself. It also could have been a game he was playing to manipulate Darryl.
He had spent most of the day underground with Ty. With no motivation, there was no reason in wasting more energy.
“Ty?” Darryl always made a point to talk to him and make sure he was responsive. The child opened his eyes and looked at him, but didn’t say anything. “You hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
“No.”
The fact that his grandson wasn’t as talkative as before was also worrisome. He handed Ty a bottle of water. “Take a sip. I know you’re not thirsty, but just take a sip.”
Ty complied and handed it back to Darryl. “I feel really sick.”
Darryl ran his hand over Ty’s forehead. It was hot, his skin clammy and pale. He tried to hide his concern, but he definitely had a fever, and it wasn’t low grade.
“Let me see your arm.”
Ty didn’t put up a fight, and Darryl gently unwrapped the injured area. The punctured skin from the protruding bone was red around the edges, but didn’t look too infected. He grabbed the first aid kit and sanitized his hands before slipping rubber gloves on. Dousing a cotton ball in alcohol, he lightly pressed it against Ty’s skin.
“Does that hurt?”
Ryan nodded and closed his eyes. “Yes. Please don’t do that. Please stop!”
Darryl did as Ty had a
sked. For days, Ty had claimed that he couldn’t feel his arm. He had finally learned what numb meant, and that’s how he described how it felt. And today, it was a different story. Tears fell down his cheeks and against the dark circles under his eyes. He was as pale as a sheet, his lips dry and cracked from not getting enough water.
Shaking out two ibuprofen, Ty knew exactly what to do. He was becoming a pro at taking pills, and it left an unsettling feeling in the pit of Darryl’s stomach. Over the counter pain medications were designed for short term care of discomfort. Anything taken more often meant liver damage. And Ty was just a kid, so taking it meant even more issues erupting. What was he supposed to do? Let the kid lay there in pain? The ibuprofen would also help get the fever down, but if his arm was infected, it wouldn’t go away until they treated the underlying problem, which probably meant amputation. And Darryl certainly wasn’t comfortable doing that on his own. He’d end up killing Ty.
“I’m going up for a minute, Ty. I’ll be right back.”
Ty didn’t open his eyes, but he nodded. Darryl had to make a decision. Ryan was probably dead. There was no way a man could survive on his own out there with the type of weather they had gotten. Darryl making it to his son’s ranch was a fluke and he had gotten lucky. He hoped the story was the same with Ryan. Harper Springs was only about ten miles, but walking it on a normal day was treacherous. In these conditions, it was damn near impossible.
If he hauled Ty toward town, death was inevitable. If they continued to wait around for help that wasn’t coming, death was inevitable. Darryl sat down and contemplated his options, weighing the pros and cons of either decision.
If they stayed at the cellar, they had constant shelter for when the weather changed. They still had some food supply, but it was running out, and their rations were getting smaller each day. He could hunt, but his ammunition was low. The river wasn’t too far, but that would mean leaving Ty unattended. He was so exhausted, he’d probably never realize that Darryl had left him. If it came down to it, he’d go fish at the river. Staying there was a slow, miserable death. Darryl couldn’t keep him alive forever.
