***
Susan sat by the fire trying to get warm while Jake did his best to figure out what damage was done to her shoulder. They had no doctor at the small camp, but he was trained as a paramedic, which allowed the expedition to not be assigned a Navy Corpsman as would normally be the protocol. There wasn’t much he could do other than to confirm what Susan already knew. No broken bones; plenty of bruised and torn ligaments. The question that it came down to was this: stay and bear the pain, or be evacuated on the next flight? That was no question at all. Jake, in his role of medic, also had the authority to dispense drugs which, he cheerfully pointed out, was a dangerous precedent. He was, in turn, informed that if she needed those drugs and they were gone as the result of a recreational boondoggle, he, himself, would in all probability die at Susan’s hand, bad arm or no. Even though he made light of her predicament, he was concerned.
“You really do need to consider, Susan,” he said. “How are you going to be able to work like this? With one arm practically useless, it isn’t going to be easy.”
“Well, I guess you may end up serving a purpose after all,” she told him before adding quickly, “and it isn’t going to be for that, either.”
He was charmed with how she caught on so quickly.
“Darn,” he answered. “But you’re the Doc, Doc. It’s your call.”
Susan smiled from one corner of her mouth, appreciating what he was doing. For all his banter and innuendo, he wasn’t really making a serious effort at finagling his way into her long johns. By keeping what could have ended up being an uncomfortable situation light and in the forefront, his exaggerated flirtations dispelled any tension that could have built up and caused a disruption in their working relationship. It was disarming in a way that almost had the opposite effect; it was, in a strange way, attractive. But she meant what she said; she didn’t need the distraction. Not now.
“Good. I’m glad we were able to get that straight. Now go see if there is a packing slip on those crates out on the line,” she said, pointing toward the door. “Maybe we can clear up the whole mess right now.”
He sighed, looking disappointed.
“We’re only together for one day and she’s already bossing me around,” he grumbled, as he got ready to go back out into the storm. “I’m starting to wonder if this relationship has a future.”
“Thank you, dear,” she called after him, laughing even though it made her shoulder hurt worse.
When he came back, he looked perplexed.
“Here’s the list from those crates. I couldn’t tell you what it all is, except for the one marked ‘explosive,’” Jake said.
“Really?” she asked, curious. “Only one thing explosives are for around here. Let me see.”
She looked over the list.
“I was right,” she said. “This is seismic equipment. Someone is doing a survey. Steven didn’t say anything about seismic in his abstract.”
“Whatever,” Jake commented, yawning. It had been a long day.
“We’ll see when he gets here, I guess.”
The Pole of Inaccessibility Page 7