by Chris Hechtl
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They were surprised a few days later when Bill came to the camp with Miguel. Both were out of breath and grim. “Doc, we need you,” Jim said as Florence rose to her feet.
“What happened?” she asked, immediately assessing Jim's wounds. The man was on his feet but pale and clearly tired. “You shouldn't have come!” she scolded.
“He's the only other one that would,” Miguel said.
“What happened,” Bret said, already moving to his weapons.
“Bad,” Miguel said. He shook his head as the other ladies came over. “A damn grizzly,” he said.
“Fuck,” Hayden murmured, white as a sheet.
“Yeah. Wayne is dead,” he said. Jenise sucked in a shocked breath. “That's not all. Dwayne's badly hurt. It got a piece of him, Tobias, Sherman, Jethro, Jim, and Bill here before they killed it,” Miguel said, indicating Bill and his bandaged head wound.
“What the hell happened?” Florence demanded. “I'll need my kit,” she said, clearing her throat. Jenise nodded and rushed off to get it. She came back right away.
“They got gored. Wayne tried to stand up to the damn bear, and he got torn up something wicked,” Bill said. “You gotta hand it to the guy; he was brave. Stupid but brave. But he probably saved my ass,” Bill said with a shake of his head. He looked away, eyes stinging.
“Let me see that,” Doc said with authority as Bret went to Hayden. He rubbed her shoulder and looked into her eyes. She nodded to the unanswered question. He rubbed her shoulders and then went to pack. He planned on bringing the poultices and other things the Doc had made. Something told him they'd use them and many more before the day was up. But first they had to get there.
The rivers and streams were overflowing with salmon and trout. His group had caught a lot in improvised fish traps and nets but the damn bears had chased them off. He wondered if the others had been stupid enough to try to face a bear down. Even smaller bears knew to back away from someone bigger and meaner than they were! It wasn't worth your life to defend a kill or catch; after all, there was more where that came from in the bush!
As Bret packed Bill showed Doc the wound on his arm and scalp. She examined both carefully. “You cleaned them out?” she asked, tut tutting over the damage. He grunted an affirmative. “This one probably could use some stitches,” she murmured, delicate fingers probing the wounded tissue. He winced. “Hold still,” she scolded. He did his best to freeze in place.
”The scalp wound isn't too bad, a scratch,” she said finally. “You got lucky. With those claws, it could have taken your face clean off,” she said. He shivered. “Cold?”
“Scared shitless, Doc,” he replied.
“You should be. Anyway,” she went to work changing the bandage. “Head wounds bleed heavily though because the blood vessels are so close to the skin,” she said. He grimaced.
“Tobias and Jethro have minor wounds,” he said. “Flesh wounds, though I think Tobias's arm is a bit deep,” he said.
“Bite?” Doc asked.
“No, friendly fire. He got hit by a spear in the struggle,” Miguel said.
“The good news is the bear is dead. The bad is we've got more wounded. Dwayne …,” Bill blinked, looking away.
“Oh my God,” Florence said as that sunk in to her mind. Somehow she'd twisted up Dwayne and Wayne, not realizing they'd been talking about the two men not Wayne. Her eyes flared wide. “Bad?”
“Bad enough, Doc. We need to hustle if you can do anything to save him. It may have already been too late. I'm not sure about the others,” Bill said, shaking his head. He winced at the motion.
“Jim should pull through if he can stop moving. Tanya stitched him up after checking to make sure there were no major blood vessels torn. I think,” Miguel said.
“Crap,” Doc murmured. She turned to find Jenise with her back pack and a staff.
“I'm coming too,” Bret said.
“I …” He turned on Hayden and shook his head firmly no. She bit her lip, taking a step back from his expression before she rushed into his arms. “Be safe,” she murmured, brushing the tears away on his chest.
“You two stay and take care of her,” he said, looking first to Bill and then to Jenise. Jenise blinked at him and nodded. Bill scowled.
“I need someone I trust to take care of her. Them,” Bret said. “She's in no shape to make the journey on foot. We've got animals and stuff to care for here too. She can't do it all. Nor do I expect her to.”
“Besides, we'll need a male here to keep us safe,” Jenise said, trying hard to sound approving and not put-upon.
“If you have to put it that way, fine. But Bill is staying put anyway,” Doc said, shouldering her pack and then hefting the medical kit. “You need rest,” she said, glaring at him. His jaw worked. “Not traipsing out and about in this. Sleep the night, then help the girls. Doctor's orders,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. “For the record I don't …,” he frowned, stopping himself. “Just watch your backs, okay?”
“Will do,” Bret said.
“You don't have to tell me twice,” Doc muttered.
“Stay safe,” Hayden said, hugging Bret. He looked down as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he got a kiss. “I mean it. Not a scratch or else,” she warned, brandishing a finger under his nose.
“Yes, ma'am. I'll do my best.”
“You do that,” she said as she eyed him. Then she went back to holding him tightly. “Stay safe. I love you,” she murmured into his chest. She felt his hand stroke her hair as he breathed.
When Miguel cleared his throat, they broke the embrace. “Come on, we're burning daylight,” Miguel said roughly. Bret nodded to him. The two men carried an assortment of weapons and were wary of predators as the sun moved steadily downward. Miguel and Bret were also loaded down with the extra medical supplies so Bret was ever aware that he would be hampered in a fight. Fortunately their mad rush back to the cave made them noisy, noisy enough to scare off anything around them.
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They were exhausted and worn when they got to the cave in the night. Bret looked around at the firelit cave and wasn't too surprised by it. They hadn't put a whole lot of effort into the making or its layout. Of course they hadn't had a lot of time he reminded himself; they'd only moved in what, a month or two before? He frowned and then shrugged it off.
It turned out the grizzly had been nearby; Miguel silently pointed the carcass out to them. Bret whistled. Doc looked over to it, then to the body nearby. Then she silently pulled her pack off as the other people scrambled to their side. “I'll need that,” she said, pointing to a cup of water. “It's clean I assume. We'll need to drink too,” she said flatly. “Where are they?” she asked as she immediately took some of the boiled water from Gisel to wash up before she set up. Gisel stared at her wide-eyed and then pointed to the back of the cave.
Florence nodded to her, took a sip of water from a cup Ginger handed her, then went on to triage the wounded.
She had done her best to pick Miguel's brains about the attack and what he had seen of their wounds. Miguel had avoided looking too deeply though, not out of a lack of empathy but out of a bit of squeamishness and an unwillingness to feel helpless. She could understand that, but she had wished he'd been a bit more observant the whole way back to the cave. She felt shin splints in her legs but ignored it as she went to work.
Tobias and Jethro did indeed have minor wounds. She nodded to them and then patted each on the shoulder and moved on to the more seriously wounded. Sherman, the stockbroker, had died before her arrival. Miguel was crushed by the news when Sarah and Gisel gently told him. Florence heard the news with a detached part of her mind and then went on to the living. She would mourn the dead when she had time she thought.
Jim's case was moderate, but he shook his head to her and pointed his good arm to the nearby bed. She went over to it, noting Jim had one leg propped up and bandaged.
She checked over the trooper
as she got to his side. “Hey, you're not supposed to get hurt you big dummy,” she murmured, checking him over. He had broken bones in his arm, most likely broken ribs and another scalp wound.
Part of his scalp was ripped up, torn and hanging by a flap. She gently brushed it back into place. She peered at him, assessing the injuries with a critical eye. His right leg had been mauled, the bones broken but the tissue hadn't been torn off. It looked like the bear had bit him somehow on the calf. She set the bones and then used a piece of leather and some branches to splint it properly. He was out cold, most likely from the pain, so she did her best to work quickly and efficiently. She was glad the broken bones hadn't cut an artery.
“He's lucky to be alive,” Helen said. Florence looked up to the other woman as she did her best to bathe the wounds with water from a bowl. She was stricken and in tears; she covered her mouth with her free hand to keep the sobs at bay but kept working. Unfortunately what she was doing wasn't helping, it was keeping the wounds open.
Florence ran a hand over Dwayne then frowned. He was running a low grade fever, not a good sign. He could have internal injuries she thought.
“Helen, I need you to get Sarah in here. Sarah and Tanya.”
“None of us were allowed to help them. When the bear started to come in, we were trapped in the back …,” Helen whispered. “He … he …”
“Helen, the girls.”
“Oh, okay,” she said.
“Clean water, more bandages, and my kits,” Doc said as her hands began to move. She put rest out of her mind as she did her best to work a miracle. “Don't you dare die on me,” she murmured to her patient.
“I'll try not to,” Dwayne crocked out, eyes still closed.
“Good.”
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Since he was a third wheel, Bret had them take him to the carcass. Angrily he stripped the bear carcass, a grizzly task all on its own. The skin and fur were good. A bit perforated from the wounds, but they could be stitched up later he judged.
The meat wasn't so great. He was ready to toss it but figured they might need it, so he set it aside.
When he was finished, he washed up and then brought a selection of meat and the fur back into the cave for the night. He'd set someone to scrape the damn thing; he was too damned tired to bother now he thought.
He stopped when he noted patches of yellow on the walls. He bent and then and picked up sulfur and other crystal like things.
“Doc?” he asked, voice rising.
“What is it? Not now!” She said.
“Could you use some sulfur,” he asked.
“Sulfur? Did you say sulfur? Of course I can use it!” she said, looking over her shoulder to him.
“Then we're in luck,” he told her, rising to his feet once more.
“Careful with that stuff. Dwayne said it's flammable. We were scraping it out and setting it outside,” Ginger said.
“Well, it's sulfur. So, bring it back inside. We'll need to clean it so Doc can use it,” Bret said.
“Sulfur?”
“Good for a thousand and one things including medicine,” Bret said, handing a piece to Florence. She looked it over and then nodded before she handed it back.
“Grind it up. We'll put it in the poultices,” she said.
“Doc, is he going to live?”
“I don't know. He's got some major injuries but …,” she waved a helpless hand. “If he doesn't have any internal injuries, and he'd be lucky if he didn't with the ribs, then he might. Maybe. We'll see if he survives the night,” she said.
“Gotcha,” Bret said softly. He turned to see Miguel and a few others working on a body nearby. It was Sherman, the 45-year-old former stockbroker.
Florence followed his gaze and then frowned. “Well, I won't have to worry about treating his ulcer anymore. Damn,” she murmured. She bit her lip and then turned. “I need to get back to work.”
“You need to eat and drink too. You are no use to your patients if you pass out,” Bret warned. She nodded but kept moving. He eyed Tanya and Sarah. Tanya's hands were bloody but she looked grimly pleased with herself. “Make sure she eats, okay?”
“Yeah,” Sarah said instantly.
“Thanks,” he said with a nod to her. He went over to the other guys.
They had stripped the body and then they carried it off to a nearby low spot where Wayne's body already was. They buried both men that night before scavengers came in. Bret had Miguel mount a rotating guard near the entrance, then turned in for the night.
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The next morning Doc was asleep, but it was apparent from Dwayne's rising chest under Helen's form that he was still alive and breathing. Bret nodded in approval. He wished they had some sort of pain medicine for the poor man, but they didn't. He'd just have to grit his teeth he thought.
Miguel woke up and woke Seth the guard at the entrance. Seth yawned loud enough to wake the others. Bret shook his head.
After a quick pemmican and bear meat breakfast warmed by the fire, he went out hunting with Jim and two of the other males. The ladies weren't happy about roasting and smoking the bear meat but were doing their best. They'd have to step up more to fill the vacant shoes of the dead men, Bret thought.
He did his best to put such thoughts out of his mind. The two bowman brought back a goat and an elk by noon. Jim was up and had propped himself up by the main cooking fire to oversee the cooking of the meat. Tanya didn't look happy, but she took over the skinning duty with a reluctant Sarah and Gisel in tow.
They ate a quick meal, drank some water, and then headed out once more for more meat.
“Why? Don't we have enough?” Seth demanded.
“With winter coming? Never enough. Not with this many mouths to feed,” Miguel said simply.
“Oh,” Seth murmured.
“Yeah. It sucks but well, you know,” Miguel said, waving a hand helplessly to indicate the area around them. The leaves were changing colors and falling off in small numbers. That would increase they all knew. The temperatures were continuing to fall daily.
“We've been hitting the water ways. You know, checking the traps since the fish were running. I thought the bear followed us back,” Seth explained. “Maybe he smelled it? Apparently eating the offal we left behind wasn't good enough,” he said with a grimace. “Greedy bastard.”
“We need to go back,” Miguel said with a hint of fear in his voice. “We need the fish.”
“Yeah, and the bears are there. They need them too to survive the winter. So if you go, watch it,” Bret cautioned. He pointed to a pair of bears fishing along a stream. This sent the other men into a near panic and scramble back to the cave. He stopped them with a barked command.
“If you come across a bear, make a lot of noise. Loud noise to let them know where you are. If they are aggressive, you're screwed. You might survive if you play dead or be very quiet,” he told them sternly.
“Crap,” Jim said, sucking in a breath.
“If you have to fight, aim for the balls and up with a sturdy spear,” Bret said. Jim grunted. “Don't just try to whack them. They have incredibly hard heads and bones, it's … just don't do that.” He shook his head. Jim nodded. “If possible, like I said, play dead. Climbing a tree doesn't work unless it's a big bear and it's far enough away. Bears climb trees too.”
“Fuck.”
“And watch out for the herbivores too. You can easily get killed by bison. They look tame but watch out. When they get wound up, they can explode unexpectedly. And usually ….”
“Yeah, I don't want to get trampled,” Jim said. He shivered.
“I found a lynx and a cougar. There are a lot of predators here, all from North America,” Bret commented. They nodded.
“I'd love to get my hands on a couple of kits or some wolf pups,” Bret mused. They stared at him. “Hey, we've got pests. Not just as pets you know. Sure they are wild, but we've got to start somewhere. A small cat would be better though, but you can't have everything,”
he said, eying Terri. She nodded.
They dropped off the meat to the others at the cave near late afternoon and then went out again. Jim wanted to tag along, but he stayed behind to cook.
Miguel shook his head, eying Bret. “Not sure how you do it, man. You're like a machine.”
“Clean living,” Bret told him with a smile. “And I've been doing this for nearly twenty years.”
They gathered plants and had them show him the snares they had set up from bits of wire. When they checked them, they found a couple rabbits and brought them back. One was alive, but its leg was messed up. Reluctantly Bret used a rock to put it out of its misery. Its cries were disturbing to all of them.
Sarah skinned it with difficulty. She kept rubbing at her face with the base of her hand. Apparently skinning wasn't something she liked to do or didn't like the idea of skinning a rabbit. Either way he didn't care; it had to be done. And damned if he'd do it. He'd brought it in; someone else could mess with it, Bret thought.
After dinner they spent the evening helping around the camp. The crew who were supposed to be felling trees hadn't done much. They came back complaining about being sore. Miguel was disgusted with them; they'd spent most of the time bitching about the temperatures and the weather. The group shrugged off his inquiring look. They were clearly embarrassed at his disgruntlement.
Florence came to the fire to get a plate. She sat, and they did their best to keep their burning questions at bay to let the poor woman eat in peace. When she was about finished though, she looked up from the kabob. “Not bad, Jim,” she said with a nod of approval to the cook. “My compliments to the chef,” she teased. He smiled and gave her a jaunty salute.
“And, to answer your questions, Jim here looks fine, though he should be keeping that foot elevated,” she said eying him. Jim grunted and lifted his foot to a rock. “The others are okay, though they need to keep the arm injuries in a sling, especially you, Tobias,” she said, pointing her kabob at the man. He smiled at her and nodded.