Asp

by Kris Michaels

  Lyric looked at the ashen pallor beneath the man’s heavy beard. "Does he have any identification?" She glanced at the pack and weapon leaning against the wall. The rifle was unusual. A huge scope and tripod legs at the front of the weapon made it different from any she'd seen before. It wasn't like the automatic weapons the FARC had used. It was...more, somehow. Could he be from some branch of the military or maybe the National Police?

  Her gaze returned to their patient and scanned his massive body. She thought he’d be taller than her father’s six-feet and he was much more heavily built. Deep, puckered scars, some red, some pink, distorted the smooth skin of his arms. She could only guess at the cause. Her grandfather had cut the outside seam of the man's pant leg from ankle to hip and peeled it away from his body to expose the wound. One of his red and black checked shirts draped the man's genitals to keep his privacy. Small streaks of red radiated from both the entry and exit of the bullet. His thigh had puffed and was warm to the touch. Lyric glanced from his healthy leg to his injured one. Not too much swelling, at least that she could see with the other leg still clad in denim. She opened the backpack and pulled out the necessary supplies to clean and dress his wounds.

  "He was shot."

  Farmers tended to perform their own emergency medical treatment and Lyric had plenty of experience stitching cuts, cleaning wounds and warding off infection, but what she looked at now sent a deep sense of helplessness through her.

  "Yes." Her grandfather moved to allow her access to the man’s wounds.

  "Who would have shot him?" She glanced at the weapon leaning on its tripod and facing away from them.

  "That is a stupid question, even for a beautiful woman such as yourself."

  Lyric snapped her head up and glared at her grandpa. His old school, chauvinistic upbringing still raised its head from time to time.

  "Why is it a stupid question?" She opened a sterile pack of gauze and sat it on the man's chest, still protected and kept clean by the bottom layer of wrapping.

  "Who in this area shoots people?" Her grandfather reached for an elastic bandage and unwrapped it.

  Lyric opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol and doused the gauze with the liquid before she glanced at her grandfather. "The FARC."

  "Yes." He nodded as she cleansed the wounds. The unconscious man didn't move as she worked. Her grandfather continued to assist when needed. He would wipe the big man's brow when the perspiration beaded.

  Lyric cut the stitches which her grandfather placed to close the lower wound. The infection inside his leg was putrid. She opened the suture and removed what infection she could without causing further injury. If he didn't get antibiotics, the infection could take his life.

  "The infection is bad. Grab me the small bag on the outside pocket, please."

  Her grandfather fished out the small white bag. "Jo-Jo?"

  Lyric nodded. “We didn't know what had happened." She shook a pill out and sat on her heels. "How much do you think he weights?"

  "Hmmm..." Her grandfather stroked the grey stubble at his chin. "One hundred twenty five, maybe one hundred thirty five kilograms?"

  Lyric blinked at the guess. Two hundred eighty to three hundred pounds? Well, he was massive and so tall. She glanced at the pill in her hand. "Hand me your knife please, Grandpa?"

  The man slid the knife out of his belt and handed it to her. She placed the pill on a rock and cut it in half. "I'll need some hot water to dissolve this in." Her grandfather moved toward the fire and a small kettle beside it. When he returned Lyric poured a small amount into a cup and used the tip of the knife to help disintegrate pill.

  "Would you lift his head?" Lyric waited until her grandfather had positioned the man's head and opened his mouth. She slowly trickled the liquid into his mouth. He gagged and choked on the mixture but kept the majority of the liquid down. She put the cup down and rested on her heels. "I've done everything I can, for now." Lyric sat back on her heels. She glanced from the injured man to her grandfather. There was no way they could carry this massive man over the rough terrain. "You need to go back to the farm, Grandpa. Dad will be coming up here if one of us doesn't head down the mountain." Once again, she examined the work she'd done and shook her head.

  "I will stay. It is not good to leave you with him." Her grandfather stood and took the water he'd been using to clean the man's wounds to the front of the cave. Ahh...he'd been using water from the creek, and he probably hadn't used the purification tablets she'd packed in his supplies. That could be why the stranger's wounds were festering. But he'd done what he could.

  "He's unconscious. He'll probably stay that way for days, or he could get worse..." She didn't finish the sentence. Her grandfather would know the man could die. Only God knew how much blood he'd lost. Add that to the fever and infection. He was in bad shape. "There is nothing he could do to hurt me and Dad really needs you for the banana harvest."

  Her grandfather looked at the unconscious man on the floor of the cave for several long moments, before shrugging. "I'll leave at first light." He turned to go back into the cave. "But first, woman, I want a meal that my hands haven't prepared. Just don't burn it."

  Lyric blew out a lungful of air and shook her head, exasperation at the old man replacing her worry for a brief moment. If she didn't love the old, grumpy, chauvinistic man so much... At least he was alive and well. She was happy, and even if her grandpa was from another era, she'd deal with his quirks. She smiled as she followed him back into the cave. Obviously, it was time for her to cook a meal.

  Chapter 7

  Lyric worried her thumb nail with her teeth as she mulled over what else she could do. The stranger’s fever had spiked yesterday afternoon. Determined to keep the man alive, she'd cut the rest of his clothes from his body and had carried countless small containers of cool water from the stream to bathe him. Her hands had traveled every inch of him. She’d leaned down and traced his scars. What could have caused the damage to his arms?

  "You are so big. Your muscles look like a movie star, you know the ones in all the action flicks." She sat down beside him and ran her hand down his arm again. "I miss going to the theater on Saturday afternoon." She let her hand caress his arm. He seemed to calm when she touched and talked to him. "I bet I've missed some good ones? Do you like movies?" She glanced down at his unconscious form. "Everyone enjoys movies, right? Popcorn! Oh, god, I loved the smell of popcorn when you first go into a theater! There was this one place in Jacksonville. They had the world’s best popcorn." She glanced down at her patient. "I used to live in Jacksonville, before we came here."

  Lyric let her hand continue its mindless caress as she gazed unseeingly at the cave wall. "I wasn't a very good person then. I hung out with the wrong crowd. God, we got into some serious shit. When Mom and Dad told me we were moving to Colombia, I ran away. Ended up in some dive. There were drugs and, well it was really, really bad. My dad, he came, and he got me out of there. He saw...everything and he didn't care. I'd never seen my dad cry before." Unfortunately, she'd seen him cry since.

  Lyric shifted off the uncomfortable ground and lay down on her side, still looking at her quiet companion. "You'd like my dad. He's an American. He and Mom came down here when he lost his job..." The man moaned, stilling her one-sided conversation.

  He'd grabbed her hand. His eyes wide open, yet unseeing. "You have to take care of her." His English told her he was an American, so she answered him in English, "Who do you want me to take care of?"

  "Mrs. Henshaw." His eyes closed, but his hand still grabbed her arm. His grip was tight, but not painful. "Alone. She's alone. Her kids won't...won't come. Promise." His expression displayed nothing but desperation and worry.

  To still his fears, Lyric touched her other hand to his brow. He jolted at the contact. "Shh...I promise I'll take care of Mrs. Henshaw. She's safe. Don't worry. She's safe."

  Lyric waited until he calmed a little before she glanced out of the cave. It was nearing dusk. He should probably have ano
ther dose of antibiotics. She rose and made her way to the bottle of medication sitting beside the fire next to her pack.

  "KD's birthday. Gotta go. Gotta… present…no present."

  Startled, Lyric twisted back to him. His eyes were closed. His body twitched, and his head tossed from side to side. She rose from the fire and knelt beside him. He became more agitated, so Lyric tried talking to him again, "You did get a present, remember? It's right here. Can't you see it?" Lyric dipped the cloth into the cool water again and started wiping down the man's fever-riddled body.

  "Where?" He shivered and moaned. "Cold. So cold."

  She pulled a blanket up over his chest. "This will help."

  "KD?"

  "KD isn't here right now."

  "Need to get..."

  "What do you need to get?"

  "Birthday."

  His words clicked into place. "You did get KD a birthday present. It's okay." He turned away from her and moaned when he moved his leg. The fever was spiking. She left his side long enough to make a powder of the medication and stir in just enough water to liquefy it. He was burning up. Lifting to her knees, Lyric lifted his head onto her lap. "You need to drink this." She touched the cup to his lips.

  He made a weak attempt at batting the cup away. She grabbed his hand and lowered it onto his chest. "It's medicine. You have to drink it. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you." Lyric tried again and gave a mental scream of joy when he opened his mouth. He choked on it and spit up some, but she sent a prayer of thanks that at least some of the medication made its way into his body. She added a small amount of water to the cup and sloshed it up along the sides to make sure any medicine remaining in the cup incorporated in the water. She began to sing an old lullaby she remembered her mother singing to her. She wasn't sure if it was to calm him or her. Because right now, she was terrified. Terrified that the fever would take this man. She couldn't explain why the thought of this stranger's death sent a bone chilling fear through her, but it did.

  Her hands repeated the task of dipping the cloth, wringing it out and carefully wiping his skin to cool the fever that wracked his body. That done, she once again cleaned the bullet holes and coated the wounds with antibacterial cream. They were no worse than when she'd first examined them, and for that she was grateful. His breathing had leveled out, and he appeared to be sleeping more comfortably. She stood and rolled her shoulders and neck before she picked up the makeshift bucket and made her way to the mouth of the cave. Clouds darkened the afternoon skies. A low rumble of thunder hastened her steps to the creek not more than fifteen feet from the mouth of the cave. She emptied the water, rinsed out the cloth and refilled the container just in time to jog back to the cave and almost miss the deluge of water released from the skies.

  As she sat next to her patient, she cocked her head and listened. Water running? The sound did not come from the mouth of the cave but from further into the interior. A shiver of apprehension brushed her. What did that mean? Were they about to be flooded out of the cave? She picked up the flashlight her father had loaded in her pack and flicked it on. Where was the source of that sound? She flicked the light beam over the ceiling and let out the breath she'd held. No bats. Thank goodness.

  Her feet followed the sound of running water while her hand directed the flashlight toward the ceiling and her eyes searched for objects that hung upside down from the ceiling. She discovered the source of the sound. Rainwater trickled down the walls of the cave and landed in an expansive pool. The flashlight cast light through the pure water. Lyric could see the bottom of the pristine underground lake...well, pond, but it was impossible not to be impressed. She reached down with her free hand and rippled the surface with her fingers. Cool water trickled from her fingers as she lifted them. The rings left by the drips broadened outward and disappeared. She flicked light through the cavern and noted a large elevated area off to the side. Lyric steadied the beam of the flashlight on the shelf. It held the remnants of a long-ago used fire ring. She moved the light and peered farther into the cave. Unwilling to go farther away from the entrance, she examined as far as her eyes could see. The darkness beyond would remain unexplored for now. Her sense of adventure was tapped out. She circled the small body of water and then headed back toward the cave entrance. She'd explore more tomorrow.

  Her patient had stilled, his brow felt less hot. The slurry of medication seemed to have worked, to a degree. She went back to the fire, added another dry branch to the coals, and shook out another half tablet to crush so she'd be ready when his fever crested again.

  She took up her position beside the man and leaned against the wall, her hands around her legs, with her head on her knees. Tired from a sleepless night, she closed her eyes. Her hands fell from around her legs and she startled awake. She had to get some rest. She glanced around the cave and at her patient. He lay quietly. Lyric stretched out on her side, cradled her head on her arm, closed her eyes and passed out.

  "Get out. Now. Run!" The statement rang with such clarity that Lyric gasped and jolted backward, smacking her head into the cave wall. She raised her hand to the place a goose egg would no doubt form on the back of her head. She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at the man on the pallet.

  "What did you say?" Lyric whispered the words. Had she dreamed it? His eyes were still closed, and she could see rapid movement behind the lids. His muscles spasmed as if he was dreaming. Lyric moved over to him and placed her hand on his brow. The fever had returned. There was no way to tell how long it had been since the last dose or how much he'd taken, but his fever was better with the medication, and he had seemed to rest. Grabbing the canteen cup from the niche she’d tucked it into, Lyric lifted his head and put the cup to his lips. "Here, you need to drink this. It's medicine. Drink it."

  He lifted his arm again, but this time she was expecting it. She caught his arm and intertwined their fingers. "Please. For me." She offered him the cup again and managed to get the majority of the mixture down his throat.

  He turned his head and mumbled something unintelligible. Lyric let out a huff of air and dropped her head into her hands. "You know you scared the shit out of me, right?"

  The man's muscles twitched. She reached out and laced her fingers through his. He squeezed her hand. Somehow the random clenching of his muscles around her fingers made her feel better.

  "So..." She gazed around the cave. Her eyes landed on her book. "Do you like to read? I didn't like it at all, until I came here." She gave a bitter laugh and leaned back against the wall while still holding his hand. "I told you that I wasn't a good student, right?" Lyric couldn't remember, she'd been rattling on, talking to him since she'd figured out the sound of her voice seemed to make him rest easier. "Well, if I didn't, I wasn't. Mom knew I didn't want to come to Colombia. She introduced me to reading." Lyric smiled at the memory. "She said that I could travel to the far reaches of the world or even to other worlds through words." She squeezed the man's hand. Her mind thrashing through the memories, good and bad, of her time in Colombia.

  "Can I ask you a question? And I mean, be honest with me, but have you ever felt like you were trapped in the wrong life? That you were never meant to be where you ended up?" She glanced around the cave. "I've lived here for ten years. Colombia isn't my home. I feel like a stranger in my own home."

  "My mom, she knew how miserable I was. We started selling our surplus vegetables from our garden. We were saving up for a ticket to take me back to the states. I had friends, no... not those friends," she glanced over at him and chuckled, "other friends that my parents actually approved of, thank you very much. Anyway, I wrote, and they agreed that I could stay with them until I got a job and got myself an apartment. Can you imagine? Nice people, right?"

  Lyric brushed his hair off his forehead. He'd stopped twitching and his breathing was steady. "My mom was on her way back from the village market when the FARC attacked the bus she was on. Nineteen women and children killed that day." Lyric sniffed back the tears tha
t threatened. "She died because I was selfish and wanted a different life." Lyric looked up at the ceiling of the cave. "Yeah, go me!" A bitter laugh followed. She glanced down at the man again. He was resting now and she needed to do something, anything, to get away from the memories. She grabbed the flashlight and headed back into the larger cavern. Bats were preferable to the guilt that swallowed her.

  "Well, that was successful." Extremely happy with the back entrance to the cave she found and the treasure that it led her to, she plopped down beside her patient. She touched his brow when she pushed his hair back. For the first time, it was cool, no indication of fever whatsoever.

  "Well, look at you. Getting better, aren't you?" She glanced down his body. She knew ever bulge of muscle, every scar and every intimate detail of the man. She'd bathed him, cared for him and cleaned him. His hands had calluses that ridged just beyond the fingers on his palm. She wondered how he got them. Hard work? Driving? She glanced at his muscles and bobbled her head as she considered what else could have caused them. Weightlifting maybe? Lyric lifted his hand and lightly caressed them before she ran her palm up his arm to his biceps. Even relaxed in slumber, his muscles were defined and ... Lyric smirked, the man was a puzzle that intrigued her. She had pieces but didn't know if she was putting them together correctly.

  Lyric held his hand as she gazed out to where sunbeams danced on the dirt at the front of the cave. "You know, I may be a little bit forward here, but since I've been bathing, cleaning, and making you drink so you wouldn't die on me for over a week now, I should probably tell you that you are very attractive, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit I've wondered what it would be like to be with you. You know, like be with you? Because, damn, all portions of you are so fine." She chuckled and glanced down at him.

  She squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back. Lyric shifted to face him. His eyes blinked open, first one, then both. A smile spread across her face. He was conscious. Finally! He blinked up at her and squeezed her hand again before his eyes rolled back into his head and he convulsed.