by Nikki Lewen
The amount of effort it takes affects him immediately. His forehead is drenched with sweat, and his breathing is erratic, causing more pain. Caleb knows he’s in bad shape, but he’s grateful to be alive and in what looks like a safe place. He starts inspecting the shelf along the side nearest him, and slowly, staying on his knees, starts searching the longer back shelves. Without the energy to thoroughly search and take everything down, he simply goes for the obvious food. Because the IV is still in his arm, Caleb can stretch only so far before it tugs tight. The bag still has fluid left, so he decides to stop and not risk pulling it out—since, he’s found sustenance.
Slowly, Caleb returns to where he started, and eases back down to all fours. From there, he manages a seated position leaning back against the wall. Trying to control his breathing, to lessen the pain, he sips from the canteen while wiping his forehead dry. He struggles with opening the container he removed, as his fine motor skills refuse to cooperate, but after several attempts, the lid comes loose and he inspects the package’s contents. It contains a few days’ worth of food, and without hesitation, he tears open a pouch, and attempts using the flameless heater accompanying the meal. Managing to get some water into it, he fumbles reclosing and setting down the package. Once it’s situated, Caleb forces himself to wait while the water activates the heater and warms the food.
After what seems forever, the food is ready and assumedly safe enough to eat. Realizing he didn’t retrieve any utensils, and deciding he’s not moving to get any, Caleb sticks in a couple of fingers before cramming them in his mouth. Either the food was too old, or his preparations poor, because the first bite isn’t too great—and, it’s the same with the second. After adding mouthfuls of water to soften the meal and make it more palatable, he manages to get it down. He’s extremely hungry and has no idea how long he’s gone without eating. There’re two empty IV bags nearby and Caleb assumes that the one still attached is probably the third, but his assumption still doesn’t help establish a timeline.
He finishes the meal, drinks more water, and opens another package taken from the shelves, in hopes that it contains something for pain. The throbbing emanating from his ribs is barely tolerable, but it’s the sharp stabs induced with any movement that are crippling. Obviously, there are medical supplies here, which make Caleb think he’s got a good chance of finding some form of relief. As he searches through the container, the only thing he finds is an old bottle of aspirin. He hoped for something stronger, but settling on it, he swallows a few, and carefully returns to a lying position.
The little bit of movement has been exhausting and he’s incredibly weak. The food and water should help him regain some of his strength, but the pain won’t go away. Tired, he tries ignoring it, and by staying still and controlling his breathing, it’s almost manageable. After a while, he begins to drift back to sleep, and deciding it’s for the best, he shuts his eyes and welcomes the break.
When Caleb wakes, it’s still light outside, and finding the door left open, he knows he should have been more careful and closed it. He looks up, notices the empty IV bag, and decides to remove it. With minimal movement, he pulls it from his arm and tosses it aside. Still curious about the shelter, its location, and exactly how he got here, he painfully returns to hands and knees, cursing with each shift of his body weight.
On all fours, he pauses, while recovering from another bout of pain, and contemplates lying back down, but curiosity takes over. Crawling out the door, only to find a giant log, he discovers there’s enough space to go under it, so he does. On the other side, another log blocks the path, so, placing his hands on it, he pulls himself up. Caleb’s wobbly and dizzy from the effort and the pain nearly knocks him over. Looking around, he learns that the shelter is deep in the woods and that the two giant logs, along with a gnarl of broken branches, hides it.
Unable to imagine how he got here in the first place, especially in his current condition, Caleb finds he can’t get his body over the last log, let alone figure how she might have managed, if—it was even her. Caleb has questions, but no answers, and the only thing he knows is that whoever helped is still gone, and it’s starting to get dark. Taking another controlled breath of fresh air, he decides to return to the safety of the shelter. First, though, there’s another need to address, and leaning on the log, he relieves himself.
Gradually, and with excruciating pain, Caleb makes it back inside. Since the IV no longer restricts him, and since he’s partially up, he decides to check the rest of the cave’s supplies. He moves about, taking his time to look through various containers. He’s amazed at the organization of all the supplies and finds it’s stocked well enough for numerous weeks without having to worry about finding food or water. Actually, there’s more water around than he’s had in a long time and it eases his mind. Fatigue sets in before he finishes the inspection and his pain continues to intensify. Caleb stops what he’s doing, manages to shut the door this time, and tries to find a comfortable position.
He knows his path to complete recovery will be a long ordeal, but at least there’s security in his surroundings. Each movement serves as a painful reminder of his condition and reinforces his notion of needing to rest. Even the ache behind his eyes increases, until the point, he has to keep them shut. The real trouble, though, is with his ribs. Every movement, no matter how subtle, hurts. With the amount of suffering they cause, Caleb knows they’re broken. He gently settles flat on his back, realizing it’s the position he’ll be spending a lot of time in.
Lying down, he breathes through another painful sensation, finding the pain brings escape from his thoughts and the memories that continue to take shape in his mind. Visions from the recent events become clearer and keep flashing across his brain. Their hands brought this suffering upon him, and he can’t shake the horrible images. Eventually, his body will heal, but psychologically, he’s not so sure. Never again will he be the same, and he’ll never be able to undo, what he was forced to do. With this realization, tears roll down the sides of his face.
He squeezes his eyes tighter as an overwhelming sense of sadness, frustration, and anger settles in. He’s completely and utterly miserable, both inside and out. A sob rocks his body, sending waves of intolerable pain through his torso. The physicality of it snaps his attention back to his body and away from the horrible images. Clenching the blanket, he lies perfectly still, wanting only to sleep and forget.
SIX
Returning to the clearing before mid-day, she finds suitable cover to observe from. Everything looks the same as she left it, there are no indications of anyone else’s presence, and most of the signs left by the struggle that took place here days before were erased in yesterday’s downpour. Finding the area secure, she continues to where she sent the two Splitters over the edge. A larger section of the cliff has collapsed, and the only safe way around it, is through the trees. Continuing to search the area, she collects a couple wild mushrooms while creeping along the tree line, until an overwhelming stench nearly knocks her over. It’s terrible, and she knows what it is before seeing the horrible evidence. The smell of death and decay lingers heavily in the air. She’s upset at her negligence and partly to blame for leaving the body when she first discovered it.
Nearing the site, the stench becomes overbearing. The body—what’s left of it—has been scattered about and the buzz of insects assaults her ears, as she tries to stomach the site and smell. From the look of things, an animal tore the body open and ate a large portion of it. The entire rib cage sits empty and a few limbs have been ripped off. The whole thing is terrible and she feels an obligation to correct it. If something had been done, when she first found it, then this wouldn’t have happened, and the poor man’s remains wouldn’t have been desecrated further.
She doesn’t have the right tools for a proper burial, or the time to perform one, and it’s too risky to leave evidence of a fresh gravesite. It’d draw the attention of any more potential intruders. Thinking about options, she says a pra
yer while spreading out a small blanket on the ground near the cliff’s edge. Then, picking up what remains of a leg, she sets it on the cloth. Each time she bends over to collect a piece of him, her stomach churns and bile rises in the back of her throat. Using the remnants of his bloody clothes, she gathers what remains and adds the parts to the pile.
She gathers everything but his torso and head, which is, by far, the largest and heaviest piece. Unable to pick it up, and carry it at arm’s length like the others, her only solution is dragging the partial carcass by the one attached arm. With most everything collected, she adds several stones, ties the edges of the blanket around the mass, and silently wishes him peace. Then using a long, sturdy branch, she manages to push the remains over the edge and into the ocean below.
As it tumbles over, she falls to her knees and vomits. It’s too hideous and wrong. This poor man suffered, and his remains were scattered like those of any slaughtered animal. She sits for a moment, trying to think of what else to say or do. Never being very religious, she finds it’s still appropriate to offer some type of condolences. Finding another branch, she breaks it into two pieces and rips the last tattered piece of his clothing into strips. Using these materials to construct a cross, she offers a small prayer, and then, it too gets tossed over. It’s a rather dismal sea burial and after another moment of silence, she makes a last check of the area and covers any signs of her presence.
She continues traveling in the direction the Splitters came from, drawn to find out what they’re up to—and, especially, how many more may be around. Coming upon another clearing, she cautiously skirts its edges before freezing behind a fallen tree. With the detection of movement in the nearby brush, she stays hidden while patiently waiting. A small group of quail is moving about, and occasionally, she catches a glimpse of one before they disappear again.
When a few of them jump up to perch on an old fence timber, she loads her slingshot with a homemade version of birdshot, and creeps forward. In unison, the quail turn their heads and she fires just as they take flight. The first quail falls before it even makes it into the air. Two others, thrashing about on the ground, were knocked out of the air only inches above the fence. Getting to them quickly, she instantly snaps their necks. With the dead birds in hand, she whispers a heartfelt apology for causing any suffering and offers her gratitude for their sacrifice.
Returning to the safety and cover of the woods, she cleans the birds, and even though hungry and looking forward to fire-roasted quail, she decides it’s safer to head back to the cave. It’d take too much time to find enough dry materials to build a fire and its smoke would be a beacon leading straight to her. Instead, the quail get tossed into her game pouch, and even though her hope was to explore more, she wants to return before dark and put this gruesome affair of cleaning up the man’s remains behind her.
As the sun begins to set, she draws nearer the shelter and does a shortened perimeter check. She approaches the entrance at last light, and without making any sound, opens the door, enters, and immediately detects change as her foot bumps into something. She crouches low drawing a knife, and listens intently. Hearing breathing, her heart races, even though it has to be Caleb’s—but still, she’s careful. Slowly using a hand to feel about the ground, she tries to figure out what’s there. Just as her hand touches a box, a light hits her eyes. She lurches to one side, crashing into more items scattered about. With knife raised, she prepares to defend or attack.
“Sadie?”
Her heart races, and for the second time this week, shock comes with hearing her name. Frozen in surprise, she slowly lowers the weapon. Once again, Sadie can’t believe, that something so simple as her spoken name can affect her so deeply. As the light shifts towards the ceiling, allowing her to see, she’s overwhelmed with emotion—first, it’s relief, then joy, and then an uncomfortable awkwardness. Nervously, and a bit hesitant, she makes her way over to Caleb’s side.
Sadie goes straight into first-aid mode and begins by checking him over, trying hard not to make eye contact. All this time, she’s been alone and now that he’s awake, she’s shy and a little embarrassed. His staring doesn’t help, but Caleb can’t believe what he’s seeing. Sadie’s alive, she’s the one who saved him, and now, she’s within reach and examining him. He wants to touch her, but remains still. He’s afraid she’ll disappear and he worries that it’s still his mind playing tricks on him. The spell breaks when she checks his ribs.
“Ooowww!” he forcefully exhales through a tightened jaw with both fists clenched.
“Sorry, I think you’ve got a few broken ones…” she trails off, unaccustomed to speaking to another and affected by the absurdity of it being Caleb. She swallows, then, continues, “I’m not sure how many. You’re gonna have to let me know as I check ’em. Okay…Ca-leb?”
She feels odd saying his name and stuttered slightly pronouncing it. Mentally, she chastises her foolishness. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she thinks. “I gotta get it together.” Sadie takes a breath, regains her composure, and looks Caleb in the eyes.
He’s a shadow of the man she remembers, but he’s alive. Sadie starts working her way down his ribs on the good side first, slowly examining each one and watching his reactions. As she moves to the other side, Caleb grows apprehensive. She knows it’s going to hurt and tries to be delicate. Each time she presses into a broken rib, Caleb inhales sharply and grimaces. She stops, letting him recover.
“Only a couple more…then we’re done. Ready?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he responds through gritted teeth.
“Well, at least now we know what we’re dealin’ with. Three…maybe four, are broken, and the others…badly bruised.” She drops her head slightly. “Caleb, I’m sorry.”
He’s flabbergasted. “What are ya talkin’ ’bout?”
Still looking at his torso she continues, “I caused more damage to your ribs when I brought you here. I tried to be careful, but…”
He cuts her off, “Sadie…if it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. How’d you even find me?”
With his question, she looks up, “Find you? I thought you might’ve been lookin’ for me.”
Caleb, confused, looks at her long and hard, but the throbbing in his ribs isn’t helping him think clearly. Sadie notices his discomfort and decides they can talk later. She moves back to the other side of the cave and busies herself with putting away items. Caleb, unsure of the meaning in her sudden change of actions, watches her clean up the mess he left and wonders what she’s thinking. Following her every move, and still feeling fuzzy, he’s unable to comprehend the situation. He wants to get up, but it’s too uncomfortable, and the pain is intolerable. He closes his eyes, attempting to take his mind off the throbbing, but it’s impossible. Caleb hears Sadie moving about, and when she returns to his side, he opens his eyes.
“Here, drink this,” she says, bringing a metal mug toward his lips.
He lifts his head just enough to get some of its contents into his mouth. It’s warm, and soothing, and swallowing a few mouthfuls, he wants more, but it’s difficult to drink in his current position. Sadie realizes this and helps prop him up. The movement causes shock waves of pain, which ease only slightly when he finally settles. With him in a better position, she hands him the mug and returns to the other side of the cave. Caleb, happy to go back to watching Sadie, sips on the hot tea.
Returning to his side, she starts explaining: “So far…I’ve given you three bags of saline, a few doses of penicillin, and a couple aspirin. You were out…’bout five days…and ran a fever that worried me. I stitched the cut in your side, but…I’m not sure what we can do for your ribs. I’m hopin’ this will ease the pain and let you sleep.” She holds up several little glass containers as he strains to see what they could be.
“What is it?” he asks.
She turns the vials around in her hands and answers, “It’s morphine. It should ease the pain. I got a little bit, and…planned on usin’ it with the drip, but
…since you pulled out the IV…we’ll have to go to plan B.” She lifts a sterile, medically‐wrapped item.
When he looks more closely, the hypodermic needle is easier to identify.
Sadie keeps talking, “I’d prefer the drip, but…this’ll work.” She flips through her notes, completely ignoring him. “There should be enough to help you…through the worst of it…for several days.” Finally looking back up at him, she asks, “You allergic to morphine?”
It takes him a while to answer, “I…I don’t think so. But…I’m not sure.”
Sadie returns to reading her information. When she finishes, she closes the notebook, and stands up, “Okay, let’s try a small dose and see. Any bad reaction will show up pretty quickly...so…we can counteract it with this.” She holds up another small glass vial.
Caleb has difficulty taking in all the information. He simply nods his head and lets her continue. Sadie ties his arm with rubber tubing, picking the left this time, since the other she used for the IV. Tapping her fingers along the inside of his elbow, she feels for a good vein, “Make a fist.” He does so. “Open and close it.”
She prepares the injection, making sure to get all the air out of the needle. Then, she cleans the area with an iodine swab before inserting the needle, weary of going completely through the vein. Pushing the depressor, they watch as the liquid slowly disappears. When she finishes, Sadie re-packs the items leaving them closer to his side. His body relaxes and his eyes grow heavy.
“Just rest,” she says, watching him.
Caleb slips into sleep while she monitors him. When all looks okay, she tucks him in, and then goes back to her side of the cave. The thought of it being “her side” elicits a soft chuckle as she lies down to rest. Another long day is ending, and Sadie falls asleep listening to Caleb’s breathing, finding comfort in its sound.