by Nikki Lewen
Sadie straightens her shoulders, looks Clara in the eyes, then turns and jogs off. Clara watches her move with an upwelling of pride. After a moment, she, too, turns around and heads out, only her pace isn’t anywhere near a jog.
TWENTY
Clara stretches, reaching down with her leg for the next step while clutching a piece of a twisted and gnarled root ball. Releasing one hand, she braces it against another boulder for support. She’s making excellent time and should be home by evening. It’s the thought of home, a hot meal, and a nice cup of tea, sitting fireside, that fills her thoughts. She and Sadie covered a lot of ground, and the old woman looks forward to relaxing. She isn’t getting any younger, and her body’s feeling it.
Before she secures her footing, the root snaps. In that split second, her focus shifts back to where it should have been in the first place, but it’s too late. Her foot slips, she instinctively reaches out, and goes down—really hard. Her leg twists and sinks to mid-thigh between two large stones. Immediately, Clara knows it’s bad, as pain shoots through her body. She drops her chin, closes her eyes, and stays silent curled with pain, trying to gather her senses. Breathing carefully, Clara reminds herself to stay calm. She dismisses any feelings of panic, gets an idea of what could be wrong, and stays still.
Slowing her breathing, she mentally scans her body before attempting to move. With a better sense of the situation, Clara opens her eyes, while slowly inhaling. The throbbing pain in her leg is her greatest concern, but her hands and forehead also hurt. Making sure not to do anything to worsen her injuries, she gazes down, inspecting the affected leg. It’s wedged between the rocks, but not stuck. Before removing it, and with her hand, Clara touches her forehead, feeling a small sensitive bump. She didn’t think it struck that hard, but to her astonishment, there’s blood. Checking again, she realizes that both hands are bleeding from a patchwork of small scratches on her palms and fingers, so she wipes them on her pants, and re-examines the bump.
“Thank god,” Clara murmurs, her forehead isn’t bleeding, and the blood is from her scratched hands. She re-examines her palms and fingers, determines their injuries are minor, and then turns her focus back to the painful leg. She cautiously removes the limb from between the rocks and recovers to a seated position to evaluate the damage. There’s a large tear in her pants where blood is darkening the material and dripping down her leg, but she’s able to move both it and her foot. Clara feels along her femur, even though she knows it’s not broken. Then, she checks her knee. It’s a little tender, but nothing seeming serious. Even with the pain, she continues feeling along the lower bones. It’s the gash, continuing to bleed, where it hurts the worst. Nothing below the knee seems broken, and Clara gives a moment of thanks for the blessing.
Suddenly slipping, and then twisting between two stones, is a brutal combination for any fall. The shear force could have snapped both the tibia and fibula, leaving her stranded, alone, and in dire condition. She rolls up her pants’ leg to better gauge the extent of her injury. The blood makes everything look worse, but the gash is rather severe. It’s deep, running along the fleshy area of her leg, just below, and to the left, of the knee. From there, it curves towards her shin and then, it runs straight down, exposing the bone for a few inches.
Clara opens her satchel, finds what she needs, and begins cleaning the wound. The more she cleans, the more grateful she becomes. The realization of how scary this situation could have been humbles the old woman. Along with the humility comes a fluttering in her stomach and heart, reminding her that she should’ve been more focused. With most of the blood wiped away, Clara’s able to get a better look at the tear, and she grimaces. It hurts like heck, and it throbs while she picks at the skin collected at the bottom, where it scraped along the rock. It’s scrunched together where the last of the tissue remains attached. As she works around the area, Clara thinks it looks like old paint, scraped clean off.
When she finishes cleaning and bandaging her wound, Clara returns everything back to her bag and examines her options. There’s no chance of getting home before dark, especially since the journey back will be slower. She needs to figure out what to do for the night and shifts her attention back to the surroundings. Clare sees where the root snapped and her leg slipped. Slowly, rising to a standing position, she’s relieved to find her leg can bear weight.
There’s dampness where she slipped, and Clara examines it carefully, following its path while uncovering debris, until it ends in a small muddy puddle. Grabbing a flat rock lying nearby, she uses its edge to dig away some dirt, creating a small ditch. She works at removing loose soil until striking a larger rock stops her progress. She deepens the tiny trough and as it widens, she wipes the partially uncovered stone’s surface clean. Once satisfied with the work, she sits back and watches. A small drip runs from a crack in the rock, and drops into the dirt below, followed by another, and another. It’s slow, but steady.
Clara removes a small wooden bowl from her gear and sets it below the drip. Looking around, she climbs down the ravine another ten yards, and stops atop a humongous boulder. It’s flat and butts against another massive rock at its rear. Clara cleans off the surface and gathers fire-building materials that she can easily carry.
With a fire crackling, Clara sets about making a sleeping area. She collects a large pile of duff and carefully dangles it above the fire, balancing the material on a forked branch. When it smokes long enough, she covers an area of the stone with it and uncurls her bedroll over the padding. She removes a few hand-sewn leather pouches from her bag and stretches them as wide as they’ll allow, before setting them near the fire.
She returns to her bowl, brings back the small amount of collected water, and heats it over the fire in a metal mug before tossing in a pinch of chamomile. It isn’t exactly the fireside cup of tea she thought about earlier, but at least it offers some warmth and comfort. Using two sturdy sticks, Clara plucks single rocks from her fire and sets one into each of the pouches. When all of them contain a heated stone, they get placed near her body as the old woman settles in for the night.
Even though Clara knows she’s going to be okay, the elder can’t shake the realization that it was pure luck that saved her. Her leg should be broken, and it’s a miracle that it’s not. Intending to be more careful from now on, she knows the consequences of old age will require more consideration. Her body isn’t as durable as it once was, even if her mind thinks otherwise.
Early the next morning, Clara wakes stiff and sore. She makes another cup of tea over the fire’s remaining embers and packs her belongings. It wasn’t the most comfortable night perched on a giant rock, but she did manage to sleep. As she prepares for the final leg of her journey, Clara scratches at two bites, one along her waistband and another in the crease at the back of her knee.
“Not as bad as it could be,” she mumbles to herself.
At least the smoke evacuated most of the bugs from her makeshift mattress. Using a fingernail, Clara puts an X through both spots, and starts towards home. This time, she takes it slowly and more cautiously. Every step and handhold gets her full attention, as Clara refuses to let her mind wander, while descending what remains of the drainage artery. By late morning, her route joins the streambed that drops and runs through her canyon. She’s anxious to get home and feels a little discombobulated with the pain and her error that caused it.
Some of the uneasiness lifts when the site of her home comes into view. The last of her travels end safely, and Clara heads directly into her cabin. At the door, she drops her bag, kicks off her shoes, and quickly starts a fire. She’s ultra-efficient with every move, wasting neither time nor energy, heating water to bathe and getting dinner prepped.
She doesn’t stop moving until settling into the washbasin where she pours hot water over her body, and relishes its warmth. Out of the tub and dressed in warm clothes, Clara checks the food. Its smell is wonderful, and the aroma fills the air as she lifts the lid to stir the pot. It’s almost r
eady and while she waits, Clara cleans up her bath and repurposes the dirty water. As it gets closer to dark, Clara begins to feel uneasy again. The days are much shorter now, and maybe, she shouldn’t have talked Sadie into venturing too far on her own. Clara, becoming extremely worried—which is something of an oddity for her—realizes it’s been a long time since she’s felt concern for another.
As the sky darkens, Clara moves from inside to out. She wraps a blanket around her body and sits on the porch’s corner bench. Sadie should’ve been home by now and in her absence, Clara mentally runs through potential scenarios. The girl could have gotten hurt or lost. She could have traveled farther than anticipated and needed more time to get back. Or—something terrible—what if she ran into more Splitters? Clara’s negative thoughts aren’t helping, and she tries clearing her mind by getting up to make another pot of tea.
Blowing lightly on a steaming cup, Clara swings open the cabin door. Her head jerks up, followed immediately by the sound of shattering, as her cup strikes the ground, but the old woman steps right over the mess, and wraps her arms around Sadie. They stay embraced, even though Sadie’s still breathing heavily, and her clothes are all sweaty. When they separate, both women notice the other’s injuries.
“Clara what happened to your head?” Sadie steps closer, examining the bump. “And your hands?” she adds, noticing them.
“Me? What’s wrong with your leg?” Clara asks, concerned.
Sadie glances at her ankle and looks back at Clara. “It’s fine. I overdid it. I ran too hard, too far, and then, when I could barely see…I kept going. I almost waited until mornin’… but…I knew if I pushed, I’d make it…so…I did. I just took a bad step...that’s all.” Sadie, without pause, turns the focus back to Clara. “And…you?”
“A root I was holding snapped and…I slipped.”
Stepping inside, Sadie removes her shoes and outer layers, while Clara gets her a drink of water, which gets downed immediately. Sadie eats and when finished, Clara has a hot bath ready for her. While soaking, Sadie realizes how sore she is, as the muscles in her legs ache, both feet throb, and her ankle is a bit swollen. The sprain is minor, but some of the scrapes surrounding it are stilling oozing a little blood. The injury occurred because what she thought was solid earth was actually layers of forest debris, and her foot broke through, snapping a couple sticks that jabbed into her flesh. One tore through the bottom of her pants, causing the most damage, but it’s nothing that won’t heal quickly.
With her wound and body clean, Sadie gets out of the tub and wraps up in an old, soft blanket, Clara set out for her. While Sadie dresses, the old woman bustles about, putting everything away for the night. Sadie comes over to Clara in the kitchen, puts an arm around her shoulders, and then starts helping with the dishes.
“I’ll finish the last of these,” Clara says, “and then…we’ll sit by the fire. Go…go on, child…rest your feet. I’ll be right there.”
Sadie leaves the old woman’s side and swings the teakettle over the fire. She finishes picking up her discarded things next to the door and stretches. Her body’s abused, and Sadie knows she needs to start treating it with more care. Lately, she’s been pushing too hard and her ankle serves as a reminder to be smarter about things. Clara settles into her rocking chair as Sadie pours each of them a hot mug, but instead of sitting down, Sadie drops to a knee.
“Alright, lady. Let me see that leg you think you’ve been hiding.” Sadie says.
Clara slowly sets down the tea mug and pulls the blanket off her leg. Without speaking, Sadie checks it.
“Jeeze o’ Petes, this girl is thorough,” Clara thinks, as Sadie examines the knee, ankle, and leg, before uncovering the actually wound.
With it exposed, Sadie shakes her head lightly while looking for signs of infection. When she finishes, Sadie gets up, goes to her bag, and returns, carrying a small soft case. She opens its contents, inspects the items she removes, and then talks calmly, but with authority.
“You did more than just slip. From the looks of that shin you’re lucky nothin’ broke. I’m concerned about infection…especially, in the bone. If that happens, there’s nothing we can do. But, we’re not gonna risk it. You need to stay off it…at least a week...so it can heal. I mean it. This could have been bad. Also…I’m giving you these.”
Clara’s quizzical look says it all.
“They’re antibiotics. Here, take these two now.” Sadie hands them to Clara, followed immediately by the old woman’s tea. “You need to take two more at the same time tomorrow, and then, one a day for the next three days.”
Clara continues holding the meds in her hand and still hasn’t spoken.
Sadie goes on, “It’s important to finish the whole dosage. Each evening take ’em after you eat.” Sadie looks at Clara, who is still holding the pills, and then, she raises her eyebrows just a fraction.
“Oh…you’re good,” Clara says, feeling like a child caught in a mother’s gaze. She knows Sadie won’t have it any other way, so she pops them into her mouth and swallows carefully. Holding the cup in two hands, Clara takes a second, and then a third sip from it.
“Good,” Sadie says, finally sitting down, “Now, tell me ’bout your accident.”
Clara folds her hands underneath the blanket that’s draped over her lap, finds a rhythm in the rocking chair, and settles in for an evening chat. The old woman starts with sharing details of her return trip and accident, making sure to note the spring she literally stumbled upon. With Sadie’s map out, Clara sees the freshly drawn areas as Sadie takes her turn explaining where’s she traveled and Clara’s astonishment grows. The girl covered an enormous section of land and Clara doesn’t think she was ever capable of such a feat, even at the height of her youth and fitness.
Finished chatting, and before the two settle in for another much-needed night of sleep, they duplicate the map, so Clara has a copy. The elder woman plans to fill in some minor details missing from her area, and also intends to explore, at length, the potential of the newly discovered spring. These thoughts give Clara something to look forward to while waiting for her leg to heal. After saying goodnight, the women rest their tired and sore bodies. Both know there’s much ahead to face, and as they close their eyes, they’re filled with curiosity about what their futures hold.
TWENTY-ONE
Caleb wakes in a fog, unsure of his surroundings. Fumbling about, he tries to shake his uncertainties and as pain grips him, he’s reminded of being in the cave waiting for Sadie. Scratching his itchy face, he isn’t sure how long she’s been gone. Everything’s jumbled, and days are disappearing. Since her leaving, Caleb’s divided time between sleeping and shooting morphine. Sometimes it’s light and sometimes it’s dark, when he wakes from slumber or from a drug-induced delusion.
Caleb, beginning to think more clearly, realizes he should keep better track of the passing time. With his realization comes another: he needs to use the bathroom, which entails having to move. Rolling onto his stomach, he makes it to his hands and knees, and painfully stands, only to discover that his bucket needs emptying. Pausing from an initial dizzy spell, he moves slowly, feeling feeble and absolutely terrible.
Attempting to lift the bucket, Caleb immediately sets it back down. The throbbing from his ribs feels as if he’s still being repeatedly kicked. Keeping his torso upright, he bends from the knees and tries again. Getting the receptacle to the door is the easy part. His next challenge is moving it under the first log. Returning to hands and knees and trying to push the bucket becomes a mission in itself. By the time he reaches the latrine, Caleb’s sweating and exhausted. After regaining his composure, he empties the waste container, uses the pit, and covers it all with a thin layer of dirt.
The smell from the dirty task, in conjunction with the painful exertion, makes Caleb nauseous, and he desperately tries fighting the urge to vomit, but failing, he finds each purge, intensifies his pain. Wiping his mouth, Caleb moves to the far side, away from the mess and smel
l. Taking a few cautious breaths of fresh air, he returns to trying to figure out how long Sadie’s been gone. He really isn’t sure, and the more he thinks about it, the more it doesn’t even matter. She’ll return when she’s ready, and he’s completely at her mercy.
Leaning against one of the logs, Caleb scans the surroundings. Everything looks peaceful, and normal, and he anxiously waits for the day when he’ll be capable of walking about and exploring, or, at least, moving in a pain-free manner. Feeling thirsty and hungry, Caleb wishes he brought food and water outside. Instead, he’ll have to make his way back inside. He’s eaten little and knows that part of his weakness is from lack of sustenance. Back inside, he drinks, emptying the canteen, and then, to refill it, Caleb realizes he’ll need to boil more rainwater from the hanging collection bags. Using the spigot, he drains enough water to fill a pot and carefully sets it down, feeling faint. When the sensation passes, he grabs the hand generator, and taking a controlled, deep breath, Caleb prepares for what he knows is going to hurt.
Through clenched teeth, he pulls the cord multiple times, trying his best to limit twisting his torso. Sweat drips from his forehead as his body revolts against the movement. After several series of pulls, and profanities, Caleb plugs in the burner, sets the pot on it, and rests. The headache that started when he’d first gotten up is in full throttle now, and Caleb can’t take any more of the pain. He goes back to his sleeping area to prepare another needle, but there’s only a half-filled vial left.
Caleb, contemplating what to do, rolls the glass container across his hands. He really wants it, but he fights the urge and sets it down. He’ll wait until after he finishes purifying the water and cooking. It’ll be his reward. As the water boils, Caleb finishes prepping what he needs. Pouring half the water into another container to cool, he puts what’s left back on the burner and re-charges the hand generator. This time, the effort nearly knocks him over. Placing his hand along the shelf, he catches his balance and rests his head against the wall. The pain won’t subside, and he tries slowly breathing through the worst of it.