by Nikki Lewen
Trying to avert his attention away from the morphine, Caleb focuses on his hunger. When the food finishes cooking, he brings it to his bedding and lets it cool; then, he fills the canteen, and places it nearby, as well. Getting back into a seated position takes too much effort, and he nearly gives in to taking the awaiting dose. Instead, he focuses on the importance of eating. If he wants to regain his strength, and heal, he has to stay fueled. Taking his time, Caleb finishes the rice and beans, drinks a warm glass of re-hydrated milk, and then reaches for what he desperately needs. The morphine has an immediate effect, and he slumps over as it courses through his veins.
* * *
Caleb’s body jerks as each round jolts his shoulder backwards. Gripping the rifle tighter, he fires while sprinting towards the cabin. He yanks open the door, partially ripping it from its hinges. Inside, his terror grows. There’s blood everywhere and it leads to what he fears most. All three of them are dead. Dropping to his knees, he lifts her limp torso, pressing it to his. Suddenly, he’s outside, running uncontrollably and shooting. Shots fire back, hitting nearby as he runs.
BANG! BAANNG! BAAA… NNNG! BAAAAAAANNNNNNNG! The firing’s sounds stretch in length until they merge into a constant assault of monotonal noise. Momentarily conscience of everything, Caleb’s find he’s out in the open, and there’s no cover. Panic stricken, and fearing for his life, he zigzags, but the terrain cracks as he pushes harder and faster. Suddenly, his arms are empty as he sprints weaponless. With each stride, chasms appear, and the ground begins to drop away. The earth shakes and he struggles to stay upright. A bone-shattering tremor erupts and he’s swallowed in complete darkness, falling to a certain death.
Caleb’s eyes open abruptly. He’s not quite awake, and is completely confused. Blinking, he attempts to gather his senses, and turning his head, he sees Sadie re-charging the hand generator, but the image doesn’t really register. Remaining disoriented, his eyes close briefly, and Caleb passes right back out.
* * *
This time, it’s dark and cold, and Caleb’s covered with blood. He crawls on his belly trying to get to safety, and the effort is just too great. The harder he tries, the slower he seems to go. As he stops to catch his breath, a nearby disturbance catches his eye. Suddenly, a man appears, and Caleb’s terror heightens. It’s a Splitter, with a knife raised, crashing towards him. Fluttering his eyes, Caleb breathes deeply, causing his pain to shatter the dream. All that remains is a series of fleeting images, as he succumbs to the fact that once again, he’s awake and in pain.
The morphine’s effect makes for uneasy sleeping, leaving him feeling weary. Lying perfectly still, he takes slow, controlled breaths and begins what he’s decided is his healing therapy. It’s his fourth or fifth attempt at it and so far, he hasn’t done too well with it. Caleb starts by visualizing the fractures in his ribs and the remodeling taking place by his bone cells. He focuses on the healing, along the entire length of one rib, before moving to the next. Every time he loses focus, the image disappears, and he has to restart. It’s a slow and tedious process, but each attempt provides a much-needed distraction, while, simultaneously, making him feel like at least he’s doing something productive and, hopefully, helpful.
Working along another rib, Caleb loses his concentration, and struggles with regaining his focus. Something smells good, and he’s amazed it didn’t draw his attention earlier. He takes a cautious, long, but slow inhalation, relishing the scents and then, it clicks. Sadie’s back! With his realization appears the image of her charging the hand generator. He looks over and sees her smiling.
“It’s about time,” she jokingly teases, moving to him with all kinds of goodies.
He smiles before rolling over onto his stomach and taking his all fours position. As he turns around to sit, Sadie helps. She hands him a steaming plate that looks and smells incredible. Caleb stares from it to her face, and Sadie giggles again. There’s something different about her, and Caleb can’t figure it out. He’s struggling with comprehension and realizes that he’s yet to speak.
“Wel…cum…back,” he finally squeaks out, as random thoughts and questions try to take shape all at once. He looks back to his plate, jabs his fork into the freshly sautéed vegetables, and fills his mouth.
“Mmmmmm…fresshhh...bedgies,” he mumbles, barely audible, through his full mouth. “Warmmmmmm…ffread…am honmey!” This time, crumbs drop from his mouth as he dabs another spoonful on his half-eaten slice.
Sadie, saying nothing, smiles, watching him. She’s enjoying her meal, too, and feels better seeing Caleb eat so much. Halfway through his plateful, numerous questions have finally formed in his brain.
“Where’d you get these?” he asks, pointing with his fork toward the fresh greens and vegetables. “Is this…raccoon? Mmmm…and fresh bread,” he says, biting into another piece while talkin, “How…mmmm…how…mmmmmmmm. How long…” he chews a few more times, then swallows, “have you been gone?”
Not pausing to wait for any response, he pops a piece of meat into his mouth relishing its tenderness and flavor. It’s seasoned to perfection with rosemary and other fresh herbs. Sadie says something, but he can’t hear it through all his chewing and noises of delight. With each bite, he’s moaning, hungry for more. Sadie can tell, he hasn’t heard anything, and changes her tactic.
She waits for him to swallow, then speaks, “Let’s talk after we finish eating.”
Caleb nods, while filling his mouth again. Sadie takes it as confirmation and returns to her meal. Sitting contentedly, Caleb tosses the last morsel of bread into his mouth, sucks a bit of honey off of his finger, closes his eyes, and leans back against the wall.
“That was amazing,” he says, lightly rubbing his belly.
“I thought you’d like it,” Sadie says, while cleaning up.
“Where’d the fresh produce…and honey, come from?” he inquires, this time, clearly audible.
Sadie doesn’t stop what’s she’s doing and looks at him with another big grin. Then, it hits him. He realizes what’s different. She’s completely relaxed and happy, even peaceful-looking.
“Well...” she stalls, bringing two mugs of hot tea over, “I’ve been waitin’ to tell you.”
She takes a seat next to him and settles in to begin her story, sharing every detail of her experience with Clara. She talks rapidly, with enthusiasm, and simply listening and watching Sadie’s facial expressions and gestures captivates Caleb. She doesn’t even pause to sip her tea and when she does finally stop, Caleb is just as amazed. He shifts slightly, and pain tears through his body. Sadie, silently debating with herself, finally gets up, and then returns with something from her pack.
“I brought more morphine back,” she says, getting Caleb’s full attention. “But, first, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Caleb would prefer the pain meds now, but he’s thankful there are more, as she helps him outside. Sadie leaves Caleb for a moment and returns with hot water and a fresh bar of handmade soap.
“Here, smell,” she puts it under his nose and Caleb takes a gentle whiff of the fragrant soap, “Clara made it. When you get better, you’ve been invited to her place. She wants to meet you.” Sadie helps remove his shirt and begins unwrapping Caleb’s bandages.
Her closeness has an immediate effect on him, but he tries to remain nonchalant.
“I can’t wait…she sounds…amaz-ing,” Caleb says, grimacing with a bolt of pain.
Sadie waits for it to pass and when it does, she hands him an old beach towel. “Wrap it around your waist so you can…remove…the rest of your clothes.”
Before he can respond, she’s turned her back, but Caleb struggles and can’t get his pants over his ankles. Frustrated, he checks, making sure he’s properly covered before speaking.
“Can you…ummmmmm…help?” he embarrassingly asks.
Sadie turns and sees the problem. She drops to a knee, removes his pants, and stands, without ever looking him in the face, and then, she helps him further.<
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“Lean your head back.” As he does, Sadie pours water over his head and his upper torso. “Lather up, then I’ll help you rinse,” she says, turning her back once again, giving him privacy.
The silence grows awkward as Caleb fumbles about washing himself. Trying to think of something to fill the void, he asks, “So exactly…how long…have you been gone? I…sorta…lost track.”
His question only emphasizes what Sadie already knows—he’s been staying drugged up. She was shocked upon arrival, finding him passed out with the needle still stuck in his arm. She couldn’t believe Caleb was so messed up he hadn’t removed it. The needle, along with the track marks along his veins, made him look like a junky, and it worries Sadie.
“I’m ready,” Caleb says, interrupting her thoughts.
She turns back around and carefully pours most of the remaining water over him. She leaves a small amount so he can manage what’s left on his own and finish in private.
“Let me know when you’re done.” Sadie disappears before he can respond.
Although he struggles, Caleb works quickly. Feeling clean but cold, he yells out to Sadie who returns with fresh bandages and a change of clothes. She re-wraps his ribs, puts a clean shirt over his head, and helps get his arms through the holes. The additional movement sends shock waves of pain through his torso. As the pain subsides, Caleb opens his eyes and looks at Sadie, who’s staring at his arms. When she notices him watching, she stops, and looks him straight in the eyes.
There’s a long awkward pause before Sadie finally breaks the silence, “You went through the morphine too fast. There’s only a little left…you need to wean yourself off.” Caleb feels his checks blush with embarrassment as Sadie continues, “I’ve been gone almost two weeks…there should’ve been enough for much longer.”
She’s nothing but serious, now. Her happy and light demeanor from earlier has disappeared.
“Aahhhhhhhhh…I…aaaaaaaahh,” Caleb stammers not sure how to respond. “Two weeks?” Is all he eventually gets out.
“Yeah, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be this time,” she responds as Caleb grimaces with the news.
He knows she’ll leave again, but hearing it makes him feel even worse. Caleb needs to use the latrine, and Sadie gives him privacy before helping him back inside. She can tell his pain is bad, even though he’s trying to tough it out. He’s a little sweaty from the effort, his ribs are throbbing, there’s a fuzziness in his head, and all he can think about is another shot, but Caleb doesn’t want to say anything about it to Sadie.
He settles onto his back, the position he’s been basically living in since she found him, and tries calming down his body. Beginning to feel cold and shivery, his hands tremble as a wave of nausea hits him. He’s worried about throwing up his meal, when Sadie comes over to his side and puts her hand on his forehead.
“You feel a little clammy,” she says, while picking up the vial of morphine, trying to decide whether supplying him with more is a good thing. “Caleb, tomorrow, after breakfast, I’m headin’ back out to explore the north side of the island and find out where those Splitters came from. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but…it could be several weeks.”
Caleb tries to focus on Sadie’s words, but his attention keeps drifting to the vial she’s tapping against her leg while talking.
She notices, stops, and holds it up, “This is it…the last of it. You’re gonna have to ration…reduce each dosage, until it’s gone.”
Caleb, growing paler and impatient, desperately wants the pain meds. He doesn’t say anything to discourage Sadie and simply nods while she goes on.
“Okay, so here’s the plan. Take one dose…at night, before bed to help you sleep…and then another, mid-day after lunch. After four days, only before bed…” Sadie pauses looking at him.
He stares back, until realizing she’s looking for some type of response. When Caleb slowly nods yes, she inserts the needle into the vial and pulls some of the drug into the syringe.
“Lets start with...this much,” she shows him the amount, holding it near his face.
He fights the urge to take it from her.
“This way, it’ll last…just over a week and a half. After that…you’re on your own.”
He doesn’t say anything and Sadie isn’t sure he’s following.
“Caleb. Caleb…Caleb!”
“Sorry.” His focus drifts back to the morphine. “Okay,” he replies.
“Okay? Okay what?” Sadie asks, getting frustrated.
“Two doses a day…before bed and…at lunch. Then…just one.”
Sadie flicks the shaft of the needle, then tying up his arm, runs a finger along its inside, trying to find a good vein. Before inserting the tip, Sadie pauses again. “What else?”
At this point Caleb wants to scream but knows Sadie won’t react well to that tactic. He tries to calm himself, and answers. “Reduce the dosage,” he clenches his teeth, “until it’s all gone.”
Sadie injects the needle, and slowly, gives him his reward. As the morphine enters his bloodstream, his eyes close, and his head leans to one side. Immediately, he feels better.
“Thank you, Sadie,” he lightly whispers, with a grin on his face.
TWENTY-TWO
Knocked to his knees, the youngster is kicked from behind.
“Boy, we warned you! You ungrateful,” a kick strikes his side, “little,” another kick, “maggot!”
With two boney and bruised arms, the boy continues protecting his head while staying balled-up.
“It wasn’t me!” he yells at the top of his lungs.
“Shut up! We’ve heard ah nuff of ur ungrateful…mom‐meees, little boy, bullshit.”
This time, a kick lands directly upside his head knocking him unconscious. His entire body goes limp as it takes another nasty blow.
“This little piece ah shit is gettin’ lippy.” The man lands one last kick before pausing to catch his breath.
“Yeah, but he sure iz ah handy little fucker, I ain’t never seen nobody fix nutin’ like he can.” The other man adds.
“Shut up! I’m tired of yer shit too. If he’s so god damn good, then why ain’t the radio…or boat fixed. Huh? Tell me dat.” Disgusted, he pushes aside and stomps off to the house.
His partner glances down at the kid before following.
“When that little bastard wakes up, I wanna find where he’s hidin’ stuff.” The first man says, as he looks around the root cellar. “Son of ah bitch! He got da rice!” He slams the cellar door and plops into a chair, putting his feet on the table.
Hours later, the boy somehow finds his way back to the boat, curls into a fetal position, and falls back into the darkness. He shouldn’t be sleeping. It’s dangerous, especially with a head injury, but there’s no one looking out for him and it’s been that way for years. Life hasn’t been fair for the poor kid, and existence, for him, is dirty, lonely, and abusive.
He fades in and out of consciousness for two days, and luckily, is nonresponsive when they come and begin tearing apart the boat looking for their missing items. When he does wake, it takes another two days of nursing his wounds before he can get up. The boy’s weak, and he barely moves about, yet he understands the need to venture out, or he’ll die for sure. Problem is, running into them—they won’t help, especially since they think he’s been stealing food and more than likely, they’ll just beat him again, possibly to death this time.
Barely managing getting out of the boat and back on solid ground, he heads into the woods to a place he discovered when they first arrived. Uncovering his old toolbox, he rummages through it, and takes inventory. Not much left, a few unlabeled cans of mystery food, a couple handfuls of beans, and a small bag of flour. He learned years ago to always have backup and an emergency stash. Unfortunately for him, it’s been survival the hard way.
Removing the last item, he cradles it in his hands for what feels like an eternity. When the courage arrives, he carefully unwraps the old worn cloth,
exposing the gun. It’s his secret treasure, and it plays a major part, in his ever-evolving escape plot. He daydreams endlessly of freedom and a life away from the Nation. He’s invented rescue scenarios, planned routes for running away—even ways to get rid of his capturers.
Not sure in which direction events are headed, the boy feels it’s time to keep it loaded and with him. He was fortunate to survive this last beating and next time, he might not be so lucky. Besides, the odds are better, since the other two Splitters have yet to return. He swallows with difficulty loading the ammunition. Tucking the loaded gun into the back of his pants, he randomly picks a can, and holding it to his ear while shaking it, the boy tries guessing at its contents.
After a meal of cold canned beans, he hides the toolbox and heads off into the woods where he’s decided to stay while contemplating any further actions. Only a few steps away, the screams of a woman are clearly audible, stopping him dead in his tracks. His heart races, and he strains listening. The second time a scream pierces the silence; he changes course and heads back.
“Oooo…looky looky. Wha’d we got here?” The man’s hand gropes her backside and his fingers trace down her crack until they’re deep between her legs.
The foulness of the action sends shivers along her spine, as her deepest fear is upon her. She jerks away, only to be held tighter. Fighting back, she yanks one arm free while kicking, only to get punched in the jaw.
She falls, screaming, as both men hover above, laughing. One side of her jaw is dislocated, and unable to focus her eyes, all she sees is pulsating lights. Their laughing starts in slow motion, then slowly, it returns to correct speed. She has to get up and doesn’t want to be on the ground. While trying to get to her feet, one of the men knocks her back down. As he steps closer, she quickly sits, bringing her knees closer to her chest. Every time he gets close, she kicks fiercely, backing him up. She’s strong, and fairly quick, for already being so hurt.