Without the ability to move her arms, they were severely limited in what she could accomplish.
“I have an idea.” He leaned forward slightly so he could see her better. “Do you still have that knife I gave you for starting fires? Did you keep it in your pocket like I told you?”
“Yes, the pocket on my right side.”
Looking down, he realized it was her right arm that wasn’t functioning. “Can you move that arm at all? Maybe it can’t go overhead, but could you get into your pocket and grab the knife?”
“I’ll try.”
Soft whimpers of pain floated upward, and Brad tried his best to block them out. He would save her any pain that he could, but right now saving her life was more important than worrying about the pain either one of them suffered.
“I’ve got it,” she called. “I can’t do anything with it, but I have it between my fingers. What were you thinking? Cut myself loose so I don’t kill us both?”
Brad shook his head. “Don’t even joke about that, love.”
She looked up, a few tears tracking through the dirt on her face. “I’m scared, Brad. Really, really scared. And I’m so sorry I did this.”
He was scared too, but it wouldn’t do any good to admit that to her. He needed her to be strong right now, needed her to keep her wits about her so she could help him get her to the top of the ledge.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “We need to lighten the load. Since you can’t help me pull you up, I want you to use the knife to cut your backpack away. I know it’s too painful to move your right shoulder, but if you cut the strap then you can let it slide down your body. Once the bag is gone, you can use your legs to climb the wall while I pull.”
Hopefully getting rid of her bag would get rid of enough weight that he could pull her up again.
“Oh, Brad, please don’t hate me.” More tears dripped down Chelsea’s face. “I can’t drop the bag. We need it.”
“I could never hate you. Stop worrying about the supplies. Everything will be fine. The helicopter can get to us tonight, so we don’t need anything you have in that backpack.”
“You don’t understand!” She pressed her forehead against the side of the wall, not looking at him. “I stole the phone from you the second morning of our trip. It’s in my bag. That’s why I didn’t want you to use it or try to give it to me. I already have it. I lied to you, and I’m so, so sorry.”
Brad clenched his teeth, processing what she’d said without speaking. Anything that would come out of his mouth right at this moment wouldn’t be what she needed to hear. Her life was what mattered. They could deal with the lying later.
Once he felt in control of himself, he looked back down to find her staring up at him, a mixture of hope and fear plastered across her dirty face. “Cut it away, Chels, and let’s get you out of that hole,” he said.
“Can’t you just pull me up?” she asked. “I’ll use my legs like you said. We can’t lose the phone.”
Brad knew he was a failure as a man, but he couldn’t change the facts. His body was done. They only had one more shot of getting her to the top of the cliff. “Something in my shoulders pulled loose when you fell. I’m in so much pain right now, I’m having a hard time holding this rope. Also, I’ve pulled you as far as I can. My muscles feel like jelly and my hands are cramping so hard, the rope slipped downward a few times before you woke up. I can’t pull you to the top with the way things are now.”
Her tears became a waterfall over her face, though she made no sound.
“Your bag weighs at least forty pounds,” he continued. “It could be the difference that saves your life.”
“But the phone—”
“I don’t give a shit about that right now. Cut the damn bag and do whatever you can to help me.”
She paused with the knife in her hand, blade out.
“The longer you take, the weaker I get,” he practically growled. “Do it now!”
Chelsea shrugged the bag off her good shoulder, then reached swiftly across to cut the right-sided strap. As soon as the bag fell away, she clamped her hand back to the top of the wall and began pulling herself.
The change in weight was an immediate relief. Brad tugged on the rope, backing up as he did so to use his entire weight to drag her to the top. He felt more tearing across his back and shoulders and his hands again let the rope slip slightly.
With a shout of defiance, Brad twisted the rope around either wrist and kept digging his feet into the spiky ground, traveling backward. He could see the top of Chelsea’s head now. Her torso, her waist. She lunged forward, hitting herself against the sharp rocks.
Brad gave one more pull before a rock turned beneath his foot and he fell into the razor-like lava around him.
Chapter 21
Every part of Chelsea’s body clamored for attention, each spot complaining louder than the next. She’d never felt so much pain in her life. Her head throbbed and her neck felt like a hot poker pricked it anytime she moved. All of that was nothing compared to the excruciating flesh and bone that once upon a time made up her arm and shoulder. It was a mystery to her how she’d managed to grab that knife from her pocket. Even wiggling her fingers now sent shocks of pain so intense they made her gasp.
Perhaps she’d just lie on this lava rock until the pain knocked her out again. Being unconscious sounded a whole lot better than dealing with this. However, when she risked the neck pain to lift her head and look for Brad, she saw him lying flat on his back about ten feet away from her, motionless.
Though the effort seemed like too much, she dragged herself upward, getting her knees beneath her. The jabbing of sharp rock cutting into her flesh seemed like nothing next to all her other aches. Chelsea ignored the scratches and her bloody hand, using her good arm to push herself upright and lurch to her feet.
“Brad? Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure yet, but you didn’t fall down the hole. That’s all I can focus on right this second.”
Ignoring the way it flared more painful areas to life, Chelsea carefully picked her way across the ground, bypassing the backpack Brad had set down earlier. “Can you stand?”
He groaned but nodded, not opening his eyes. “I think so. My back’s killing me, though. How’s the shoulder?”
She chewed on her lips, attempting to shrug and then letting out a gasp when her body screamed how that was a bad idea. “It might be the worst pain I’ve ever had,” she admitted.
“It must be dislocated. We have to pop it back in place. I’ve had it done before when I was thrown from Warrior.” Hissing as he moved, Brad rolled to his side and struggled to sit upright. Both of his arms looked like they didn’t want to function. Blood from multiple cuts of the lava rock trickled over his skin. He looked down at himself and shook his head. “Too bad the first-aid kit was in your bag. We’ll have to improvise.”
Chelsea blinked back a fresh spat of tears. “I’m so sorry, Brad. I know this is all my fault and I never meant for—”
“Can’t talk about that now. Please, just stay quiet and do what I tell you.”
Even if she wanted to argue with him, what could she say? He had every right to be pissed off. She’d done the stupidest thing she could have. He had begged her to turn around and go back to the spring instead of crossing the lava. She’d been reckless and irresponsible simply so she didn’t have to admit the truth about the phone.
Now, not only did he know about her lie, the phone was gone and they were stranded, both of them so injured that setting up camp tonight would be a challenge.
“Come on,” he said, voice gruff with none of the love she’d heard earlier. “You can sit on top of my pack while I pop that shoulder into place.”
She followed along behind him, doing as she was told. At least he still wanted to help her, even if he was angry.
Sitting on his backpack, Chelsea felt another twinge of guilt when Brad kneeled onto the ground beside her, paying no attention to anything digg
ing into his knees and shins.
She tensed up, remembering in the movies how they always rammed a shoulder with a lot of force to pop it back in. That sounded painful, but if Brad thought it needed doing, she’d let him.
“You have to relax,” he said, gripping her right forearm in his hand loosely. “This will be easy if you sit up straight and relax your shoulders. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Struggling to do as he asked, fear kept her tight. Considering what she expected to happen, Chelsea was surprised when Brad put her arm at a ninety-degree angle and slowly rotated the forearm outward, keeping her biceps tight against her body.
“Tell me when you feel the pressure building,” he said. “I don’t want to pull too far and cause you more pain. I’m just moving it until there is resistance.”
As the muscles pulled, Chelsea sucked in a hissing breath. “Right there.”
“Good. Now, I’m going to pull up here.” He placed his hand against the back of her arm, putting an upward pressure on it. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. It doesn’t hurt any more than before, but I don’t see how this is going to help. Don’t you have to hit it or something?”
“No. I’d never hit you.”
As he gently swung her elbow and forearm back toward the front of her body, there was a sudden popping sound. Pain flared worse for a few seconds, then receded.
“That should do it,” he said. “I need to make you a sling. Get up.”
Chelsea could hardly believe it. While Brad dug through his backpack, she stood next to him flexing her fingers and rotating the shoulder slightly. It still hurt a lot, but she had some mobility.
“Stop moving,” Brad ordered. “I don’t want you doing much of anything with it until we get you to a doctor. Do you still have the pocketknife?”
“I think it’s by the ledge.”
Without another word, Brad turned to retrieve it.
Even when angry with his little brother, Chelsea couldn’t remember him being so gruff. In fact, the thing that scared her the most was how much control Brad exerted over himself right now. She could practically see him struggling not to explode and yell at her. She wished he would do so and get it over with. She screwed up big time and deserved whatever he had to say, but this nearly polite, definitely pissed attitude was disconcerting.
He made short work of cutting a T-shirt the way he wanted and tying it off before approaching her and setting it over her head. “Put your arm through that and then do your best not to move it. We need to get back to the hot spring where we have some resources before we rest. I’m not sure how long I can keep going. We’ll figure out everything else tomorrow.”
He grabbed his pack, slinging it across his back with a low groan of pain and none of his usual grace. He’d definitely done something to himself, but Chelsea knew she couldn’t handle carrying the bag with her shoulder still hurting so there wasn’t much she could do to help him.
“Brad, I am so sor—”
“Stop it, Chelsea. I don’t want to hear it. Let’s get off this damn rock, okay? That’s all I can focus on right now.”
* * *
The trip that took only an hour to make that morning required three hours. Brad had started to wonder if he went the wrong way and somehow missed the spring when it finally came into view. One good thing about this campsite was they still had a bit of wood leftover from yesterday and the fire pit needed only a bit of work to get rid of the dirt they’d used to smoother this morning’s fire.
Somehow, he’d have to figure out how to pitch their tent. With only one sleeping bag and being at the highest point of the island, they’d need that protection tonight. As bad as he hurt right now, he could only imagine how bad shivering with cold would feel.
He dropped his pack near the tent’s previous spot and looked at Chelsea, who trailed behind him. “Get the fire started. Luckily, we put the pot in my bag so we can boil water and eat some of the oatmeal.”
She grimaced, looking from the fire pit back to him. “The fire starter was in my stuff.”
Which now resided in the bottom of a dormant lava tube with his satellite phone. Sighing, he reminded himself things could be worse. He could have been wrong about the lava being gone. Chelsea wouldn’t have survived that.
Carefully, he unzipped the front pocket on his pack, extracting the lighter from the bottom and handing it to her.
“You brought a lighter?” She took it from his hand but frowned. “What was all that about believing I could figure out the fire? Did you expect me to fail?”
He snorted, not certain where she got off being upset with him. “I’m surprised you didn’t find it when you stole the phone.”
She flinched backward slightly. “I said I was sorry.”
While he really believed she was, believed she made a mistake and was then too afraid to own up to it, that didn’t improve their situation or make him feel any better about things. “Lucky for us both, my sister is practical enough to think two people with no experience shouldn’t go off in the jungle and expect to survive on talent alone. Syd told me to pack the lighter and keep it a secret, just in case we needed it. Turns out, we need it.”
Not waiting for her response, Brad knelt next to his bag and unhooked the tent, struggling with his unresponsive arms to tug it into place and unroll it.
* * *
By the time he finished putting the tent up and rolling his sleeping bag out inside it, Chelsea had a fire roaring and something smelled good. Brad wasn’t sure he was ready to make peace with her, but he certainly needed some food and sulking in the tent wouldn’t solve that problem.
When he approached, Chelsea didn’t look at him. Not that he blamed her. She was probably afraid he’d bite her head off again. Although he was still frustrated and angry, he knew they had to talk eventually.
“How long until the food’s ready?” He sat beside her, the heat of the fire feeling good on his aching body despite the warmth still radiating from the afternoon sun.
She shrugged. “A while. It was hard digging out the pit with just one arm.”
“The tent’s ready, though, and you made food happen, so we’ll be okay for tonight.”
“What about tomorrow?” She finally looked up. Tear marks had made pathways through her grimy face and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot. While she didn’t have tears falling now, it seemed she stopped their flow just as he came out of the tent.
Even if he wanted to continue punishing her for the phone by not allowing her to talk, they had to. He was angry and frustrated, true, but she was also the woman he loved. He couldn’t leave her in such a state without at least hearing her out. However, if she didn’t open up to him now after everything they’d experienced today, Brad knew she never would. This was it, the only shot they had of ever being more than people who took a disastrous trip together once upon a time.
“Why did you take the phone, Chels? I’ve been trying hard to make myself understand it, but it doesn’t make any sense.”
“I took it at Quinn’s Grove,” she admitted. “You were so hell bent on my safety, I was afraid you’d call for rescue at the first sign of trouble. I didn’t want my trip canceled because I stubbed my toe and you freaked out.”
Rather than exploding and giving reign to the rage he felt building inside, Brad forced himself to think about that. It wasn’t entirely unfair. He had been nervous that first day, worried that he would fail her. Perhaps he did have a tendency to micromanage too many things, wanting to have absolute control over his life. It was the reason he fought with his brothers constantly, and ultimately the reason he decided to give that responsibility to Matt, so he wouldn’t do it anymore.
“I can understand that,” he finally said, though his voice shook slightly. “Why not tell me you had it?”
Chelsea blinked rapidly. “Because you would have hated me for not trusting you. I tried to put it back last night and you caught me.”
“I knew you weren’t looking for condoms,”
he muttered, disappointed to learn the truth. Had she even wanted to make love last night, or was it her excuse to stop him from asking questions?
They both sat silently, staring into the fire. Every so often, Chelsea stirred the pot of oatmeal, but she didn’t offer anything further to explain herself.
“Why didn’t you tell me before crossing that lava rock?” he finally asked. “I was going to give it to you when I planned to cross first. Didn’t you think it would have been a good idea to hand it over before going out there?”
“Of course, it would have been a good idea.” Her voice squeaked on the words, so unlike her usual calm, collected persona. “It would have been better not to cross those damn rocks, but I was so afraid you’d discover I took the freakin’ phone. Don’t worry, I know what happens now. I’m no longer trustworthy, so you can’t be with me. It’s fine. Whatever. Everyone I love leaves. It’s not like I didn’t expect it.”
Her words hit him as if they had force. “You love me?”
“What?” She shook her head sharply, then winced and grabbed her neck. “What are you talking about?”
“You thought I would leave you because you love me. You’ve said something about that before. All I’ve wanted is for you to talk to me. I lov—”
“It’s a generalization, Brad. We hardly know each other. How can we be in love?”
How indeed? He didn’t have an answer to that, but it didn’t stop him from knowing he was in love with her. Not that it mattered, she’d made it clear she definitely didn’t love him. On top of that, she still wasn’t opening up, wasn’t trusting him the same way he trusted her.
It was too much. He couldn’t handle the argument he suspected it would take to get her to talk. He was sore and tired. Today had been one of the hardest, worst days of his life. No need to compound it by making Chelsea tell him over and over how much she didn’t love him.
Love's Ride (McCallister's Paradise Book 4) Page 15