“Demon!”” She cried. “Stop—Stop now!”
“No,” Nathan voice halted her. “No, let him finish. Let them think he was killed by a wild animal. We need them to think that. Let him finish!”
Riley turned away, sickened by the gore and unwilling to watch any further. She could hear every sound the dog made as he continued to rip apart the body, shaking it like a broken doll, growling in rage and victorious from the kill. Rushing to Nathan’s side, she knelt down, carefully examining his many injuries. Though his face was covered by blood, he smiled, reaching up and smoothing a lock of hair from her tear-streaked countenance.
“I told you to stay in the shelter,” he scolded her weakly.
“Oh, shut up,” she wailed angrily. “If I had, you’d be dead by now.”
“No, really!” he chuckled softly. “I was just letting him think he had the best of me, then I was going to make my move.” He soothed her with a gentle caress.
“And what move was that? Showing him how well you could make flowers grow after we planted you?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
The terrible noises from Demon finally ceased. Refusing to look behind her, Riley concentrated on Nathan, wiping blood from his eyes and helping him to drink, her hands shaking with uncontrolled emotion.
“We have to get back to the shelter,” Nathan warned. “I don’t know how many others might be close by.” Riley nodded, reaching down to help him up.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Fear clutched her in the pit of her stomach. “We need to get the arrow out and pad the wound.”
“That’ll have to wait ‘til later. We don’t have that kind of time right now.”
“Can you walk?”
Grimacing, Nathan fought to stand, weaving uncertainly. “I have to, but I’m pretty certain I’ll need your help.”
“Maybe we can fix a travois and Demon can drag you,” she voiced hopefully.
“He might if we had time, but they’ll be here soon and it just isn’t possible right now.” He reached across her shoulders, bracing himself. “Demon!” he instructed the dog. “Home!” The dog moved ahead, glancing over his flank, making sure they followed.
Blood and gore still covered Demon’s jaws and red slashes marked his white chest, stark reminders of the events of a few moments ago. Although her mind dictated otherwise, Riley couldn’t help but feel relief. “Good dog,” Riley praised him, “you were a good boy.” A small wag of his tail was Demon’s only acknowledgment; his focus was totally on the task at hand—leading them home.
Night was swiftly falling and it was imperative they return to the safety of the shelter. The wind moaned eerily through the tree tops, forlorn and haunting, a harbinger of things to come. Animal roars and distant howls rent the silence, the night hunters were drawn by the smell of blood on the wind. Riley’s skin prickled, envisioning them watching and waiting, biding their time for the right moment to attack. Branches rustled a short distance away as though some creature kept pace with their movements. Demon growled a warning, his head roving back and forth as he checked for scent. Riley shivered uncontrollably, her imagination fraught with terror. Fearfully, her eyes strained the dark, praying that nothing would materialize—afraid she would overlook the obvious if it didn’t. Her little group was so alone in this terrifying world.
Burdened by Nathan’s weight, travel was slow and she was finding it harder with every step to keep him upright. Stumbling and tripping awkwardly, he almost brought them both tumbling down more than once. He needed medical attention and soon, and she just didn’t have the training necessary to take care of him. Her medical training only included CPR and unless he went into cardiac arrest, she was limited in what she knew how to do. The arrow would have to come out and she cringed at the thought, but he would bleed to death if she didn’t try.
Nathan stumbled and fell, dropping heavily to the ground. “I don’t think I can go any further,” he struggled for breath.
“Get up!” Riley urged, pulling at him. “Get up now! We’re almost there. It’s just a little farther. Come on, damn you, we’re almost there!”
Demon whined, nudging Nathan and nipping at his feet. Nathan waved him away but the dog refused to budge. Groaning, Nathan rested for a few minutes, but ultimately allowed Riley to help him up. “If I can’t make it, you and Demon need to go on without me.”
“Forget that! We aren’t leaving you—are we, Demon?” She wrapped Nathan’s arm over her shoulder and practically dragged him along, cursing heartily in anger and frustration, allowing adrenalin to build. She’d carry him if she had to. She wasn’t one of those petite, feminine little things and, for once in her life, she was thankful.
As if reading her mind, Nathan commented, his voice exhausted and thin, “I love big strong women who make me feel helpless—and talk dirty!”
“Oh, for God’s sake! You are helpless, you dork, or am I misinterpreting the situation?” Gritting her teeth, she leaned in hard, dragging him along, carrying even more of his weight. Sweat pooled on her brow and dripped relentlessly into her eyes, determination strengthening her resolve. They would make it back, no matter what. The dog hurried ahead of them, alternately guarding and leading, watchful and alert.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they made it to the edge of the clearing in front of the shelter. Moonbeams lit the small glen, softly kissing the scenery, peaceful and inviting. Nothing moved, at least nothing Riley could identify and Demon exhibited no signs of uneasiness or concern. Nathan was almost unconscious, mumbling incoherently, his skin hot and feverish. Riley helped him sit down while she opened the shelter, gathering the little group in and then closing the entrance.
It was pitch black in the inner cave area and Riley groped along the wall, trying to find the inner door. Sliding it back, she physically hauled Nathan the rest of the way in. When the inner door was secure, she lit a candle and soft light spread through the darkness. Adding fuel to the few coals still smoldering in the fireplace, she had a small fire going quickly. Water would be boiling soon and she would have to doctor Nathan’s wound. Her stomach clenching in anxiety, Riley prepared a pallet on the floor and rolled Nathan on. Cutting his shirt off, she almost fainted at her first good look at the arrow wound.
Caked blood and grime clung to the area around the wound, which was puckered and oozing. The arrow was solidly entrenched just below his shoulder bone. Trying to remember basic anatomy, she was only guessing whether any major arteries were involved. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, she busied herself sponging the wound area, trying to center herself. Nathan groaned and tried to sit up, thrashing around and knocking over a chair in his delirium. With no other choice, she tied him up, worrying that if she didn’t, he would injure himself further.
Collecting an array of healing herbs from the stock Nathan kept on hand, she ground them up and added just enough water to make a thick paste. The water was boiling and the knives were in the process of being sterilized. The large sewing needle and long strands of animal hair were disinfected as well. She laid out a collection of clean rags and everything was in readiness, everything except herself. Saying a silent prayer for guidance, Riley braced herself for the work at hand. Shaking Nathan gently, she tried to force him to consciousness.
“Nathan,” she pleaded. “Nathan, you have to help me! I don’t know what to do.”
His glazed eyes opened with no sense of comprehension to comfort her.
“Nathan!” she tried again somewhat louder. “Nathan, please, you have to tell me what to do!” His fevered eyes slowly focused on her, recognition surfacing in the murky depths.
“Nathan, come on, Nathan! Try to focus, I need your help!”
Taking a shallow breath, he whispered through cracked and dry lips. “Pull the damn thing out.”
“Pull it out! Is that all? Just pull it out? What if I rupture an artery or something?” Tears washed her face and dripped down onto Nathan’s chest. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
&n
bsp; “You have to,” he croaked feverishly. “I can’t do it.”
Losing the tenuous restraint she held on her emotions, Riley wept uncontrollably, sickened and terrified by what she would be forced to do.
“Calm down, sweetie,” weakly, Nathan tried to calm her. “In my pack...get the metal spoons.”
Hiccupping, she responded angrily. “And what am I supposed to do with them? Have lunch?”
“No,” shaking his head. “Widen the wound...make easier...pull the arrow straight out. Antibiotic in there, too.”
Rushing to his pack, she searched frantically, finally finding something that looked somewhat like metal spoons, more like salad spoons hooked in the middle. Flexing them open, her imagination did the rest. At least she had something to work with. There was also a packet of white powder which she assumed and hoped was the antibiotics. Briefly, she wondered how many other little modern conveniences he had tucked away. Later on, she would just have to find out. Whatever! She didn’t have time to think about it now. The spoons were hastily dipped into the boiling water and there was nothing left to do but begin.
Kneeling beside Nathan, she gingerly inserted the spoon heads along the arrow shaft, freezing when Nathan jerked in pain, sweat pooling on his brow.
“Keep going,” he growled. “Just get it over with.”
Forcing the spoons down as deep as she dared, she gently pried them open, stopping as Nathan gasped and cried out. She waited until he settled down, hoping he would have a few more instructions.
“Pull the arrow straight out,” he groaned. “Try to keep the barbs from twisting further in.”
She needed more light! The wound was bleeding again in a steady stream and it just wasn’t possible to see down into the wound clearly. After collecting as many candles as she could find and quickly lighting them, she then blotted the blood as best she could and assessed the positioning of the arrowhead. She could see the end of one side of the arrowhead and it didn’t appear as though it was barbed, but the other end was imbedded. Rather than risk both ends becoming imbedded, she decided it was best to try to pull the arrow straight out. Her hands were slick with blood and perspiration, and getting a good grip on the shaft of the arrow was almost impossible. Standing up and straddling Nathan, she got a good grip on the shaft and pulled hard. Nathan screamed, jerked and then passed out. Probably the best thing under the circumstances since the arrow was still in place.
Demon growled, stalking towards her on stiff legs, threatening and dangerous.
“Go lay down,” she commanded, unafraid. “I’m not hurting him! I’m helping him. Good dog, go lay down.” Instead, he sat down next to them, protectively guarding Nathan. Great! Now she had to worry about the dog as well. Deciding to ignore his obvious unhappiness with her actions, she took a deep breath and yanked hard. Grunting with effort, she fell backwards, hitting her head on a stool, as the arrowhead popped free. Blood spurted from the wound, liberally spraying her and the dog. Grabbing the rags, she covered the wound, pressing down firmly, hoping to stem the flow. After a time, uncertainly, she lifted a corner and carefully scrutinized the area. The blood flow had lessened considerably already. Wiping the area as clean as possible, she twisted open the antibiotic pack and poured a small amount over the wound before sewing several large stitches across the gash. More antibiotic was poured over the site, repacking it with clean bandages and then tying the ends over Nathan’s shoulder and across his chest to secure the bandages more firmly. The many smaller cuts she washed thoroughly and then pasted the healing herbs thickly on each, judiciously saving the antibiotic for the most serious injury.
Nathan remained unconscious, his breathing steady, although shallow. A frown creased his face, lines radiating across his brow. Smoothing his hair back with shaking hands, she offered another silent prayer for his speedy recovery. Sleep was the best thing for him now. Gently, she untied the bonds that secured him and washed his entire body, calmed by the simple chore. Throughout the long night, she kept a close vigilance over Nathan, alternately covering him when he shook with cold and sponging him with cold water when he felt hot to the touch. By morning, the fever broke.
When he was resting more comfortably, she instructed the dog to watch him while she rested for a few minutes and took the time to shower.
By the time she returned to the kitchen area, Nathan was breathing easier and some color had returned to his cheeks. The dog lay by him, head on his paws, his eyes centered on his master. Grabbing a clean bowl of water, Riley approached the dog warily. She’d never seen the brute bathed, but too much blood still covered his white pelt. He eyed her warily, baring his teeth for show.
“Stop that right now,” Riley scolded, slapping him gently. “I’m just going to wash your face. Do you want to look like nobody cares about you?” Demon ducked his head, trying to avoid the dreaded washcloth. “Oh, I see you’ve done this before,” she chuckled. “I bet Nathan wasn’t as determined as me, though.”
“He hates that.” Nathan’s weak voice commented.
Riley whirled, relief and joy flooding her features. “Nathan! O-mi-gawd! How do you feel? Do you need a drink or something?” The dog went crazy, licking Nathan’s face and jumping in excitement.
“A drink would be great,” he coughed. “Ouch, that hurts,” he groaned, pushing the dog back. “Lay down, boy.” Grabbing a cup, she filled it and then ran back, splashing the whole thing on him in her haste.
“How about in my mouth this time?” His chapped lips grinned slightly.
Embarrassed by her clumsiness, her face flushing beet red, she tried again, this time successfully managing to get the water down instead of on him.
Attempting to sit up, he fell back weakly, panting from the exertion. “Can you help me get to my bed? This floor is hard as rock”
Riley laughed out loud. “It is rock, you big goof!”
Reaching down, she wrapped her arms around him, savoring the moment, rubbing her face against his hair. “I was so worried about you.” Her voice breaking, she paused, “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
With his good arm, he reached up, cupping her face. “I know, but I wasn’t going to let that happen.” His touch soothed her as no other. “Besides,” he grinned, “I’m the best looking man around here.”
Riley had to give him that one. “Yup, you are! But that isn’t saying much,” she quipped in response.
“You’ll suffer for that one,” Nathan warned. “I might just have to introduce you to some of the other possible beaus around here.”
“No...no...that’s perfectly all right. I’m happy with present company.”
Getting Nathan to his feet was no easy matter, care had to be taken not to reopen the wound and he was very weak, but ultimately she had him up and into the sleeping area. He moaned in relief as he sank down into the furs.
“Do you think you could eat some broth if I brought you some?”
Nodding slightly, he closed his eyes, the short walk taking its toll on his already depleted energy. “Sorry I’m such a burden right now.”
Suddenly realizing she was tired beyond belief herself, Riley nevertheless thanked God that they were safe for the moment. “Yes, you are a burden, but not an unwanted one. I’ll be right back.”
The warmth of the kitchen filled her heart, her worried mind eased by the undemanding exertion of preparing a meal. But what would tomorrow bring?
CHAPTER THIRTY
Team members were scheduled for last minute physicals, and it was with great concern and disappointment that Alicia, the women’s presupposed leader, was found to have a blood disorder needing immediate treatment, precluding her from making the trip. Jonas contacted his people and a new recruit was on her way. Not having the personal input with her selection, he was apprehensive about the Council’s choice. They wholeheartedly reassured him that their selection was appropriate and chosen because of her skills and background. They neglected to identify those skills but Jonas trusted their decision and wa
ited impatiently for her appearance.
The anxiously awaited confirmation finally arrived. Bethany notified Jonas that everything was in readiness for their departure. Working around the clock, adjusting, modifying and recalculating Miles’ projections, she was finally satisfied with her end product. Tomorrow, Tuesday, they would step through the door and into the past. Far bigger than any transport she had attempted before, Bethany was anxiety-stricken but convinced that she had done the best possible job. Though they had been on red alert for the past few weeks, the team spent the remaining time repacking and rechecking every little item. The new recruit was scheduled to arrive today and Jonas was rightly concerned about her obvious un-preparedness for the journey.
A jeep arrived in the quadrant and a small and very young woman stepped out, struggling with a myriad of suitcases, boxes and equipment. Long, dark brown hair was pulled in a haphazard bun atop her head, her clothing rumpled and in disarray.
Jonas stepped out into the sun, strolling casually down the short staircase in front of the visitors’ quarters. She glanced up and a shy smile lit her face, adding weight to her appearance as an overstressed urchin.
“Mr. Whitehead, I presume?” She offered a small, grubby hand. His heart sinking, Jonas perused his newest addition. From outward appearances, she left much to be desired.
Whitehead? “White…horse—not whitehead.” Made him sound like a big zit or something. “How old are you?” He barked abruptly.
Startled, she withdrew the hand, hesitating slightly. “I’m 25. I know. I look younger than I am, but I’m really 24, er, I mean 25.”
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