stopped me. "As long as you can carry my pack for a few minutes I can hold my own weight. Let's get away from here!" he said, wrapping an abandoned sweatshirt around his wound to staunch the blood flow.
"All right." I scoped out our surroundings. Across a farmer's field was a river winding into the woods toward a mountainous area. "To the river," I ordered. He didn't argue.
We sprinted through the field until we reached the soft earthen river bank. I was shocked by how fast he was able to run considering how hurt he was. I looked at him once, and I guess the surprise registered on my face because he answered, "Adrenaline," with a shrug.
But when we got to the river bank he had a hard time slowing down and slipped, rolling down the muddy embankment into the shallows of the river and landing hard on the stones below.
"Moving too quickly," he cursed. "I'm not used to this… countryside."
"City boy?" I guessed.
"Yeah. Which way are we going?" he asked coldly.
"Up toward the trees," I answered. "Stand out in the water a little ways; I need to make sure there's no blood trail."
"Good thinking."
I smoothed out the mud from his spill, and we ambled together through the shallow side of the river over the rocks, being careful not to leave footprints. We went a mile and a half. We didn't talk, but saved our energy for moving. I knew that if I was as hurt as he was, I wouldn't have been able to make it this far, and I absolutely wouldn't be moving as fast. It was almost like he wasn't hurt at all. But I knew he was. I watched as the old dried blood on his jeans darkened again with fresh stains. He must have been suffering silently.
We kept up our pace for another half mile. I hadn't seen any houses at all out here.
"This should be a good place to climb. Are you up to it?" I asked.
"I'm good," he said, but his face was pale.
We climbed a good quarter of a mile when I spotted a downed tree. "We'll get to that tree and build a shelter."
After we reached it, I set our packs on the ground and took out two of my three tarps. I spread one out over the ground, under the slightly suspended fallen tree trunk.
"Go on, get underneath," I urged.
"You're not going to run out on me, right?" he asked, half-jokingly.
"And be responsible for you bleeding to death? No way. I will at least wait until I've fixed you up," I jeered.
"Comforting," he said as he lowered his body onto the tarp with a groan. "Thanks," he said sincerely.
"Sure." I gave him the second tarp for warmth. "Cover up with this and take off your soaked clothes so you don't lose body heat. I'll take a look at your wound in a few minutes."
I took my hatchet from my pack and went straight to work constructing a camouflaged lean-to. I quickly hacked at nearby leafy branches and positioned them upright, leaning them against the fallen tree to create a good wall that looked more natural than man-made. I then pushed both of our packs under the lean-to and crawled in after them. Feeling parched, I retrieved my water bottle and drank thirstily. I was about to ask him if he'd like a drink, but when I looked at him I noticed that he was either sleeping or unconscious, I couldn't tell which. My mind raced in a flurry of thought. I wasn't sure what to do first until I heard my mother's voice in my head. Take care of yourself first. Right. I wouldn't be able to help anyone if I got sick or hurt. I stripped off my wet clothes and threw them into a pile at the lowest edge of the lean-to so they wouldn't get our dry area wet.
I pawed through my pack in a hurry, pulling out a set of black thermal leggings and a shirt and quickly slipping into them, feeling immediately warmer. I threw on a pair of durable denim Levi's, a pair of wool socks and my waterproof hiking boots—in case I had to run fast. Then I turned my attention to the wounded-bookstore guy.
Chapter 2 First Aid
"Hey, you alright?" I asked softly. He was out cold. I frowned and took out my first aid kit,
"All right." I scoped out our surroundings. Across a farmer's field was a river winding into the woods toward a mountainous area. "To the river," I ordered. He didn't argue.
We sprinted through the field until we reached the soft earthen river bank. I was shocked by how fast he was able to run considering how hurt he was. I looked at him once, and I guess the surprise registered on my face because he answered, "Adrenaline," with a shrug.
But when we got to the river bank he had a hard time slowing down and slipped, rolling down the muddy embankment into the shallows of the river and landing hard on the stones below.
"Moving too quickly," he cursed. "I'm not used to this… countryside."
"City boy?" I guessed.
"Yeah. Which way are we going?" he asked coldly.
"Up toward the trees," I answered. "Stand out in the water a little ways; I need to make sure there's no blood trail."
"Good thinking."
I smoothed out the mud from his spill, and we ambled together through the shallow side of the river over the rocks, being careful not to leave footprints. We went a mile and a half. We didn't talk, but saved our energy for moving. I knew that if I was as hurt as he was, I wouldn't have been able to make it this far, and I absolutely wouldn't be moving as fast. It was almost like he wasn't hurt at all. But I knew he was. I watched as the old dried blood on his jeans darkened again with fresh stains. He must have been suffering silently.
We kept up our pace for another half mile. I hadn't seen any houses at all out here.
"This should be a good place to climb. Are you up to it?" I asked.
"I'm good," he said, but his face was pale.
We climbed a good quarter of a mile when I spotted a downed tree. "We'll get to that tree and build a shelter."
After we reached it, I set our packs on the ground and took out two of my three tarps. I spread one out over the ground, under the slightly suspended fallen tree trunk.
"Go on, get underneath," I urged.
"You're not going to run out on me, right?" he asked, half-jokingly.
"And be responsible for you bleeding to death? No way. I will at least wait until I've fixed you up," I jeered.
"Comforting," he said as he lowered his body onto the tarp with a groan. "Thanks," he said sincerely.
"Sure." I gave him the second tarp for warmth. "Cover up with this and take off your soaked clothes so you don't lose body heat. I'll take a look at your wound in a few minutes."
I took my hatchet from my pack and went straight to work constructing a camouflaged lean-to. I quickly hacked at nearby leafy branches and positioned them upright, leaning them against the fallen tree to create a good wall that looked more natural than man-made. I then pushed both of our packs under the lean-to and crawled in after them. Feeling parched, I retrieved my water bottle and drank thirstily. I was about to ask him if he'd like a drink, but when I looked at him I noticed that he was either sleeping or unconscious, I couldn't tell which. My mind raced in a flurry of thought. I wasn't sure what to do first until I heard my mother's voice in my head. Take care of yourself first. Right. I wouldn't be able to help anyone if I got sick or hurt. I stripped off my wet clothes and threw them into a pile at the lowest edge of the lean-to so they wouldn't get our dry area wet.
I pawed through my pack in a hurry, pulling out a set of black thermal leggings and a shirt and quickly slipping into them, feeling immediately warmer. I threw on a pair of durable denim Levi's, a pair of wool socks and my waterproof hiking boots—in case I had to run fast. Then I turned my attention to the wounded-bookstore guy.
Chapter 2 First Aid
"Hey, you alright?" I asked softly. He was out cold. I frowned and took out my first aid kit,
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