Tent City (13 page)

I’m not sure where I should go. I could go back to the wheelers, but I don’t want to lead them anywhere if they’re following me. I do the only thing I know I can and I run.

I take a different route than we came in so as to throw anyone off Bentley’s trail. I hope to God he’s okay and I feel ashamed for leaving. I don’t think about much more than getting back.

I have no idea if I’m going the right way, but after hours of flailing around in the dark, I’m exhausted. I decide to take refuge in between a couple of dead trees that are lying on the ground.

I gather some of the pine needles and make myself a bed. It’s probably not the best I can do, but I’m exhausted and as soon as I lay down, I’m out cold.

When I awake, I am disoriented and it takes me a few minutes to take stock of what has happened and realize last night’s ordeal was not a nightmare.

My left eye feels puffy, as I feel the full effects my attacker had on my face. I’m lost and alone. I suppress the urge to just break down and cry and instead take a look around at my surroundings.

My lips are dry and I physically ache for fluid. It’s this thirst that takes over and gets me on my feet in search for a source of water.

I curse myself for not carrying a bottle of water. I start out in the direction I think I’m supposed to go and begin with a fast paced walk, but before I know it, I’m running again. I know I should be conserving myself and running is stupid because I will just lose fluids more quickly, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’m in a race against time. There’s a deep desire to get back to Brody. I resist the urge to think about Bentley and the others for long. The main thing I have to worry about is getting back to camp.

After what seems like another couple hours, I stop to hear the sweetest sound I’ll probably ever hear in my life. It sounds like water and as I peek around the trees, I see it is. I feel a sense of apprehension as I approach it. I know my dad would say I would need to distill it or boil it, but I’ve got no tablets, and I’ve got no pan or fire.  I’m just so thirsty. It looks clean and I’ve never needed it so bad.

After my thirst has been quenched, I take a seat on a halfway comfortable rock and try to untangle this maze I’ve found myself in. It’s hitting hard, as I realize I don’t know where I am. This is bad. I can survive a few days without food and I have some water here, but I know I have to keep moving.

I search around until I find an old water bottle downstream. It has a few holes in it, but they’re towards the top and it’s better than nothing.

I clean it out and fill it up and prepare to make my way. Based on where the sun is, I figure it’s midmorning. Maybe if I keep moving, I can get back to camp before sunset, if I’m going in the right direction.

After hours of walking, it becomes clear to me that I’m lost. I find myself wishing I had Kit’s natural ability for direction and curse myself for even going on this stupid raid in the first place.

I’m really starting to get hungry and I’m getting down to the last of the water. The sun is going down when I find another good place to bed down for the night. As I fall asleep, I’m already making plans to try and find some food tomorrow.

I don’t know if I should try and go back to the creek. As depressing as that sounds, it might be my only shot for survival. At least it’s a source for water and maybe I can try and catch some fish. I drift away dreaming of catfish and bass sautéed in oil and salt.

When I get up in the morning, I head back to the creek. I’m fighting every emotion from loneliness, to fear, to just downright desperation.

I start to think I might not make it back to Brody. He and Kit are probably worried sick, and mostly I just feel guilty. Mom and Dad trusted me to take care of Brody and already, I’ve let them down.

After hiking all day, I finally make it back to the creek, and it’s bittersweet. Yes, I have water, but that just means I am one more day without food and no closer to where I need to be.

It’s my third night out here, and I know I’m not going to be able to try and leave here again. I’ve gotten too weak for even mild walking. I spend less of my time worrying about Brody and more of it fantasizing about food.

My latest fantasy has me devouring a plate of creamy macaroni and cheese. Even in the daydream, I’m embarrassed to realize that I’m shoveling it in with my fingers.

I get the idea that maybe I can get to higher ground to take a look around. I choose the closest tree to me and it seems to take hours even to get up a few branches. Every inch up makes me more lightheaded. I sit for a bit and then get a second wind. Before I know it, I’m up really high. To my disappointment, there’s not much to see.

Heartbroken, I start my trek back down, but fatigue and hunger have made me careless and I’ve lost my footing. The last thing I remember is lying on the ground, certain that my leg is folded under me in a way that was anything but natural.

At first it’s very dark. I feel Brody squirming beside me and I tell him to stop moving and go back to sleep. I reach out for his head, eager to touch his soft yellow curls, only that’s not what I find. His hair is coarse and his face feels much bigger. Alarmed, I race out of bed and flip the light on.

“Drake?” I’m so confused.

“Dani, get Mom, I don’t feel good.” He must have crawled into my bed in the middle of the night. He has always done this, a fact that irritates my mom to no end. I can still hear her chewing him out now, “Drake, you need to stay in your bed. I don’t want you getting your sister sick too!” I might be annoyed too, but he looks really bad. His face is pale and he’s fighting the retching.

By the time Mom gets in here, he has already vomited twice and his body is heaving, eager to get rid of more. Mom doesn’t look panicked yet. I don’t suppose she would. She has been through the flu enough times to recognize it and she busies herself with getting clean towels and sheets for Drake. She tells me to leave so I don’t get sick too.

My dad comes in looking concerned, but she shoos him away and tells him not to worry about it. She asks me to go get the Tylenol from downstairs and I do.

This went on for three days and then he died. She never got over it.

“Dani, wake up! Wake up!” I hear someone unfamiliar calling out and shaking me as I lie on the ground. My eyes are only open slightly, but even just a bit of sunlight is blinding me.

Then suddenly my face is doused with cold water and I struggle to sit up. Coughing, spitting and choking, I’m no longer in a deep sleep. Instant anger washes through me. I try to sit up further and I’m blinded once again, but this time it’s due to pain.

“Sit still,” the voice commands. I stifle a scream that’s begging to come out of me.

“Shhh….Dani, it’s going to be okay, take this,” he says, as he places something into my mouth and soon I find darkness again.

I awake, this time finding myself alone. My leg has some sort of splint on it and hurts like hell. But more than pain, I feel thirst and I immediately try to rise and search for something to drink. I’m still weak and woozy from hunger and the pain seems secondary. Just as I look up, I see him.

“You,” I whisper softly.

He stares intently at me with those amazing gray eyes and says, “Yes…me.”

I want to shout at the top of my lungs about how happy I am to see him, but instead I say nothing. I try to stand only to be met by a jolt of lightning pain in the injured leg. It buckles as Jack catches me and lays me back down.

As far as I can tell, the next day or so is a bit of a blur. I have visions of Jack feeding me, medicating me, and embarrassingly enough, I think he has even helped me to the bathroom, a fact that I will probably never live down.

He has made us a temporary shelter and after some time, the fog begins to lift. I’m still in a lot of pain, but Jack says it’s time to get moving.

“So what happened exactly?” I ask him.

He’s actually grinning when he says, “From what I gather, I think you fell out of that tree.” He says as he points to the tree that became my adversary. It’s injured and broken, much like me. A branch for a leg, I guess.
 

“Well, I know that. I mean, how did you find me? How did you fix my leg? Where are we? And how long have I been here?”

“Whoa, take it easy. Let’s see if we can get you walking and I can tell you all about it.”

I groan and moan as I take my first steps.

“I’m never going to be able to do this.” I realize I’m whining, but I’m not ready to stop feeling sorry for myself.  

“It’s better to feel pain than nothing at all,” he says and we begin to walk.

We walk for a while and my leg is throbbing, but I’ve got questions to ask and he has promised answers.

“How long have we been here?”

“I got here three days ago,” he says.

“I’ve been out for three days?!”

“Yes, maybe more, but that’s when I found you. I was just going to fill my canteen when I saw you lying underneath that tree. To tell you the truth, I thought you were dead.”

“Oh.”

“Just unconscious, probably from the pain. The body’s way of coping. But you were dehydrated. I set your leg. It was a good break. No fragments. Just a slight tibial fracture.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Then I gave you some morphine to help with the pain,” he says back, ignoring my question. He then laughs quietly to himself.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Are you sure you wanna know?”

Memories of him helping me to the bathroom almost prevent me from saying yes.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure I was going to have enough morphine. By day two, you kinda started liking it a little too much.” My face flushed and I was sorry I asked.

“Good for me though. I found out lots of interesting stuff about you. You’re very honest when you’re high.”

“How did you just happen to be here anyway? Are you following me?” The combination of pain and embarrassment has made me mean, but I can’t bring myself to care. He just keeps walking.

The whole thing is strange. How does he know how to set my leg and why does he carry around morphine? I wonder if he’s the one who has a drug problem, but I’m not going to worry about it now because he did just save my life.

Why does this guy keep popping up right when I need him most? How is it possible he’s always there at just the perfect time?

From what I put together, I must have been gone an entire week. I feel sick to my stomach about Brody. He and Kit must think I’m dead. I want to rush and run home, but the truth is, I’m hurt pretty bad. Jack told me it was a clean break and it will only take a couple of weeks for it to heal.

As he talks, I’m kind of in awe of him. If he’s only 18, how does he have so much medical knowledge? The brace he has set for me is made out of sticks and twine. He has it lined with fabric, as to not irritate my skin. Thankfully, it’s my lower bone, so walking isn’t impossible. I use a larger stick as sort of a cane to help me along. I’m grateful for the morphine, as it makes it tolerable to bear down on it at all.

“So what’s your plan?” I ask him, as we are walking at a pace so slow, it actually physically irritates me.

“Well, originally, I was just going to check in on you guys to make sure you made it okay. I couldn’t stop thinking about that kid brother of yours. I ran into an old friend of mine who told me that this part of the Black Hills is filled with these groups of renegades. He said they don’t care if you had small children with you or not. Some people have even turned up murdered. They just take whatever supplies you have, kill you and move on, leaving the bodies just the way they are. Things are real bad right now. So I got to thinking about it, and I didn’t have anything better to do…I guess it worked out pretty good that I happened to find you where you were. Things weren’t looking so hot for you.”