The Hermit (2 page)

Then
she wouldn’t have found herself fifteen miles from the nearest small town in
the Alaskan wilderness with what looked like three men who had no concept of right
and wrong.  Maybe she wouldn’t have taken a leave of absence from the hospice
center and would even now be comforting a patient and their family, helping
them prepare for the end of a loved one’s life. 

Then there
was no ability to think at all as her clothes were ripped away and she was
brutalized for the first time of the many that awaited her.  God at last had
mercy and allowed her to pass out.

Ryan
Wallace hiked up the mountain, lost in thought as he always was.  Some days he
was lost in memory and those days were harder on him.  He’d toyed with the idea
of taking his life but somehow, it felt like the coward’s way out.  He’d made
his choices and it was only right that he deal with the consequences. 

If
he’d been walking just two steps to the left, he’d have missed her completely. 
Walked right past her and she would have died of exposure within hours.  If he
hadn’t stumbled across what he at first thought was a child in the deepest
wilderness of Alaska’s Wrangell Mountains, Ryan’s life would have gone on as it
had for so long. 

He
didn’t miss her.  He didn’t pass her.  He tripped over her still form and
barely caught himself, scrambling back to stare at her in shock and confusion.

He
lived twenty miles from his closest neighbors, there were no roads, and the nearby
river was packed with snow and ice this time of year.  That meant she’d
traveled overland on foot.  How she’d survived at all puzzled him.  There was a
time when puzzles had meant everything to him.  Ryan felt the familiar itch
between his shoulder blades.  The itch that told him he couldn’t rest until he
knew how she’d come to be here. 

He
stood staring down at her for a long time before he approached.  She could
already be dead.  She wore boots with no socks and clothes so thin there were
places they were transparent. 

It had
been four years since he’d seen another person.  He’d packed in ten years of
supplies when he’d sold everything he owned and walked away from what was left
of his life.  Fresh goods were air-dropped in a meadow not far from his cabin
and charged to his credit card without the annoying chatter other customers
might require. 

Solitude
was a choice he’d made.  Having it disturbed was…unexpected.

Sighing
deep in his chest, he crouched beside her and removed a glove, immediately
noting the jagged scar along her jaw that spoke of a serious injury and likely
great pain.  As Ryan reached out to take her pulse, his hand trembled. 

He had
no choice; he had to touch her to help her.  He was many things but a
cold-blooded murderer of innocents would never be one of them.  He clenched his
hand in a fist and sent a message through his body and mind to
step the fuck
up
already.  When he opened his hand again, his fingers were steady as a
rock.  Placing them on her neck, he felt a pulse so shallow he almost missed
it.  She was in danger of freezing if he didn’t get her to shelter
immediately. 

Tugging
his backpack off his shoulders, he removed a thermal blanket and wrapped it
around her body.  He pulled the bed roll blanket out and added that, placing
his pack beneath her head.  Standing, he set about making a litter from
branches and twine to transport her back to his cabin. 

He
moved quickly, knowing he had only two hours before he lost the light and would
be forced to make camp.  Alone, this wouldn’t bother him but allowing her to
remain at the mercy of the elements for another twelve hours would kill her. 
Of this, he was certain. 

She
was his responsibility now.  It was his job to keep her safe and make her well
so she could go back where she belonged and leave him alone again.  Alone but
not at peace.  Never at peace. 

He
used his bedroll to shield her from the rough twine, lifting and moving her to
lie on it, shocked at how little she weighed.  He carefully tucked the blankets
around her and used more twine to secure her to the litter. 

Pack
over his shoulders again, he stood staring out at the Kennecott Glacier in the
distance with his hands on his narrow hips.

“I don’t
know why you’ve sent this person to me.  I won’t pretend to understand.  I’ll
help her and send her away.  Is this going to become a regular thing?  Sending
me underfed strays to patch up?”  When there was no answer, he pinched the
bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, squeezing to relieve the
tension building there.  “Okay, let’s get this over with.”  He turned back and
lifted the litter, hauling it behind him as he retraced his steps. 

Ryan
moved quickly down the mountain and the roof of his cabin came into view as the
sun began to disappear behind the lowest range.  He breathed a sigh of relief and
pulled her up on the porch, untying the twine, lifting her from the floor, and
carrying her inside the warmth of his compact home.  First things first, he
couldn’t afford an infestation of bugs.  He had to clean and examine her.  He
spread an old blanket over his long farmer’s table and laid her on it. 

Retrieving
his medical bag and supplies from the pantry as well as a warm flannel shirt
and thick socks, he returned to her.  He pulled the blankets back and began a
series of tests on her vitals.  The corneas of her eyes were yellowed, the
pupils dingy.  They dilated when he flashed his light in them. 

He
started removing the tattered shirt and men’s pants she wore, held on her
malnourished frame with a piece of dirty rope.  She had no undergarments.  Everything
went into an enormous Ziploc bag he would save for the authorities.  Gradually
he bared her body to his eyes and his heart felt a wave of compassion he hadn’t
experienced in too many years to count. 

The
obvious malnourishment and dehydration were the least of what this woman had
been through.  Her bones showed clearly under her lax grayish skin.  The scarring
was so much worse.  Everything from lash marks to what looked like slices from
a knife were scattered over her torso, arms, and legs.  Someone’s desire for
her to remove her body hair with either an old blade or the edge of a knife had
left her armpits, legs, and pelvic area dotted with infected razor burn and
likely agonizing tiny cuts. 

He
filled a small tub with warm soapy water and began to wipe her body down with a
soft cloth after he stoked the fire to prevent her from becoming chilled.  His
mind was detached as he’d been trained, seeing her as a patient and not a
person of specific gender. 

When
her body was as clean as he could get it, the scars and bruises were so much
clearer against her pale flesh.  He applied antibacterial ointment over every
cut and sore he could find, covering the worst with gauze and medical tape.  The
bruised outlines of hands on her upper arms and inner thighs infuriated him on
her behalf.  Her genitals were raw and he knew she likely had vaginal and anal
tearing.  For someone to treat a human being this way, they deserved nothing
less than death. 

After
a moment of consideration, he removed an ACE bandage with a Velcro closure. 
Lifting her upper body he worked to bind her breasts.  Evidence of severe and
repeated sexual assault would make her feel vulnerable under any condition.  He
wanted her to feel as secure as possible under several layers of clothing if
and when she ever woke. 

He
went into his storage room and removed a pair of long johns that had proven to
be too snug for his comfort as well as a new pair of his boxer briefs and a
white undershirt.  Everything was huge on her but it was the best he could do. 

When
he had her body covered enough to preserve her dignity, he pulled her close to
the edge of the table so that most of her hair hung over the side.  Using a
pitcher, he rinsed her hair several times with vinegar to kill and dislodge any
lice she might be carrying. 

Ryan
had been unable to determine her hair color, so many layers of grime had given
it a gray hew.  With each rinse, the dark brown began to show through. 

He
allowed the last rinse of vinegar to sit for a few minutes while he trimmed and
cleaned her nails and toenails, noticing several severe breaks to the nail
bed.  He placed the trimmings in another bag and zipped it in with the clothes
she’d been wearing. 

When
he finished, he pulled the heavy socks over her feet, leaving them over the
long johns for extra warmth.  He inspected her scalp with a flashlight and comb
to ensure there were no eggs or bugs infesting the length.  Satisfied, he
washed it with regular shampoo and rinsed it one last time before towel drying
it and running a comb through until it was detangled. 

He
dried her neck before pulling on the flannel shirt and buttoning all but the
top button.  After he rolled up the long sleeves, Ryan moved her to the soft
worn couch near the fire that he’d layered with towels, pulling an old quilt
over her still form. 

Ryan
made beef broth and ginger tea, knowing he’d have to get her to eat gradually. 
Taking a large dropper from his medical bag, he sat on the edge of the coffee
table and carefully pulled down her lower jaw.  Testing with a small amount of
the broth, he waited to be sure her body’s natural reflex would kick in and
make her swallow. 

Nodding
his head with a slight smile that felt foreign on his face, he worked to feed
the cups of both liquids to her.  It took a long time but he felt she’d likely
be able to keep it down.  He sat back on the ratty chair he favored and watched
her in wonder before falling asleep. 

The
days passed slowly.  He discovered if he took her in to the toilet, pulling her
clothes away and placing her in position, she would pee without an issue.  That
she had no bowel movements convinced him she hadn’t had solid food in far too
long. 

Ryan
doubted she’d appreciate such intimacy with a complete stranger, no woman
would, but it saved her clothing.  Every two days, he removed and washed what
she was wearing, gave her a sponge bath, and treated her wounds.  He always left
her dressed in one of his shirts and clean socks while he washed the rest in
the hand crank washing machine.  He allowed them to hang in front of the fire
until dry then he always redressed her fully, being careful not to put his
hands on her bare skin more than absolutely necessary. 

They
existed in this space together, though she was unaware, with him her primary
caregiver as she healed from God only knew what trauma.  He stayed close to
home, having no need or desire to stray far. 

Before
he’d come up here for the last time four years ago, he’d made a dozen trips
equipping this remote home with the basic necessities and creature comforts
he’d refused to live without.  An old mining road allowed him the ability to
drive loads to the bottom of the mountain where he could transfer everything to
a rugged Kubota and haul it to the cabin clearing several miles away.  The ATV
was secured in a cave should he need it.  He hadn’t driven it in a long time
and hoped the battery still worked. 

The
days passed as they had for so long.  Only now when Ryan read, wrote, and
listened to music he also waited for his unknown patient to wake up.  Every
day, her pulse was stronger, her color a bit better. 

Eight
days after he found her, he was feeding her beef broth from the dropper when
she opened her eyes and startled the shit out of him.  He sat back, putting
plenty of space between them.  They stared at one another for several long
minutes, saying nothing as she fought to stay awake, to figure out where she
was and who he was. 

She
wanted to stay awake but her body overruled her.  Eventually her eyes drifted
closed and she whispered sadly, “Please…
please
don’t hurt me.” 

Then she
was out again and Ryan found himself unable to move.  For the longest time, he
sat there beside her, feeling a tiny crack in the frozen ice surrounding his
heart for the last several years.  He set the bowl down beside him and buried
his face in his hands.  Never in his life had he heard such heartbreak and fear
from another person.  It gave him a clarity regarding his own troubles he’d
refused to confront in all this time. 

He
picked up one of her frail hands and held it lightly between both of his large
ones.  “I will not hurt you.  You’re safe with me.  I swear it.  No one will
ever hurt you again.  I desperately want to know what happened to you.”