Chapter 4
AN: This is the chapter many of you were waiting for, I answer one HUGE question here. I normally would not post again this quickly, but I could FEEL your anxiety. Enjoy! Jackie
He heard the explosion, and it was the last thing he heard before he passed out.
He was cold. Maybe that was what woke him. That was the first sensation. He reached for something to cover his bare skin and found nothing. He then opened his eyes. They immediately began to burn and water. He blinked. He tried to raise his left arm and found himself unable to do so. He then took inventory. His shoulder, he surmised, was dislocated. His chest was hurting, he assumed cracked, probably broken, ribs. And his head was aching, probably a concussion.
Tony heard shouting. He didn’t recognize the voices and had no clue who they were shouting for. They name they kept repeating meant nothing to him. He stood holding his left arm tight against his side and moved away from the direction of the shouts. Something told him to stay put until things got quiet again.
How long Tony remained hidden, he had no idea. He opened his eyes again and it was close to dusk. He stood and looked around. There was a patch of blackened earth. He had no idea why it would be there. He didn’t know why he would be here. He had no memory of the area and it did not look familiar. Tony shook his head. He then began the long climb out of the valley.
He was pushing himself, he knew. But he was cold. It was too cold for him to stay outside. He needed shelter. He felt as if he had been walking for hours before he saw the light in the distance. It was so dark he couldn’t see the source. His survival instinct kicked in, over riding his body’s urge to rest. It moved him forward. The last thing he heard before his body failed him and he collapsed was the barking of a hound dog.
NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS
Emma Hargrove, a slightly plump women of in her late fifties, wiped her hands on the apron she habitually wore. Emma poked her head out her back door.
“Shut up, Buster!” Emma yelled.
Buster, Emma’s 4-year-old beagle, bounded up onto the porch, looked at her expectantly and then jumped off the porch again. He then headed back out into the field. This was not his usual behavior.
Emma went back inside and got her flashlight. “I swear, Buster if you’re just showing me another dead rabbit, you’re spending the night in the barn.”
Emma pulled on a sweater as she walked out her back door. She pulled it around her as she followed Buster’s path. She found her dog moments later, and the source of his unusual behavior. She knelt down beside the unconscious man her dog was now guarding.
Buster wined until Emma gently patted his head. “Good boy, Buster.”
Emma then turned her attention to the man. “He’s hurt badly.” She told Buster. “Any ideas how to get him into the house?”
Buster licked her face and wagged his tail.
“Thank you, but that’s not very helpful, Buster.” Emma said.
Emma took a quick inventory of Tony’s injuries. She had, many years ago, gotten her certificate in nursing, back in the days when that actually meant something. She had worked in hospitals her entire career. When her husband became ill due to lung cancer, she became his full-time caregiver. He lived a total of 2 years with his illness. When he passed, she became what she calls the community health nurse. She and Buster survive on the wage she was paid by the county for the valuable service she provided to her community. She also got checks from her husband’s retirement fund. She had, too, over the years, set some of her own money aside.
Tony’s injuries were pretty serious, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She knew if she needed him, she could call Dr. Wilson. He was her neighbor, and he lived only two miles down the road.
“Well, Buster,” Emma addressed him again. “Let’s get this young fella in the house.
Luckily the front porch on Emma’s house had no stairs. She found a large old blanket and rolled him, as gently as she could, onto it. She, with Buster’s help, pulled the blanket into the house. They got him as close to the fire in her fireplace as possible. She made him a pallet on the floor and then carefully moved him onto it. She hadn’t realized, after all these years, she still had the strength to make such transfers. It surprised her. She would, ideally, have wanted to put him in the big brass bed she had in her spare bedroom. But she was not willing to injure herself or aggravate his existing injuries to do it.
In the light of her living room, Emma was able to see her patient. He was tall and slender, and she guessed, somewhere in his 30’s. He had a very handsome face. She could tell even though the right side was covered with blood. It still flowed from a huge gash that ran just above his eyebrow line. She unbuttoned what she assumed had been a white dress shirt. It was now stained with blood and dirt, and it had been ripped and torn in several places. She discarded it. She recognized the fact his shoulder was dislocated and quickly set it. She had done the procedure many times. She actually preferred her patients be unconscious when it was done, as it was extremely painful. It popped back into place easily she discovered as she checked the placement. She then gently and expertly moved her hands over his chest, checking for broken and cracked ribs. From the size and color of the bruising, she expected to find several. She was not disappointed. She carefully checked his back for injuries before removing the remainder of his clothing. She checked the rest of his body for injuries. Luckily for Tony, he had only minimal bruising and a small number of cuts and scrapes on his legs to account for the rest of his injuries. She then cleaned and dressed all his wounds.
Emma then checked Tony’s eyes. She knew a little of how the pupils reacted in brain-damaged patients. She found her old penlight and did the tests. Both eyes were normal. She was truly thankful, that meant that, hopefully, her guest would wake up soon.
Emma was also an herbalist. And while most of the people in her community depended on modern medicine, she had a few who looked to her for her potions. Emma grew all her herbs in her garden. In colder weather she potted her herbs and kept them in her kitchen. She picked what she needed. The ones that would help with his pain and she made a salve. She spread some over Tony’s head and chest. Emma then pulled a blanket over her unconscious guest.
Buster inspected Emma’s work. He sniffed at the goop that was now on Tony’s head and chest. He sneezed and backed away, moving behind Emma’s chair. He seemed to be offended by the smell.
Emma smiled. “I know it stinks, Buster. But he needs it for pain.” She explained, rubbing his head. “When he wakes up, I’ll switch to pills.”
Emma and Buster sat quietly for a long time. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
Emma went into her small, tidy kitchen and made a pot of coffee. She returned, cup in hand, and began her vigil. She seated herself in her favorite comfy chair as Buster took made himself comfortable on the floor next to Tony.
TBC
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