Page 53 of One Step Too Far

“Can you move your limbs?”

He lifts his arms and legs. Then, before I can warn him not to, he twists his neck from side to side.

I can see the back of his cranium now. Definitely the source of the carnage. I give up on the bandana and pour the last of my water straight onto his hair. As a bloody river flows away, I can make out an ugly gash up high. Probably a couple of inches long. Probably in need of stitches, or at least superglue. Though how you crazy-glue someone’s head, I have no idea.

A rush of heat and gasping breath, then Martin bursts upon us. I don’t look up, intent on delicately probing the wound. Neil grimaces but holds steady as I examine the damage.

“What the hell...” Martin draws up short as he spies Neil, blood and more blood.

“Head versus rock,” I announce. “The rock won.”

Beneath my fingers, Neil laughs faintly. Or maybe hysterically?

“What happened, son? You trip and fall?” Martin squats down in front of Neil, peering at the young man’s face.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I was staring at an opening. Trying to decide if I should investigate. Then I heard something. A noise. I turned... I don’t know. Here I am.”

Martin thins his lips, frowning. “Rocks rain down from these cliffs all the time. How do you think we got so many at our feet? You shouldn’t have been standing so close. It’s dangerous.”

I stop examining Neil’s wound long enough give Martin a pointed stare. “Now is not the time.”

“Asshole,” Scott mutters, much less diplomatically

“I wasn’t standing that close to the cliff,” Neil bites off, batting at my hands and struggling to sit up. “I know what I’m doing. Five years of chasing you through these goddamn mountains, you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Shhh,” I try to steady him, but he’s too pissed off. Ready or not, Neil sits up. More blood immediately wells at the back of his head. I thin my lips at my disobedient charge, then glare at Martin again.

At least Martin has the decency to appear contrite. For now.

“Careful,” I murmur to Neil as he shifts to a more upright seated position. “Head wounds bleed a lot.”

“I know. I played soccer. Not my first split skull.” He stares at me. “What happened? Who are you?” Then, as my eyes widen in alarm: “Just kidding. It takes more to scramble my brains than you think.”

Noise from behind. Luciana and Daisy are weaving their way rapidly toward us. Not far beyond them come Miggy and Bob, leaping frantically from rock to rock. Well, Miggy is leaping. Bob is just stepping. But they’re both hustling as fast as they can. Maybe our group that’s not a group is stronger than I thought.

Still no sign of Nemeth, but he’d probably made it to the far end of the cliff wall by the time Scott blew the whistle. Without any means of contact, there’s nothing we can do but wait for his return.

The remoteness of our location. The lack of access to outside help.

Kneeling before a wounded man, I refuse to think about it.

Daisy and Luciana arrive first, followed shortly by Bob and Miggy. Miguel takes one look at his injured friend and immediately looks like he’s going to be ill. He turns away sharply. Daisy, on the other hand, scrabbles onto the rock and heads straight to Neil. She stops mere inches from him, whining intently, as Luciana arrives thirty seconds later, panting heavily.

Neil gives Daisy a reassuring pat. “I’m okay. I promise.”

Daisy licks his cheek.

Abruptly, Neil draws the dog toward him and buries his bloody face in the ruff of her neck. After another second, his shoulders start to shake.

He’s crying. Because of his injury? The intensity of the moment? Grief over what last happened in these mountains so many years ago?

It feels wrong and intrusive to watch. We stare at anything but the sobbing man and consoling dog until finally Neil pulls away, swiping at his eyes with his dirty hand. Daisy licks his face again. He laughs roughly.

“Honestly, best kiss I’ve had in years.” He laughs again, hugs her close, laughs even harder.

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