Page 23 of Protecting the Flame

Chapter 4

“Snow’s still getting in,”said Mattie, hunching her shoulders against a fresh gust as Emma ducked back inside. The girl had positioned herself between the barricade and her mother, whom they’d cocooned in Will’s sleeping bag. Clutching Emma’s travel mug in both hands, Mattie gave the low barricade she’d formed with their luggage a forlorn look. “There’s not enough to keep out the wind and stuff.”

“We’ll find something.” Maybe unbolt the seats and use them? That would at least give them more room. She huffed out a breath, grimacing against the grab along her left ribcage.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” A lie. Her head ached, probably a combination of her scalp wound, being banged around, and hanging out in air that was brain-freeze cold. She was also winded from having dragged the heavy avgas bladders from the fuselage. She’d worried every step of the way that she’d snag fabric and spill fuel everywhere. If she’d done that, they’d be sunk. While she’d been outside, she’d caught that very odd scent again, the one reminiscent of smoky late-night bars, which, though not as strong as before, seemed concentrated near the tail. There weren’t any standing puddles of spilled fuel or anything on top of the snow at all. Still, maybe a leak in the belly tank? She’d have to check, especially if they decided they needed to start a signal fire.

Brushing snow from her shoulders, she felt melt trickling down her cheeks. The fuselage wasn’t toasty in the slightest, though it was warmer than before, and that was already an improvement. Now, with the bladders gone, they could at least fire up Will’s portable cooking stove, a Jetboil Flash which was essentially an insulated cooking cup screwed onto a small fuel canister which could be lit with a match. What she really wanted was a soft bed, a good pillow, warm covers, and a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Oh, and to be off this bloody mountain.

But she had to take care of Will now. No getting around it. Relocating his shoulder really was the last thing she wanted, but they needed Will. She didn’t know a damned thing about arms and even less about anatomy, but she assumed the shoulder was put together the way it was for a really good reason. There were nerves there and blood vessels. Who knew what kind of damage had been done already? Will was important. The rest was…

“What are you smiling about?” Will said.

“Nothing,” she lied. Her bubbe once told a story about Rabbi Hillel who’d been challenged by a heathen to teach him everything in the Torah while the rabbi stood on one foot. Hillel reportedly thought a second then said, Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The rest is commentary.

Will was important. The rest was commentary.

“I got to do your shoulder, Will. It’s worse for you the longer we wait, right?” When he nodded, she said, “Then, okay, tell me what to do.”

Mattie piped up. “Can I help?”

“No,” they both said at once and then Will continued, “This isn’t a job for you, Mattie. I appreciate it, but you’re not strong enough.” Will looked back at her. “I’m not sure you are either.”

“No better time to test that theory than right now. Come on. I presume you got to be lying down for this?”

“Normally,” he said. “But that won’t work here.”

“Why not?”

“It’s mechanics,” said Mattie. “It’s a ball-and-socket joint, right?”

“So?”

“So, his arm is long. Think about it. In order to slip the ball of his shoulder into his joint, there has to be enough room for his arm to dangle and then some. Otherwise, you can’t stretch the muscles enough to get the joint to slide back in.”

“She’s right,” Will said. “I need to be higher off the ground. If we were in a hospital or ER, I’d be on a gurney or in bed. You’re also not strong enough on your own.”

“What does strength have to do with it?” she grated. She felt vaguely ganged up on, too. These two were starting to get on her nerves. “We’re not going to arm wrestle, for God’s sake.”

“With an injury like this, the muscles go into spasm and don’t relax. They can’t because they’re being stretched, and a stretched muscle responds by applying a counterforce. My muscles are trying to help by making themselves as rigid as possible so they can hold my arm in place. It’s protective. They’re trying to keep the damage to a minimum.”

Damage? “How much damage? Will you be able to use your arm at all after we get it back into its socket?” Because, please God, she had to.

“Within limits, but I’ll have to be careful. First things first, though. You have to relocate the shoulder and then I can reassess. Check pulses, sensation, strength, that kind of thing. Normally, we dope people up pretty good so the muscles relax.”

“Do you have anything like that?”

Will shook his head. “Even if we did, I’m not sure it would change anything.”

“Why not?”

“I told you,” Mattie said. “There’s not enough room for his arm to hang down.”

Will nodded. “In other words, no gurney. But I know another way. It’s more involved, but it should work.”

Should was not the same as would. “What do I have to do?” she asked.

“Be strong,” he said.

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