Page 36 of Explorer's Revenge
I need to stop the blood loss, which means I need a tourniquet tight enough to restrict the vessels, but I’ll need to remember to release it every now and again so I don’t lose circulation. The torn muscles and skin are an issue, as is the risk of infection, but I can worry about that later.
Sliding my belt off, I use the sharp tip to pierce another hole in the leather with much difficulty after measuring. I lift my leg as much as I can, and a sharp scream leaves my lips before I cut it off, then I wrap the belt around my upper thigh and tightenit. The agony is indescribable, and once it’s done, I fall back, panting and sweating.
It hurts, but it’s better than bleeding out.
I need to clean the wound, but there is only that water, which probably has more bacteria in it than anything else, so I decide not to. The edges of my skin are torn as hell, like I slammed into a rock and ripped it open. It’s a jagged mess. If I don’t get out of here soon, I could lose my leg or worse. Infection will set in, and I’ll become septic and die a horrible death. It’s an idle thought, but it makes me want to laugh hysterically. I know if I start, I won’t stop, so I swallow it down.
Think, Carter. Focus.
Okay, my leg is hurt, which means I probably can’t climb, and that means I need to look for another way out. There has to be another way, right? I need to move and bind my leg. The longer I wait, the more blood I will lose, and the pain will get worse, making it hard.
At least it’s not cold. It’s almost too hot, oppressively so. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I’ll lose more precious water from my body, but at least I won’t freeze since shock is already setting in.
Glancing down at my wound, I debate the best course of action. Should I try to close it? But I don’t have anything with me, only what I have on my body.
Grabbing my light, I spin it around again, but nothing has changed. There’s just rock, sand, and water. My back aches then, reminding me of my other pains and that sitting up hunched like this isn’t helping. My leg is useless right now, though, so I hold my light between my teeth and dig into the wet sand until it’s under my nails.
Using my hands, I scoot backward, resting my back against the rock as my eyes close and my head lolls.
Come on, Carter, think.
Think!
An idea comes to mind—a terrible, crazy one, but I don’t have much choice.
At least it will be a story to tell and I’ll add an epic scar to my collection.
“Okay, Maeve, fucking do it,” I mutter, placing my light down. I wince as I tug off my boot. It’s useless anyway. I lost the other one, so I’d just be unbalanced. Unthreading my laces, which are luckily thin since I hate the thick ones, I lay it out on my thigh before reaching into my shirt. I manage to get my bra out. The one I’m wearing today has a wire in it. I don’t usually wear one like that, but it was all I had left—lucky me.
Ripping the material, I yank the wire out and try to manipulate it. It’s stiff, but I manage to snap off a piece and then, using a rock, I bend it into a curve. The end is sharp from being broken but too ragged, so I sharpen it on the rock. I keep pulling it back and testing it until it finally draws a pinprick of blood from my finger. Wrapping the lace around it, I lean down to my leg.
I hesitate, knowing it’s going to hurt, but then I hook the makeshift needle into my skin. The pain makes me grimace as I pull it through, threading the lace. The skin ripples, and the pain is so intense, I nearly pass out, but I keep going, gritting my teeth. I’ll need to remove the lace at some point, but it might help stop the bleeding and save my leg.
The pain grows so intense as I continue that I almost throw up, and I’m on the verge of passing out. If I do, I’ll die, so I focus on good things, trying to go to my happy place.
“Iced tea with Dad on a summer day.” I push it through my skin again, fighting unconsciousness. “Hitting the peak on a mountain.” I thread it again, wanting to cry and scream. “The feeling of flying through the air.”
I sew it back and forth, tightening the wound and closing it. It’s inexpressible how much it hurts, but I keep going despite the dots dancing in my vision and the blood thundering in my ears. My body feels hot all over as the world seems to slant.
“The look on Wilder’s face when I beat him.” I chuckle as I tug the next stitch. “Aiy when he was able to speak to me.” Groaning, I thread again. “Rick’s and Logan’s laughs.” There’s one more to go. I thread it through. “Way’s protectiveness.”
There.
It’s done.
Bending over, I bite off the rest of the lace and tie it. It won’t last forever, but hopefully it will do the trick until I get out of here. I feel dizzy as hell, though, so I close my eyes and lean back, allowing myself a moment to rest. I could use some sugar, but I don’t have anything, so I just have to make do and hope I’m strong enough to overcome it.
I must lean to the side because something sharp pokes me, making me jerk upright. The sudden movement causes me to groan out loud in pain, and I blindly reach for whatever it was, only to yank it from the sand and pull it in front of me. My eyes widen in horror when I realize what I’m holding—a bone.
It’s human from the looks of it.
It’s a fucking human bone.
Grabbing my light, I sweep the beam around the sand, terror washing through me as I see more protruding.
I’m sitting in a fucking graveyard.
TWENTY-FIVE
