Page 69 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
“Charlie!” I yelled, but the wind ripped my words away. I covered the light on my camera, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. There. Off to the side, I saw a light shining against a tree. I picked my way toward it, watching my steps carefully.
Charlie’s crumpled form lay not far from the tree, and I nearly threw up into the gnarly root system at my feet. Forget caution. I jumped over the roots to kneel at her side. She was curled into a ball, breathing fast, her hand over her side. “What happened?”
She blinked, her brows scrunched with confusion. “Nothing.”
“You’re hurt.”
Her nose crinkled as I pulled her hand gently away from her side. We both looked at her ribs, where a dark stain was spreading. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Oh.” She looked surprised as she turned her bloody hand back and forth in the light. “Do you have a bandage?”
I held the light up to her eyes, and she squinted away, but not before I saw her dilated pupils. She was in shock. I’d seen this before when people were injured on a fishing excursion, generally when it involved a lot of pain or blood. Luckily, it was rare for someone to get hurt, but it still happened often enough that I could recognize the signs.
I needed to get Charlie back to our shelter and get her warm.
“Can you walk?” I asked her.
She slowly got to her feet but remained hunched over her side. “I think so,” she said, but I’d already made my decision.
I picked her up and carried her like I had on our wedding night.
“The cameras.” Her cheek rested on my shoulder, her clammy forehead buried into my neck.
“Okay,” I said, leaving them behind. We had our chest cams, and a camera set up back at the shelter, but honestly, they could get washed away for all I cared.
Although it went against every instinct, I walked slowly and carefully back to the shelter in the almost pitch dark. I cradled Charlie in my arms and tried to take the brunt of the elements assailing us. Normally I could carry Charlie with ease, but with the lack of nutrition, the exhaustion, and the incessant onslaught of tempestuous weather, I had to focus on one foot in front of the other to keep going. It was how I’d lived my life until now, so I was good at it.
I couldn’t walk for miles, but I could take one more step.
My legs wobbled with relief when our shelter came into view. I gently laid her under the tarp. “I need to get a fire started.” I brushed some of her plastered hair from her face. She nodded, I think. But her shivering was constant, so it was hard to tell. I had to stay calm. Think.
“I don’t think I told you about the cute thing Hansel did right before we got married,” I said as I tried to light our fire. My trembling hands were making it hard to strike the flint with enough accuracy for a spark.
“What was it?”
Hearing her voice was a relief. Injuries out here could quickly turn serious. The crew probably couldn’t get to us until tomorrow, especially with how bad this storm was.
I spoke quietly, hoping it would help her relax. “I couldn’t find Hansel anywhere, but I knew he had to be in the house. I was searching and calling his name when I went into my closet. Did I tell you he loves my closet?”
“No,” she said through chattering teeth.
The spark finally caught, and I nearly fell back in relief. I blew on the tiny flame in my kindling, then set it under the frame of logs Charlie had built before we’d gone out.
“It’s his favorite place to be. I’d looked in there twice already but hadn’t seen him.” I squatted in front of Charlie. “I’m going to get your coat and shirt off,” I told her.
She nodded and helped as I tugged both items off, leaving her wearing her dark gray sports bra. A dark stain covered her side and stomach.
“I need better light. Can you scoot toward the fire?”
As she did, I retrieved the first aid kit with shaking hands. I stopped to take a deep breath. Charlie was going okay. I needed to take my time and not lose my head.
“Tell me more about Hansel.” Her voice sounded a little clearer. Hopefully removing her clothes and sitting by the fire was already working. And I’d learned over the years that distraction in a crisis could not be overrated.
The firelight flickered across her pale skin, illuminating a small, jagged tear in her side. I knelt beside her and shined a flashlight on it. She’d cut herself maybe one inch lower than herbra band, and it was the length of my thumbnail. I opened a package of clean gauze and pressed it to the wound. “Another one of his favorite places is my bed. I don’t want a dog in my bed, even Hansel, so I keep having to kick him out.”
“Aw,” she said, with a pitiful frown.
