Page 57 of Healing Hazel

Jim scratched his cheek, his worry growing. His friend was right. That Hazel was strong he had no doubt, but she was not used to the frigid mountain air, as the rebel men were. And he had no idea how it would affect her already serious condition if she were locked up again in the little shelter and suffered another episode of panic. He rubbed his eyes, trying to think of something, anything he could do to get her off this mountain. He glanced at the men around the clearing. Most had returned to regular camp activities, having decided the medical personnel didn’t pose a threat of escape. The guard with the scar, Ramiro, stood near, watching them closely. Jim considered his chances of taking the man’s gun. Could he overpower him? And then what? He couldn’t carry an unconscious woman, protect his other companions, and flee from an entire band of men, especially when they knew the terrain and he didn’t.

“Stay with her,” Jim told Camila, glancing at the patients beneath the canvas. His best strategy was to make certain the injured were well cared for. “The faster the other patients mend, the faster we might be set free and can take Hazel back to the hospital. Send for me when she wakes.”

Camila nodded, and Jim gestured for Dr. Laurent and Lucía to return with him to their tending to the other patients.

It was Hazel’s cough that alerted Jim an hour later. She hacked for a long bout, her body convulsing.

When he reached her side, Camila was wiping the cool rag over her face.

Hazel’s eyes opened, blinking slowly.

“How do you feel?” he asked, crouching beside her and taking her hand. Her skin was still hot.

“Hurts,” she wheezed, starting into another spell of coughing. “Breathing,” she said once she was able to speak. She moved as if she’d sit up.

“You need to rest,” Jim said, pressing gently on her shoulders until she relaxed. He placed a hand on her cheek, his heart heavy as he felt her fever.

Hazel’s eyes closed again.

“Did she drink the willow bark?” he asked Camila.

“Yes, but it was not strong. With the cold water...”

He nodded his understanding and opened the kit containing the medications, locating the bottle he was looking for. He shook it, holding it up to look through the opaque glass in the sunlight. There was only a small bit left. He took out a cup from the kit, poured a dose of the morphine into it, and handed it to Camila, motioning for her to administer it.

He stood, rubbing his face. His jaw was sore, and he realized he’d been clenching it. He had no fire, no way to heat water or keep Hazel warm, aside from blankets. He couldn’t even count on the water being clean, not knowing how often, if ever, the buckets were washed or with what.

The routine continued throughout the day, Jim and the others tending to the patients while taking turns to remain at Hazel’s side. The morphine helped with her pain, but her bouts of coughing happened more often, and Jim’s worrying tightened his shoulders until they ached.

Evening fell, long shadows spreading across the clearing.

Jim and Dr. Laurent made a quick check of the remaining patients and returned to Hazel.

She was awake and propped up against a barrel. A lone lantern sat on the ground beside her.

Lucía was holding a cup for her to drink, and Camila wrung out the wet towel in the bucket.

“How do you feel?” Jim asked again.

Hazel opened her mouth to answer, but another spell of coughing took over, leaving her breathless. “Tired,” she said at last.

“You should come out of the cold air,” Jim said, helping her rise. He dreaded her reaction at returning to the small structure, but she couldn’t remain outside.

Camila put a blanket around Hazel’s shoulders.

The guard Ramiro stepped up to them.

Reflexively, Jim held Hazel tighter.

Ramiro glanced around as if making certain he couldn’t be overheard. He leaned toward Jim. “You must go.” He spoke in Spanish. “Take her.” He lifted his chin toward Hazel.

Jim stared at him, not understanding what he was being told to do.

“Take her now.” He moved closer, giving a small push with the barrel of his gun. “To the hospital.”

Jim looked toward Dr. Laurent and the nurses. “I can’t leave them.”

“No,” Hazel protested. “We can’t do that.”

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