Chapter Eleven
Southward Bound
Trent doggedly refused my offers to help with Deshavi, as he held on to her jealously. At dawn’s first glow I made him stop to rest. I set my pack down on the ground with relief. It was too much weight for anyone to be caring around for hours on end let alone a man of my years.
It was with pride that I acknowledged that I wasn’t entirely over the hill yet. In an hour’s time I’d pick it back up and carry it some more. I pulled a bag out of it. At least my pack would be lighter now by about 10 pounds.
I started back up the way we had just come from and Trent looked up tiredly.
“Where you going?” He asked.
I showed him the contents of the bag.
“The first thing they’ll do this morning is put dogs on our trail. The dogs and their handlers after several hours of following us unimpeded will lose caution and hopefully these explosives will be enough to take out the dogs or scare them enough to stay off of our trail.”
“What happens then?”
“Well they might give up on us or they’ll regroup and bring in a native tracker, but that will take a little time.”
He nodded and I headed off into the gloomy morning darkness.
What I hoped to do was buy us some time. Deshavi had been unconscious all night and we needed time to work on her or she may yet die.
It took a little while longer than I had planned to set the tripwires and proximity sensors, but I was now sure of the effectiveness of my snares. That was worth the extra fifteen minutes it had taken me. It was light enough to see well when I rejoined Trent. He was already standing with Deshavi in his arms.
His face was anxious, “I’m worried about her! She has a fever.”
I nodded.
More than anything I wanted to just stop and see to her needs, but we needed a little more distance and the advantage of changed circumstances.
“Around midmorning is when the dogs will hit my traps, when they do our pursuers will be stopped for the moment and we’ll stop to.”
Trent didn’t like it, but he knew the wisdom of what I said and didn’t question me further. I stooped to pick up my pack and sling it on and grimly I acknowledged that it felt like it had gained 10 pounds instead of losing 10 pounds.
Every, once in a while I heard the scattered yip or howl echoing out into the morning stillness, that indicated the pursuit of us in the distance. A little past 10 o’clock I heard a muffled sounding explosion, which was followed by several more explosions. I listen carefully, but could hear no further sounds of pursuit. They would have to regroup now, which meant we had the time we needed to take care of Deshavi. I pointed at a creek up ahead of us and Trent nodded his face tight with concern for the one he held.
The day was chilly, but the sun was warm on the grassy bank by the creek, where it managed to penetrate the overhead canopy some, which was good because we were going to need the extra light. I started making a fire out of only especially dry wood, as it would make less smoke. What little smoke was made would be dispersed by the overhead canopy of tree branches. Trent got the pot out of his pack and started water boiling over the fire on a makeshift trifold.
“Can you rig up the scaffold for the IV fluid?” I asked.
He nodded and did so ingeniously, as I laid out the considerable amount of medical supplies that we had brought with us. We both sterilized our hands and then glanced down at our patient. Her bruised face was all we could see. Her lips were dry, in a sure indicator of how dehydrated she was. We had to get fluid into her!
I unzipped the travel case all the way to her feet and together we pulled it back from her. There’s something about the sight of a woman who’s been abused. Some men willingly do the abuse and gain pleasure from it in a sick fashion. Other men like me and Trent view a woman, as something to be cared for and nurtured, never abused. The site of an abused woman or child is a call to arms against whoever perpetrated the offense. The desire to make, whoever did the offense, pay in blood is overwhelming.
I glanced upward to Trent across from me. He was literally shaking with rage, which is how I felt inside, but this wasn’t the time or place for such emotions. I reached across and shook his shoulder. He looked up his eyes molten with anger.
“I know! But now isn’t the time for anger! I need your help Trent! Find a quiet place and store your anger, until the time comes, when it’s okay to express it.”
He nodded jerkily and like a veil his features became stoically shielded and the pulsing intensity of his demeanor calmed down. Any man, who had such mastery over himself, was a man to be reckoned with.
“I imagine your medical training is a lot more advanced than mine so you take point.”
He nodded easily accepting the responsibility of the situation. “First off we need to start getting fluid into her.”
He had a spot sterilized and an IV hooked up at a fast drip within moments, as adeptly, as any experienced nurse could have done. The IV started his fingers reached out and felt through her hair at her skull.
“Nothing to indicate any cranial damage. Deep bruising on her face, but no broken bones. She’s been choked multiple times given the bruising on her neck, but other than bruising and some inflammation everything seems unobstructed air passage wise.”
His stoic resolve broke up some, as he moved to her chest. He looked away for a moment and then back.
“Bites look infected. We should clean them out and stitch them. Did you bring antibiotic shots?”
I nodded woodenly.
“We’ll administer them, after she gets more fluid in her.”
His hands moved down to her rib cage, which was one mottled mass of purple bruised skin. Sweat was rolling off Trent, as his fingers firmly felt along her ribs. She stirred and moaned slightly.
“Should we give her a sedative?” I asked quickly.
He shook his head no, “She’s too weak for that now, maybe later. She has multiple fractures, but nothing out of place. We’ll wrap her tight to help with the pain.”
His fingers pressed into her, as he felt her organs. “Her livers inflamed, but that could be from infections.”
“Is she bleeding inside?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He responded in no more than a whisper.
He felt at her arms and hands. Her wrists were raw and bloody from the manacles, “She has two broken fingers that will need reset and taped together. Several others are pulled out of joint.”
He spread her legs a little and choked out, “Did you bring vinegar?”
I nodded and said, “I’ll take care of it.”
He nodded and moved on. Her knees were skinned up bad and her legs were bruised, but that was it.
It was enough.
“We’ll wash her front and then do the work that’s needed. We’ll administer the shots and the sedative and then roll her over and wash her other side and deal with the cuts on her back.”
I nodded in agreement.
I watched Trent’s big fingers move with an unbelievable precision and dexterity for their size as he painstakingly stitched away at the deeper slices left on Deshavi’s back by the whip. We had been at this for almost four hours now. Deshavi was covered with blankets everywhere except for the area that Trent was working on.
Deshavi’s face was to the side and it appeared that she was looking stronger thanks in large part to the IV fluid most likely. I glanced back at Trent’s work. He was stitching cuts I might not of bothered with and I asked as much, why he was bothering.
He paused for a moment before answering, “I don’t know much about women, but I do know this. What they see when they look in the mirror at themselves is what they judge themselves by. Every scar, wrinkle, extra bit of flesh is seen as a statement against themselves. It’s not right, but that’s how they’re hardwired. When Deshavi looks at herself in the mirror I want her to see, as little as possible, of anything to remind her of what happened to her and by which she can judge herself by.” He tied off the stitch.
“Thank you for coming Trent. I couldn’t have pulled all this off if it wasn’t for you. Deshavi could never ask for anybody better in life than someone like you! No woman could!” I finished with emphasis.
He looked down and I could tell that he was gripped by some powerful emotion.
“Trent what is it?”
He looked up, his eyes were sheer misery, as tears spilled down his face, “I can’t but help think that I’m the cause for all this! If only I hadn’t left! I……”
I reached across and gripped him by the shoulders and shook him hard, “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this! None of this is your fault! If there’s any blame to be had on anyone it would fall on Deshavi, not you! You had no part in her past misdeeds of thievery that opened the door to this happening to her!”
He nodded, but I could tell that he wasn’t convinced and that he might always carry some guilt over this. I prayed that it would not be so.
We wrapped Deshavi up and I made a stretcher out of the old carry bag and within an hour’s time we were moving off through the forest with Deshavi stretched out between us. That night we gave her another IV bag solution. She hadn’t woken up even once. We hadn’t given her any sedatives either.
We started out again before it was light outside. Glancing back once, as the sun rose into the sky, I saw her eyes open. She saw me looking at her and she pointedly looked elsewhere and I sighed remorsefully inside. I had been expecting this depressed despondency, but it made it no easier in bearing it. She was like a wounded animal still on the mend and her attitude would be aggressive. This phase would be hardest on Trent, for it would appear that she felt no love for anyone, most of all him.