We're getting to the fun part, ladies and gents. After this chapter, things start getting…strange, to say the least for Cristina. Hopefully you all are still enjoying this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Cristina grumbled curses at her companions as she stalked through the forest, picking up anything she thought might be useful to them. She had gone out initially in search of firewood, but in truth, she doubted that they would even be able to make a fire. Derek was the outdoorsman of the group, but the initial shock of the crash had rendered his knowledge useless. She couldn't blame him. They were all off their game, given they had just been in a plane crash. If being the capable, stable-minded one ensured their survival, she would gladly take on the responsibility.
After having an hour or so to cool off, Cristina felt bad about yelling at Meredith. True, she had left Cristina to defend the camp singlehandedly throughout the long night, but so had the rest of them. Cristina was beginning to accept the fact that they had identified her as the unspoken leader and decided to take that as a compliment rather than an injustice to herself. It was the only way to remain optimistic about their behavior and not lash out at them every time they failed to take initiative.
Cristina was just about to head back when she happened upon a unique-looking black rock amidst the pine needles. She picked it up to find it was an arrowhead. Maybe we'll be able to catch some food, she thought, giggling to herself as she imagined Meredith trying to track down and kill some very unfortunate fowl. If nothing else, it'll make a great souvenir. I think I'll really want to remember this adventure in the years to come. She giggled again to herself, slipping the arrowhead into her pocket. She cracked herself up.
She arrived back at the crash site to find everything as she'd left it. Arizona had sweat pouring down her face as she held Mark's hand, checking his pulse diligently. Cristina grew concerned, hoping the sweat was the product of the sun and Mark's added body heat, and she wasn't getting septic. She dropped the supplies she had gathered at their "fire pit" where Meredith was cleaning Derek's wounded arm. Meredith looked up at her briefly, showing her annoyance, and focused again on Derek's arm. Cristina crouched down to their level then. "How is it?" she asked eyeing the wound for signs of infection.
Meredith didn't look up. She was never one to reveal anything with her voice, especially hurt, so Cristina wasn't surprised when she answered with indifference, "It looks fine. I don't see any reason for concern." She grabbed a tattered piece of a clean t-shirt and wrapped Derek's arm carefully. As she tied it in place, Derek winced in pain. "Sorry," she said apologetically, looking up at her husband.
"Meredith," Cristina said, urging her friend to look at her. Meredith did, her eyes filled with annoyance. "I'm sorry." She moved from a crouching position to sit on the ground, bringing her knees up to rest her arms on. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I've just been busting my ass trying to keep everything together, and I got mad, and I snapped-momentarily."
Meredith smiled at her faintly. "I know." She moved to be closer to Cristina. Without Meredith blocking his view, Cristina got a good look at Derek, who was staring her down with pursed lips. Once he noticed she was looking at him, he turned away, looking instead into the woods.
"You too, Derek. I could've been more…" she winced as she begrudgingly said the word, "sensitive."
He met her eyes once more, his expression unchanging. He nodded curtly before returning his eyes to the woods. Meredith's words caught her attention once more. "Don't mind him. Derek just needs a Snickers because he's a diva when he's hungry," she said, directing her comment at him rather than Cristina.
Derek tried to hold back a smile, but couldn't resist at the mention of the infamous TV commercial. "That was good," he chuckled, glancing briefly at the pair.
Cristina and Meredith both laughed, enjoying the brief distraction from the tragedy they were in the midst of. Meredith again looked at Cristina sympathetically. "You've carried the load since we crashed. I know that." She looked down thoughtfully before continuing. "You're entitled to lash out."
Cristina acknowledged her comment with a faint smile. "Let's go check on Arizona. She didn't look so hot when I passed her earlier."
The two stood then, and made their way to Arizona and Mark. She was still sweating profusely, and Cristina noticed that even though the sun was out, it wasn't that hot. "Still stable," she rasped upon seeing Cristina and Meredith approaching.
Cristina nodded. "But you're not," she responded, crouching next to Arizona.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall of the plane. "I'm fine," she managed to get out.
"Mm." Cristina moved to Arizona's left side to check her leg. "Have you been keeping an eye on it?"
"What, the leg?" She looked down. "No. I was at first, but then we moved Mark to where he is now, and I couldn't see it. He's in a hell of a lot worse condition than I am, so I let it be. It doesn't hurt any more than it did when I last checked, so I assumed I was a-okay," she smiled then, her eyes still closed. Even in an unthinkable tragedy, Robbins managed to be rainbows and sunshine. Cristina didn't get it, but for the first time, appreciated that someone was optimistic.
"Help me move him for a second," Cristina directed Meredith. The pair clumsily moved him off to the side to get a better look at Arizona's leg. "Oh my God," Cristina whispered under her breath. She bent down to examine the leg, hoping she was mistaken. "Mer." Meredith walked to Arizona's left side and crouched next to Cristina.
Her eyes widened. "Are those-"
"Maggots," Cristina finished, shaking her head.
Arizona sat upright then. "What?" she exclaimed looking down at her leg. The makeshift belt tourniquet was still in place, causing her lower leg to turn a shade of purple, but that clearly wasn't the concern. Since she last checked 24 hours prior, flies had found her open wound and laid eggs there. "How? It's only been a day! Ho-How could it possibly have happened that quickly?"
"Meredith, go grab the hand sanitizer and the pocket knife." Meredith nodded, trotting off toward the fire pit where most of their supplies were located. "It happens fast. Fly eggs can be laid and hatched in a matter of eight hours, if the conditions are right."
"I'm going to be sick," Arizona moaned, covering her mouth.
"No, no, no, no, no!" Cristina held out her hand, begging her to comply. "You'll dehydrate yourself. Just-Just hold it in. Fortunately," Arizona lurched forward, fighting the urge to vomit, "Fortunately," she repeated more urgently, "we caught it early. We're going to get them out, okay?"
Arizona nodded, still covering her mouth. "Okay, I got it," Meredith said, handing the supplies to Cristina.
Cristina cleaned the pocket knife blade before going in on the open flesh. She first got the ones on the surface, which barely made Arizona wince. Once she had to start digging for them, Arizona started screaming wildly. "I know, I know. I'm sorry," Cristina said, wincing herself. "Mer, hold the leg down as best as you can, and Arizona, I know it hurts, but you gotta stay still." Arizona nodded, bracing herself for the next insertion. She screamed again. The pain was like no other, but she didn't resist much, knowing it was just par for the course. Finally, Cristina finished. Arizona was out of breath, palming the ground beneath her with intense force. Cristina used the hand sanitizer to clean the wound, then dressed it to the best of her capabilities, opting to lightly pack the crevices beneath the mangled bone with t-shirt scraps, and cover it with the most pliable resource she could find: leaves. She taped them down with the tape she had used on Jerry, praying they would stay.
The rest of the day went down without a hitch. Mark miraculously remained stable throughout the day, and Cristina and Meredith took turns redressing Arizona's wound every approximated hour. Jerry was still awake and responsive, but it was difficult to gauge the extent of his injuries, given the conditions by which they had to work. He had no open wounds, but paralysis in his lower proximities. There was little they could do for him other than keep him from moving. By the end of the day, Arizona's demeanor was back to, if nothing else, energetic, giving Cristina a small glimmer of hope. She only feared what would happen when they ran out of packing materials, as it was their primary preventative measure against infection and bug infestation, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, it was time to try to start a fire.
"Okay, so what all have we tried?" Cristina asked, approaching Derek and Meredith, who were both racking their brains for any ideas.
"I found some rocks nearby, and tried to strike them to get it going, but they're the wrong kind of rock." Derek shook his head, staring down at the fresh wood.
"We also tried to angle a piece of glass from the plane window, but no luck. The weather isn't right around here for that. It's too humid, too cloudy, and not hot enough, even when the sun is shining." Meredith looked at Cristina thoughtfully.
Cristina's brows furrowed. "What kind of rock do you need?" she asked Derek.
"Flint." He looked up at her. "I looked out there for hours, but there's no water nearby, so the likelihood of finding any was slim. I used the sharpest, driest pieces of rock I could find."
"What does it look like?" she questioned.
Derek's brows mirrored Cristina's, furrowing in confusion. "Flint? It's uh, usually grey, smooth, kind of shiny. Why?"
Cristina smiled as she unzipped her coat pocket, revealing the arrowhead of matching description. "Like this?"
She laughed excitedly as Derek jumped up, retrieving the arrowhead from Cristina. "An arrowhead," he marveled. He looked back up at them. "Ladies, our luck just might be turning. An arrowhead," he explained, "would be the only possible way to find flint in this part of the country, especially in an area with no water source." He turned to Cristina. "This was an extremely lucky find, and it just might have saved our lives." He crouched by the fire pit then, removing the wood and replacing it with pine needles. "Okay, I'm going to try to get the fire started with what we've got, but ideally, I need a better starter than pine needles." He grabbed the pocket knife and struck the flint. It sparked over the pine needles but failed to catch. He tried again but garnered the same results. He looked over at the two of them. "Cristina, I need you to go back out there and find me some birch wood. Birch is usually white with dark crevices that look like spots. Think…" he paused. "Visualize a tree that resembles a Dalmatian."
Cristina chuckled, and saluted him. "You got it." She was thankful not to be calling the shots, for once.
"Okay, and Meredith," he turned to her. "Go over to the plane, and get me as many small shards of metal as you can find. It would be a long shot if we found any steel-I think most of it is aluminum, but we might get lucky again." He looked toward the dilapidated plane. "The knife will suffice perfectly, I just don't want to dullen the blade if I don't have to, in case we have to…" he gestured toward Mark.
Meredith nodded. "On it."
"Cristina, I should probably go with you. It's getting dark," he said seriously.
Cristina turned her lips down with a pondering expression. "Mm," she considered. "No, I think I can find the Dalmatian tree. You should help Meredith and keep an eye on the invalid twins."
Derek grimaced at her word choice. "Your candidness never fails to amaze me," he grumbled, standing. "Here, take the knife." She took it from him, and he pointed at her. "Use it sparingly. If you can find loose branches, or even tear them off, take those. Birches tend to get tall, so if you can't reach the branches, shave off pieces from the trunk." He gave her a pointed look. "I'm serious. Last resort. We need to keep that knife sharp."
She nodded again, walking back into the forest. She walked for a while, carefully noting each tree's appearance. She didn't want to miss one, and risk being out there after dark. He said they should be everywhere, she thought, walking slower and looking more closely than before. I've been out here for ages. She couldn't believe how well her body had held up over the past 36 hours. Aside from her shoulder, which still ached immensely, she had a great deal of energy, and really didn't feel all that tired. She had managed to save Mark twice, gather firewood, form a reasonably-planned campsite, and carve maggots out of Arizona's leg, all with one arm, no sleep, no food, and very little water. Her mind was still sharp enough to make and execute medical decisions, and thank God for it. She had impressed even herself.
Suddenly, she broke from her trance, and noticed the sun was descending at an alarming rate. It was already dusk, she had been walking for hours, and she still hadn't found the damn birch tree. Just as she was about to give up and return back…"Finally," she breathed, relieved. She walked over to the spotted tree, which, as Derek had predicted, was tall enough to be nearly out of reach for her. Determined not to use the knife, she eyed her target, swung her arms, and jumped up, missing the branch by a fraction. "Dammit," she grumbled. She tried again, pushing through her heels to produce the best upward force, this time, managing to grasp the branch. It was a small branch, so it broke easily, but the branch fibers kept it hanging on by a thread. Now that the branch was hanging down, it was easier for her to jump and tear the remaining fibers and detach it from the trunk. With one down, Cristina searched for another within her reach. She found none on that tree, so she looked around. If there's one, there's bound to be another close by, she reasoned. She looked straight ahead and saw a small cluster of them not far away.
She was about to advance toward them when she heard a menacing growl in the distance. She froze in her tracks, terrified. Not knowing where they were, and not wanting to draw attention to herself in case she hadn't already been noticed, she paused, listening. The growl came again, more menacing than before, then another growl joined in. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. They aren't getting any closer, she thought. You're fine. Just move your feet. One step back, then another. Her body coincided with her thoughts, stepping carefully back one step, then two. She didn't make it to three, as she froze once more upon hearing the canines begin to fight ferociously. She heard intense snarling, barking, and growling, that only let up so that they could growl at one another once more.
She was about to bolt with the knowledge that they clearly weren't after her, but then she recognized a massive oak. Where had she seen that? She hadn't gone this far out since…Oh my God. It dawned on her, and she turned. She saw a hill directly in her path that she recognized as the same hill they had carried Mark over. She was at the second crash site. Those dogs, whether wolves or coyotes, weren't after some rodent they had killed. They were after Lexie.
Retracting her pocket knife, she slowly inched her way up the hill, careful not to draw attention to herself. Once she reached the top, she peeked over, and confirmed her prediction. She could see the outline of a limb in one of their mouths, and her rage boiled over. This would not be her fate. Cristina had already failed her. She would be damned if she failed her body too.
You're an idiot, she thought to herself, gathering as many rocks as she could find, and stuffing them in her pockets. What are you thinking? You're a scientist. Lexie's body is exactly that: a body. She's not in there anymore. It was if her mind and body were at a crossroads. Her mind was telling her to get the hell out of there, but her body wanted to fight; to fight for Lexie, for herself, for Meredith. She was going to fight against this tragedy. She would have her justice. They had been through enough.
With everything in place, she took a deep breath. They're scared of humans. Take them by surprise and run them off. That's all you have to do. She stood on the hill, one arm in a sling, one hand grasping the pocket knife. She mustered the courage she needed and ran screaming down the hill.
Maybe this exhaustion thing was getting to her after all…