CHAPTER 17

"Stop."

Joe complied instantly, more out of fatigue than any notion of obedience. His arms ached from being tied behind him for hours and he wasn't entirely certain he could unclench his fists. He'd been afraid to try, each hand clamped tightly around the rope pulling Frank's travois. The last day had been a lurching hike through roots and vines in a driving rain, Joe struggling not to fall behind the others.

He'd been convinced his new companions were going to shoot his brother before the journey even started. Topan was the de facto the leader of the expedition and while he vetoed murdering all three Americans outright, he'd been agreeable enough to killing Frank. Apparently Reza's report on the elder Hardy's health made transporting him not worth the bother. Joe's decision to dive into their line of fire mercifully put an end to that idea, but the limits of the reprieve were clear. Fall behind or need any help due to the stretcher and Frank's trip was done.

They'd made a few brief stops, Joe grateful when Reza attempted to get some water into Frank. Biff repeatedly offered to help Joe, but the request went ignored. Now at the edge of dark, it appeared they'd arrived.

Joe raised his head, staring at a gush of water roiling in front of them, six or seven feet wide and churning with mud and sticks. At a guess, he'd say it was two or three feet deep, but in his current state, it was insurmountable. The sodden bank on the opposite side hosted two dozen structures, the stick and earth construction the same deep brown as the supporting ground. Tightly stretched animal hides covered paneless windows against the storm while heavily thatched roofs steamed vaguely with the humidity. The encroaching vegetation of the forest was hacked away from open doorways, providing glimpses of the residents within.

"Joe?"

He startled out of the numb stare, unaware of how long he'd been standing there. Biff was somehow on the other side of the torrent, watching him expectantly. "How…" His voice faltered somewhat into a dry cough and he started again. "How'd you cross?"

Biff nodded slightly to the left. "On that, unfortunately. Come on."

Joe couldn't help a dubious scowl. Ordinarily walking across a six inch board wouldn't be a problem, but ordinarily his hands were free and he wasn't dog tired. A yank on the rope around his waist forced the decision, a low guttural groan escaping him as it jerked Frank from his hands.

"Sit down." Reza helped him to the ground on the opposite creek bank. Silently, she placed a hand between his shoulders to hold him there as Topan and another man balanced on the flexible board, passing Frank's stretcher over the flooded stream.

She led the trio to one of the larger huts, settling on the floor and gesturing for them to do the same. Producing a pocket knife from her knapsack, she freed their hands, the rain soaked knots beyond mere untying.

"Wait here. Someone will bring in some food and I'll be back to help with Frank." She was half way to her knees when Joe blocked her way with an outstretched arm.

"That's it? Wait here? You nearly shoot Frank, tie Biff and I up for the adventure hike from Hades, and now we're supposed to sit here and have tea and crumpets or something?"

She sighed, twisting the end of her hair around a finger. "No, but I'm not sure what to tell you just yet. The militia soldiers were through here about 3 days ago. Each village is responsible for enforcing their new laws – and no outsiders is most definitely on the manifesto. Topan and I have to talk to the village elders and see what happens now."

Joe shook his head. "Sounds to me like bringing us here was pretty stupid if you're afraid the militia might accuse you of harboring outsiders. Particularly since now that's exactly what you're doing."

"The longer we walked, the more I came to that same conclusion. I'll be back soon." She rose, locking the door from the outside.

Terrific… we managed to get the only hut with a door….

"What do you think this is?" Biff shoveled in another mouthful of bread wrapped something or other.

Joe shrugged a shoulder, inspecting the brown crust and interior mash of spiced vegetables and nuts. "No idea. It can be their version of rhubarb pie for all I care; first time I've been full in a week."

Neither of them had been enthusiastic about eating before seeing to Frank, but then Reza reappeared with the food, placing it on woven mats on the floor. The sharp smell quickly reminded them of exactly how hungry they were. So after settling Frank onto the thin leaf-stuffed mattress on the floor, they ate, hoping she'd return quickly with the promised supplies.

"Better?" Reza entered and knelt beside the low bed.

"I suppose." Joe shifted sideways, eyes tracking every motion she made.

"His shoulder's out, and I see the tip of the bone in the fracture site. Once it's back in socket, I can splint it, but eventually it will need a better repair."

Joe nodded, not sure he trusted her but agreeing with the assessment. "I tried to move the shoulder back, but it wouldn't go." He hesitated a moment, deciding he probably couldn't make their circumstances any worse. "Forgive my bluntness, but do you know what you're talking about?"

Biff snorted, not surprised Joe was playing watchdog.

"There's no doctor for miles, Joe. I'm what you've got. I'm the healer for the village along with my father, and I have some hospital training in the capitol as well. Dad's on the way here to see Frank, but he'll agree the shoulder is the first order of business. It's been dislocated too long to just pop it back, though. A little leverage will work better and I can do that with a sheet and a bit of help."

She rolled a thin blanket lengthwise and slid it below Frank's body. "Who's the anchor and who's pulling the arm?"

Biff blanched at the idea of yanking on the bloated appendage. "I think I'm your anchor. What do I do?"

Reza repositioned him on the floor and tied the blanket around his waist. "Your part is simple. Don't let us pull you over no matter what."

"Think I can handle that."

The second length of cloth she pleated until it was about 8 inches wide. She wrapped it about Joe as a belt, and then looped it around Frank's flexed elbow. "When I say go, scoot backwards on your knees and keep backing up until you feel the arm pop. I'll maneuver the shoulder ball and Biff is pulling the other way, so you won't move Frank off the bed." She wisely didn't add that this would work much better with a raised bed and all of them standing, or that as long as the joint had been displaced the arm might be permanently damaged. They'd talk as soon as this was done.

"One… two… three!" Reza shoved with the heel of her hand, keeping Frank's arm tight to his side as Joe moved steadily away. The plunk of the bone into place was audible, eliciting a series of rapid swallows from Biff. Being sick didn't seem like a useful addition to the situation.

Loosening the linens, Reza took a shaky breath. The deep wine color of the arm alarmed her more than she wanted to admit, not to mention the shallow wheezing noise emanating from Frank's chest.

"Joe, the shoulder's in, but I think you need to… I mean, he's not …" She met his eyes, seeing that he understood perfectly well what she wasn't saying. Letting the air out of her lungs she plowed through the rest of the statement. "You need to be ready if he dies."

"No."

The answer wasn't defiant or even uttered in disbelief; just a simple refuting of her words. Frank wasn't dying, and Joe most certainly wasn't ready.

"Ok." Maybe his refusal to accept the obvious would somehow see his brother through. "In that case.. His ribs are broken and he probably has pneumonia, some of these welts are infected, he has a concussion, and there's something else wrong with the arm beyond the open fracture."

Biff interrupted her, sensing Joe could use a minute to digest the list. "Something else like what?"

"I'm not sure. Either it bled inside of it somehow or it's infected. I want my father to look at it, too."

"The welts are infected anyway, so if he gets medicine for that, it'll help the arm, too, right?" Biff's question was logical enough, but it didn't take the jungle locale into account.

"If they even have medicine-" Joe's comment was laced with all his frustration. "You should have left us alone to go back to the capitol!"

"The village elders concur with you on that one, it if it makes you feel any better. They're screaming at Topan right now, said he panicked in hauling you here. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Why did he bring us anyway?"

"The militia soldiers have been burning the villages that aide government troops, loyalists, or nonresidents. We were supposed to kill any outsiders we came across and Topan didn't want to do that, so he thought he'd better hide you instead."

"And it didn't occur to him to just leave us out there? Any soldiers that spotted us would have done their own shooting, none the wiser that you knew we were around. Whatever Topan does for a living, make sure you mention to him that international intrigue may not be his strong suit."

"He's a goat herder, and I will." Reza stood. "And we do have some herbal medications, Joe. Believe it or not, I actually prefer it when my patients survive." She took a pan of water and oversize pairs of tan woven pants from a girl outside the door, handing them to Biff as she exited. "Clean him up as best you can and I'll bring what we have."

An hour later, Reza and her father were arguing loudly about what to do with their feverish charge, the elder healer grudgingly switching to broken English for Joe's sake.

"The arm is too infected, boy will die."

"Not everyone with an infection dies." Reza tipped her head further back, planting her hands on her hips in disagreement. "Besides, I don't think that's what's wrong with it. There was a pulse in his wrist when we got here, now there isn't. There's too much swelling and pressure in there."

"Hospital talk! Even if that's true, what would we do about it?"

"It's called a fasciotomy. I've never done it, but I think I can. You slit the skin along the muscle lines and release the pressure."

"You're talking about butchery, child." The old man pinched his lips together, distaste for the idea evident.

"It will work, poppa. Otherwise he's going to lose the arm."

"That's craziness. The child needs put together, not taken apart, and it's a horrid thing to do to a dying boy. Don't fill his brother's head with false hope and bizarre suggestions."

"Menunggu!"

"Dia akan meninggal bagaimanapun juga."

"Lalu dia akan meninggal! Tetapi kami tidak akan membunuhnya."

Joe stepped between them, able to be silent no longer. "Lose the arm? No. Not an option. You said you'd splint the break, so stop yelling and do something for him!"

Reza rested her hand on his cheek, the sympathy on her face frightening him more than anything she could have done.

"It's called compartment syndrome, Joe. Splinting that arm up isn't an option anymore. The pressure has to be released to keep the arm, maybe for him to survive. And it needs to be done now."

The older medic rounded on Joe, still shaking his head. "Modern claptrap. He'll survive the fever or he won't, I can't see slicing him to ribbons. It's your call, boy."

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to be continued...