Landslide

By Hemel Lass(ie)

Chapter Seven: Waiting for Daybreak

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

The false dawn was streaking the skies. The time in between had been very taxing on Don, emotionally.

When he had told his younger brother that he should grab some rest if he could, Charlie had apparently taken him at his word because conversation stopped.

The only sounds Don had heard from over the side for the past few hours had been harsh coughing and occasionally, gasping.

Don had had the luxury of getting his sleeping bag out and basically rolling up in it. He also had water to drink and trail mix to snack on. Knowing he had to keep himself in shape to make the trek up the mountain to call for rescue, Don had taken advantage of that fact, but not without more than a twinge of guilt at doing so.

Okay, enough with the silence. Time to rouse his younger brother had come. "Charlie? Yo, brother mine. Wake up. Rise and shine."

Silence.

"Come on, Chuck. Don't do this to me. I am NOT going anywhere until you acknowledge me, damn it. Wake the hell up!"

"God…you are such a grouch when you don't get your morning caffeine fix, brother. And DON'T call me Chuck."

"Chuckles?"

Charlie's response was to cough harshly for an extended period of time, triggering another shot of adrenalin to Don's already overtaxed system. "Hey, easy, buddy. I'm sorry; guess now isn't the time to indulge in my brotherly annoyance duty."

It took a few moments after the coughing spasm, but Charlie finally answered him. "Brotherly annoyance DUTY? You consider annoying me part of being an older brother?"

Smiling a little, Don responded. "Sure, bro. Among the more perk-ish duties, perhaps, but it does go with the territory. If I don't annoy you, who will?"

"My students, Larry, Dad…Amita sometimes. The list is long and somewhat illustrious, Don. In fact, the leader of the pack these days is probably Millie. Yeah. The president of the Annoy Charlie club is definitely Dr. Mildred Finch." The humor was dry, but definitely present.

"Well, now. That's just not fair. I should be president….I've been doing it longer."

"Yes, but she does it PROFESSIONALLY."

"Okay, point to the professor." Don made his admission sound begrudging. "How are you doing, Charlie?" The question was serious.

"Still here. Still stuck here, literally between… a rock and well, a lot of other rocks and dirt, I guess technically. Thanks for letting me drift off, Don. I was really just tired of hurting all the time, you know? I needed a little break."

------------------------------------------------------------

"I realize that you just woke up or came to…whatever it was, but Charlie…that didn't really tell me much about HOW you are…." Don prompted.

"Oh, so you want an actual inventory? Give me some time. I'll try and sort through things, so I can update you on my condition." Silence fell again. It stretched on for too long.

Don tried to be patient. He really did. Truth was, one of the reasons he quit playing baseball was that he didn't really handle waiting in silence all that well. Sitting in the dugout, waiting for his turn was the least favorite part of THE GAME to Don. He just didn't handle waiting well.

When the silence had finally gotten on his last remaining nerve, Don snapped. "Chuck, are you still awake? Or, did you phase on me again?"

"Phase out? I didn't phase out, big brother; or pass out;or, fall asleep. Frankly, I wasn't sure exactly how to categorize how I feel."

Again with the silence.

"Expand on that for me a little, brother. Maybe start with what you CAN feel…"

"Hurts to breath very deep. I'm okay so long as I don't let the urge to cough take over, but once I start coughing…well, it hurts a LOT to cough."

"So, you've been avoiding doing it?" Don sounded as incredulous as he felt. "You know it's important to breath as deep as you can, as often, as you can…right?"

Charlie was silent for a bit. He responded, reluctantly. "In my head? Yeah, I know that. Carrying it out is quite another thing though. Breathing very deeply is pretty much out of the question. Inhaling too much, even real carefully. It triggers the coughing. Don, maybe you have never noticed this about me, but I am not real into pain."

"Nobody is into pain, Charlie."

"We both know that isn't true. Some people are into pain. It's kinky, but they are. And you, athletic types, you are real into pushing past the pain to do things any way. That is also not my thing. Myself, I'll avoid pain as much as possible. Wait that probably sounded wrong." Charlie seemed to mentally shake himself. "But you know what I meant, right?"

"I understand what you are saying, yes. On the other hand, I know it is really important that you breathe enough to keep your lungs from filling up with stuff, not just collapsing, but fluid can settle in and you can get…"

Charlie sighed. "It's called 'stasis pneumonia', Don… Trust me, I have a good start on the way to that particular phenomena. See the thing is, when you have a crushing injury; how much you can inhale and exhale is constrained, you know?" He coughed, wetly. Coughed some more and Don could hear him bring something up and spit it away from himself. "God…" his brother muttered loud enough to carry to his ears. "That is just gross! Not too mention, it hurts! Shit."

Don looked up at the lightening sky. It still wasn't casting enough light for him to see the trail, but his brother didn't sound good. He sounded weaker. Worse, he sounded distracted and discouraged. He sounded tired.

So, give him something to do.

"What time do you reckon it is?" Don asked, facetiously.

"What's the matter, Don? Your watch break? Or are you trying to occupy my mind? Trying to distract me with some kind of purpose filled activity."

Great time to pick to suddenly be so savvy, little brother.

"I guess it is something along those lines, Charlie." Honesty was probably the best policy at this point, seeing as little brother clearly wasn't being fooled into thinking anything else. "I gather it isn't really working?"

"No, but I appreciate the effort."

The response was ironic, but spoken with a weariness that tore at his older brother's heart.

"It's just, I know the score here, Don. Daylight is probably another hour or two off. The trail you need to follow…it isn't safe for you to leave before full daybreak. Promise me you won't try any thing like that, okay? Don? Promise. I don't like this hesitation thing you have going on."

"Turn about is fair play, younger brother. You take your sweet time answering me."

Okay, that came out sounding pretty snappish. Don winced at his own tone.

"Don..I'm sorry. I don't mean. It's hard…it hurts and I get tired trying to talk. Okay? I am not dragging my responses out on purpose. Honest."

Great, big brother, the kid is struggling just to breathe and now you have gone and made him feel guilty for it.

"Charlie, don't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean. Look, I know it has to hurt and it's hard to breath. It just…it freaks me out not being able to see you or touch you. Knowing you are hurt. We are so near to each other, yet so damn far apart! I can't come to you…or help you through this."

"Wrong, Don. You are helping me through this. Believe me. If I were alone, I think…" Charlie hesitated, but decided his brother had the right to the whole truth, even if it scared them both shitless. "Frankly, I think I would have just given up hours ago. I made it through this far, because I couldn't let you think I just gave up."

"Okay. I'm not sure if I should be glad you were that honest. Or scared to death because it's not that long until I have to leave you, to go fetch help."

"That's different, Don. I'll hang on when you go for help, because I know you'll be back. I would not want you to come back and have me not able to answer you when you get here. Does it help some for you to know that?"

"Yeah. I guess it helps. Can't say it fills me with confidence, but, you are that bad. Aren't you?" Don felt like an invisible hand was squeezing his heart.

"Let's not exaggerate things. I figure my one lung is pretty much gone - collapsed or filled with fluid and blood. It doesn't much matter which, or," a long pause…. "what combination of those. The other has some capacity left, or we wouldn't be talking, at all. Comprende?"

"I'm reading you, bro."

"My legs and lower half don't feel anything, so nothing new there. However, my back where it hit the rock/my backpack hurts like a son of a ….well, you know."

"Charlie, under these circumstances, you are allowed to swear, you know?"

"Well, I understand that in principle, Don. But, the reality is that I picture either Mom or Pop's reaction and. I just can't…you know?"

"Boy, they really got to you, didn't they, bro?"

"Side effect of being the youngest?" Charlie queried.

"More like I was faster at getting out of range before Mom or Dad could do anything about my potty mouth." Don replied, allowing himself a grin at the memories.

Charlie must have drawn on the same or similar ones because he snorted and retorted.

"Yeah, meanwhile, back at home, I GOT THE LECTURE. I wasn't even the one who used the bad word."

'Well, Chuck…a certain amount of language was kind of a prerequisite to the dugout, you know?"

"Believe me, I was close enough to the dugout, I had a wonderful education in all the vernaculars. I just could never safely make use of them. Still can't. Professors don't talk that way around their students. Not usually, any way."

Don grinned a little, as he replied. "Good thing, I'm not a professor, I guess."

"So, supervising Agent's in charge are allowed with the bad language, huh?"

"Let's just say that, like the dugout, it sort of goes with the territory."