Chapter 11- Salvation
Peter didn't know how long he had sat at Gabriel's side, but he was certain it had been at least a half a day because the sun was almost where the pale moon had been in the sky when things fell apart. Gabriel had only stirred a few times, long enough to take a few more sips of water with Peter's help, but he didn't seem to be fully aware of what was going on and that was troublesome. Peter watched him closely and continued to try to make him comfortable by keeping his forehead dry, although he knew that a damp cloth would be better he didn't want to waste what water they did have.
He shifted and stretched to relieve the tension that had built up in his muscles from sitting more or less in the same position for so long. He took another look at Gabriel and yawned. The heat and lack of food and water were making him weak and tired, but he had promised himself he would stay alert either until Gabriel showed signs of recovery or a helicopter landed in the clearing to rescue them. So far, neither seemed likely to him. He glanced wistfully out at the jumbled mess that used to be the airplane he was going home in. It seemed like so long ago although his battered and bruised body was evidence that it had in actuality been a short time.
He hadn't really been keeping track of how long he had been living like an animal partly because he had a blind faith that someone would come right along and scoop them up and partly because he was gravely disappointed when that didn't happen. He thought it was somewhere around four or five days, but was almost certain it had been less than a week. No matter, he was amazed at how quickly time had passed out in the jungle. But then again, he and Gabriel passed the time by putting out one fire after another in terms of barriers to their continued collective existence. Survival tended to almost be a full time job in and of itself and they had their fair share of obstacles to overcome. He once again looked back to Gabriel as he lay sleeping. It only seemed like the mountains to climb were getting higher and the valleys deeper. If help didn't come soon, it was a real possibility that Gabriel wouldn't make it. He immediately shook his head to disparage the thought. He simply refused to think that way. Help would come, he told himself vehemently, and Gabriel would be ok.
Gabriel's fevered inner world was filled with darkness and frighteningly distorted images. He felt as though he were drowning in fear and apprehension although he didn't know why. In some way he knew he was in dire trouble, he could almost feel his body shutting down or at the very least malfunctioning. It was a weakness and helplessness he had never felt before. The thought that he would die in the shelter he had built occasionally flitted across the back of his mind, but what struck him as evidence of cosmic cruelty was the supreme irony that he would survive a crash landing at 600 mph into the jungle only to be taken down by some tiny bug he didn't even see.
Once in awhile he would surface from the tar pit of misery and become lucid. It was always like gasping for air because being back in the real world was far better than the nightmares his own brain conjured up. He had discovered that his newfound ability was a bit like the sword of Damocles; his sharp intellect could be very useful but a mind that cunning could be relentlessly evil as well. He would often hear Peter muttering either to himself or to no one in particular, but the very sound of his voice was reassuring. It meant that he hadn't died yet, although he almost always sounded worried and that saddened Gabriel. He felt Peter wiping his forehead and to some extent he was uncomfortable with the gesture, but at the same time he was sort of relieved that he was comfortable enough to do it because it did help somewhat.
During those times when he was deep in the depths of his sickness and confronted with images and malignant ideas that were twisted and foreign to him, if he was honest with himself he would admit that in some way he actually wanted to die. He just wanted it to end. He was tired of suffering and wasn't sure that he even wanted to return to his old life in New York. What was there to go back to? Why be yet another nameless face on the subway and a body to be run into in the hallways? Really, what did he have to look forward to but a life of obscurity to be ground out in some dusty shop stooped over a litany of broken watches? That was really all he could see himself doing; it was the only real skill he had. It was then that he decided to stop fighting. He would just let nature take its course and if the fates had decided that this was to be his demise then he would shrug and accept it. There were, after all, far worse ways to go. He knew this to be true because he had witnessed some of them firsthand.
Peter used his forearm to wipe the sweat from his own brow and watched Gabriel's head loll slightly. He didn't know if he was having another bad dream, but what he did know was that it didn't seem like normal sleep. "Hang in there, man." He mumbled quietly, "You have to hold on. We are getting out of here. You have to believe that."
Try as he might to keep his vigil, Peter was only a man with physical limitations and he dozed off in the midday sauna that was created by the humidity. He was not so deep in sleep, however, that his mind did not alert him to the low, booming sound of a helicopter approaching. His olive eyes flew open and focused sharply when he realized what had awakened him. Like a dart, he scrambled down the ladder using only his arms and ran to the clearing despite his ankle being hog tied. He fell to his knees at the base of the signal fire that Gabriel had built and set to work lighting it. It took a few tries, but Peter kept calm even though the sound was becoming louder and he began to worry that they would pass them over again. He had to get this right; he simply didn't know if Gabriel could survive another night. Slowly but surely, the kindling caught fire and soon thick white smoke stretched into the sky as the green material became heated.
Peter looked to the sky, but couldn't see the craft although he knew it was close. It seemed to be hovering stationary by the sound of the rotors. "Come on…" Peter pleaded anxiously as he squinted. As if by some miracle they could hear him, the chopping sound became deafening and a mighty swirling wind filled the clearing as the nose of the craft peered over the edge of the canopy. "Hey!" Peter shouted wildly with a smile as he waved his arms. "Down here! We're alive!" His voice was easily swept away by the wind, but there was nothing else he could do but shout with joy at the knowledge that it was all over. They had made it. He watched with stunned relief as the chopper moved directly overhead and a man repelled down on a rope. He hadn't noticed it before, but he realized as the man made his way to him that it was a military craft and the man was dressed as a soldier. A US soldier.
"Pete!" The soldier yelled almost as though he saw a ghost. "Jesus fucking Christ! Pete!" All Peter could do was stare in wonder at Nathan and be wrapped up in his enthusiastic embrace. He had so many questions and things to say that nothing came out at all. How could it be? By the look in Nathan's eyes, he was wondering the same. By the time Nathan had let go, several more soldiers had made their way down and had begun canvassing the area.
One man with a medic symbol on his helmet came to a stop next to the pair. "Sir, are there any other survivors?" The man yelled over the maelstrom.
In a daze Peter answered, "There is one more in the shelter." He pointed toward the hut. "He is very sick, he was bitten by something. Maybe you should go help him first." The man nodded briskly and ran toward the hut carrying a supply bag.
"Pete…I….I just don't know what to say." Nathan stammered. "I can't believe you survived out here all this time on your own. How are you? Are you hurt?" He held his younger brother by the shoulders and looked him up and down with a worried glare.
Peter thought of all the times that Nathan had always been there for him, always defended him and tried to make things right. This occasion was no different. Nathan wanted to make his brother ok again, but Peter knew this was one time that he couldn't fix. Of all the people in the world, it was his brother that found him and in a way he wasn't at all surprised by that, because Nathan had always been Johnny on the Spot no matter what. But no matter what his personal hero said or did, it couldn't erase what he had experienced; not this time. The past few days had changed him, perhaps permanently, but he wasn't entirely sure that was a bad thing. What he was sure of was that his life would not be the same from that day on. He watched passively as a basket was lowered from the hovering chopper and whisked away toward Gabriel. He was saddened by the knowledge that he wasn't able to get out of the shelter on his own. If he had learned anything about the mysterious man it was that he didn't like being manhandled. "Pete?" Nathan called shaking him slightly.
Peter's eyes drifted back to his brother's face and he noted the worry that it contained. "Sorry, I just…" He couldn't think of an adequate excuse so he just trailed off. It wasn't like he was a stellar liar anyway. "I am glad to see you, Nathan. I thought you were at a base in California somewhere."
"I was," Nathan slyly smiled, "but I pulled some strings and got put on the search and rescue squad when Ma told me you were on the plane. I kinda felt responsible one way or the other…you know."
Peter did know. Nathan had expected to recover his corpse and yet he came anyway. "How is Ma?" He asked in a low, suspicious voice.
Nathan shrugged and gave his best politician smile. "You know how it is, Pete. Ma is handling it in her own way. They all are." He reached his arm around Peter's shoulders and continued, "But they will be glad to have you back in New York. We are going to take you back to the base for a medical exam and then you will be free to go. I am sure there are a lot of people who are looking forward to it, including you." Peter didn't dispute him, but he wasn't so sure going back to New York right away was what he wanted. He secretly wished he could just stay with him in California for awhile until the whole thing blew over.
He and Nathan watched as two men jogged toward the helicopter with Gabriel in the basket attached to IV's . He looked pale as death, but at least he was receiving some kind of proper help; more than Peter could have provided. "That the only other survivor?" Nathan asked somberly as the men attached the basket to lines to be hauled up.
"Yeah." Peter confirmed watching his friend float up into the sky. "His name is Gabriel. He saved my life."
Nathan looked around at the wreckage his brother had somehow miraculously survived and gave him a pat on the back before leading him to the lines that had been thrown down. He first rigged Peter and then himself and together they were lifted into the belly of the helicopter. The craft slowly rose and then banked on its way back to California. Peter watched out the open door as the gouged Earth littered with twisted metal grew further and further away until it was only a distant memory.