13. Troubles by the Score

Larry sat on the wooden bench and stared down at the green grass at his feet. Mypos was a bright and colorful place and the beauty added a stark contrast to the mood of the gathering. Forlorn looking people milled about in the lovely green pasture where several wooden benches and brightly painted chairs had been set in a semi-circle around a rectangular box. Sheep, goats and several happy dogs roamed freely through the somber crowd.

One scruffy sheepdog came up and nosed his hand, begging for a pat on the head. With a sad sigh he ran a hand over the animal's fur. The dog's ears lowered and it let out a mournful whine as if it could sense his black emotions. It quickly trotted away to find more pleasant company.

He lifted his head slightly and stared at the box before him. It was about six feet long and perhaps two and a half feet wide and it stood on four ornately carved pedestals. The sides of the container were painted with a detailed and colorful pattern that smacked of paisley. Tassels of gold skirted the bottom and the rim. There was no lid. That box held all that was left of his best friend.

A bell sounded and he looked up to see a man standing not far from the casket. He wore a brightly colored vest, like all the other Myposian men he had met in the last few days. He spoke loudly enough so everyone could hear and people began to take their seats.

An older man and woman sat beside Larry. The man was very tall with angular cheeks and a large nose. His dark hair and moustache were just beginning to be peppered with silver. The wrinkles on the old woman's face told him she smiled a lot. But there was no happiness there now. Grief haunted her large dark eyes and it made her look ancient. She looked at him with a deep sadness, took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. The man reached behind her to touch Larry's shoulder. Everything about them, the way the looked, their voices and small things like mannerisms and gestures reminded him that they were his cousin's parents.

Several people had gathered behind the man who was speaking. Four held musical instruments. There was a wooden flute, an accordion, a tambourine, and a stringed instrument that could have been some kind of harp. The speaker stepped back and the musicians began to play a sad mournful song. Two women and three men began to move to the music. No one sang. No words were needed. The music and the dancers effectively portrayed the sadness and angst that was in the hearts of everyone present.

When the music died and the dancers took their seats Balki's father stood and turned to address the crowd. Larry couldn't understand each word but he knew the oration was the story of his friend's life. The narrative went on for a long time. The man spoke with such feeling and intensity, using very expressive gestures…just like Balki. The older man had tears running down his dark tan cheeks by the time he took a polite bow and sat back down.

Larry assumed that either this was an intermission or the ceremony was over for several people rose from their seats and resumed hushed conversation. Larry swallowed hard and stood himself. With unsure steps and a knot in his chest he approached the brightly decorated container. He choked and hot tears came to his eyes as he looked down at the figure in the box. Balk lay peacefully in his Myposian tuxedo with his arms crossed and some sort of purple flower grasped in his right hand. If it hadn't been for his deathly pale complexion it would look like he was just taking a nap. As if any moment his dark eyes would flicker open and he would look up at Larry with that innocent smile and say: "Good morning, Cousin. How long was I asleep?"

But Larry knew that was never going to happen. Balki wasn't going to wake up again.

His cousin's last words rang over and over in his mind and he knew that they would never go away as long as he lived: "I'm sorry I ruin your life." Larry's earlier harsh rebuke echoed alongside. He had blamed Balki for everything. How could he have made his friend feel so bad? He would give everything he had and more to take those words back.

Suddenly he felt weak and he leaned heavily on the edge of the casket. Tears slid freely down his face. "I'm sorry." He whispered as a sob escaped him.

If only the rescue party had come sooner!

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder but didn't look up. Balki's father had come up behind him. The man spoke slowly and gently but Larry couldn't understand a word he said. He wished he would go away and let him be alone but he kept talking.

Suddenly the world began to dissolve around him. Everything faded; the people, the Myposian landscape, the animals…everything. But the voice, those strange, foreign words still sounded in his ears.

Had he fainted?

Maybe. He was only half conscious, he knew that.

But that voice was still there and it beckoned Larry toward consciousness. He tried to ignore it. He didn't want to be awake. The warm comfort of sleep was much more appealing than the fear and loneliness he knew awaited him on the other side of wakefulness. He could feel warm sunlight on his back and the sounds of birds and water reached his ears. Sand shifted under his feet. Where was he? That voice was still there and it was still speaking Myposian.

Larry's eyes shot open and his head snapped up with a sudden gasp of realization. He was still on the beach, on a deserted island. He had been dreaming. He whirled around and his eyes widened in amazed disbelief. Balki who had been dead only minutes before (or was it hours? How long had he been out of it?) was now struggling to sit up. Balki's eyes were squinted in pain as he held his right hand to his head while his left arm hung limply at his side. He was mumbling in Myposian. The only word Larry was able to catch was 'babasticki'.

"Balki!" Larry shouted in complete wonder. "You're okay!"

Balki flinched at Larry's exclamation as if it was a physical blow. "Oh, po po." He moaned as his hand tightened over his forehead. "Nay volumiki."

"You're okay!" He cried again. This was just too good to be true. He was so happy and so relieved. He didn't care if they were stranded on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere. He didn't care if they were never found. His best friend was alive and that's all that mattered. Larry threw his arms around his cousin in a teary embrace.

At his cousin's touch Balki instantly let out a sharp, unbelievably loud scream.

Larry let go and leaped back, startled by the unexpected reaction. "What, what, what? What's wrong? What did I do?"

For a long moment Balki sat clutching his left arm with his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted in a pain. When he finally opened them he glared at Larry warningly. "Don' do that."

"I…I'm sorry. I didn't realize..." He winced as he got a good look at Balki's arm. The whole upper part, from just above the elbow clear to his shoulder was swollen and completely black and blue. "Is it broken?"

"Yes."

"Are…are you sure?"

Balki nodded his head and immediately wished he hadn't. "Whoa, baby!" His right hand left his arm to still the throbbing in his head. It didn't work. When he brought his hand away the tips of his fingers were sticky and red. His eyebrows rose slightly at the revelation that he was bleeding.

Larry squinted in sympathy at the sight of his cousin's face. The cut extended from his temple to his cheekbone and was still bleeding, although not as heavily as before. The entire left side of his face was beginning to bruise and his eye was swelling. They needed to clean that before it became infected

Part of him said he needed to get Balki back to their makeshift camp, where there was fresh water and a fire. The other part knew his cousin had a head injury and was hurt badly and was afraid to touch him let alone move him.

The dilemma was quickly resolved as a wave slid up the sand and lapped gently at their feet. The tide was coming in, Larry realized, and they were far below the tide line. He would have to move him. At least far enough up the beach that the water couldn't reach them.

"Come on, Buddy, we need to get back to camp." He realized that his cousin was still a bit dazed and might be unsure on his feet. Larry leaned over, draped Balki's right arm over his shoulders and wrapped a firm hand around his waist. "We're going to stand up now. Okay?"

Balki eyed him uncertainly. "Okay."

With a grunt of strained effort Larry pulled his cousin upright. But the moment both of Balki's feet touched the ground he let out a long pained scream and his left leg collapsed under him. The sudden downward pull nearly threw Larry off balance, but he managed to keep a firm hold on his cousin as he gently lowered him back down.

"What is it?"

"My foot." Balki managed to hiss, though clenched teeth and quick pained breaths.

Larry looked down and took in a quick gasp. Balki's foot was turned in at an odd angle and his ankle was much bigger than it should have been. There was no doubt that it was badly broken. What was he going to do now? "Oh, Balki!"

Balki flinched as if he had been slapped at his cousin's unintentionally loud exclamation. Every noise seemed to compound the throbbing in his head. "I'm sorry." He managed to say, taking Larry's words as a rebuke.

"No, no, you didn't do anything." Larry lowered his voice. "I was just wondering how we're going to move you with that ankle."

"Well, you can stop wondering around because were not."

Larry cocked his head, not quite understanding. "What?"

"I'm not getting up again. No way, no where!"

"Balki we have to—"

"Forget it, Cousin. Balki is staying right here."

Another wave reached them. This one was higher than the last, covering Larry's feet. "The tide is coming in." He motioned to the seemingly benign water. "If you just sit here it's going to wash you away." He looked Balki up and down, trying to appraise the situation. "Maybe I can carry you."

Balki held up a warning finger. "Don't…you…touch me."

"If you just let me try…"

"Cousin, no. You pick me up, you toss your back and you drop me like a hot tomato. You're not carrying me and that's vinyl!"

Larry ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He hadn't thought of that. If he threw his back, which happened all too easily anymore, he wouldn't be any good to anyone. But he had to do something.

Suddenly his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. "I have a plan! I'll be right back." He moved to stand up.

Balki's eyes suddenly grew wide. He grabbed Larry's arm with a painfully firm grip. "Don' leave!"

Larry looked down at his cousin in surprise. He had never seen such a look of desperation on his cousin's face before. It made his stomach tighten. Placing a gentle hand on Balki's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be right back. I promise."

Balki reluctantly let go of his cousin's arm and watched him take off down the beach at a dead run. Pins and needles ran up his spine and he shivered slightly. He was in pain, frightened and although he knew Larry was not far and would be back momentarily, he felt very alone.

He shifted a bit in the wet sand trying to find a position that didn't hurt. But even that small movement sent pain shooting up from his hip and ankle and he allowed himself a small whimper. He cradled his left arm gently, but no matter how he held it, that too refused to give him any relief.

What had he done? Now he would never be able to get help. He could scarcely move let alone swim! He had sunk them in even deeper babasticki than they had been in before. With a simple fall he had effectively dumped every aspect of their very survival on his cousin, who would certainly have difficulty shouldering such a responsibility. Cousin Larry was already having trouble coping with their situation. Now he had the added burden of finding food and taking care of Balki.

The largest wave yet rose up, bringing the warm water swirling around his waist before receding. He bowed his head low. After the mess he'd made he wished the water would come wash him away.

"Balki!" The young immigrant lifted his head to see Larry running towards him, his bare feet slapping the wet sand with each step. The tarp from the boat was rolled up under his arm. Slowing to a stop beside Balki he stood, panting in the now calf deep water. He must have run all the way. "See?" He managed to say between gasps. "I said I'd be right back."

Balki looked at the canvas curiously. "Why you bring that?"

"This is how we're going to move you." Larry explained as he unrolled it directly behind Balki, who tried to turn to see what he was doing but suddenly winced and turned forward again. The cloth was quite large. Even folded in half, as it was, it was about five foot by ten. It floated slightly in the shallow water and he put a foot on it to keep it from washing away.

Larry put a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "Balki, I need you to move back a couple feet onto this thing. Can you do that or do you want me to help?"

Balki looked up at his cousin, wide-eyed and uncertain. "I…I don't know."

"Here." Larry got down on one knee behind Balki and put both arms around his waist, being very careful not to bump his left arm. As gently as he possibly could he pulled his Balki backwards onto the canvas. Despite his care he felt him take a in a sharp breath and he knew he had hurt him.

Once he had Balki completely onto the tarp he moved back, grabbed two handfuls of the cloth and pulled, easily sliding his cousin up the beach. Balki was lighter than he had expected or maybe it was just the rush of adrenaline giving him an extra boost of strength.

A short time later they reached their makeshift campsite. Larry pulled him back until they were under the trees and out of the direct sunlight. Straightening with a nearly inaudible grunt, he rubbed the small of his back, but stopped when he caught Balki watching him.

"Did you hurt your back?"

"Hurt my back? No. Of course, not. Don't be silly. I'm fine." He lied. Truth be told bending over and pulling his cousin's dead weight for such a long ways had taken its toll on his spine. Although he was quite grateful that it hadn't slipped out of place. Then he would have been in real trouble.

He kneeled down beside Balki, not quite sure what to do next. "How are you doing?'

Balki managed to muster up a rather unconvincing smile. "If it wasn't for the pain I'd be hunky dorky."

Ignoring the half-hearted attempt at humor Larry asked his cousin to lay down and placed a lifejacket under his head. Now what? He wrung his hands together anxiously trying to remember everything he had learned in that first aid class. It seemed like so long ago. He looked Balki's injuries over carefully. His arm was broken and so was his ankle. Both of them needed to be stabilized with a cast or a splint or something. But what could he use?

"Balki, where's your knife?"

Balki looked up at him in alarm. "Why?'

Larry rolled his eyes at whatever Balki had been thinking. "I need it to cut the canvas."

"Oh. It's over there, by the fire."

A short time later he had cleaned the scrape on Balki's arm and managed a crude splint by tying a short piece of palm frond that had been de-leafed to either side of his upper arm with strips of canvas. Another triangular piece of the material served adequately as a sling. Balki had managed bravely through the whole procedure, even though Larry knew it had hurt.

Next he moved to Balki's foot. Even looking at it made him slightly sick. If only had ice or something cold to take the swelling down. He could have sworn it had gotten bigger in just the last few minutes and it was turned in at nearly a ninety-degree angle. He couldn't let it heal like that. And they didn't know when or if help would come. He swallowed hard, knowing what had to be done. He just prayed that what he was about to do was right and he wasn't making things worse. "Balki, I'm sorry. This is going to hurt…a lot." With that short warning he gritted his teeth, braced himself and with one swift jerk and a sickening grinding sound Balki's ankle was pulled straight.

Balki bolted upright with a pained scream that was followed closely by a string of strangled Myposian.

"You okay?" Larry asked lamely, biting his lip in sympathy.

Balki sat forward, head down, every muscle tense. His eyes squinted shut and his teeth clenched in a tight grimace. After a long moment his breathing slowed and he looked up at his cousin with an accusing glare. "Why you didn't tell me you were going do that?"

Larry gave a small shrug. "I thought you might try to stop me."

"Sure as shotgun I would have! Cousin, you're killin' me. And it ain't softly."

"Bite the bullet, Balki, buddy. Be brave."

"Believe me buster, you be bawling like a baby too if your body was as broken and battered as Balki's."

"No." Larry shook his head and gave his cousin a wry smile. "I think I'd be worse."

After he had finished bracing Balki's ankle in the same fashion as his arm, with strips of canvas and palm stems, he grabbed a large bowl-like shell Balki had been messing around with earlier and filled it with water from the stream. He picked up another small piece of canvas, but frowned as he rubbed it between his fingers. The fiber was course and a tad abrasive. He wished there was something softer he could use to tend the cut on his friend's face. Wait a minute. There was! With a swift stroke of the knife he removed his left sleeve.

Balki flinched as he carefully dabbed at his face with the cool wet cloth. The dried blood easily washed away to reveal the wound underneath. It was deeper than he had anticipated and about half an inch wide. Larry swallowed hard, trying valiantly to keep himself from getting dizzy over the sight of the injury.

He knew that they needed to be rescued now more than ever. Balki was in bad need of medical attention. Both his arm and ankle needed to be properly set and Larry had no idea how to even begin such a procedure. This gash on his face needed several stitches or it was likely to become infected. What in the world would he do if that happened?

Balki watched his cousin's face closely as he carefully washed his injury. It was the very picture of worry. That deep sense of regret washed over him again. He could only imagine the emotional trauma he was putting his cousin through. He knew how worried he would be if their roles were reversed and Larry was the one hurt. "Cousin?" He asked quietly.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

Larry closed his eyes and lowered his head, his face suddenly pained. "Please don't say that, Balki."

"But I make so much more work for you and…"

"It was an accident. I'm just glad you're alive." After a long pause he added: "Besides, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I yelled at you and made you think this whole mess was your fault. Well it's not. None of this is your fault. If anyone should take the blame it's me. I'm the one who went outside during the storm, remember?"

Balki gave an almost imperceptible nod, his face unreadable. After a long silence he said: "Cousin?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're here."

For a late lunch they shared the fish Larry had caught earlier, which had amazingly been overlooked by the seagulls.

Balki's splitting headache had faded over the hours and although his other injuries still gave him a great deal of pain he was acting a bit more like himself. Presently he contented himself by drawing little pictures in the sand with a stick.

He looked up when he caught Larry watching him. The look on his cousin's face both surprised and disturbed him. "Cousin, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Larry quickly looked down as if his hands were suddenly the most interesting things in the world.

"Cousin, your eyes are the windows to your face. Something's wrong. Why you are look at me like that?"

"I still…I just can't believe you're alive!"

"Of course I am." Balki replied. He gave his cousin a light smile but his voice betrayed the pain he still felt. "Don' be ridiculous. Waddaya think I'm gonna be, dead?"

"Well, actually..." Larry nodded slowly, almost sheepishly. "...yes I did. I...I don't understand." Larry shook his head with a mixture of confusion and amazement. "You were dead."

"Uh, Cousin, if I were dead I think I'd be the first one to know it."

"But you had no pulse!" He exclaimed, gesturing erratically. "I checked."

"Are you sure you did it right?" Balki offered.

"Of course I did!" He snapped, a little more harshly than intended. He quickly softened his tone. "I took a first aid course in sixth grade and they taught us how…Here I'll show you." He demonstrated by taking Balki's right hand and placing his first two fingers on the inside of his wrist. Larry's brows came together in a perplexed frown. He moved his fingers a bit and the frown deepened. He let Balki go and tried his own wrist. His jaw dropped slightly and he let out a small, frustrated grunt.

The corner of Balki's mouth twitched as he tried to hide a smirk. "Um, Cousin, I hate to tell you this, but you're doing it wrong."

"Huh?"

"No. See you're putting your fingers up too high, too close to the hand. You not going feel anything like that."

Larry lowered his grip a bit and sure enough he could feel a rhythmic pulse under his skin. He gave one violent shake of his head and pounded a fist on his knee in frustration. He couldn't believe that with such a simple, stupid mistake he had caused himself so much grief. "How could I have been so blind?"

"Don' feel bad. It's an easy error to make. Besides, nobody's inflatable."

Larry brow creased in a perplexed frown and stared at Balki for a long moment. Suddenly his eyes alit with understanding. "Oooh. Perhaps you mean 'infallible'?"

The small fire flickered merrily, creating a small haven of warmth and light in the surrounding night.

Larry couldn't sleep. He just stared at Balki's back, watching the rise and fall of his steady breathing, as if to convince himself that he was still alive. He could not get over how close he had come to losing his friend. The overpowering fear and loneliness that he had felt for those few horrible moments still haunted him. What would he have done if Balki hadn't woke up? Even if he had been rescued, his life would never have been the same.

"You don't have to stay up because of me." Balki said without turning around.

Larry stared quizzically at his cousin's back, wondering how in the world Balki had known he was awake. "I can't sleep." He said honestly.

"Me either." Balki shifted a bit, then rolled over onto his back, letting out a small cry at the pain the movement caused him. Larry moved to help but Balki held up a halting hand. With a grunt of effort he pushed himself to a sitting position, leaning up against the log. He gave a small shrug and a lopsided smile. "Hard to sleep when you're broken."

"I can imagine."

They both sat in silence for a long while, just listening to the night sounds. It was Larry who finally broke the reverie with a small chuckle. "We've got a campfire, the outdoors, bugs and multiple injuries. Now all we need to make our camping trip complete is smores."

Balki cocked his head a bit. "Some more what?"

"Not 'some more' 'smore'. Don't tell me you've never had a smore before."

The Mypiot shook his head.

"Well, you roast a marshmallow over the fire and put it between a couple of graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. The hot marshmallow melts the chocolate so in the end you get a gooey, sticky sandwich." He smiled a bit. "It's one of the messiest foods out there, but believe me it's worth it. They're best when cooked over a campfire but you can cook them in the microwave too. We'll have to make some when we get home." He forced himself to say 'when' instead of 'if'.

"I would like that."

Another silence descended upon them as both cousins stared into the dancing firelight.

Larry was exhausted. The events and strains of the day had left him physically and emotionally spent. Both his body and mind were crying out for sleep. But he couldn't sleep. Everything kept running over and over in his head; the elation of thinking they were being rescued and then the disappointment as the helicopter flew on without them, the horror of watching Balki fall and the fear and grief when he thought he was gone and the worry he still felt over his cousin's injuries. All these emotions piled on top of one another keeping his mind awake and his muscles tense.

Balki's soft voice brought him to the present. He was singing, which in itself was no surprise, but the song was not the popular pop he usually sang. This song was Myposian. Larry had never heard him sing in his native language before. It was a soft swaying song with a simple melody. The words rhymed pleasantly and although he didn't speak Myposian he knew the meaning. The song radiated love, caring, and assurance. It was a lullaby.

Larry closed his eyes and listened, wondering briefly if the music was for his benefit or Balki's own amusement. He had a strange feeling it was the former. The song caressed him like a mother's kiss, the notes carrying away all his worries and fears. As the tension in his mind faded his body relaxed. A warm, contented feeling washed over him. He leaned back against the tree with a small, contented sigh as the song guided him gently to sleep.