Mason let out a string of muffled curses that I willed myself to tune out as I continued to clean as much of the debris as I could from the oozing wound. When the bottle was empty, I leaned in close and saw the water had done a sufficient job. I tore one of the alcohol wipe packages open with my teeth and gently swabbed the ragged skin around the injury with it. Mason sucked in a gasping breath as I finished wiping down the injury. Without glancing at him, I reached down to tear away the denim that was holding on by only a few strands. Though I tried to limit jarring the leg as much as I could, I heard Mason release another string of curse words.
"Sorry," I mumbled, feeling wretched at the pain I was causing him.
"It's all good," he repeated in a voice that was lacking the same confidence from a few minutes ago.
I let out a small laugh. "How badly do you want to hit me?" I joked, finally looking at his ghost white face.
"Hit you? I want to kiss you," he said, humorlessly.
"Ha, yeah right."
"I'm not kidding. You don't think I know how tough this is for you. Hell, I'd have a hard time with it. You're my freaking hero right about now," he said through pale lips.
"We'll see how you feel after this next part," I teased, trying to keep the mood light, his words did touch me though.
"You got this," he repeated, closing his eyes as he clutched the raincoat that was bunched up around him.
Returning my focus to the task at hand, I rolled the bowling ball-size rock I had found and placed it as close to his left heel as I could get. The odd angle of his leg made it impossible to wrap the injury without the help of something to lift it off the ground for me. Grabbing his heel gently in my hands, I tried lifting his leg as carefully as possible.
"STOP," Mason yelled in a strangled voice.
I paused and waited for him to recover. "Ready?" I asked after several seconds had passed.
"No, wait, yes," he said, gritting his teeth.
Without giving him a chance to change his mind, I pivoted the leg over to rest on the rock.
Mason screamed again and then went silent. I grimaced when I saw he had passed out, but quickly realized it was probably for the best.
Using his unconscious state to my advantage, I placed the sticks on either side of his injured leg, evening the ends up with his heel. Once the sticks were in place, I unrolled the bandage and began the job of wrapping his leg. My finger made the job awkward, but I worked to keep the wrapping tight so his leg would have maximum stabilization. I left the area of the leg exposed where the bone stuck out. Wrapping it would do him more harm than good. By the time I finished, I had worked up quite a sweat. I tore off a piece of his raincoat that was hanging by a thread and draped it over his leg so it would keep the wrapping dry. Standing up stiffly, I looked down at his unconscious body for a second. That was the best I could do for him, I thought. As for myself, I still didn’t feel all that great. I walked several feet into the woods and vomited up the water I had consumed earlier.
Chapter 10
Mason was still unconscious when I made my way back to his side. I fought the temptation to curl up next to him and join him in slumber, but it was time to start phase two of my plan. Getting us under some kind of shelter was a must. During my hunt for sticks earlier, I spotted what looked like a small cave where a large section of rock was protruding from the side of the mountain. It would be a perfect location. The problem would be getting Mason there.
I wrapped my good hand with a piece of denim I had torn away from Mason’s jeans and began to break away the branches the surrounded his head. The rain made my work twice as hard since the branches were slippery, but at least the denim protected my hand from any rough edges. I worked diligently until I had cleared a sufficient path out of the bush.
"What are you doing, beach bunny?" Mason asked in a strained voice, startling me.
I turned to see him curiously studying me.
"Getting you to that dry bed you asked for," I joked. “You scared the crap out of me.”
"Sorry. That's sweet of you, but I don't see you being able to move me," he said seriously.
"Yeah, well, I didn't think I could do your leg and I did that," I said, sarcastically.
He let out a small laugh. "I'm not questioning your drive, but I'm no lightweight. How do you plan on moving all one hundred eighty pounds of me?" he asked.
"Well, if you must know, I'm dragging your ass."
He raised his eyebrows at me doubtfully, but didn't argue further.
"You ready?" I asked, standing up by his head. "Or do you plan on waiting for the bus."
"I'm all yours, beach bunny."
I reached down and grasped the hood of the raincoat that he was on, being careful to keep my injured finger out of the way. My grip was awkward, but still allowed me to get a good hold of the material with my hand.
"Ready?" I asked, looking down at him.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, bracing his good foot against the ground so he could help.
Pulling with all the strength I had, I managed to move him several inches before I had to take a break. He watched me with concern as I tried to regain my air supply. The thin mountain air definitely wasn’t helping. Once I had regained my breathing to a more manageable level, I began tugging the material again, using all of my weight to propel him up out of the bush. The momentum threw me off and I stumbled to the ground. I braced my fall with my left hand without thinking and cursed as excruciating pain rocketed throughout my arm.
"Kimberly?" Mason called from behind me.
"I'm fine," I gasped, waiting for the pain to subside as I kneeled on the ground.
"Let me see it," he pleaded.
Turning around, I held my finger out so he could inspect it. I had ignored it the majority of the day, treating it as more of a pain in the ass than anything else, but as he studied it, I took in the dark shade of black and blue that now made up the color on my middle digit.
"We need to brace this," he said softly, holding my injured hand tenderly in his.
"It'll be fine. I want to get you into the shelter first and then we can worry about my dumb finger," I mumbled, embarrassed over the big deal he was making over my small break in light of his massive injury.
"You're not moving me until we brace it," he said stubbornly, leaving no room for argument.
"Fine, but you're the one who's getting soaking wet," I quipped, snapping a branch into two pieces for him.
"I need the gauze too, Einstein," he teased, looking tickled about my grumpiness.
"No shit, Sherlock," I shot back, already digging out the first aid box for the small roll of gauze tape I had seen.
He smirked at my snippy comeback. "Help me sit up," he said.
"Yes, your highness. Do you want me to fetch you some wine and cheese while I'm at it?"
He laughed outright. "You sure are sassy, beach bunny," he said, looking better than he had since I had found him.
I felt oddly lighthearted as he gently braced my finger. I had always been one to shy away from conflict, but sharing barbs with him had become almost comforting. Of course, the fact that our banter was more teasing now than outright hate, helped too.