Chapter 688

Dessie and Phillip at The Waterfall Campsite

Phillip, who was a couple of steps in front of Dessie, had kept his cool as he suddenly had nothing solid to stand on when the tons of earth bucked away from the superheated moisture in the ground and flowed almost like water toward the stream below. Desperately, he grabbed for a big limb of the tree that was standing on the edge. Unfortunately, much of the supporting ground had already been washed away by rains. His grip was good, but the tree was going down with him. As Dessie screamed, Phillip went over the embankment and out of sight.

“Phillip,” Dessie screamed again as she scrambled on her hands and knees to the edge while fighting not to go over herself as the ground continued to flow almost like water as it followed the tons of earth that had already gone over the edge.

Unseen by them, the larger craft headed for space. A moment later, there was a brilliant flash as the Paladin’s shields overloaded from multiple hits from Ship’s interceptors. The flash marking the demise of the Paladin ship in near space went unnoticed by the two humans struggling many miles below.

Another section broke off the trail, and Dessie was forced to jump clear or go over herself. Finally — it seemed like forever — the ground quit shaking, the rumble of falling hillside stopped and Dessie, still calling his name, cautiously made her way to where she had last seen her husband.

“Phillip,” she yelled. “Are you okay?”

Ominous silence greeted her, broken only by the sound of an occasional rock rolling down to land with a thud on dirt, or splash into the stream. The dirt she was on at the lip of the landslide shifted under her, and Dessie quickly crawfished backward. On solid ground, she hoped, she looked for a way down to her husband.

She desperately wondered if he were alive as she fought back panic when he still didn’t answer. Was he buried under that virtual mountain of dirt when the trail and a good portion of the hillside suddenly exploded out from under them? As she made her way carefully across the slide to where she hoped she could work her way down to the level of the stream, a part of her mind remembered the faint shaking of the ground they had felt a few seconds before hearing what she now suspected must have been explosions at the dams miles away.

Those things in the air weren’t aircraft as she knew them, and there was no doubt they were intent on destroying each other. Her memory brought back an image of a brilliant flash just as the earth erupted a few feet in front of her husband.

She had a vague memory of something big and black that flashed just over their head a few seconds after they heard the explosions. Then there were two other ... craft ... smaller and more streamlined, that flashed back and forth almost too fast for the eye to follow.

Forcing herself to a semblance of calm, she carefully made her way past the landslide area for another couple of hundred feet before finding a way down to the stream. The water wasn’t as deep here, and the stream was wider. Now on a narrow path that ran next to the water, she tried to hurry toward the landslide, but brush and stunted trees hindered her.

After a few more seconds, she broke out of the undergrowth to where she could see the landslide. Finally, through the trees and brush, she saw a patch of clothing and screamed out his name, but still, there was no response.

After having to stop to move limbs as she made her way on a path no more than four feet wide that ran at almost stream level, she managed to work her way past the debris. Finally, she saw Phillip lying with one leg caught in the limbs of what was left of the tree that had been on the edge of the trail.

“Phillip,” she hissed out as she forced her way past a last tangle of limbs and boulders to reach him. “Baby,” she whispered as she finally knelt by his side. “Baby, can you hear me?”

Years ago, they had read about two backpackers who had died after having fallen into a ravine. Worried that something could happen while on their trips, they had taken a six-week-long, Level One, First Aid course. Since they knew they would be backpacking in unfamiliar areas, they had taken a refresher course before coming to Germany. With money no object, they had the best backpacking First Aid package on the market.

While trying to hold back sobs, Dessie reached out a shaking hand to gently slide down the leg of his pants. When she felt the bump, her stomach threatened to rebel, but she forced herself to think instead of panicking.

Broken legs can be set, and they heal — but that’s for later, she thought as she forced herself to gently part her husband’s blood-soaked hair. Her stomach suddenly rebelled, and she turned her head to spew her breakfast onto the loose dirt beside her. When that was over, she wiped her mouth and moved a little higher up the slope so she could have a closer look at the wound that was pouring blood. At least it seemed that way to her. Scalp wounds bleed even when they aren’t that serious, she told herself, but when she parted his hair so she could see better, she knew the wound was far from being a minor one.

With shaking hands, she tried to hold an eyelid open while she blocked the light for a second before moving her hand out of the way. She repeated the procedure several times, but no matter how many times she did it, his eyes were not equally responsive to the light. The pupil in his right eye seemed slower to react, and neither of them responded as quickly as she thought they should.

At least his pulse is strong and steady, even though it is high for him. Face it, Woman. Your husband has a concussion — maybe a bad one — but I have to stop the bleeding before worrying about anything else.

While mumbling a prayer, she struggled out of her top, folded it and applied pressure to the scalp wound. As she continued to hold pressure, she ran her hand down his arms and also felt around his body. Because of the way she had to sit on the hillside, she couldn’t reach all the way down his other leg, but she was reasonably sure that his only severe injuries were the head wound and the broken leg. But ... why didn’t he awaken?

She kept calling his name, even gently slapped his face, as she continued holding pressure on the wound, but he still didn’t respond.

When the blood had slowed to just seepage, she gently moved her top out of the way and immediately had to fight back tears as she got a much better look at the jagged, five-inch wound. The area around it was already beginning to swell. Upon seeing the swelling, she realized that she would have to stitch the wound soon, or she would never be able to pull the edges together. They had practiced stitching wounds in the six-week course. She knew how, and the instructor had told her that she was good at it, but this wasn’t pretend with two pieces of material that simulated skin. It was her husband’s head with the seepage beginning to increase right before her eyes. She refolded her top and resumed pressure.

Her mind was in turmoil, and she could see the tremble in her hand as she adjusted the pressure bandage to its best advantage — training that she had never in her wildest dreams expected to use on her unconscious mate.

I’ve got to stitch that closed, or the bleeding will never stop. It might even get worse as the swelling opens the wound more, but first, I have to free his leg in case the tree moves again.

Thankful that Phillip had insisted that they always have the folding hatchet with them, she carefully cut the limb through that was holding his foot. She couldn’t let the break move, so as soon as she had the leg free, and using her belt, she carefully strapped his legs together to lesson the chance of that happening.

Cutting the limb and getting his leg free without hurting him more seemed like the hardest thing she had ever done, but finally, she had him lying on a near-flat section of ground bordered on one side by the loose dirt of the hillside and the stream on the other — the stream so close she had to move her husband’s hand or it would have been in the water.

While moving him, she tried to remember what the instructor had said, and did her best to keep his neck straight, all the while, giving Phillip a running commentary on what she was doing. She didn’t know why. He was obviously deeply unconscious, but she did it anyway.

“I’ve got to go get our first aid kit. I won’t be long, and I’ll call for help on the SAT phone while I’m back at our campsite,” she told her husband as if he could hear her.

After gently kissing his cheek, she made her way up the streambed until she could work her way back to the path.

Her mind was so worried about her husband that it seemed to take forever to get the short distance back to their campsite, then another moment to get the SAT phone out. No matter what she did, though, it insisted there was no signal. Even knowing it was useless, she dug out her regular phone, anyway, but there were no cell towers near enough for a signal.

When her regular phone couldn’t find a signal, desperate, she tried the SAT phone again, but still there was no satellite connection. With her mind screaming at her to get help, she checked the battery charge yet again and tried the SAT phone over and over while moving about the campsite, but still, there was no signal. Suddenly, she wondered about the ground shaking and the explosions they had heard in the distance. That sound has to have been explosions. Nothing else I can think of would make a sound like that. That strange craft with all the turrets was in a life and death battle that we saw just before that beam hit the hillside we were standing on. We have attended several air shows over the years. Why haven’t I ever seen anything like those things?

I need to concentrate. What am I going to do about Phillip’s unconsciousness? I don’t have any kind of medication, and I wouldn’t know how to use it if I did. And the real biggie: he can’t stay where he is. What if it starts to rain in the mountains? He would drown. Somehow, someway, I have to get his head stitched up so the wound will stop bleeding, and ... get him out of there. Why won’t he regain consciousness? she almost screamed to herself.

Frustrated out of her mind, she put the SAT phone back in its pouch, but didn’t take it with her for fear it would get damaged. After gathering up her equipment, she put everything she thought she would need in a backpack and slung it over her shoulders.

She had fervently hoped he would be awake when she got back, but those hopes were dashed.

“I’m back, Baby,” she said as she kissed him on the cheek that wasn’t covered with blood. “Baby, I’m going to have to set that leg before I can get you out of here, but first, I need to put your neck in a brace in case you injured it too.”

She had been ultra-careful when she moved Phillip to the bottom of the dirt slide, but now things were going to get even more interesting.

“Baby, this is going to hurt — probably a lot — but I have no choice.” A moment later, she removed her belt that was holding the broken leg braced against the other and split his pants to well above the knee — the razor-sharp blade easily sliding through the material with an almost hissing sound as it did so. When we get back, I’m going to hug that salesman’s neck for insisting we buy these knives, she thought as she peeled the pant leg out of the way.

They had used the SAM Splinting system in the original course and again in the re-up. Even so, she spent a few seconds rereading the simple instructions. Afterward, she unrolled the splint material before cupping it along its length to mold along his leg, then put a ninety-degree turn at the bottom to fit under his foot. The curve now prepared to match his leg, she bent the edges back along the entire length of the splint to add strength, per the instructions.

“Oh, Baby, I hope you won’t feel this, because I have to get those bones back into position, or we risk gangrene.” With unnoticed tears streaming down her face, she braced his leg, pulled gently and maneuvered the obvious break back into place. Despite his being unconscious, he let out a soft moan while she was repositioning the break. Although it had taken only a few seconds to position the break, there was sweat dripping into her eyes as she gently wound a soft bandage around the injury before applying the splint to cup around his leg. After winding a stretch bandage around the splint and leg to hold the splint in place, she again checked the alignment of the leg when compared with the other one. It looked okay, so she felt for the pulse on the top of his foot as well as the one low down on his ankle. The first smile in a while touched her lips as she realized that both pulses were strong.

Great, he has good circulation in the leg. Now for another decision. Do I wait to stitch his head wound until we’re back at the campsite — assuming I can accomplish that, or do I do it here? Whether I do it here or back at the camp, I’m going to have to destroy that beautiful hair of his.