| |
“Lauren?” Jean-René pulled at her jacket, trying to get her to stir. “Come on, Boss. Wake up.” He rolled her limp body over. “Lauren?” he repeated, this time more loudly. “Come on, dammit! Don’t do this.” His French-Canadian accent was more pronounced when he was agitated, and at the moment it was thick and brisk. “Tabernaque!” He genuflected, half-heartedly, his eyes briefly going towards the heavens; a silent plea for divine aid. He used the light to inspect her and froze when he realized she was bleeding from a gash behind her ear. “Dammit.”
He fumbled through his backpack, for the small first aid kit they all carried. He found a pack of gauze, using it to apply pressure to the gash, holding her head between his hands. It wasn’t enough.
* * *
Rowan, Chance and Bahati were breathless when they arrived. Bahati recoiled at the odor that could only be described as a sickening blend of kitty litter and beast. Rowan didn’t seem to notice. “What happened?” Rowan dropped beside his cameraman. Jean-René knelt holding a limp form in his lap, he held his hand clamped over a wound. Blood oozed from between his fingers. The tang of iron found its way to the back of Rowan’s tongue as he switched on his flashlight. He confirmed what he’d suspected when he heard his friend’s panicked cry for help. It was bad.
“I don’t know ... this thing ... maybe it was a bear ... I didn’t see it. It was so dark ... it charged us.” He started babbling in French.
Rowan narrowed his eyes at him. “Calm down.” He turned his attention to Lauren, assessing her injuries. Rowan reached for his walkie-talkie. Jean-René held her head between his hands, his bandana pressed to the side of her skull. She had a deep gash behind her ear. Blood seeped from between his fingers. “Team One to Base Camp.”
“Base Camp, over. What’s going on out there?”
“There’s been an attack. Lauren’s hurt. I’m bringing her into camp. Get my triage kit ready, set up the light towers. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“You’re going to move her?” Chance asked.
“I don’t see that we have any choice,” Rowan said. “Bahati, help me get her out of this camera rig.”
Bahati jumped into action. She loosened the clasps and peeled off the straps of the steady cam. Rowan fumbled through his field kit and found the collapsible c-collar. He used it to stabilize her neck. “Get me some more gauze,” he said. Chance found more in his kit and handed it over. Rowan placed it over the wound behind her ear, securing it with an elastic bandage until he could tend to it properly. It was the best he could do, given the circumstances.
Rowan watched the trees nervously.
“Bring the camera rig.” Rowan scooped her up. “Maybe we can see what happened to her.”
Jean-René realized he’d lost his camera when the thing darted out of the trees. He searched in the dark until he found it. He fell in with the others, pushing past Chance so as not to be last in line as they filed through the stands of aspen and pines.
* * *
Lauren stirred as Rowan lay her down on the sleeping bag laid by the fire. She moaned and pinched her eyes shut, blinded by the light-stands that flooded the area. Rowan got his first good look at her injuries. An angry red scratch spread across her face from the corner of her mouth across her nose, to the outside corner of the opposite eyebrow. He turned to the bandaging, lifting it to inspect the wound in better lighting.
“Ow!” She flinched. Rowan put a gentle hand on her chest, holding her down.
“Don’t move,” he said, soothingly.
“Oh man ...” she groaned, reaching for her throbbing head. Rowan took her hands in his. He was glad now he’d put the neck brace on her.
“Lauren,” he said. “Lay still. Let me take a look. I need to see how bad it is.”
“It feels like my scalp’s been peeled off my skull and taken my ear with it.” She drew her knees up. He removed the bandages and used fresh gauze to blot away the drying blood. She bit her lip. He could tell the laceration was deep. He also knew she wouldn’t be able to hold still long enough for him to stitch it up. Lauren was a horrible patient. He’d seen her kick a doctor in the groin once. He didn’t want her to do that to him.
“It’s not anywhere near that bad,” he lied. “I’m going to get you something for the pain.”
“Please.” She was shivering. It was a common pain-response. He needed to stabilize her.
“How’s your neck?” He asked.
“Everything hurts,” she whimpered. “Please ... do something. Hurry.”
“That’s what all the ladies say.” He mused. He patted her on the shoulder. “Give me just a second to get everything I need.”
“How bad is it?” Jean-René waited until he’d moved away to ask.
Rowan lowered his head. “The laceration is deep. She’s in a lot of pain but I don’t have anything stronger than Tylenol. It’s not going to be enough.”
“No whiskey?” Jean-René asked.
“I drank the bottle I got on the airplane,” Rowan said.
“Anyone else take anything for pain, maybe have brought some with them?” Jean-René looked around.
“Wait.” Rowan hesitated, his hand resting on the dart pistol on his hip. He turned his gaze to his patient. “I have an idea.”
“No! Rowan, you can’t be serious!” Jean-René caught his wrist as Rowan unsnapped the holster to his tranq gun.
“It’s all I’ve got.”
“Don’t do it,” Jean-René insisted. “You could kill her.”
“Rowan.” Bahati called. “You have to see this.” She brought the camera over where Rowan could see it as he knelt beside her. The team huddled around. Bahati replayed the video from the attack. The FLIR camera aimed at her face showed a kaleidoscope of colors congealing over her shoulder into a bipedal form as it charged her. Lauren’s blurred form was sent crashing to the ground, tumbling down the mountain. Violently, her skull struck a tree with a hollow thwack. The camera went dark.
Bahati set it to loop, decreasing in speed until they had frame by frame images. The images were haunting, but inconclusive.
Lauren groaned but tried to sit up so she could see. Rowan tried to sooth her, holding her down with a gentle hand. “Don’t move,” he cautioned.
“What happened? Where am I?”
“You got hit by something that knocked you down,” he said. “We’re still not sure what it was,” Rowan explained. “Lauren, you’re going to need stitches and I only have one option for pain.”
“I’ll take it. Whatever you have.”
“Whatever?”
“Anything.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “You asked for it.”