Karina Halle - Donners of the Dead

Now Jake and I were hunkering down, wrapped in animal skins. He promised me he would keep watch, and as much as I wanted to help him, to tend to his wounds the best I could and make him better, I couldn’t. He didn’t have any alcohol for the pain and my body pulled me into sleep. Even fear couldn’t keep my eyes open. Not this time.

I woke up at the crack of dawn, my head nestled against Jake’s shoulder. He was awake but barely. He looked so terrible that I felt like crying. His skin was greenish white and clammy, his forehead feverish to the back of my hand.

“Jake,” I whispered, trying to get him to look at me. I brought his chin toward mine with my fingers.

He tried to smile but failed. His eyes were drooping shut and unfocused. I looked down at his arm and nearly dry-heaved. His jacket and shirt sleeve underneath had completely burned away, leaving his skin raw and exposed. It was a black and pink mess of burned and blistering flesh.

I put my hand to my mouth. “Jake. No. We have to fix you, now.”

I went for the pack but remembered I had used the last of the first-aid supplies on his shoulder, another thing we probably had to worry about.

He shrugged out of my grasp. “No, Eve, no. We have to go.”

He tried to get up but swayed unsteadily.

“But the burn,” I said. “It’ll probably lead to an infection.”

He gave me a lazy but pained glance. “Darlin’, you saved my life back there. It won’t be for nothing. I promise you that. We’ll get ourselves to River Bend. It’s not far now. And we’ll get ourselves both fixed up.”

As much as I wanted to argue with him, I knew that I couldn’t. He was right. Unless I found a natural healing agent such as wild honey, which was impossible at this point, we couldn’t do a thing. It tore me up inside—yes I did save his life, but it was my fault for missing in the first place. If I had just shot properly, the monster would have died and Jake would have survived unscathed.

This time I carried the pack, the axe, and the rifle. As dirty and tired and hungry as I was, I wasn’t about to let him shoulder all the weight.

We went off into the woods, at first walking as fast as we could, but over time Jake grew tired. His pace slowed, his long legs tripping him up. A few times he started to pitch one way or the other, and it took all of my minute strength to keep his massive body from both falling to the ground and crushing me.

We were moving into new terrain, I could feel it in the air around me. The smell of sweet pine and decaying leaves, the freshness to the ground that was untouched by snow and sprinkled with light rain. The ground beneath our feet became more level and the path wider. The carved-in ruts of wagons appeared. Here and there I could make out horse tracks in the dirt, some of them even heading in our direction. There was no time to check on how fresh they were though, there was only time to get us home.

It was early afternoon when Jake collapsed.

I wasn’t positioned well enough to get a good hold on him. He buckled to his knees and then fell face forward with a thump.

“Jake!” I screamed, and dropped to the ground beside him. He was completely motionless—dead weight.

Frantically, I tried to turn him over but he was too heavy. I put my fingers to his neck, and despite him being cold as stone, I could find a faint pulse. He was alive but that barely did anything to abate the pinch in my heart. How was I going to get him out of here? How could I make him better?

He was going to die out here from the burn and I was going to be forced to watch. It wasn’t fair. After everything, it wasn’t fair.

I spied the trees alongside the path and put my pack and weapons down over there. Then I went back over to Jake. I would drag him over to the tree and sit him up with what little resolve I had left.

I grabbed under his shoulders and tried to pull, both sorry and relieved when he gave out a small moan of pain.

Then I froze.

The quiet snap of a branch behind me.

Oh dear Lord, no.

I eyed the weapons that were so close and yet so far and slowly turned around, afraid to let go of Jake.

An Indian man was standing in the trees, his bow raised and arrow aimed right at me.

I didn’t know what to do. The man just stared at me, his eyes yielding nothing. He kept the arrow pointed in my direction. He was obviously Paiute but wasn’t one of the two men we had met on our way up.

“Please help me,” I said in English before trying to find the word in Paiute. I could only say “Please.” I hoped the pleading in my eyes and the futility of the situation would be enough to convey the rest.

I waited, holding my breath, not wanting to let go of Jake if this was to be the end. I’d never been so afraid of my own kind before, but then I’d never had an arrow aimed at me. I wished more than anything that my father was here.

Finally, the man lowered the arrow. He turned around and walked back into the forest until he was swallowed by the trees.

I watched and waited, thinking he would come back and shoot me. Then I was afraid he wouldn’t come back at all. He could help heal Jake better than I could.

I carefully placed Jake’s upper body back on the ground and took off into the trees after the man. I ran, tripping over roots, my hair wild in my face, as I searched for him. Despite the cowhide smell from his clothes, I couldn’t track him, couldn’t follow his path. I turned around, feeling lost and trapped, and realized I was alone and had left Jake undefended.

I began to panic and tried to follow my tracks back the way I came, my senses warped and frayed. Just when I thought I was following the right trail, I heard another snap behind me.

I whirled around and waited, my breathing short and tense, my nerves fried. I felt like something was watching, but who? The man? Or something else?

“Hello?” I said, trying to sound forceful. “Is anyone there?” I tried to repeat the same thing in Paiute as best I could.

Only silence. Was there an arrow to my head or was it all in my imagination?

I breathed in deep, expecting to find traces of rotten death in the air but instead there was something else. Something I’d smelled before yet couldn’t place for the life of me. My heart was racing too fast, the whoosh of my blood too loud in my ears for me to pick up anything but my own fear and desperation.

Another snap came rattling through the deep woods.

Then another.

In the shadows something was moving, coming toward me at a steady pace.

I had no weapons. I had nothing.

With my heart in my throat, I turned around to flee.

“Eve?”

Someone called my name.

Not just any someone.

I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

Stepping out from between the pines were the two Indian fellows I had originally met, the ones that looked the same. They had their hands raised in peace with concerned looks on their faces.

And behind them was a tall white boy with golden hair.

“Avery!” I cried out, unable to believe it. I blinked a few times before I started running toward him. He ran to me and caught me just as my legs gave out, my whole body succumbing to the relief and exhaustion.

“Careful,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not one hundred percent yet.”

“You’re alive,” I sobbed into his chest as he held me up. “How are you still alive?”

“With a little help,” he said. “But we’ll get to that later. Where is everyone else?”

I shook my head. “There is no one else. There’s only Jake and I. I had to leave him when I saw the other Indian. He needs help, Avery. His arm is burned. I think it’s infected and killing him.”

He patted my head. “If you want these Indians to fix him, they can.”