Zachary Jernigan - No Return

The wind changed direction and the leaves shifted above her. Sunlight tried to force its way in through the shutters of her eyes. She kept it out. The inside of her head felt far too fragile to tamper with. She opened and closed her left fist in the cool sand. This movement alone took a great deal of effort, but she did not stop herself.

Stay awake , she told herself. Stay here, stay now, stay...

Her throat was raw and desiccated, as if it had been scoured with dry sand, and her right arm throbbed dully. When she tried to move it, pain flared so violently in her shoulder that she decided never to move it again. At best, it was dislocated. At worst, she was only imagining feelings below the joint, and the limb itself was drifting somewhere in the lake.

As she became more aware, the more her body ached.

Clearly, she was alive. This failed to lift her spirits.

Something approached from the left. She heard the shuff of displaced sand as it drew close.

A man.

During her fifteen years of service in the Castan Army, she had spent enough time listening to the oncoming steps of enemy soldiers. Footsteps revealed a man’s weight and height, as well as a good deal about his intentions. The man approaching her now was probably over six feet in height, well over two hundred pounds. He was not trying to be quiet. The profile fit Vedas.

Images flashed in her mind: A hammock swinging wildly, the black fabric of Vedas’s suit visible through the fishnet. Water sloshing below, rushing in through a tear in the ship’s floor, a blade of black stone jutting. A switch of perspective, her stomach rising up into her chest and promptly dropping. Sailing through the air. Out of the corner of her eye, Vedas’s hammock overturning. Blackness.

Unlikely, that both of them had made it out alive.

She took a deep breath, though her ribs ached holding it in, and simply waited. Nothing to do but wait. Were she hale, or even only partially incapacitated, she would have prepared to defend herself.

Knees dropped onto the sand beside her.

“Churls,” Vedas said.

She sighed in relief. The sound wheezed and cracked out of her like air from a dry-rotted bellows, and her fingers tightened convulsively in the sand. Her heart hammered. She did not try to speak or open her eyes, but felt her lips pull into a smile. Even that hurt. Fleetingly, she considered how much the intensity of her reaction would have bothered her if she were not injured so badly. Quite a bit, she reasoned.

“Don’t try to talk,” he said. “You’re fine. I’m going to give you something to drink.”

Unable to argue with him about moving an injured neck, she let his hand go under her head. She winced as he lifted it, but the movement did not result in additional pain or the click of broken vertebrae. Something rough and hairy touched her lips, and for a moment she fought to keep her mouth closed. She lost, and a trickle of lukewarm liquid slid down her gullet. It burned as it went, but he was slow and careful pouring. She did not choke. Eventually, she realized it was not water. The sweet taste was familiar.

She must have furrowed her brow.

“It’s coconut,” he explained. “A fruit that grows on palms. A rare treat. I remembered it from childhood.”

“Mm,” she said. He laid her head down, and a bit of light peeked in through her eyelids without killing her. She decided speech might be possible. “How?” she croaked.

She heard him sit back. “We ran aground a mile or so from Tan-Ten, and fell on our port side. The storm must have knocked us off course, right into the shallows. Maybe we were running from pirates and ran into the wind to lose them. No way of knowing, because I slept through most of it. The hold was already half full of water when I disentangled myself from my hammock.” She heard disgust and embarrassment in his voice. “The oil lamps had spilled, and fire ate at the back wall. The ship lurched against rock. It was clear that we were sinking, but I had no idea how fast. After I’d oriented myself, I noticed you floating near the entranceway. I got you out and swam here.”

Churls smiled at his understatement. “You got me out and swam here? How?”

He grunted. “With great difficulty. I can swim, but not well. If my suit didn’t provide several minutes of air, I would have drowned. I consider it a minor miracle that we made it without major injury, and I don’t generally believe in miracles. Do you feel better?”

Churls concentrated. The pain had increased, yet she did indeed feel better, more in tune with her senses. Experimentally, she turned her head from side to side, wiggled her toes, and lifted her left arm. Each movement was accompanied by its own particular pain, as if she had strained every muscle in her body. She opened her eyes a crack. The blurred outlines of palm trees swayed above her. To her left knelt the black outline of Vedas.

They appeared to be alone. This troubled her, but she could not determine why. Of course, she had more pressing concerns.

“Yes,” she assured him. “A little better. Not much. What’s wrong with my shoulder?”

He shifted. Slowly, she was able to focus on his face. He would not meet her eyes.

“What?” she asked, and lifted her head to see. Pain flared in her ribs and she dropped her head back down. “Orrus fucking Alachum! What the hell’s wrong with me?”

The weight of his hand fell on her upper chest. “Please,” he said. “Your shoulder is dislocated.”

“How did that happen?”

“I don’t know. You must have gotten knocked around before I found you.” Softly, he swore—a first, in her experience. “Never mind. I’m not being honest with you. I know why your shoulder is dislocated.”

She opened her eyes and found his. He met the stare for a second only, and then looked away. Being forced to press for an explanation would normally have bothered her, if not for the obvious fact that he was so troubled.

“Why?” she asked.

He leaned forward, cupping his chin and mouth with his right hand. His words were muted as a result, and she had to strain to hear them. “I swam as far as I could, Churls, but I still couldn’t make it. The waves were too high. I lost my direction and went under, hitting submerged rocks. I tried to grab onto a few that rose above the water, but I couldn’t get a grip. I still had air, but I couldn’t swim anymore. Too tired. The next time waves threw me against the rocks, I tried to lift your body onto them. I think it worked, because I started to sink. Alone.”

He massaged his jaw as if it pained him. He nodded, an almost imperceptible movement. “I knew I was going to die, and I didn’t care. I gave up, but you saved me.”

For a moment, she thought she had misheard. “I did what?”

He leaned forward and slipped his arm under her shoulder blades. In one smooth movement, unmindful of her protests, he lifted her into a sitting position. She had been prepared to scream, yet it never came. The pain faded so quickly she barely registered it, and he supported her in the new position while her spasming muscles calmed and the inside of her head stopped revolving.

“You pulled me from the lake,” he said softly. Warm breath on her ear. “With one arm. You grabbed my wrist and dragged me onto solid ground. You looked like you were standing on the water, but I soon realized that I had dropped you onto a flat shelf of cobbled stones. An ancient dock, worn down by the waves. I could barely see it even when I sat on it.

“My legs collapsed under me when I tried to stand, and so you dragged me behind you, all the way to shore. Your right arm flopped uselessly at your side, a result of lifting me. I kept calling to you, but I don’t think you heard over the storm and the waves.”