Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
J ules was unresponsive in Fish's arms. The smile he loved went slack, her body limp and lifeless. This was Fish's literal worst nightmare. Panic swept through him, his heart pounding wildly. He felt like the world was closing in around him, the serene beauty of the summit now a cruel, indifferent backdrop to his despair.
He'd gone up ahead, clearing a path to the top of the mountain for his wife, and somehow she had taken fire behind him. His mind flashed back to the battlefield. His memories were vivid and haunting. He'd run ahead of his friend and fellow soldier, only to have the bullet whizz past him, missing him by mere inches, and struck his friend instead.
The wind whipped around his head now, but to Fish's mind, it sounded like the sickening thud of the impact of a body going to the ground. He'd caught Jules before her body made impact. As he pulled her close, he looked around for the culprit. When his fellow soldier had fallen, Fish had scanned the area for the enemy gunman. Spying him hiding behind a rundown building, Fish had taken aim and with one shot, he'd taken the enemy down.
But there were no crumbling structures on the summit. There was no one else hiding behind trees or bushes. They were alone on the peak. The one who'd caused Jules harm had been him.
The alarm on her arm blared loudly, its insistent screech cutting through the stillness of the morning air. Fish's mind raced, trying to figure out what to do in this scenario. But it wasn't a wound he could bandage. They weren't under fire with the need to take cover. With all his military training, he came up empty.
This wasn’t a battlefield where he knew what to do, where the enemy was clear and the mission was defined. This was Jules—his wife—lying limp and lifeless in his arms, and he had no idea how to help her.
This was his fault. He had pushed her too hard, taken her on this hike that was too much for her, and then, like an idiot, he had given her a drink loaded with sugar. He should have known better. He should have asked. He should have... done something.
His throat tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down at her, helpless and terrified. The sound of the alarm was deafening, each shrill beep a reminder of his failure, of the danger she was in. He was supposed to protect her, to keep her safe, and now she was slipping away from him, and he didn’t know how to stop it.
He felt the urge to shake her, to do something, anything, to wake her up, but he knew better than to move her too much. His hands trembled as he fumbled for her wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was there, weak but steady. It didn’t ease the dread gnawing at his insides.
He looked around frantically, searching for help, but they were alone, miles from civilization, and there was no one to turn to. No one to tell him what to do. The reality of their isolation hit him like a punch to the gut. There was no medical kit, no one with the expertise to handle this. It was just him, and he was failing.
His mind raced, trying to remember everything he knew about diabetes, but the information felt scattered and incomplete. He was so angry at himself for not knowing more, for not being prepared for this. He should have asked her more about her condition, should have been more vigilant, but he had been too complacent, too confident that he could handle anything.
But this—this was beyond him.
He tightened his grip on her, holding her close as if he could somehow will her back to consciousness. The fear was a cold hand squeezing his heart as he looked down at her face, her features still and pale. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not because of his ignorance.
Frantically, he fumbled through Jules’ bag, searching for something, anything that could help. There was a pack of glucose tablets, a small box of sugar-free candies, and a few pre-packaged snacks—crackers with peanut butter, a small pouch of mixed nuts, and a granola bar.
Which should he choose? Wait? Was food the answer? Did she need more sugar or less? Probably less if the sugar in the drink had brought about this episode.
He caught sight of a sleek, small insulin pen. Would this do the trick? The pen felt cold and heavy in his hand, a lifeline and a threat all at once. He knew enough about diabetes to understand that insulin was crucial, but he also knew that if he administered it at the wrong time or in the wrong dosage, he could make things worse—much worse. It wasn’t like administering a bandage or disinfecting a wound; this was a delicate balance that could tip either way.
Fish stared at the pen, his mind racing. What should he do? If her blood sugar was too high, the insulin could help bring it down, but what if it wasn’t high enough? What if her blood sugar had dropped too low from the hike and the insulin pushed it even lower? He could send her into hypoglycemia, and the consequences of that were terrifying.
His gaze darted back to her monitor, the numbers flashing in a way that made his heart sink. He knew what the numbers meant in a general sense, but they felt like a foreign language right now, impossible to decipher in his panicked state.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. He couldn’t afford to get this wrong. The wrong move could cause her more harm, maybe even… No, he couldn’t think like that. He had to keep his head clear, but the fear was overwhelming, clouding his thoughts.
Time dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, his touch gentle but his heart in turmoil. He felt the dampness of his own sweat mixing with the cool air; the contrast jarring. He felt like he might pass out beside her.
But he couldn’t. He had to get her to safety, to help. Desperation sharpened his focus. In the end, he realized there was only one decision.
Fish reached again into Jules’s bag. When his fingers found what he was looking for, he thumbed the device to bring it to life. He scrolled through the contacts of Jules' phone until he found the person he was looking for. There was only one person who could help her now, even though it was the last person he ever thought he’d reach out to.
He hesitated for a moment, the name glowing on the screen like a lifeline. Then he pressed the call button. The phone rang loudly in the oppressive silence of the forest.
Finally, there was a click, and a familiar voice answered, laced with irritation. "Jules? You finally come to your senses?"
Fish’s throat tightened. "Amari, it's Fish. I need your help."