Chapter 20 #2
Just as I’m gathering myself up to attempt the hill, I have a mini brainstorm.
What if I tear some strips of fabric from my shirt to wrap around my hands?
And could I use more fabric along with some branches to make a splint for my ankle?
I’ve seen people do that in movies, and though I know it’s made up, the idea had to come from somewhere, right?
Except in the movies, the fabric seems to tear a lot easier. But either I’m the world’s weakest person or my shirt is made from industrial-strength cotton, because no matter how hard I yank on the dumb shirt, nothing happens.
Once I finally give up, I look back at the hill and sigh. Bare skin it is. On the bright side, at least, I won’t emerge from the woods with half my shirt torn off, like I’m trying to recapture the crop-top days of my twenties.
Before I start crawling, I decide to make one last hopeful call for help.
I’ve already tried at least a dozen times, but apparently, I’m too deep into the woods for anyone to hear me.
Still, before I set out on a trek that’s sure to be painful, there’s nothing lost in yelling for help one more time.
So I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and—
“Melissa!”
From somewhere above me, Tyler’s voice rings out. “Mel!” he shouts. “Mel! Are you here? Call out if you can hear me!”
I would. I want to. But at the sound of his voice, I immediately burst into relieved tears.
“Mel!” he shouts again. This time it’s more frantic. Fearful. “I’m coming for you! If you can make a sound, any sound—”
Swallowing back my sobs, I manage to choke out, “Tyler!” But it’s not nearly as loud as I’d like it to be.
Fortunately, Oscar doesn’t have the same issue. Hearing Tyler so close, Oscar’s tail turns into a blur. He lets out several sharp, impatient barks, like he’s saying to Tyler, What took you so long?
“Oscar!” Tyler calls. “Oscar, buddy! Bark again so I can find you!”
I can hear Tyler getting closer. Unlike how he usually moves, he’s making no attempt to keep quiet. Instead, his steps crunch across broken branches as he runs towards me.
More loudly this time, I call out, “Tyler! I’m here!”
“Mel!” His footsteps draw closer. Leaves rustle. Stones skitter. “I can’t see you! Where—”
“I fell down the hill. I’m by the stream.” For some reason, I try to scramble to my feet. Which is stupid, because I’ve already tried that and failed, and all I end up doing is hurting myself yet again.
When I yelp in pain, Tyler curses. “Shit! Don’t move. I’m coming. I’ll just—” The rustling of leaves gets louder. “Just don’t move, Mel. Don’t hurt yourself more.”
“I’m okay,” I lie. “It’s not that big of a hill. It’s just my ankle. I must have—”
But Tyler’s appearance at the top of the hill steals the rest of my words.
Panic is written all over his features.
His clothes are smudged with dirt, and I’m pretty sure there are a couple of leaves stuck in his hair.
He looks more rattled than I’ve ever seen him.
Not just rattled. Scared.
“Mel,” he gasps as soon as he sees me. “Ah, baby. Shit. Shit.”
“Oscar saw a squirrel,” I explain. When Oscar turns at the sound of his name, I reassure him, “It’s not your fault, Oskie. I told you that. I should have been paying attention.”
Tyler grimaces. “Shit, Mel. I’m sorry. I should have gone—” He stops. Shakes his head. “Never mind. It’s not important right now.”
“I dropped my phone when Oscar was dragging me. Or I would have called for help.”
“Of course.” Tyler pats his pocket. “I’ve got it. That’s how I found you.”
As he starts working his way down the hill, the sun comes back out. A ray filters through the canopy of trees and glints off the sleek metal of his prosthetic. It reminds me of how easily he could fall, too, and I quickly call out, “Wait. It’s too steep. Maybe just get a rope—”
But he pays me no mind. “I’m fine,” he insists. “I’ll be there in a second.”
Then, in a descent a mountain goat would envy, Tyler practically bounds down the hill, using the trees as handholds to slingshot himself along. As soon as he hits level ground, he races over to me and crouches by my side.
He winces as his gaze roves across my face and body. “Ah, baby.”
“I’m okay,” I insist.
Tyler shoots me an incredulous look. He touches my forehead, then pulls away fingers wet with blood. “You’re bleeding.” If possible, he looks even more worried. “Did you lose consciousness? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Seeing double?”
“No, I just felt dizzy for a second. But it’s gone now.” I also have a throbbing headache. But I’m not mentioning that.
He carefully takes my hands in his and inspects them. “Oh, Mel. Your hands.”
“The trees.” I angle my head in the direction of the hill. “I tried to grab onto them to slow myself down. But it didn’t work.”
Pain twists Tyler’s features. He cups my cheek with his hand, and I instinctively lean into it. “I’m sorry. So damn sorry.”
I blink at him, surprised by his apology. “For what?”
“I shouldn’t—” He stops. “I need to call the guys. Tell them I found you. I’ll have Indy meet us here, then we’ll get you to the doctor…” His focus turns to my obviously swollen ankle, which is dark red and twice its usual size. “Oh, Mel. Shit. Your ankle.”
Before I can respond, he yanks his phone from his pocket and jabs at the screen. A second later, he barks, “I found her. At the bottom of a hill in the northeast quadrant. I’ll send you my pin. Tell Indy we need the medi-kit. Injured ankle, she’s all cut up—” His voice breaks. “Just hurry.”
As soon as he ends the call, Tyler turns his attention back to me. “I don’t want to move you in case you have injuries I can’t see. But once Indy gets here, he can check you out. See if I can carry you, or if we need to get a stretcher out here.”
He strokes my cheek. His expression is anguished. “I’m so sorry, Mel. I never should have let you go off like that. I should have gone with you. I was all in my head, and I acted like such an idiot.”
“An idiot?” I parrot.
“Yes.” He grimaces. “Everything I said. About South Carolina. And New York. And finding a damn job on the East Coast. I didn’t mean any of it.”