Primitive Weapons by David Barbur

Author:David Barbur [Barbur, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cougar Rock Press

25

“We should have done this earlier,” Tye said.

Gary grunted. He was prone on the floor with his shirt off, while Tye knelt beside him and flushed the puncture wound on his back with clean water from an irrigation syringe. The wound was deep. Tye suspected the arrowhead had stuck in Gary’s scapula. It needed stitches. They were going to have to make do with sterile strips.

“This is going to suck,” he said.

Gary grunted again.

First, the wound needed to be cleaned. Tye used the irrigation syringe to wash the wound with a liter of clean water. Then he coated the area with tincture of benzoin from his kit and tore open the container of steri-strips.

Using one gloved hand, Tye pushed the edges of the wound together. He deftly placed the strips across. The wound was closed almost as well as it would have been with stitches. The risk of the strips pulling loose was far greater than stitches, though.

“You’re going to have to be careful not to pull this open,” Tye said.

“As we make our way down a mountainous island, dodging bullets and arrows, I’ll keep that in mind,” Gary said.

Tye taped some gauze over the wound, and Gary pulled on a fresh t-shirt from his pack. “Remind me never to get shot with an arrow again.”

“Hurting?”

“Yep. We’re going to put a flask of liquor on our essential packing list, we keep this business up.”

“The storm is slowing down,” Tye said. The wind was barely audible now, and the amount of water dripping from overhead had slowed. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to walk down the mountain in the dark.”

Gary nodded. “Too steep. We’ll wind up in the bottom of a canyon, for sure. Guess we’re spending the night here.”

There was still plenty of wood left, so Tye stoked up the wood stove. He and Gary blew up thin sleeping mats, as much to keep from freezing on the cold stone floor as for comfort.

“Should we keep watch?” Kenning asked.

“Tye and I barricaded the front door,” Gary said. “But it ain’t a bad idea.”

Tye looked at his watch. “We’ve got about six hours until daylight.”

“I’ll go first,” Gary said. “I’m all woke up from being poked and prodded, then Tye, then Kenning,” Gary said.

“Wake us up right at dawn,” Gary said to Kenning. “We can pack up right quick and start our way down, assuming the weather is passable.”

Kenning nodded and burrowed into his sleeping bag.

Tye crawled into his own lightweight bag. Compressed, it took up no more room than a grapefruit. He always included it in his pack when a tracking expedition could end up with a night in the woods. His mat and bag combined weighed less than four pounds. Improvised bush shelters looked impressive on survival TV shows, but it was a miserable way to spend a night in the woods. Poor sleep would drain his energy faster than carrying the extra weight.

Given the events of the day, Tye expected to have trouble falling asleep.

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