I shine my flashlight around as he slowly sits up, nursing his broken arm. His eyes round.
“How fast is it rising?”
“Faster than I’d like.” I shine my light toward the inclined side to see what we have to work with. We don’t have much space to move up in the little carved out space. Some of it is rock, some of it mud. I grab my pack and pull out another long sleeve flannel button up to make a makeshift sling for his arm. We work together to get him all settled, taking mini breaks to let him breathe through the pain. I’m glad he didn’t break an ankle. I check my phone again when we finish. Still no service. It’s a little after twelve. I stand, climbing as far up the incline as I can get. A little snake slithers by, and I cringe, letting out a disgustedsound. I freaking hate snakes. He’s not poisonous at least. I get a bar!
“I’m trying Mark!” I yell emphatically. I push the speaker button so that I can keep the phone up high. The connection is crackly, but he answers.
“Colin?! Holy shit, man! I was scared! You guys okay? Can you hear me? Help’s on the way!”
“We’re okay, but the water’s rising down here! Trystan has a broken arm and a likely concussion, but hopefully mild. I’m not sure how long we were both out for.”
The connection is bad. I don’t know what he heard, or if he heard anything at all. The call drops. At the very least, he knows someone is alive down here. I sigh with a little relief. Help is coming. I think of Sydney, hoping their storms weren’t as bad, hoping she’s okay. Man, she’s going to lose it if something else goes sideways tonight. I’m not going to think that way though. We’re all, for the most part, okay. We’re all alive. Help is coming.
I feel Trystan scooting closer to me. When I turn my flashlight back toward the water filling the immediate area, my stomach drops.Shit, shit, shit.Thunder overhead rumbles again, signaling the sky to open back up and start crying again. Beyond the reach of my light, I can make out the runoff of rainwater just pouring over the side we fell in like a waterfall. This is definitely not good. The water has started to lap at Trystan’s boots.
“So, just how bad do you think this place floods?” Trystan tries to lighten the mood with a worried smidge of laughter, but it’s not working. He won’t be able to tread water with a broken arm very well. I start looking for roots that will maybe be something he’ll be able to hold onto if it comes to that. I don’t know if we’re tall enough for me to lift him up to try to climb out. I find one and examine it to make sure that it’s one: not a snake, and two: secure. It seems pretty stuck.
“How do you feel about me trying to push you up to climb out? There’s a good, stable root here to hang on to and maybe get some leverage.”
“And what, leave you down here by yourself? Not a fucking chance. Mark’s on his way with help.” I grit my teeth, hating every bit of this, and level my eyes with his.
“Trystan, man, what if this rain doesn’t let up and it really starts to fill up in here?” Case in point, the water is at our ankles now. “We only have so long before you have to make that choice. I can tread water. You, with that broken arm? That’s not going to work so hot, and you know it as well as I do. We have no idea how much longer it’ll be before help can get here. We likely aren’t the only ones in the area that need help. Hell, there may be trees down, blocking a road.” The idea has a chill crawling up my spine, along with the cold water. I’m not so worried about treading. I’m more worried about the exposure to the cold water.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“This water is going to get really fucking cold too.”
“I’ve been in worse conditions,” Trystan grits his teeth.
“With significant injuries that can impede your ability to adapt to the worsening conditions? How’s that head feeling?” His pupils aren’t different from each other, so that’s a good sign.
“Of course I have a fucking headache. I’m sure yours isn’t too much different!” he spits back at me. He’s getting testy, but I understand it. He’s working on coping, and trying to decide what the fuck to do all while in a shitload of pain with that broken arm and whatever his head’s feeling like. I seriously think he took the harder hit though.
“I might need you to shoot off the flare gun if things start getting rough, and we need help to get here faster. It’s possible if I get you out of here that you can get to Mark and maybe between the two of you, you guys can pull me out somehow. We don’t know how long it’ll be for help to get here. There mightbe something in the truck that your training will recognize as helpful that Mark might not notice.
“You make a good point. Fuck! I don’t want to leave you down here alone!”
“Better now while we still have time to consider options than when the water’s higher.”
I see the resignation wash across his eyes. I sigh in relief. This gives us more options. We have to try.
“I hate when you’re right.”
“Tonight, I hate it just as much, but we gotta try. I can worry about myself if it’s just me. I can’t worry about you too. If this place fills, I will have to tread and handle exposure symptoms with a possible mild concussion. I don’t know if I’d be able to keep you afloat and worry about all your injuries too. Don’t put me in that position if there’s a chance we can get you out and possibly avoid it altogether with both your guys’ asses finding a way to haul me out.
“Okay. Let’s do this.” Trystan blows out a breath and scrubs his good palm against his shirt and pants, hoping it will give him a better grip. He eyes the water creeping halfway to our knees, and a new wash of determination crosses his features. I see his hardened soldier mode click into place. Fuck, I’d hate to be an enemy facing him in the dark streets in the cover of night. I’m damn glad he’s on my side.
“You’ve got this.” I nod, encouraging him. His piercing eyes flitter between mine for a second before he nods back.
We work together, trying different angles and grips for footing. It’s definitely a challenge with only one good arm. I’ve already had to catch him twice. On the fourth try, he senses that we have a really good footing. He hollers that he has the root really well and that he’s going to need me to let him stand fully on my shoulders. He gets that other foot up there and tells me to slowly rise from my squat. I am extremely thankful to be mywhole six foot self. Trystan has an inch on me. This is good. I concentrate with everything I have and begin to rise, trying not to wobble at all.
“You think you got this?” I grit through my teeth? Damn, he is a tank. All lean and hard muscle, but a fucking beast.
“Don’t jinx it,” he grits back. “Are you fully standing yet? My head’s above ground! The hard part is getting out one-armed! Get me as high as you can.”
“Almost there! I know it’s dark, but can you see anything that you could grab onto up there? Do the roots extend above ground near that tree to your left?” I know roots spread out far. Is that tree even close enough? I can’t remember. He groans and lets out a feral growl as he hooks the broken forearm over the root, using his shoulder strength while his good hand is feeling around up top.
“It’s fricking slick as hell up here!”
