Duskwood: Love's Beginning

41 - Jayna

I was passing through Albany when my new phone received a text message from an unknown number. With a sense of Deja-Vous, I carefully opened it while trying to keep the car in the lane.

The message held only a few words: the name and address of a motel in Eugene, and a person's name: Jason Nathanson. My heart thudded painfully. Nathan Donfort was the name of Hannah, Lilly, and Jake's father.

I quickly updated my nav and discovered I was only 45 minutes away. I'd try to make it in 30 or less. There wasn't much between Albany and Eugene along I-5, so all I had to do was avoid getting pulled over.

As I parked in the motel's lot, I realized Jake hadn't given me a room number. I rushed into the office and made a beeline for the front desk. "Ja–Jason Nathanson," I said breathlessly.

The man behind the counter nodded, typing on his keyboard. "Yes, Mr. Nathanson said his wife would be coming by to pick up a key. Here you go. Room 314, stairs are to the right of the office," he explained as he ran a plastic key card through a machine before putting it into one of those ridiculous paper holders and handing it to me.

"Thanks," I responded, filing away the 'wife' reference for another time. I hit the office door at speed and sprinted toward the stairs which I took two at a time. I'm sure the clerk thought I was nuts. When I reached the third floor, I raced down the passageway to 314. I had to swipe the card twice before the light turned from red to green, my hands were shaking so much. It made a little beeping sound and I heard the lock click; I pushed down on the handle and barrelled my way inside.

The room was dark, only a sliver of light filtering through the gap in the curtains. The air conditioner was blasting but otherwise, there was no noise. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a figure sprawled across one of the two double beds. "Jake?" I whispered. "It's Jayna."

When he didn't stir, I flicked on a lamp and approached cautiously. My heart told me this was Jake. He had wavy black hair that hadn't been cut in a long time. It was currently plastered to his face with sweat. He was long and lanky, wearing a pair of black jeans and no shirt. I gasped as I saw he'd wrapped bandages around his torso, but blood was darkening the mattress beneath him.

I immediately went into triage mode. Fever, unconsciousness, open wound. Infection and possibly excessive blood loss. I could see he was breathing. I felt his pulse at his neck, his skin was clammy. His heart beat slow but steady.

At my touch, Jake jerked away, then groaned. "Jake, it's me, Jayna," I said in a quiet voice. I was trying to stay calm. "Try not to move around too much. I need to go get my medical supplies from the car, OK?"

His hand found my wrist, and stunning blue eyes looked at me dazedly. "Jayna?" he whispered, clutching at me weakly.

"Yes, it's Jayna," I repeated. "I'll be right back, OK?"

I'm not sure he heard me as his fingers slipped from my wrist and his hand flopped back onto the bed. It seemed to take everything out of him to be awake for even that short amount of time. I looked around the room for the ice bucket and grabbed it, then ran out the door. I took the stairs down, grabbed my medical bag and the small duffel with my personal items, and then took the stairs back up in record time. I stopped at the ice dispenser, filled up the bucket, and managed to juggle everything down the hall to his room.

Jake hadn't moved during that time. I turned on more lights so I could see better and quickly washed my hands in the bathroom sink. Then I opened up the medical kit and pulled some supplies out, snapping on gloves.

"Jake, it's Jayna again. I'm going to roll you on your side so I can look at your wound, OK?" He didn't respond. I folded his arms across his chest, bent his knees, and carefully rolled him so his back was facing me. "Shit," I muttered. The bandages he chose appeared to have stuck to the wound. I carefully cut them away on either side. Then I popped open a bottle of saline to moisten the bandages until they came off without too much damage.

I found he actually had two large cuts on his back. They were long and looked somewhat deep, but what concerned me more was how red and irritated they looked. Definitely infected, although just at the beginning stages from what I could tell. Also, there seemed to still be some debris in them. I used more saline to irrigate the wounds until it ran clear, the blood trickling to a stop. I decided that since they looked infected, they shouldn't be stitched so I could keep irrigating. After packing both cuts with sterile gauze soaked in more saline, I dried the surrounding area, put larger dressings over them, and taped them down. Then I pulled off my gloves and threw them in the trash along with his old bandages.

I grimaced at the blood-soaked sheets and mattress. I didn't want him laying in that, but moving him to the other bed would put a strain on his lacerations. By some miracle, there was an extra sheet in the closet. I folded it over several times and put it on top of the bloodstains.

Next on the agenda was getting his temperature down. I soaked some towels in the ice, which had started to melt while I worked. I draped them across his back, chest, and forehead. I then scrounged around and found some liquid acetaminophen that was likely there for pediatric use. I filled up a syringe and walked around the other side of the bed and neared his face. "Open your mouth, Jake. I need to give you some medicine."

His lips barely moved, but I managed to stick the syringe between them and squirted the contents into his mouth. He obediently closed and swallowed, never opening his eyes.

I paced the room thinking about what else I could do. Or even should do. I nodded decisively. New gloves. Sterilized, spiked, and prepped a bag of saline, hooking it onto the finial on top of the wall lamp nearest Jake's bed. I gently cleaned Jake's antecubital area. He was an easy stick; I backed the needle out of the catheter, flushed the line, and then hooked up the tubing and opened up the clamp.

I kept vigil over him for hours, leaving his side only to run for more ice and to buy some Gatorade from the vending machine in anticipation of him waking up. I noticed his skin wasn't so hot to the touch any longer when I changed out the towels, so I dared to slip a thermometer under his tongue to check his temperature. 100.1.

I blew out a breath. I hadn't thought to check it before, which was stupid of me. But 100.1 wasn't so bad. The saline ran out, and I clamped the line again. "Jake?" I put my hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. This time, his eyelids fluttered and then opened, clarity in his gaze. My world started spinning once more.