How do you survive being shot and left for dead in the Chihuahuan Desert? By being found by a beautiful wildlife photographer willing to risk her life to save yours.
A bitter ex-cop fights for his life after he runs to the sound of gunfire on the Ri...
The slow, low, rolling rumble of a train. Ferocious wind whistled. Mendocino opened his eyes to abysmal blackness, shaken awake by deafening claps of lightning and thunder, celestial cymbals above the mesa.
He groaned. What happened? His chest was on fire. Oh, God.
Sheet lightning illuminated the cave. He remembered where he was.
He lay still, listening as the storm roared over the mesa, wind wailing through the canyons. Rain pounded the ground inches from his face, fat drops splatting on the hard surface, splashing into his eyes. Shifting away from the spray, he cried out.
The pain. Deep inside his chest.
His forehead burned as if a thousand scorpions stung him. Did they? Mendocino reached, and winced, touching a long gash, his hair matted with dried blood.
His eyes opened wide, yet he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Another flash of lightning silhouetted the cave opening, followed by more blackness. Torrential rainfall. Water seeped into the cave, soaking his clothing.
But he was alive. Nothing hit an artery. It didn't hurt to breathe. His lungs were good.
But the pain in his chest—was mind-numbing. Inhaling the earthy dankness of the cave, he broke out in a cold sweat. He had to get out.
He couldn't see anything, yet his eyes would not be still. His scalp tightened and his skin tingled. This wasn't his sanctuary. It would be his tomb.
They weren't out there waiting for him in the dark in this rainstorm. They left him for dead. Animals would find his decaying carcass and scatter his bones across the desert floor. If he had any chance of living, he had to get out. Now, while he could.
As the storm chugged on, his eyes gradually adjusted. The downpour slowed to a drizzle. Swallowing the pain, Mendocino rolled from his side onto his back, snaking out of the tight cave.
As quickly as it had come, the storm was gone. He lay shivering on the damp earth between the cave and thorny hedge. This is it. He closed his eyes. This is how the journey ends.
He opened his eyes. No. Not here. Not now. Keep pushing.
Rising to his knees, crouching, he prepared to push past the hedge of thorns, but his knees buckled. He thudded back to the ground, groaning, moaning, rolling onto his back again. The moonless sky was cold and clear, and Mendocino saw a million tiny, twinkling stars.
***
"Hey!" Someone slapped his face. "Wake up!"
Mendocino opened his eyes. And closed them.
"Wake up!" Another slap to his cheek. "Can you hear me? Did you fall from the mesa?"
He shivered. A claw hammer pounded his head.
"Can you hear me?" It was a woman. "What happened?"
Opening his eyes, he tried to focus. "Yes." His voice, faint and hoarse, didn't sound like his own.
"You've got to get to your feet." She reached under his back, trying to lift him.
He groaned. "Stop... My chest... Fire."
"If you can get into my car, I'll get you to the hospital." She was tugging on him. "I'm so sorry. But if I don't get you to a hospital, you'll die out here. Do you want to die out here?"
Mendocino searched the darkness, trying to put a face with the voice. She was somewhere beside him. Maybe behind. Feeling her hands grip beneath his upper arm, he reached and rolled, wrapping his arms around her. She was small. He used what strength he had to get his legs under him as she lifted and stood, holding him up.
Finally, he was on his feet. Steady. She guided him several uneasy steps. "Here." She held onto his sides, steering him with small hands. "Sit down."
Gripping a door handle he turned, falling into a seat. Yellowish dome light. Soft hair tickled his face. She was wrapping something around him, reclining the seat. "Hold on," she said. "I'll get the heater going. We're getting help."
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the car begin to move.
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Theories?
Who saved Mendocino?
Have you ever been to Big Bend? The Mesa de Anguilla? What did you think of it?
