Isolation & Fear (Damned of the 2/19th Book Seven)

A blade, a braid, and a song

Forest
Secure Area
Alfenwehr, Western Germany
12 January, 1988 (est)
0900 Hours (est)

Bright light woke me up. It filtered through the snow, here and there dark spots where chunks of ice were between the sun and me. I groaned, moved, then cried out as my guts moved. It left me gasping and I realized the Percocets had worn off while I was asleep. It was actually hot in the shelter, water dripping from the snow. I'd turned the shiny side out sometime, so the water just ran down the outside of the emergency blanket.

NASA had developed them and DARPA had scooped them up, handed them to SOG, and I'd begged two of them. The Ranger medic had been a brunette, a nice guy with a pleasant voice. He was muscular, but young looking. God, all the Rangers looked so young to me. He'd listened to why I wanted it, showing shock when I described some of the things I'd survived. He'd given me two, telling me he'd just write them off.

I'd drifted back off to sleep despite the bright sunlight.

I jerked awake and the motion made me scream. I felt the wound tear again under all my clothing and the pressure dressing and screamed again.

Ever feel gauze packing press into a wound? Press into your body cavity? It's strange, invasive, and nauseating. It almost like a violation.

I managed to lever myself into a sitting position, blinking at the brightness. It was hurting my eyes, but I couldn't move. It took me long minutes to stabilize my breathing and keep from screaming again.

A cigarette helped. The nicotine helping with the pain and helping to push away the shakes.

you're going to die here

I pushed away the little voice, which had gotten louder, and smoked the cigarette slowly. My guts burned, but I dry swallowed two Percocet. I lit the candle again, then dug out my canteen cup. I used it to pop the thin ice crust and scooped snow into the cup, melting it over the candle. Shoving snow in my mouth would lower my body temperature and I couldn't afford that.

The bright light was making my eyes water as I waited for the snow to start melting. The canteen cup had a wire handle and I had gloves, so I waited for the water to steam before I blew out the candle and reached in my left thigh pocket.

I had a single MRE there. Chicken & Rice. A hellish combination that sat in your guts like wet cardboard and had less taste. I mixed in the creamer, Folger's instant coffee, and sugar in my canteen cup, spread the peanut butter on the chocolate covered brick, then ate slowly.

When I'd been exploring the injury it didn't feel like she'd torn through my intestines, so I'd have to risk peritonitis. I'd need the calories and carbohydrates.

I intended on walking off of this thrice damned mountain.

Even swallowing hurt my guts.

I put everything away carefully, licking the foil wrapper of the Chicken and Rice before carefully folding it up in a small square and tucking it into my aid bag.

When I got a chance, and a safe spot, I'd take another look at the wound. Use the metal foil to cover the wound if I had to.

The pain was a living thing that clawed at me as I crawled out of my shelter and into the blinding white light of daylight. I stood carefully, taking my time to straighten up. The pain left me gasping, one hand pressed against the injury. I dropped my extreme cold weather mask, but didn't care, the agony all consuming.

The sun was high enough I couldn't tell any directions but up and down.

I wanted off this damn mountain.