Tread Fearless: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 4) (35 page)

John heard a heavy thud and a muffled groan, but it was Bonnie’s voice that woke him from his deep and dreamless sleep. “Pete!” she gasped, as she attempted to restrain her concern for her husband. Her voice came from the other side of the van, beyond the dropped bales and the hay-covered tarp above them. John sat up and touched Jenna lightly. Her air mattress squeaked rudely as she rolled over to face John. “What’s wrong, honey?” she whispered.

“Something’s going on with Pete. I heard Bonnie call him,” John whispered in reply. He began to extract himself from his sleeping bag while reaching for his boots.

“Something bad?” she asked, concerned, and in a voice well above a whisper.

In the light of a dimmed LED lantern, John saw a few nearby sleeping bags move in response to Jenna’s concern. He whispered, “Shhh,” and said, “I don’t know. I’ll be right back. I love you.” And then he kissed her forehead tenderly. Jenna air-kissed him in reply, and immediately rolled over while pulling her sleeping bag up around her chin.

When John finished tying his boots, he grabbed his pistol belt and flashlight, and made his way carefully to the entrance of the tarp covered shelter. As he cleared the entrance, John nearly collided with Corbin who was about to enter. Shocked and surprised, Corbin stepped back and almost fell against a bale, but John grabbed his arm to steady him. “Corbin, it’s me. Are you alright?” he said, as he balanced the young man on his feet.

“Sorry, Mister A. Yeah. Pete’s been hurt,” replied Corbin. “I was just coming to get you.”

“What do you mean, hurt?” asked John. “Give me a full report,” he added, as they made their way around the shelter to the north end of the hay barn.

Corbin was breathing heavy, and John had a hard time understanding him when he said, “He was climbing up the hay and, I don’t know, he fell. He’s not waking up, Mister A. And Bonnie’s crying.” He was clearly agitated, and trying very hard to stay in control of his emotions. John knew Corbin had grown very fond of Pete, and that he was very upset and worried about the man who had become his new father, by fate, if not necessity.

John stopped. He put a hand on Corbin’s shoulder and said, “Calm down. You said he’s unconscious?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Corbin.

“You know Pete’s combat medic bag, the green one in the truck?” asked John.

“Yes, sir.”

“Go get it and bring it to me. I’ll be with Pete. And try to be quiet. I don’t want you to wake everyone else up,” said John, firmly but tenderly.

“Okay. Right,” answered Corbin, and he turned and walked quickly away.

John found Pete lying on the ground about ten feet from the edge of the hay. He was nearly in the middle of the barn, between the two, tall walls of hay bales. Bonnie was laying over him, crying on his chest. John looked up and calculated the distance of Pete’s fall, and reasoned he must have fallen from the top, some thirty feet high.

He gently grabbed Bonnie’s shoulders and said, “Bon, dear, I need to look at him.”

“He’s dead!” she snapped.

John knelt and pressed two fingers against the side of Pete’s neck. At first he thought she was right, for nothing seemed to pulse under his touch. But then, faintly, he felt a pulse. He then put an ear to Pete’s nose
and waited. He was also breathing on his own, though it too was very weak. “No Bonnie. He’s alive. Now get off him so I can work. His pulse is very weak, and he might be bleeding internally. You laying on him isn’t helping.”

That got her attention, and she quickly pushed away to sit on her legs next to him. “What can I do to help?” she asked, as she wiped her eyes.

John lifted Pete’s eyelids and checked his pupillary response. His eyes were good, or at least responsive to the light, which told John that his friend probably wasn’t suffering from a traumatic head injury. He returned the flashlight to Bonnie and said, “Hold this up high so I can check him for breaks.”

Bonnie accepted John’s flashlight and stood over him. “Why won’t he wake up?” she asked, as the light wavered in her hand.

John ignored her as he concentrated on examining Pete for broken bones. Corbin arrived with the medic bag and asked, “What do you need me to do now, Mister A?”

“Go wake up Adam,” said John, as he began to check Pete’s neck and head, “and have him help you with the watch. Then resume your position until relieved,” he added.

Corbin left without another word, and Bonnie asked again, “Why won’t he wake up?”

“Bonnie . . . I need your help. Please let me work on him. I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I know. Okay?”

“I love him, John. You know that, right?” she moaned.

“Yes, Bonnie. I know you love him,” replied John, as he moved his hands down Pete’s body, checking for other possible breaks or dislocations. Finding nothing amiss, all that remained to check was Pete’s spine, but John wasn’t thrilled about checking it. The spine, he knew, was a funny thing, so instead of rolling Pete over, he decided to let him lay flat until he regained consciousness.

John held out his hand for the flashlight and said, “Go get a cold, wet cloth for his forehead.” Bonnie handed him the light and left, and John studied his face more closely. He saw eye movement, and slapped
his cheeks lightly but firmly. When Pete didn’t respond, John turned his attention to Pete’s medic bag.

After opening the main zipper, John laid the bag open and began scanning the contents for an ammonia inhalant. John wasn’t sure if they were in a box, or placed individually within. He didn’t know the contents of Pete’s medic bag, and vowed to change that. He searched for the small, white, cotton covered ampules, and was forced to open the other zippered compartments of the well-stocked bag of emergency medical supplies. He was beginning to think Pete didn’t even have smelling salts in his bag, when he finely found them.

The ammonia inhalants were in a small green box. John quickly opened it, removed one of the ampules, crushed it, and then held it firmly under Pete’s nose. Pete immediately coughed and tried to sit up. “Easy there, Pete,” said John, as he rested a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve taken a fall, and I need you to lie still until I can finish checking you over for damage.”

“I fell?” asked Pete. Then, “I guess I did, didn’t I.”

“You remember falling?”

“Yeah,” said Pete, as he rubbed his forehead. “And I’ve got a splitting headache.”

“Bonnie’s coming with a cold compress,” replied John, as he zipped up the medic bag. “You want some aspirin?”

“I wish you didn’t wake me,” replied Pete quietly, almost mournfully.

“What do you mean?” asked John, surprised. He leaned over his friend, and with the edge of the light from his flashlight, he looked more closely at Pete’s face. He was pale, and a little clammy, but otherwise fine.

John figured he was probably going into shock, so he stood and lifted Pete’s legs to slide the medic bag under him. But Pete moved his legs aside and said, “I’m fine, John. I’m not going into shock. My back’s fine too. But I would like to lie here for a minute.”

“Okay. Sure. But why did you say you wish I didn’t wake you?” asked John.

At that same moment, Bonnie returned with the wet washcloth. When she saw Pete’s open eyes, she cried and threw herself on him again and said. “You scared me to death, Peter! I thought I lost you!”

“It’s okay Bonnie, I’m fine,” said Pete, and he stroked her back. “I’m fine, sweet potato.”

She laughed, hit him once playfully on the chest, and resumed her crying. John stood as Corbin and Adam appeared. He looked at the two young men and said, “He appears to be fine now. Adam, can you cover for Pete? At least until he can stand up?”

“Sure, dad,” replied Adam, as he looked quizzically at the scene around him. He apparently figured out what was going on without asking a single question, and that impressed John.

“I’m fine, Adam,” said Pete. “I’ll take my watch. Go back to bed.”

“Nonsense,” said John. “You need to rest. You may feel fine now, but you’ll feel it soon enough.”

“Yes. Please listen to John. Let me help you to your bed,” insisted Bonnie, as she held Pete’s hand in her own.

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. I’ll make it up to you Adam,” said Pete, as he began to sit up. A wave of vertigo washed over him and he saw stars, but he let his head clear before attempting to move again. With John and Bonnie’s help, he regained his feet and stood. Once up, Pete was able to walk around without support, but Bonnie wasn’t interested in letting go of him.

“I’m sorry to cause such a problem,” Pete said to everyone. He then turned to John and said, “We’ll talk later, boss. I think I’ll go take that aspirin now,” and he turned and headed back to the shelter with Bonnie under his right arm.

John ended up sending Corbin to bed a short time later. He and Adam agreed to pull the graveyard shift up to the morning wakeup, but then John decided to send Adam back to bed an hour later. As he
strolled around the perimeter alone, his head swimming with countless thoughts and ideas, John somehow managed to remain alert. But Pete’s fall troubled him. He had come to rely on his friend, and tried to imagine moving forward without him. Things would be a lot harder without Pete. Actually, John corrected himself, things would be a lot harder without any of them. They were one big family, tied together in a tight bond of survival and enduring hardship.

Once, while passing along the eastern side of the hay barn, John thought he heard the sound of a distant helicopter, but he couldn’t be sure. With the north wind blowing steadily, and the occasional sharp gust that sent loose hay skidding along the ground, white noise filtered out all but obvious mechanical sounds. Two cars had passed earlier, separate, almost an hour apart, and he wondered who they were, and where they were going?

Everything seemed strange now, distant and alien, as if they were on another planet. Everything looked normal, but it felt off. As if the air itself was changing people, turning them against each other. John breathed deeply and caught a slight hint of the nearby cattle. The septic smell of their waste was carried away from them, but it was strong, and persisted despite the wind. He figured the owner would be by tomorrow to check on them, and it would be good to be gone before that happened. The less interactions with strangers, the better.

The yelp of a lone coyote brought John back to the present and he considered yelping a reply. He was pretty good at imitating coyote yelps, but it wasn’t a good idea now, where they were, with the company asleep and all. Yelping would only disturb and concern them. He heard footsteps and turned. John heard a subtle tongue-click before he turned and knew it was Pete. It was his subtle way of saying he was near. They used it before, while hunting, as a way to let the other know they were near. The sound made him smile and wish they were hunting, instead of running.

“What are you doing up?” asked John, in a voice just above a whisper.

“I can’t sleep my life away,” answered Pete.

“Feeling any better?” asked John, as he turned to face his friend.

“Still have a headache, but yeah. I’m fine. I mean, I’m sore, and my back hurts, but I’m fine. Just glad there wasn’t a rake laying down there.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” asked John.

“Lost my footing I think. It happened so fast. One second I was standing at the top, and the next I was falling to the ground. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think I was pushed,” answered Pete.

“Pushed?”

“I know it sounds odd, but that’s what it felt like.”

“Where was Corbin?”

“He was already in his position. I was alone. Bonnie, too. She wasn’t anywhere near me.”

“Glad it wasn’t Bonnie,” teased John.

Pete grunted a chuckle and looked around. “Anything happening?”

John ignored the question and pressed the point most important to him. “I’m glad you’re not incapacitated. This would be a tough mission without you,” said John.

“I love you too, brother. But it will take more than that to put me out of the fight,” replied Pete.

“Now that you mention being out, if I recall, you were a little bothered that I revived you.”

“Hmmm. Yeah, about that,” replied Pete, as he propelled John forward to resume his walk. A light touch to his back put him in motion, and after a few steps Pete said, “Something happened to me when I was out.”

“I thought so,” said John. “You were under, and I was surprised when you didn’t respond to my slaps.”

“You slapped me?” replied Pete, more amused than concerned.

“Well . . . yeah. I was trying to revive you. But I think you were busy.”

Pete grunted and said, “Busy? Yeah, I like that. I guess I was busy.” He then cleared his throat and said, “I saw Eli again.”

“Really. That’s interesting,” replied John.

“I saw you, too,” added Pete.

“You saw, me?” asked John, and stopped walking. He faced Pete again and pulled the zipper up on his jacket while waiting for Pete to continue.

“Well, that’s the thing. I was . . . I don’t know, caught up in some kind of dream, or vision, or something. I still don’t understand it all. Eli gave me a few clues, but it was really weird.”

“I’m listening,” said John, and he turned to walk, knowing it would make it easier for Pete. His friend always preferred walking while talking, and John liked to oblige him.