Chapter 18

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                                                            ****

            Once inside the trailer we set Brad down on the sofa, his arm over the table in front of him. My mother had an oddly sullen expression on her face as she assessed the slowly worsening wound. "How bad is it?" I questioned. It looked bad, but in medical terms, it may have been as minor as a cold.

            She bit her lip, "well, it isn't good." That was all she said before she ran to the front of the trailer grabbing a small white first aid kit with the signature red-cross labeled over the front. She popped it open and I sat down beside Brad, holding his arm to stop him from shacking. My eyes were still examining the wound so I didn't notice as his hand moved from being beneath mine, to being hand in hand. He held my hand, then our eyes met and he squeezed it tight.

            "For the pain." He murmured, looking away and watching as my mother grabbed out some alcohol.

            "Wow!" Brad said, standing up, his hand still in mine, "where are you putting that, woman?" He asked worriedly. I grabbed his shoulder with my other hand and lowered him back into his seat.

            "It'll be over soon." I whispered.

            "What do you think I'm doing with it? You were in a hole in the ground that's been abandoned for fifty years, I am cleaning out the cut."

            He sighed, holding my hand tighter, squeezing his eyes shut. "One...two.." she didn't even make it to three, she started pouring.

            Brad let a small scream leave his lips and he held my hand even tighter than before, causing me to yelp in pain. He lightened his grip, however. "That wasn't fun." He said finally.

            My mother gave him a side ways smile, "you don't like that? You're going to hate what comes next."

                                                                ****

            He looked up at her, his eyes wide. It was as if she was torturing him against his will, "what comes next?" He asked seriously. The air seemed to fall flat, stagnant like a mosquito infested pound in late spring.

            She looked away, then back at the two of us, "well, we can't leave the bone out like that. That could cause infection. We need to do something about that." She was beating around the bush, I could see it in her eyes.

            "Ok, so get some gauze and lets wrap this baby up." Brad concluded half heartedly, knowing that wasn't what our mother had in mind.

            "No, that won't work cause right now the bone is sticking out, stopping blood flow to your arm. That means if we wait three days to put your arm back together you could loose it."

            "So what's our options, than?" Brad asked, his voice came out stern. I wasn't used to such a serious tone, such a mature tone.

            "We don't have many..."

            "What do you have to do? Tell me!" Brad yelled, smashing his good hand onto the table.

            My mother took a deep breath, "we need to put the bone back under the skin, but doing that without anesthetic...it will hurt."

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