True North

Chapter 41

Stormy felt an odd sense of disconnect as the ground gave way beneath Brian's feet, sending him flailing backwards through the air over the rocky embankment beneath the bridge. She didn't hear her own scream, was unaware of her own voice calling his name as she ran to the end of the bridge, was oblivious to the sharp edges that dug into her skin as she kicked off her shoes and skittered barefoot down over the slope, her eyes frantically searching the shadows below for any sign of him. She slipped, momentarily wedging her foot in the space between two rocks, which slowed her up just enough to quell the panic that was coursing through her veins. Snapping her leg in two would do nothing to help Brian, and at the moment he was her only concern. Taking a deep breath, she paused to scan the riverbank until she finally spotted him lying in a heap in the dark shadows beneath the bridge. Stormy got to him as quickly as the uneven terrain would allow, falling to her knees beside him just as he began to stir.

"Oh, my God!" she cried, not daring to touch him. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Don't move—I'll go get help!"

"No, wait," Brian croked, wincing as he pushed himself up to a seated position. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Stormy pressed, because he didn't seem 'fine'. His breathing was labored, and a fine mist of sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip as he struggled to right himself. He cried out suddenly, clutching his left side as he winced again in obvious pain. He cursed under his breath, and Stormy looked desperately up at the bridge overhead, wondering if anybody was up above, and if they would hear her should she decide to call out.

"Don't," Brian pleaded, as if reading her thoughts. "I'm okay, really. I just need a minute..."

Stormy felt completely useless as he struggled to get up. She tried to lift him up from behind, slipping her hands under his arms, but she jumped back when he cried out again. Tears sprang up behind her eyes and she kneeled helplessly beside him, not trusting herself to touch him again as she uttered frantic and profuse apologies.

"It's okay," he promised, offering her a weak smile. "I just need to—OW!"

Brian suddenly clutched his leg, and that was when Stormy saw the blood. She hadn't noticed it before because his leg had been bent beneath him, but now that he had changed position, Stormy could see that his pant leg was torn below the knee, and blood was literally gushing from a deep gash on the side of his leg.

"Oh, my God!" Stormy breathed, her head suddenly spinning at the sight of so much blood.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight and took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep it together, for Brian's sake. When her stomach ceased lurching, she opened her eyes and went into action.

"Take off your shirt," she ordered, unable to hide the tremor in her voice.

Brian blinked. "My shirt?" he echoed, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Stormy, I hardly think that this is the time—"

"For jokes," she finished firmly. "We need something to stop the bleeding, smartass. Take it off. Now."

Brian did as he was told, and Stormy chided herself for feeling mildly disappointed when she saw that he was wearing a t-shirt underneath.

He's right, she told herself sternly. This is hardly the time! Not there ever would be a time, of course, because I don't—oh, forget it!

Stormy's hands were shaking as she fashioned the shirt into a makeshift bandage of sorts, pressing the thick wad of material over the wound and then wrapping the sleeves around his calf to keep the whole thing in place. She tied the loose ends together and cinched the knot tightly. Brian inhaled sharply, his whole body going rigid as he recoiled from the pain.

"I'm sorry," Stormy cringed, apologizing for probably the hundredth time. "I'm pretty sure it has to be tight, though. C'mon, we need to get you to the hospital."

She put out a hand to help him up and when he took it, a rush of fire ran through her body. His hands were strong and rugged, and her mind briefly entertained the thought of those hands traveling over her body.

Oh, my God! she thought, appalled. What is the matter with you?

She gave her head a little shake and forced her attention back to the present situation. Brian gripped her hand firmly, the muscles in his forearm straining as he pulled himself up. He turned away, but not before she saw him wince yet again.

"Can you walk?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm. It was solid and firm beneath the warmth of his skin, and she wondered what his arms would feel like—

Stop it! hissed the voice in her head.

"Yeah, I'll manage," he said sheepishly. "My pride hurts more than anything else."

"Well, that will heal," she smiled sympathetically.

They maneuvered slowly over the rocky terrain, making their way slowly up the embankment toward the bridge. Stormy located both of her shoes along the way, slipping them back on when they finally reached the bridge. They made their way back toward the parking lot, with Brian leaning more and more heavily on the railing as they went. Stormy glanced around, wondering why the area was deserted tonight of all nights, and secretly wishing that somebody with a medical degree would magically appear. But that wish went unfulfilled. When they finally neared the opposite end of the bridge, Stormy took the keys and ran ahead to bring the truck up to the mouth of the parking lot, the headlights sweeping through the twilight shadows. She put the truck in Park and jumped out, scurrying across the grass to where Brian was just sitting down on a bench beside the walkway. He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs and his head down, so she couldn't see his face; but he was breathing hard and she could see the tension in the muscles along his back and arms, so she gave him a minute to recover. She glanced down and saw that the bandage she had fashioned was already soaked through with blood.

"We should go," she prodded gently, trying not to sound alarmed, which of course she was.

She helped him up, and really began to worry when he set aside his pride and draped his arm around her shoulders, leaning heavily against her as they hobbled toward the truck. She swung the back door open, pulling a garbage bag from a box on the floor and spreading it out over the seat before stepping out of the way. He climbed up into the back without protest, giving her more cause for concern, and gingerly stretched his leg out over the seat. She stood on the running board and leaned in to inspect his bandage, under which a puddle was already starting to form. She started to slip out of her cardigan.

"No, don't; you'll ruin it," he said. "There's an old sweatshirt under the seat."

There was, and after finding it, Stormy climbed into the back and tied it tightly over the first bandage. Brian leaned his head back against the window and closed his eyes, and she could see the muscle in his jaw tensing.

"Up," she urged softly, placing her hand on his shoulder and gently pulling him forward so she could reach around behind him. She stretched the seat belt out, waiting for him to lean back again before fastening it with a crisp click.

"Safety first," she winked, and he smiled wanly.

Stormy climbed into the driver's seat and, after fastening her own seatbelt, shifted the truck into gear and eased out onto the road. Suddenly, all of the adrenaline that had been flowing through her veins seemed to drop into her foot as she pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor.