Chapter 1

Pain, it was the first sensation he was aware of when he woke up.  Pain followed by a buzzing in his ears that just wouldn’t go away.  Eventually the buzzing coalesced into words.

“…am….Sam…Wake up.  C’mon don’t do this to me.  Wake up!”  The last was punctuated with a shake of his shoulder.

“I’m awake.  I’m awake,” he mumbled trying to force his eyes open.  When he finally did, he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing or why he was sleeping bent suspended in place by a band across his chest.  Like a lightening bolt, he suddenly remembered the plane and crashing and quickly sat upright in his seat.  A move which he quickly regretted as his left shoulder complained mightily.

“Oh thank God you’re awake.”  It was Al who had been talking to him.  If Al was talking then that meant he was alive and they’d both survived the crash.  Well, unless they were both dead.  Sam experimentally moved his shoulder just a fraction of an inch and the fiery pain that shot up and down his arm assured him that he was very much alive.

He turned his head just enough to see Al next to him.  “You’re bleeding,” he said when he saw the blood running down Al’s face.

Al made an aborted attempt to wipe the blood away.  “It’s nothing.  I hit my head on the controls.  I’m more worried about you.  I didn’t think you were going to regain consciousness.”

“How long?” Sam asked turning his gaze to lookout the windshield of the plane.  It was a mass of spider web cracks attesting to the hard landing and its contact with the trees on the way down.

“How long were you out?”  Al clarified.

Sam nodded his head slightly in agreement.

“No more than five or six minutes.  Guess my head must be harder than yours,” Al said poking fun at Sam before quickly turning serious again.  “We gotta get out of here.  I don’t know if there’s any fuel leaking.  I don’t smell any smoke but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a fire anywhere.  If there is fuel leaking....”  Al let his voice trail off letting Sam figure out for himself what would happen if there was fire and a fuel leak.  “Can you move?” he asked reaching over to release the clasp on Sam’s safety belt.

Sam again nodded his head in agreement but this time quickly regretted it as the movement seemed to be the signal for the marching band that had taken up residence in his head to start playing a Sousa march.  “Yeah, I think so,” he gasped out reaching up to rub his head and feeling the bump just above his left eye.  “Something’s wrong with my shoulder, though.”

“Yeah,” Al agreed with him.  “Looks like it’s popped out of the joint.  That must be hurting like a son of a bitch.”

Sam didn’t bother answering Al; the look he gave him summed it all up.

“Right,” Al said seeing the look on Sam’s face.  “Guess I don’t need to tell you that.  Let’s see what we can do to get out of here.”

Sam looked quickly over at his side of the plane and it didn’t take a genius to realize that he wouldn’t be getting out that way.  Impact with a tree had sheered the wing off and left that side of the small plane resembling a crumpled tin can.  It was also a good explanation for his dislocated shoulder and the other bumps and bruises he was starting to feel.  Realizing he could be looking like a crumpled tin can and not just the plane if they’d just been a couple of more inches to the left, Sam’s breathing started to speed up.

“Don’t do this right now, Sam,” Al begged him immediately starting to recognize that Sam was panicking.  “We don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t do what?”  Sam asked his voice unnaturally high.

In contrast to Sam’s high, panicked voice, Al kept his own as steady and calm as possible.  It didn’t matter if he wasn’t feeling calm right now.  He had to project it if he was going to get Sam to calm down.  “I need you not to panic right now, Kid, at least not until we’re out of this mess.  It’d be better if you stayed in that state of shock you’ve been in and not realize what happened.”

“Not realize what happened?  You mean you don’t want me to know that we just fell out of the sky, crashed through God knows how many trees, that the one out there almost crushed me and who knows where we are or if anyone’s gonna even be looking for us?  Is that what you want me to forget about?  Cause if it is….”  Sam’s words had come faster and faster until they were tripping over each other coming out.

When Al realized that Sam was going to keep going, he reached over and clamped a hand over the panicking man’s mouth effectively cutting off the torrent of words.  “Yeah, Kid, that’s exactly what I don’t want you thinking about right now.  We both need to stay calm until we figure a way out of this.  Now c’mon.  You’re gonna have slide over and come out my side.”

Sam looked over to Al confused as to how he could slide over to the other side of the plane and climb down with the use of just one arm.  Al sensed his friend’s confusion hoping it was just a product of the moment and not a symptom of a serious injury.  “I’ll help you slide over so you don’t have to use that arm,” he explained.

It wasn’t graceful or pain-free but eventually both Sam and Al managed to extricate themselves from the plane and were soon standing on the ground a short distance from it.  Al had cautioned against being too close until they ascertained that there was no fuel leak and no fire.  To be precise, Al was standing and Sam was sitting on the ground leaning against a convenient boulder and praying that he wouldn’t soon be seeing the breakfast he’d eaten that morning before they left. 

“You stay put,” Al told him, “I’m going to check to see if we have fuel leaks.”

Sam barely nodded his head to indicate his agreement with Al.  Getting up and moving was not at the top of his “to do” list at the moment.  The Sousa band was still playing in his head and even the slightest movement sent fiery waves of pain shooting down his arm, across his shoulder and into his neck.  That was to say nothing about the way his vision kept deciding to blur out every now and then.

“It’s all clear,” Al said a few minutes later coming back around to where Sam was sitting.  “She’ll never be airborne again, but she’s not gonna blow on us either.”

“So what do we do now?” Sam asked looking up from his place on the ground.

“Now?” Al asked looking up to the sky.  “Right now we get what we can out of the plane for supplies and set up our shelter pretty quick.  Looks like there’s a storm coming in.  We’re up high enough that it could bring snow.”

Sam tried to push himself up off the ground to help Al get their equipment out of the plane but the blinding pain from his shoulder forced him back down with a shout and brought Al over quickly to kneel in front of him.

“You’re not going to be able to move around a lot with your shoulder out like that,” Al told him.

“You got any ideas?” Sam asked wiping the pain caused tears from his eyes.  As a doctor he knew that the quicker the dislocation was reduced, the quicker he’d be able to use his arm.  The only problem was reducing a shoulder dislocation wasn’t as easy as putting a band aid on a cut and it wasn’t something you just explained to a lay person and they got it right on the first try.  If it wasn’t done correctly, it could complicate matters even more.  Still, reducing it would mean a significant reduction in pain.

“Depends on how much you trust me,” Al told him.

Sam looked askance at Al’s statement and Al hastened to explain, “When I was in ‘Nam one of the guys I was kept prisoner with popped out his shoulder.  I popped it back in for him.  It wasn’t pretty and it hurt like hell when I did it but at least then when they made us move he was able to.”

“Do it,” Sam said gritting his teeth.  “The longer it’s out the worse it’s going to be.”

“You sure?” Al asked.

“About as sure as I am about anything right now.  Just do it.”  Sam wasn’t 100% sure that letting Al pop his shoulder back into its socket was the wisest course of action.  He may have gotten it right with his fellow POW in ‘Nam but that had probably been pure luck.  It was just as likely that this time it wouldn’t work.  Right now, though there wasn’t much choice.  There was no trauma center around to do it for him and the longer he was like this, the less he’d be able help in his own survival.

“Okay, Al told him.  On the count of three.  One, two,” and before he got to the count of three, Sam felt him pull on his arm popping the joint back into place.  Al had been right about it hurting like hell and no matter how hard he tried to hold back a scream it still came out followed shortly by his breakfast.

Al helped him to move away from the mess and lean against a tree a bit further from the wreckage of the plane.  “Here, let’s stick your arm here for now,” he said unbuttoning one of the buttons in the middle of Sam’s shirt and carefully guiding his hand and wrist to lay inside, his arm supported by the buttons below.  “As soon as I find the first aid kit we can get a sling on that.  You just keep still for now.”

“You said on three,” Sam finally gasped out.

“So I lied.  You wanna sue me for practicing without a license?” Al said with a grin before getting up and heading back in the direction of the downed plane.

Sam smiled weakly.  Al had no doubt done that so that the pain would come before he expected it preventing him from tensing and making it worse.  He knew that was a method often followed by medical personnel and could even remember doing it himself when he was an intern.  It didn’t mean he had to like it when it was done to him, though.

He hoped that Al found the first aid kit fairly quickly.  There was a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol in it and would welcome any pain relief it would give.  The chance of both of them having a concussion was pretty good and was something he should check, starting with himself.  Considering the way his vision kept getting blurry every now and then, it was a pretty good guess he probably had one.  The fact that he was unconscious for…however long it had been, also pointed to a concussion.

“You got a mirror, Al…and a flashlight?” he asked when Al came back from the plane.  In his hands Al had the first aid kit and Sam’s coat, gloves, and MIT wool baseball hat.  He had already bundled himself up in a blue down jacket, gloves, and a red beanie.

“Why?” Al asked dropping the items he was bringing to Sam down next to him.

“I need to check my eyes.”

“They look beautiful, Sam.  The ladies’ll love ‘em.”

Sam looked at Al with crinkled eyes and a sarcastic grin.  “Funny.  Very funny.  I need to check for concussion – see if my pupils are responding correctly.  I need to check you as well.  Just because you say your head is harder then mine doesn’t mean you got out of this crash lightly,” he explained. 

“I’m fine, Sam, nothing to worry about,” Al said waving off Sam’s concern.

“You hit your head hard enough that you’re bleeding.  You could have a concussion,” Sam pointed out.

“I didn’t lose consciousness,” Al reminded Sam.

“You don’t need to lose consciousness to have a concussion.  You still hit your head pretty hard and could have done damage.”

“Fine, Sam, have it your way.  There’s a flashlight in the plane and there should be something in there you can use as a mirror.”

Sam watched Al walk back to the plane before settling back against the boulder.

‘Great, just great,” Sam muttered.  “Some vacation this is turning out to be.  I knew I didn’t want to get on that tin can but does he listen to me?  No-oo.  ‘It’ll be safe’, he says.  ‘We’ll have fun – a real kick in the butt,’ he says.  Yeah right, it’s a real kick in the butt all right.  And a real kick in the head and the shoulder too.”  He probed his sore left shoulder with his right hand to see if anything felt out of place.  Everything felt like it was where it was supposed to be and it certainly was feeling a little better since the dislocation had been reduced, provided he didn’t try to move it.  Of course there was no way to know for sure that everything was back where it belonged and there were no fractures without an x-ray and he seriously doubted Al had one of those tucked away in the back of the plane.  Right now he’d be happy for that bottle of painkillers – or at least for the throb in his shoulder to get in time with the one in his head.

Chapter 2

Al rummaged around in the plane pulling out the flashlight and eventually finding a mirror.  He brought them both back over and handed them to Sam.

“Can you hold the mirror for me,” Sam asked.

He watched silently while Sam shone the flashlight in first one eye and then the other.

“Damn!” Sam said putting the flashlight down.

“What?”

“My pupils aren’t dilating equally”

“So what does that mean?” Al asked even though he could make a pretty good guess.

“It means the odds of me having a concussion are pretty high.  It’s not too surprising.  I lost consciousness for…however long, my head is pounding and my vision keeps getting blurry.  All that adds up to a mild concussion at the very least.”  What Sam didn’t bother to say is that although it could add up to a mild concussion he actually suspected it was a little more than just minor.

Al’s heart sank.  Although he hadn’t been knocked out when the plane crash-landed, he had been dazed from hitting his head.  When he’d recovered his senses, he’d been shaken by the loss of the wing on Sam’s side and the extent of the damage to that side of the plane in general.  It was at least part of the reason he’d been so concerned when Sam had not regained consciousness right away.  He’d told Sam a little white lie.  It hadn’t been five or six minutes the man had been out for, it had been that many more than after he himself had regained his senses.  He figured it had taken him at least five minutes to shake off the effects of the crash.  It seemed to have slipped Sam’s mind how long Al had said he’d been unconscious for.  Al chalked that up to the tenseness of the situation.  Sam probably hadn’t even paid attention to the answer.

Al let out a breath and rubbed a hand across his face.  “You’re having blurry vision.  Just when were you planning on telling me that little bit of information?” he asked doing his utmost to keep his voice level.  Flying off the handle now wouldn’t help the situation.

“I didn’t think it was important,” Sam tried to explain.  “It comes and goes – mostly it goes – the blurriness, not my vision.  Besides, there isn’t a whole lot we can do out here, is there?”

“Sam, the physical state you’re in is very important.  It means the difference in the things we might need to do to survive this.  I need to know these things and if you think not telling me is somehow going to make it better or easier or something, you’re wrong.  I don’t think it’s going to go away just because you choose to ignore it or keep it a secret.”

The vision of Sam limp, arm at a strange angle had been the first thing that Al had seen clearly after the crash and it hadn’t been very comforting.  Sam’s lack of responsiveness, along with the damage the plane had taken convinced Al that he might be dead and it had frightened him.  Seeing Sam now, still in shock and pain, diagnosing himself with a concussion, mild or not, but still trying to hide some of his symptoms, made him question the great idea he’d had to get the kid out into nature.  Al had figured that perhaps communing with the trees and mountains would not only help the time to pass while they waited for word from the committee but also help heal the heart he knew was broken.

Al had faced the loss of his own true love and that was the last thing he wished for his best friend.  When Donna had left Sam at the altar, Al had been there for him.  He saw how devastated the younger man was.  Sam was coming back to himself and had been making strides all summer.  Al could see he was still hurting, though.  If his own experience could be used as a guide, Sam always would to some extent.  Still, Al knew it was possible to move on and Sam needed to do just that.  If he’d just find a nice honey, he’d forget all about Donna – at least for a little while.  He sighed.  Unfortunately, ‘Mr. Morals’ didn’t work that way.  Sometimes the kid could be exasperating!

“I already told you I probably have a concussion,” Sam said pulling Al from his thoughts.  “What difference does it make if my vision’s getting blurry or not at this point?  I don’t think you’ve got a CT scanner hidden away back there do you?” Sam asked.

“Gee, I knew there was something I forgot to pack,” Al said trying to lighten the mood.  “You’re not gonna toss your cookies again are you?” he asked getting serious again.

“No,” Sam answered.  “At least I don’t think so.  C’mon it’s your turn now.”

Al patiently allowed Sam to take the flashlight and shine it in his eyes moving it from eye to eye and finally declaring him concussion free.  “You really must have a harder head than mine.”

Al was glad that Sam was at least showing signs of his naturally easygoing nature.  The fact that he could crack a few one-liners showed he was doing his best to keep a positive attitude.

“I need to clean that out and bandage it,” Sam said indicating the still oozing gash on Al’s head.

“And we need to get that arm of yours in a sling,” Al countered.  He unzipped the bag containing their first aid supplies.  “Geez, you packed this thing for just about everything.  What were you – a boy scout or something?” he asked when he saw the contents.

When Sam had packed the first aid equipment he had, apparently, let his medical instincts take over.  “Eagle Scout,” Sam off-handedly said while rummaging in the bag one-handed pulling out some antiseptic and gauze.

Al sat patiently while Sam first cleaned the wound carefully making sure there was no debris in it.  It was awkward for him to do with only one good hand but he made an effort to be as gentle as he could.  “A couple of butterflies should close it up,” he said once he was satisfied it was cleaned.

Al pawed through the supplies, pulled out the requested bandages, ripped the packages open, and sat still while Sam used them to close up the laceration.

“All set?” he asked once Sam had both bandages in place.

“All set,” Sam echoed.  “Don’t worry; I don’t think there will be much of a scar to turn off the ladies.”

“You kidding, ladies love stuff like that.  It gives them something to fuss over,” Al joked.

Sam laughed softly at Al’s joke but quickly turned serious.  “Tell me the truth now, Al; you’re not hurt anywhere else are you?  You don’t have any pain in your neck or anything that you’re trying to hide?  You don’t feel nauseated do you?”

“I’m not hiding anything from you, Kid.  You’re the one who came out on the worse end of things this time ‘round.”

Sam looked at Al with narrowed eyes.  “Don’t lie to me, Al and don’t think you need to protect me or something.  I might not be up to speed right now but I’m not helpless either.  You said you needed to know how I was physically with nothing held back, well I need to know the same thing too.”

“I’m not hiding anything, Sam.  Okay, my head hurts where I cracked it open and I think I’ve rediscovered some muscles I’d rather forget about having but that’s it.  I’m not keeping something horrible from you.  Okay?”

“Okay,” Sam said somewhat mollified.  “I want to know immediately if you do start feeling anything out of the ordinary.  Just because you have no symptoms of a head injury right now that doesn’t mean something can’t crop up later.  You feel the least bit odd I want to know about it.”

“Okay, okay.  Scout’s honor,” Al said holding up his hand.  “Anything feels the least bit odd and you’ll be the first person I tell.”

Sam widened his eyes in mock shock, “You a boy scout?  Now that’s got to be the biggest surprise of the day.”

“I never said I was a boy scout, Sam.  I just said ‘Scout’s honor.’  But I helped quite a few girl scouts get their merit badges,” Al said giving Sam an evil grin.  “And, you might want to hold off on your one-liners until I get this on you,” he said holding up the sling he’d pulled out of the first-aid kit.  “You wouldn’t want this to end up tied around your mouth instead of supporting that arm, would you?”

Al gently put the sling on and guided Sam’s arm to rest in its support.  He was just about to help Sam into his coat when Sam stopped him.  “Use the elastic bandage in there to bind my upper arm to my chest.  Just don’t pull it too tight.

Al did as Sam had requested and once the bandage was in place, helped him into the coat.  The wind had picked up with the approach of the coming storm and it was a chill wind.  He pulled the left sleeve inside out so it wouldn’t get in Sam’s way and then zipped it up.

Once that was done, he pulled the bottle of Tylenol out of the kit.  “How many of these do you want?” he asked.

“Give me four of them,” Sam said eager for any pain relief he could get.

“Four?” Al asked dubiously.  “These are extra-strength and you’re only supposed to take two at a time.”

Sam pointed to himself, “MD – me doctor.  Now give me four of them, please.”

Al shook out four of the pills into Sam’s hand.  Once Sam put them in his mouth Al handed him the bottle of water he’d brought over to wash them down.

“You too,” Sam said once he’d swallowed the Tylenol.

“I don’t need any right now,” Al said.

“Aa-ll.  Don’t give me that.  I can see you’re hurting too.  Now take the damned things.”

“Fine,” Al said shaking out two more of the pills and swallowing them with a mouthful of water.  “Happy now?”

“Oh, just ecstatic.  I can’t tell you how much that did to brighten my day.”

Once he’d swallowed the Tylenol, Al’s mind went back into survival mode.  “I’m going to have to scout around a little and start getting the equipment we’re gonna need to get through tonight out of the plane.  I think it’s probably a good idea if you keep still for a little while.  You think you’ll be all right if I leave you here?”

“Yeah.  I think so.”

“You know not to go to sleep, right.”

”It’s actually perfectly acceptable if I do sleep.  It’s one of the key ways to recover from a concussion.  If I go to sleep I just need to be woken up every couple of hours to make sure I’m oriented.”

“So why do they always say not to let someone with a concussion go to sleep,” Al asked.

“You got me.  Maybe because in the hospital they wake you every couple of hours for neuro checks people just assume you shouldn’t sleep.  It seems to be a pretty popular theory, though”

“Well all right, then.”  He headed out to get a better look the situation they were in.  He walked along the debris field and realized that it was completely under a canopy of trees.  It would be damned hard for the Search and Rescue planes to find them.  “Damn it!” he said out loud but not loud enough for it to carry back to where Sam was.  The kid didn’t need to know about this on top of everything else.  Hell, he didn’t need it either.

When he’d borrowed the plane from George, he’d told him that he’d just be taking it up to Colorado for a few days and would return it good as new.  Of course, he didn’t expect the engine trouble either.  George always kept his plane in pristine condition and Al couldn’t for the life of him understand what had happened.  He walked back to where he’d left Sam.  As he walked, he noticed that he was breathing a bit heavier than usual.  Well, maybe he’d cut down on the cigars while they were here.

0000000

Sam watched Al walk away before leaning his head gingerly back against the tree and gazing up at the sky and the threatening clouds Al had been looking at earlier and suddenly the meaning of what Al had said hit him like a fist to the stomach.  At this altitude they could get snow – there’s a storm coming in.  That meant even if anyone did know where they were there’d be no way a search could be mounted until after the storm passed.  A layer of snow on the ground could make them that much harder to find.  This was sizing up to be an adventure he’d much rather not take part in.

He didn’t see Al come back, just felt him nudge his leg with his foot, “Hey, you’re not falling asleep on me are you?”

“No,” Sam answered bringing his gaze down to Al’s face.  He noticed Al was a little out of breath.  “Just looking at the clouds.”  He stopped for a moment and then added, “We’re not gonna get out of this are we?”

“Of course we are,” Al said but the answer came too fast and sounded too sure for Sam not to believe Al was just saying what he thought would put his mind at ease.  Sam might not have been wilderness trained but he wasn’t so much of a novice that he couldn’t figure out they were in dire straits.  His expression must have betrayed his thoughts to Al who quickly knelt down to Sam’s level.

“Look, Sam, I know it looks pretty grim right now, especially with that weather rolling in but we are going to get out of this.  We were planning on camping any way so we’ve got plenty of supplies to last us for at least a week.  If we’re careful, we can stretch them out longer.  We’ve also got the tent to provide us shelter.  I’m also pretty sure my last “Mayday” was received.  It might take a couple of days, but we are going to be found.  Besides, we were supposed to arrive by 5:00 p.m.  When we don’t check in, they’ll start to look for us.”

Sam listened carefully to what Al was saying before looking back up to the clouds that were coming in.  Despite how positive Al was, Sam still wasn’t so sure they’d be found.  “Katie’s getting married the beginning of November,” Sam said softly.

“I know that,” Al agreed, not quite sure where Sam was going with it.

“I’m supposed to give the bride away.  What if I can’t, Al?  What if it’s just one more time I’m not there for my family?”

“You’ll be there, Sam.  We’re gonna be off this mountain long before your sister’s wedding and you’re gonna be there to walk her down the aisle.  If I have to stick you on a boat and row you all the way to Hawaii you’re going to be there.  Trust me, Kid.”

The two men stared at each other silently for several moments.  Sam finally gave Al a tight nod.  If Al was so sure they were going make it how could he not be?

“C’mon, now,” Al said patting Sam on the leg.  “Let’s get you up and walking around before you go to sleep.  We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

When Al had come back over to where he’d left Sam after surveying their situation he wasn’t happy with condition he found Sam in.  He was sitting with his back against the tree with a fixed stare and shivering.  ‘I should have realized that he’s still in shock.  I guess I gave too much credit to the way he was handling things.’

 “I’m tired, Al,” Sam said shaking his head softly.  “I just want to sleep and get warm.”

“I know you are, Kid, but it would do you some good to get your blood flowing again.”

Sam blew out a slow breath and nodded making an effort to stand up.  His arm was obviously still in pain, the Tylenol not having kicked in yet.  Al finally took Sam’s right arm and pulled the younger man up.  He had him walk over with him to the cargo section of the plane and settled him down on the ground next to it. 

“Do we have enough water?” Sam asked.  “I know you said we have enough food for a week but what about water.  Lack of it will kill us long before lack of food.”

“I packed about two liters - one for you and one for me.”

“That’s not going to be enough, Al.  Not in the mountains.  We’re going to need a lot more than that,” Sam told Al looking up from where he was sitting on the ground.  Al noticed that despite the short amount of time that had passed since the crash Sam was already starting to look poorly.  His face was chalk white with lines of pain around his eyes and he kept squinting his eyes against the light.  Al suspected he probably wasn’t look like a million bucks either.

“I know we’re going to need more.  I brought a camping water filtration system with a micron filter.  We can pump water right out of a stream if we need to.”

“I guess we’ll need to find a stream.”

Al stood back from the plane looking around.  “This area is the source of the Rio Grande.  I’m sure we’ll find water close by.”

Sam looked up at Al, concern written into his face.  “Do you have any idea where we are?”

Al answered a little too quickly.  “Well, I do in general.  We’re in the Weminuche Wilderness area of Colorado.  We were going to be camping not too far from Durango at Molas Lake but that’s on the west side of the Animas River.  We’re on the east side, probably close to Chicago Basin.

“How can you be so sure?”

“See the mountains around us?  They’re high peaks, probably over 13,000 ft.”

Sam squinted looking up to the mountains Al was pointing to.  “How can you tell?”

“See where the timberline starts?

“Yeah.  What about it?"

“Well, around here that usually starts about 11,500 ft.”

“Yeah.  I should have known that.”  Sam looked frustrated.

Al shrugged.  “Well, you’re just not yourself today.  Probably forgetting things you know.  Concussions can do that.  I guess I gave you a pretty good scare too.”

“I hate planes, Al, and I really hate turbulence.”  Sam stopped for a second and then added, “Dropping out of the sky and crash landing isn’t exactly my idea of a good time!”

Al quirked a quick smile.  “I can’t say I’m fond of that myself.”  Al noticed the younger man shivering again.  “Why don’t you get in the plane?  I think it will be safe and you need to get warmed up, or at least out of this wind.  Let me see if I can find a clearing where we can start a fire without burning down the side of the mountain.”

Sam got back into the plane with Al’s assistance and huddled into one of the seats.  He turned back to his friend.  “Do you think they’ll really find us?”

Al lied.  The last thing the kid needed to think about was how desperate the situation might get.  “Course they will.  Piece of cake.  You better start planning the toast for your sister’s wedding.”  He left to find the clearing knowing a signal fire would improve their chances immensely.

Chapter 3

Yet again Sam watched from his place while Al walked off to do whatever was necessary for them to survive.  “This is getting ridiculous,” Sam said aloud.  “I keep sitting around and he’s doing all the work.  There’s got to be something I can do.”

Gingerly Sam pushed open the door and climbed down from the plane trying to jar his shoulder as little as possible.  He decided that whoever it was that said a dislocated shoulder felt 100% better once it was reduced must have been doing some heavy duty painkillers at the time.  Although it wasn’t the same fiery pain he’d first felt it was still pretty tender and right now, any kind of movement of it was out of the question.

Once his feet touched the ground he held very still with his forehead pressed up against the side of the plane waiting for the dizziness his movements had caused to pass.  Once the world was back on an even keel – or as even as it was going to get right now – he pushed himself away from the plane to survey the wreckage.  From the side he was on the damage looked minimal but he knew if he circled around to the other side, it would be a different story.  Not too far back from where the plane had finally stopped he could see the wing that had been sheered off and felt a chill go through his body as he again thought about what could have happened had the plane been just a little bit more to the left.  “There’s plenty of time to panic later,” he told himself putting a clamp on any feelings of fear he had now.  Right now he had to continue to think rationally if he was going to be any help to Al in getting out of this predicament.

Stepping away from the plane, he turned in a small circle surveying the area they were in.  On all sides trees seemed to close in.  The space that Al had set down in was definitely a small spot on the mountainside and he was grateful that he’d had such an experienced pilot at the controls.  He didn’t want to even think of what the outcome would have been with a less experienced pilot.

It didn’t take long for Sam to figure out that the way the trees were closing in on them meant it wouldn’t be easy for search planes to see them from above.  If it snowed, it would end up that much worse, as the white of plane would blend in with the white of a fresh snowfall.  He didn’t think the blue striping would be much help.  Going back over to the plane, he started rummaging in the cargo hold looking for any emergency flares.  If and when a plane did fly over them the flares would go a long way to helping them to be seen.  Once he found them, he dropped them on the pilot’s seat for safekeeping.

As he pulled back out of the plane, he spied the radio and snagged it and keyed it but heard nothing in response.  “Mayday, mayday, mayday,” he tried anyway and waited for response.  When he got none, he threw the radio down in disgust.  “Must be broken,” he said needlessly just to hear the sound of his own voice breaking the silence around him.

Looking back where the plane had crashed through treetops on the way down he saw the broken tree branches that littered the ground.  Even if Al found a clearing where they could light a fire, they’d need wood to burn.  Sam figured he could at least start collecting whatever he could.  It would be slow going with the use of only one arm and he’d have to make a lot of trips back and forth but it was better than just sitting and leaving their survival completely in Al’s hands.  Pushing off from the plane he started following the path the plane had taken and gathering up whatever wood he could.  He was thankful that at least some of it was dry limbs from dead parts of the trees.

0000000

Al didn’t have to scout far from the crash site before he located a place that would be perfect not only for a fire but also for them to set up camp.  It was a flat, natural clearing close to a rock face that would provide a sheltered spot for them.  He headed back to the plane to tell Sam the good news as well as to collect the equipment they’d need for the night.  It was getting annoying that he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

When he got back to the plane, he found the door open and emergency flares on the seat but no Sam.  “Where the hell did he go?” Al wondered aloud.  It crossed his mind that Sam’s head injury could be worse than the mild concussion that Sam had diagnosed and that he could have gotten disoriented and wandered off.  He stepped back from the plane looking around for some kind of clue to where Sam could have gone when he saw the figure moving toward the plane not too far in the distance.  Occasionally the figure would stoop over picking something up from the ground.  Once the figure got close, Al was able to discern easily that it was Sam, though he still had no idea what he could possibly be doing, and started to walk toward him.  As he neared the tail end of the plane, he noticed the small pile of broken branches and other assorted pieces of wood piled up there and figured out that Sam must have been collecting the wood.

He met up with the younger man a few yards off from the plane and grabbed the small pile of branches he was cradling between his right arm and chest.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Al asked heatedly.  “You should know better than to go wandering off like this.  What if you got lost?”

Sam matched the heat in Al’s voice with his own.  “I was collecting some kindling so you could make that fire you were going on about and I wasn’t ‘off wandering’.  I was in sight of the plane the whole time.  Don’t you think I’m smart enough not to go wandering in a forest I know nothing about?  I thought I’d do something to help instead of just sitting on my butt so why don’t you just can the ‘poor Sam, can’t take care of himself’ act.  I’m perfect capable of doing whatever’s necessary for us to get out of this alive.”

Al blinked at the vehemence in Sam’s voice and slowly realized that he had been casting Sam in the role of a victim.  It was a natural instinct to watch out for the kid and it seemed even stronger now knowing that he was injured.  Truth to tell, Al also felt a bit responsible for the situation they were in.  He was the one who insisted on the camping trip and he was the one who insisted on flying George’s plane here.  He had to cajole Sam into the whole thing.  If he had let Sam have his way, he’d be safe in his own home.  Sure, he’d be burying himself in work like he’d done the whole summer but at least he wouldn’t be walking around with a concussion and his shoulder dislocated out in the proverbial middle of no where.

“You’re right,” Al finally said.  “You can take care of yourself.  I just tend to worry about you sometimes.  Sorry.”

“’S’okay” Sam said.  “I know it’s all those natural-born leader instincts you have.  You’ve got to let me pull my fair share of the work in all this, though, if we’re ever gonna make it out.”

“It’s a deal,” Al said.  “Just next time if you’re gonna disappear like that could you let me know where you’re going so I don’t go into overdrive with the worrying.”

“Sure,” Sam said resuming their walk back to the plane.  “I’ll just make sure to scratch you a note in the dirt.”

“Ha, ha,” Al mock laughed.  “Aren’t you just the comedian?  Maybe you should hit your head more often – it seems to improve your sense of humor.”

Whatever comeback Sam was going to give Al died on his lips as his face blanched of all color and he suddenly listed to the side catching himself against the side of the plane they were once again near.

“Sam!” Al yelled out dropping the armful of wood and reaching out to steady the younger man.

“I’m okay.  I’m okay,” Sam softly said.

“The hell you are.”

Sam pushed back from Al straightening up although he didn’t brush off Al’s supporting hand.  “I’m okay, Al.  I just got a little dizzy but it’s passing.

“Is it normal for a mild concussion to get this dizzy, Sam?”

“Yeah, it’s normal to be dizzy with a concussion.  It just caught me by surprise, that’s all.  Usually the worse the concussion the worse the symptoms are.  If I had to take a guess, I’d say this is probably a grade three.”

“I knew it, Sam.  You shouldn’t be doing anything at all,” Al stated angrily.

Sam sighed and said simply, “Al.  We just crash-landed.  We have a storm coming in.  If we don’t get our shelter up and firewood gathered, we’re going to be in a world of hurt and you can’t do it all.  You’re not superman even if you think you are.  I’ll rest after we get things settled.  I promise.  Trust me, this isn’t life threatening.”

Al looked at the younger man seeing that Sam was being rational and nodded.  “I can’t argue with what you’ve said, Sam, even if I want to.  You’re right; we do have a lot to get done and not a lot of time to do it.  But we’re sticking together now; I’m not leaving you alone anymore than I have to.  Let’s get the tent and get it set up.  We might as well bring the thermarests and sleeping bags as well.  We’ll have to let them puff up.”

Sam nodded.  Al got the tent out while Sam got the sleeping gear.  Since the equipment was in stuff sacks, they were manageable to carry by the cords even with one arm.  They headed over to the campsite.

“How long was I out?” Sam asked as they walked.

“I already told you,” Al answered, “about five or six minutes.”

Sam stopped short and turned to face Al.  “You told me already?” he questioned.

“Yeah, right after you came to.  Don’t you remember?”

Sam screwed up his face honestly trying to remember having asked the question before.  “No, I really don’t remember.  To tell you the truth, I really don’t remember the actual crash or that much about the first couple of minutes after I came to.  It’s all sort of a blur.  The first thing I really remember is sitting on the ground outside the plane.”

Al sighed and looked Sam up and down.  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that’s normal, too.”

“Yeah, memory loss usually goes hand in hand with a concussion.”  Sam paused for a moment chewing on his lower lip as he debated his next words.  “Don’t be surprised if I ask you again.”

“You mean ask me again how long you were out?” Al clarified.  “Shouldn’t you remember this conversation?”

“Well, theoretically, I should but it just might be something my brain doesn’t want to process so I might keep asking you the same question over and over.  It’s called perseverating,” Sam further explained seeing Al’s concerned look.  “Usually someone with a head injury will end up constantly asking what happened but I think a plane crash is a little too big to forget about – even if I wish I could.”

Al shook his head and started back in the direction of the campsite.  “There any other surprises you have for me.  Your head’s not going to start spinning or anything is it?”

“If that happens, I’ll be just as surprised as you,” Sam answered catching up with Al.

“So what do I do if you keep asking me?”

“Just answer me,” Sam said.  “There’s nothing else you can really do.”

When they got to the campsite, Al pulled the tent out of its sack, separating the poles and the stakes.  He set Sam to work putting the aluminum shot-corded tent poles together as he unrolled the tent.  He’d purchased the Northface Westwind back in 1982.  It was still in great shape, even though he often used it when going fly-fishing.  It would hold two people and with the snow coming in, he was glad that the tent was a four-season model.  It didn’t hurt that it handled wind well and that it was bright orange in color.  That was a feature that might help the Search and Rescue teams notice them.

Al set to work putting the tent up, threading the poles into the sleeves.  Sam watched the tent take shape and was impressed by the ease it went up.  He recalled the tents they had used in the scouts and appreciated the higher tech equipment that Al used.  A few minutes later, they threw the thermarests and sleeping bags in.  Sam went into the tent backwards, sitting with his boots outside the tent in an effort to keep the inside of the tent clean.  He undid the string locks and pulled the equipment out of their stuff sacks, stuffing each stuff sack into the larger one the tent had come in so that they’d be able to find them all later.  He turned his attention to the thermarests and set the valves so they would self inflate to create the mattress that would keep the cold from the ground from seeping into their backs.  He pulled the mummy bags out to fluff up as well.

When Al had seen the sleeping bag Sam was going to use, he’d shaken his head and insisted that Sam get a new mummy bag.  The older style sleeping bag that he’d used in scouts his friend had declared unusable.  He’d initially argued but finally acquiesced, knowing that Al had braved the woods more times than he had in the last ten years.  Al had had him get a few other things new as well, including an internal frame pack.  For the rest of the items, he’d just given Sam a list.

While Sam had been getting the inside of the tent set up, Al had gone back to get one of the backpacks.  He’d picked up his first and put it into the vestibule inside the tent and then went back to get Sam’s.  As he walked, he noticed a stitch in his side and stopped to catch his breath again.  He was in pretty good shape and still ran a few times a week, a habit he’d developed in the Navy.  Well, he’d been working hard, that was probably the culprit he reasoned.

Al noticed that Sam’s pack was quite a bit heavier then his.  He prided himself on purchasing high quality, lightweight equipment that would serve him well.  Looking in Sam’s pack, he realized that Sam’s Boy Scout training was probably at fault.  While he greatly respected the organization, they really didn’t get into the high tech materials that were available now.  Instead, they basically stayed with older technology and older generally meant heavier.

Al made sure that the crash area was secured.  He noted that as late as it was getting, they wouldn’t be able to have much of a fire.  He made sure that the wood Sam had gathered was covered to keep it dry.  He had to smile when he thought of Sam doing what he could to pull his weight.  The man had been through hell today and still managed to keep himself going.  Al respected that kind of determination.  If Sam felt he had something he had to accomplish, he’d find a way.  He just hoped that Sam would be able to sustain that determination and it wouldn’t evaporate as time wore on.

Arriving back in camp, he noticed that Sam had walked away but was keeping himself within view.  Sam’s statement that he knew not to wander off gave him confidence that the kid would be safe.  He opened the tent and put Sam’s pack into the vestibule, noticing that the space inside the tent was tight.  Then again, with snow likely on its way, he knew it was important to have their camping equipment with them.  The fact that there wouldn’t be a lot of space in the tent meant that they would stay warmer as well.  He also noticed that Sam had reset the valves on the thermarests so that they wouldn’t lose the air when they laid on them later.  He nodded.  Sam was definitely observant.

Coming out of the tent, Al noticed that Sam had again come back to the camp area.  Sam nodded towards the western sky, noticing the light was fading rapidly.  “It’s getting darker.”

Al had noticed that as well.  “Yeah.  Well, we’ve almost got everything taken care of.  I’ll get some water boiling for dinner.”

“What are we having?”

“I hope you like Turkey Tetrazinni.”

Sam’s furrowed his brow in concern.  “That’ll take too long.  Don’t we have something that’ll be ready quick?”

“Won’t take long at all,” said Al, bouncing on his feet, “It’s freeze dried.  Just add water wait a few minutes and it’s good to go.  They developed the technology during the Apollo missions.”

Sam’s concern turned to disgust.  “You mean we have to suck it out of a tube?”

Al laughed.  “No.  Add boiling water, wait a minute for everything to reconstitute, and voila…great food.”  Sam looked askance at him.  “Okay…maybe not great but it does taste pretty damn good especially when you’re out in the wilderness.”

Sam suddenly grew pensive.  “I guess I should be grateful under the circumstances.”

Al came over and braced his hands on Sam’s shoulders, being careful to put no pressure on the left.  “Sam, it’s going to be okay.  I faced a hell of a lot worse situations in ‘Nam.  I guarantee, what we have here is like a four-star Hilton in comparison.  I filed a flight plan that should provide a good idea to the Search and Rescue crews where we’re likely to be.  It’s just a matter of time.  Hey, we were going to spend the week camping anyway.  Just look at it as a last minute change in destination.”

Sam nodded not wanting to be a gloomy Gus.  He didn’t know why but he’d had a bad feeling about this whole situation, almost like a premonition.  He’d felt it almost from the first moment that Al had suggested this trip but it had been easy to convince himself he was just being silly and illogical.  He knew he needed some time to get away and when Al had suggested a week away, he’d been ready.  If and when they got the green light for the funding on the project there’d be precious little time for any kind of vacation.  Then Al had told him the plan to fly in the small plane and Sam hadn’t been so sure.  Still, Al had a way of convincing people, himself included, that what he was selling was absolutely the best idea in the world.  Sam smiled.  It was that gift that had lead to him becoming partners with Al after StarBright.  If anyone could convince the committee, Al could.

“I know, Al.  I’m just worried,” Sam replied shaking off his thoughts.

“Makes sense, but it’s not going to help us a bit.”  He gave Sam a pat, again careful not to jar his left shoulder.  “Hey, water’s boiling.  Let me get our dinner.”  He went over and finished preparing the meal.  He’d pulled out some seasoning packets and let Sam choose what he wanted.  They ate in silence, glad for the warm food.  Sam had to agree that the food was really pretty good.  It was certainly better than he would have thought freeze-dried would taste.  Despite that, Sam wasn’t able to finish all of his.  His head was still pounding in time with his heartbeat and even though he hadn’t told Al, he was still feeling nauseated.  That was to say nothing of the pain in his back – most likely a combination of the crash, his hunt for wood, and holding himself oddly to compensate for his injured shoulder.

“You need to eat more than that,” Al told him.

“I’m not hungry,” Sam said putting down the remains of his dinner.

“You should be,” Al pointed out.  “You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and that’s splattered back by that rock over there.”

Sam had flat-out refused to eat anything while they were in the air claiming that he was prone to motion sickness and he didn’t want to do anything that might enhance the problem.  Al was afraid if Sam didn’t eat his full dinner now that would just complicate things down the road.  By the same token, it also wouldn’t help if he started vomiting again.  It was a Catch 22 with no easy way out.  “At least drink the water,” he finally suggested.  With any luck, Sam would be more up to tolerating food in the morning.  Until then, the best Al could do was make sure he didn’t dehydrate.

When they were finished, Sam offered to clean up the mess, taking the dishes and the extra hot water away from the campsite.  There was no need to have animals too close to their sleeping quarters.  As he walked back to the tent, he noticed that snowflakes had started to fall and sighed.  It would be a heck of a night.

Al had built a small fire outside the tent, far enough away that it wouldn’t pose a danger but close enough to provide a little light as the two men readied themselves for sleep.  Sam initially complained about the tapered legs of the mummy bag but quickly became aware of how well the shape kept in body heat, something he would appreciate with the snow.  Al had made him get a bag rated to -5 degrees F.  He appreciated his friend’s knowledge of the equipment.

As they settled down, Al said that he was incredibly tired which didn’t surprise Sam at all.  Al had been working mostly on adrenaline since the crash.  During the few times he’d seen Al during a crisis, he’d seen him with almost endless energy and then crash hard when the crisis was over.  Then he would sleep, almost immediately, almost anywhere.  Once he’d found him sleeping in a lab chair. 

They both fell asleep quickly.  Neither knew what the next day would hold but they figured that under the circumstance, they were just grateful they had another day to contemplate.

Chapter 4

Sam didn’t think he’d been sleeping for long when he felt someone shaking him awake and calling his name.

“What?” he asked groggily.  “What’s wrong?”

In the darkness he could barely make out Al’s face hovering over his.

“You’ve been sleeping for a couple of hours,” Al explained.  “You said you could only sleep if you were woken up every couple of hours so I’m waking you.”

From a medical standpoint, Sam knew Al was right.  Waking someone with a concussion and seeing if they were oriented with their surroundings was useful in determining if the head injury was worse than originally thought.  However, when he was the one being woken up it didn’t matter what was medically sound.  All he knew was that he’d been woken out of a sound sleep where he didn’t feel the pain in his shoulder and where the pounding headache couldn’t be felt either.  Now Al had brought him back to that and all he wanted to do was to escape into the comfort of sleep again.

“I’m awake,” he grumbled.  “Let me go back to sleep now.”

“No way.  I’m supposed to ask you some questions now so I know you’re brain’s working the way it should be.”

“Fine,” Sam said with barely controlled anger.  “Take your shot at playing doctor then please let me sleep.”

“What’s your middle name?” Al asked seemingly unfazed by Sam’s irritability.

“John,” Sam promptly answered.

“What’s today’s date?”

Sam had to stop and think about that one and realized he didn’t know the date.  “I have no clue,” he finally confessed.  “And I didn’t know this morning before we left either so don’t go getting bent out of shape.  It’s either the 22 or the 23 of September and its 1987.  Are we done now?  Can I go back to sleep?”

“One more,” Al said.  “Do you know where you are?”

“Do I know where I am?” Sam echoed back.  “Of course I know where I am.  I’m in Hell, that’s where I am and I’m done playing this game.  Now can I please go back to sleep?  I’m so tired.”

“I hear you on the tired,” Al said settling down.

Silence soon reigned in the tent but try as he might Sam couldn’t go back to sleep.  He was awake now and sleep seemed so far away despite how tired he was.  He soon became aware of a noise outside the tent.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“What’s what?” Al asked in reply.  His voice sounded like he’d been on the verge of sleep.

“That noise.  What is it?”

Al lay quietly for a moment listening.  “It’s the wind from the storm, that’s all.  Now go back to sleep.”

Once again silence descended broken only by the sounds of the storm outside and shortly after the sounds of Al softly snoring inside.

Sam lay quietly looking up at the ceiling of the tent that was barely discernible in the darkness.  He was sure it was just his imagination but it seemed like it and the walls of the tent were getting closer.  He squeezed his eyes shut and chastised himself for letting his imagination run away from him.  Now was neither the time nor the place to develop claustrophobia.

Resolutely he made himself as comfortable as he could in the sleeping bag being careful not to move his shoulder and willed himself to sleep.  Unfortunately, it seemed as much as he shifted he couldn’t seem to find a position that eased the ache in his lower back.  Eventually the events of the day as well as his injuries combined and caught up with him sending him back into the comfort of sleep.

0000000

He felt himself moving but how he wasn’t sure.  Hearing a gunshot, he turned and felt it enter his shoulder, causing searing pain.  The force pushed him over and he was…Falling!  He was falling from a great height and there was nothing he or anyone could do to stop the fall.  He’d keep falling until he met the ground in a bone-breaking halt.  When he hit the ground, everything would end.

With a quickly indrawn breath and a barely restrained scream, Sam jerked awake.  “It’s just a dream,” he whispered to himself.  “It’s just a dream and I’m safe on the ground.”

He strained his ears but the sounds of the storm had died down leaving Sam to believe that it had finally ended.  How much snow had been left behind remained to be seen.

He longed to slip back to the haven of sleep but feared the dream would once again badger him.  Instead, he lay quietly listening to the sounds of Al breathing next to him.  Under other circumstances, he probably would have found it odd that Al continued to sleep on oblivious to any sounds that Sam might have made.  Al not only had that odd ability to fall asleep anywhere and in record time but he also had the ability to be fully awake for the slightest of reasons.  These weren’t ordinary circumstances yet the oddity never even crossed Sam’s mind.

He started to think back to the camping trips he’d been on as a child both with the boy scouts and with his family to occupy his mind.  Those trips had been about fun and learning and he’d welcomed them.  Although this trip should have been about enjoyment, it had also been one for healing.  Sam realized he was still hurting from Donna’s actions.  Suddenly the thought that if she hadn’t left him, he’d be curled up with her tonight rather then spending the night with Al in a tent and wondering if he was ever going to see his life’s ambition come to fruition came to mind.  Life’s ambition, Hell!  He was wondering if he or Al would even be alive to start it.  Yes, this trip had quickly changed to one of survival and in the dark of night with only his own thoughts for company and the sound of Al’s breathing, Sam honestly questioned his own abilities to survive in the wilderness.

Fate had chosen well when he’d been the one injured.  His last experience camping had been about 10 years ago with some friends from school.  They’d gone up to the White Mountains in New Hampshire but they certainly hadn’t been “roughing it.”  He felt a chill go through him when he thought about what the outcome of the crash would have been if it were Al who’d been injured instead.

He continued listening and heard what he knew to be a coyote.  He’d heard enough of them in New Mexico to recognize the sound of their howls.  He guessed by the many different howls that there might be a pack of them close by.  Now he was especially glad he’d cleaned up the remains of their food a good distance away from the campsite. 

He suddenly realized how warm it felt in the tent.  That was another thing he remembered from earlier camping trips, how cold it could get at night.  When he’d been with his Boy Scout troop, they’d gone winter camping one year, setting up at Raccoon Lake close to Elk Ridge.  He remembered waking up in the middle of the night, shivering.  He’d pulled his two sweaters and an extra pair of wool socks out of the duffel bag that night and put them on.  That had helped quite a bit but it had been hard to sleep in the bulky clothes.  He also remembered having to sleep with his wool beanie on to keep the heat from escaping from his head, especially with his hair kept so short.

This mummy bag was different and he considered it from a technical standpoint.  He knew it was stuffed with goose down and the times he’d spent at his maternal grandparent’s house in Kentucky, where all the beds were covered with down comforters in the winter, provided him with the reference to consider his current sleeping arrangement.  Goose down fluffed with air that created an insulating buffer between the cold air and the body.  It was no wonder, then, that he felt so toasty - even though he couldn’t move worth a flip.  The top of the bag covered his head as well.  He was in a little cocoon of warmth.

He also considered the space around them.  While it might feel a bit enclosed, he knew that the small size of the space they were in also meant that the heat they generated would be mostly conserved within the walls.  Yeah, Al definitely knew his stuff when it came to camping.  He looked over to his friend, and was surprised to see him with his eyes open, looking over.

“What are you doing awake?”  The moon was out and Sam could make out Al pressing against his forehead with his hand.

“Oh, I’ve got a headache.  It woke me up.”  Al shook his head as if trying to shake the pain off.

“When did that start?”

“I don’t know.  I was sleeping.  I just woke up a few minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d gone back to sleep.”

“No.  My shoulder’s really hurting right now and I just can’t get comfortable.”  Sam chose to forego any mention of the dream that had woken him up.

“I would imagine it still hurts pretty bad.  I’m sorry that I didn’t set the plane down more gently.”

If he had been looking over towards Sam, Al would have noticed that the younger man’s expression was one of amazement.  As it was, Sam’s voice carried the emotion well.  “Al!  We’re alive!  I thought for certain those last few minutes in the plane were the last ones of my life…of both our lives!  I’m not saying that I’m thrilled with the outcome, but at least there’s still hope.”  He stopped for a moment and then asked, “How long was I out, anyway after we crashed?”

Remembering that this was a symptom of Sam’s concussion, Al patiently repeated, “Five or six minutes.”

“I already asked you that didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did but it’s okay.  You said this might happen.”

Sam quickly dismissed the symptom of his own injury turning his attention back to Al.  “So, back to your headache, it was bad enough to wake you up?”

“It’s nothing, Sam.”  Al said waving off Sam’s concern.  “Just a sinus headache.  I’m sure that with the pressure changes from the storm and all, my sinuses are just acting up.  I’ll be fine.  What about you?  Is it normal to be in this much pain even if your shoulder’s back in place?”

“Yeah, pretty much.  Under perfect conditions, someone with a shoulder dislocation would be sent home with a prescription for Vicodin or something like that.  The strongest thing we have, though, Tylenol.  Where’s the first aid kit anyway?  We both could use a little more.”

“I put it in my pack.”

Sam turned on the flashlight and pulled himself to a sitting position.  He unzipped the side of his bag to have some room for his arms, or rather just his right arm, to move and was assaulted by the colder air in the tent.  He shivered.  “Damn it’s cold!”

“A lot colder out there,” Al pointed out reasonably.

Sam nodded and pulled Al’s pack over, looking into it and finding the first aid kit at the top.  He pulled out the bottle of Tylenol but quickly realized that with just one hand he wouldn’t be able to work the childproof top.  Al leaned over and grabbed the bottle from him pulling off the cover and handing it back.  Sam shook out six pills.  Four for him…to hell with what the recommended dosage was, as a doctor he knew there was some latitude in how much to take based on body weight and such.  If he was careful, he wouldn’t overdose on it…and two for Al.  His shoulder was still giving him incredible grief and he knew the extra painkiller would help ease that…at least a little.  What he really needed, in addition to a stronger painkiller, was a muscle relaxant.  The muscles in his shoulder, arm, and across his chest and back had been in spasm since his shoulder had popped out.  The Tylenol might help to mask some of the pain but it didn’t do much in the way of relaxing the muscles.  They had kept a nalgene bottle of water in the tent as well and both men used it to wash the pills down.

“It should take a little time for them to work and then maybe we’ll both be able to get back to sleep,” Sam said after he’d returned the first aid kit to Al’s pack and turned off the flashlight.

“Sounds like a plan.  So, ever camp like this before?”

“Not quite like this,” Sam answered remembering those childhood campouts again.  “Tom and I used to go camping together.  He was an Eagle Scout too.  I remember when he started Boy Scouts.  I was still a Cub Scout.  I’d gone there from Indian Guides.  We weren’t allowed to camp like the older boys but Tom would take me camping, just the two of us…sometimes Dad would come with us.”

“You and your brother were close?”

“Yeah, I guess we were.  He was six years older than I was and at first, he wasn’t really happy about having a ‘baby’ follow him around all the time.  After the train ride, though, he seemed to accept me a little more.  At least he stopped trying to put me out with the trash.”

“What happened on the train ride?”

“I don’t really remember.  I just recall being confused, frightened, and sure that everyone was out to get me.  Tom was on that trip as well.  We were going up to Chicago to visit some Child Development specialists.  Tom’s teacher had suggested it to Mom when they found out I could read.”

“How old were you?”

“Two.”

“You mean to tell me you were two years old and could read?  What?  Like Dr. Seuss?”

“As a matter of fact, yeah,” Sam said smiling fondly and thinking about the much-loved and much-worn Dr. Seuss book that had been one of his birthday gifts when he turned two.  “At first it was Dr. Seuss then I got a hold of Tom’s Lord of the Rings that Nana Lowther had given him for Christmas.  Tom was mad that I got into his books.  He thought I’d tear them up or something.”

“You read Lord of the Rings at age two?  Did you even understand it?”

“Yeah, I think I understood most of it.  It was really cool – and a lot more exciting than Dr. Seuss.  Wizards and bad guys and those little hobbits.  Tolkien was a master story teller.”

“God, Sam.  You’ve really been like this all your life.”

“Like what?” Sam asked confused.

“A Wunderkind.”

“I guess that’s just about the size of it.”  The tone of Sam’s voice betrayed what he thought of that – of being so different from everyone around him.  “When I was younger, I just wanted to fit in but most of the other kids teased me a lot.  I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school – especially when I skipped a couple of grades.  Tom made a big difference for me.  He helped me to learn how to fit in and if anyone did anything that he thought would hurt me, he’d be there to make sure it didn’t happen again.”

“Sounds like a great guy.”

“He was.  I still miss him.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died when I was 16 – just before I graduated.”  Sam paused chewing on his lower lip and trying to decide just how much he was ready to tell Al.  “I’d rather not talk it about it, though.  I just…I just don’t like to.”  He knew it was a poor excuse and really not a reason. He’d never been able to put into words his reluctance to talk about how Tom died.  It wasn’t logical, he knew, but it was the hardest thing for him to tell anyone that Tom had been killed in Vietnam.  Besides, he didn’t want to remind Al of his own time there if he didn’t have to.

“Okay, Kid.  I understand.  Someday when you’re ready I’ll here to listen.”

“Thanks, Al.  That really means a lot to me.”

By this time, the Tylenol was kicking in and both men had started yawning.  Sam just hoped that the nightmare wouldn’t return.  He knew that sleep would help heal his shoulder and concussion.  They closed their eyes, hoping that sleep would claim them again.

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