Nemesis Chapter 15

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By the time two more hours had passed, it was well into the evening.  While Grant slept, Max had searched the immediate area for anything that could be used as emergency supplies.  He found nothing.  Everything that had been usable on the helicopter had burned with it, and because of their cover as inmates they hadn't been able to carry anything with them.

Worse yet, the small piece of land they had crashed on appeared to be an uninhabited island somewhere in the middle of the ocean.  There were lots of trees and brush nearby, but nothing to start a fire with.  Not that they needed it for warmth - it was summertime, after all - but they could have used the light.  If not for the fact that it was a cloudless night with a full moon and a sky full of stars, it would have been impossible to see anything.

Max hated to disturb his friend, but he knew that he had to.  Besides, he was looking forward to his turn to rest.  His brain wasn't quite as fuzzy as before, but his ribs and arm were throbbing with pain.

Max reached over to give Grant's shoulder a gentle shake.  Grant did not respond.

Max felt panic surge through his chest as he tried again, a little harder this time.  "Hey, Grant! Wake up, buddy!"

There was still no response from his friend.  Max quickly checked Grant's pulse.  It was still slow and erratic as before.  Max patted Grant's cheek gently.  "C'mon, pal, wake up," he pleaded.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Grant's eyes fluttered, and then opened.  Max let out a huge sigh of relief, but his brow was still furrowed in concern.

"Don't scare me like that again," he ordered.

"Like what?"  Grant asked, confused.

"I couldn't wake you for a minute," Max responded.  "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Grant replied, as Max continued to touch Grant's face, first with his palm, then with the back of his hand.  "What is it?" he asked.

"I think you've got a fever, my friend," Max answered.

"A fever?"

Max nodded.  "Could be infection setting in.  The gash on your head or your open fracture would both do it.  We've gotta find a way to get the hell out of here," he added worriedly.

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Grant replied cynically.  He tried to hoist himself one-handed to a sitting position, and Max quickly offered assistance with his own good arm.

"I need to dress that head wound," Max muttered, "to keep the dirt out."  He chided himself that he didn't do it before, but Grant had been too tired to assist.

"You need to rest," Grant admonished. "You still look like hell."

"First things first," Max protested, ignoring the second half of Grant's comment.  "I'm going to need your help."

Grant nodded.  "What do I do?"

Max gripped the tail of his tank top with his right hand and held on tightly.  "Pull on my shirt as hard as you can."

"But it will rip it."

"That's the idea," Max replied.  "I don't see anything else we can use as a bandage."

Reluctantly, Grant complied.  Once the shirt was ripped, Grant and Max worked together using their good hands to fold it and tie it around Grant's temple.

"Now. Rest,"  Grant insisted.  At Max's questioning look, he smiled wanly.  "I'll be fine, Max.  I'm not sleepy anymore.  Please."

"Okay," Max finally relented.  "But wake me if you need me."

Grant nodded again, and Max gingerly lay on his back in the soft grass.  Exhausted, he was asleep in minutes.