Dane's Storm

“Shit, sorry, I tried to get it closer to your arms. Can you get it with the piece of metal?”

I nodded, lifting my head just enough to see exactly where the duffel bag was, using the long piece of metal to hook on the strap so I could drag it closer.

“Good work,” Dane said. “After you tie your arm, there are blankets in there, too. Try not to get them wet because we need them, but cover yourself with them, all right?”

“Y-yes,” I said, unzipping the bag now next to me on the ground. I pulled out the cotton shirt and then unzipped my jacket, crying out in pain as I pulled my right arm from the sleeve, inch by slow inch. I heard Dane swear above, so I attempted to reassure him. “I’m okay. Just h-hurts.”

I didn’t want to look at my arm. I just wanted to continue to cradle it against my body, but I stole myself, taking a deep breath and looking down. The top of my arm was relatively untouched. It was the underside that was bloody and mangled, the flesh hanging loose in two spots. Bile rose in my throat but I swallowed it down, searching for every ounce of courage. Dane was going to rappel down to me on a handmade rope while practically unconscious with fever. I was not going to lose it over a bloodied arm.

Using the cotton to wrap around the worst of my injuries, I used one hand to tie the sleeves at my wrist so it was pulled as tight as possible. I worked as quickly as I could, shivering so severely I could barely manage the task. But I did, and as soon as it was done, I pulled my coat back on, took the blankets from the duffel bag, and carefully put them on top of me, ensuring the edges didn’t touch the snow. Better, better.

“Just a few more,” Dane said, referring to the knots he was tying, I assumed. God, how w

as he doing it while he could barely walk? How could this be happening? Even if he did make it down to me, what were we going to do? I couldn’t walk. Don’t think, not now. Wait for Dane and come up with a plan together.

Together.

My heart raged in my chest, and my harsh breathing plumed in the air and I focused on Dane’s voice above me as he talked. “Did I ever tell you I took sailing lessons when I was fourteen?” he asked. I knew he didn’t expect me to answer because he didn’t wait for my replies, just peered at me between sentences. I was thankful, because the effort it took for me to yell up to him was too taxing. I was sure talking wasn’t any easier for him, but at least he didn’t have to shout. His voice carried down to me. But there were unusual pauses between his words, so I knew he was having trouble catching his breath, or perhaps concentrating. “Dustin took lessons too, and he was better at it than I was, which pissed me off. So I decided, fuck it, who needs to sail when you can swim? That’s what I was good at. But, one thing that came out of it is I learned how to tie a damn fine knot.”

I felt my lips tip into a small smile and my love for him was a living, breathing thing around me, swirling in the icy air. This awful, awful, unfathomable moment and I felt my love for him so clearly, so profoundly, a current of warmth, a burst of light in the darkness. Nothing was certain, nothing except the love beating through my veins, wrapped around my soul. I closed my eyes and let it burn inside me like I’d swallowed one of those glowing stars and made it mine.

“I’m going to throw a few more things I grabbed at the camp, but just leave them where they land. And then I’m coming down.”

Oh thank God. “Please be safe,” I managed.

“I will.” I heard a few things hit the ground near me, and one farther away, but didn’t turn my head to look. My eyes were trained on the spot where Dane would come over the cliff, my heart thumping loudly in my ears. What if he fell too? What if he couldn’t make it? What if—

The soles of Dane’s shoes came into view first as he backed up over the mountain ledge, not a single piece of mountain climbing equipment in his possession, only a flimsy, handmade leather rope. A small gurgle of terror sounded in my throat. I would not distract him, not now when he needed to focus the most.

Slowly, slowly, he backed over the edge, my heart lurching ferociously with each movement he made. The leather rope he’d fashioned looked so damn thin, so inadequate to hold the weight of a grown man. He dangled, trying to find purchase with his feet on the rock, but seemingly unable to because of the coating of ice. After a short pause, he un-gripped one hand and moved it below the other, moving down another foot. Oh please, please, please. He came down another few feet, slowly, slowly and as he drew just a little closer, I could see that his arms were shaking. Oh Dane. Oh God.

He lowered, hand over hand, feet finding a tiny ledge when he could, but otherwise dangling. Hot tears leaked from my eyes to watch him struggling so mightily. He was supporting the entire weight of his body with only his arms and they had to be burning so badly. It should be unendurable. And yet still he held on, still he came for me.

As he approached the halfway mark, I saw that he was running out of rope and my heart stopped before resuming in a quickened beat of fear. Oh God! What was he going to do? I wanted to ask him, to call up, to help, to do something, but I knew he couldn’t answer. And I knew I was all but useless. My breath came out in small panicked bursts.

And suddenly I heard an awful tearing sound as the piece of leather at the top of the cliff, the one stretched over the edge, ripped, and Dane began to fall.

My own scream pierced the silence right before Dane’s cry of pain accompanied the heavy thud of his body hitting the ground. “Dane! Dane!” I cried, struggling to pull myself toward him with my arms, my legs dragging uselessly behind me.

“Stop,” Dane panted out in a harsh, wheezing exhale. “Stop.” I halted in my movement, drawing in huge mouthfuls of air, trying desperately to catch my breath. “Don’t move,” he wheezed. “I’m okay.”

For a moment he didn’t move at all as if he was gathering some last vestige of inner strength, and then on a loud, gasping moan, he pulled himself to a sitting position, grabbing his head in his hands and wincing.

After another few seconds, he let go of his head, turning his body toward me and crawling to where I was waiting, still up on my one good forearm. “I’m okay,” Dane said again but he most definitely didn’t look okay. His face was flushed red, and he was sweating profusely, his entire body shaking with fatigue or sickness, or probably both. “I’m okay,” he said, as I collapsed onto my back. He took my face in his hands and I could no longer hold back the tears. I cried silently, tears streaming down my cheeks as he brought his bearded face to mine, kissing me and whispering words of comfort.

“Y-you knew the rope wouldn’t reach—”

“Shh. I had to tie it on a tree at the edge of the woods. There was nothing else. That took up half the rope. I thought it would hold until I was close enough to drop with less risk. But I’m okay.”

But I knew he wasn’t okay. As far as broken bones, yes, but as far as the infection that affected him, no. He needed to be in a hospital, and badly.

God, please give him strength. Theo, help your daddy.

“I saw some smoke. I think. Did I tell you that?”

“Smoke?” I whispered, my mind becoming fuzzy as if it had taken all the stress it could and was closing down at the edges.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Just this far-off wisp of it, baby. I . . . wasn’t . . . sure, but we’re going to head in the direction it came from. Hope . . .”