The trail followed along a creek before it took an abrupt turn east, forcing us to splash through the shallow water.
“Almost there,” Jerry said. He pointed to a rotting log twenty feet or so off the trail. “Let me talk to him first.” He tromped through ferns and wood sorrel as he approached the hiding place. “Hey, Vince. It’s me, buddy.”
Jerry dropped into a crouch behind the log. My hand automatically went to my weapon, my suspicions flaring to life. If this was a setup—if Pastor Bill was trying to get rid of us—Jerry and Vince might jump up from behind the log with guns blazing. Instead, Jerry put one hand on the log and hoisted himself to his feet, grunting from the exertion. If I was devising an evil scheme, Jerry would not be my minion of choice.
“Doctor,” he called.
I held a hand up to halt Sahdev. “I’ll go first.”
I led the way to Vince’s shadowy hiding place under the tree canopy. He sat propped up against the log, his skin chalky white, and his face twisted with pain. His left boot was missing, and what looked like a blood-soaked man’s T-shirt was tied around his foot. Binding a wound with a dirty, sweat-drenched tee. Yeah. No potential problem there.
“Stand back and give me room to work,” Sahdev ordered, dropping to his knees by the injured man. For a polite, easygoing man, Sahdev sure got bossy when he switched into doctor mode. He slung the backpack full of first aid supplies onto the ground and pulled out a flashlight. “Ripper, hold this.”
My lips twitched. “Yes, sir.”
I directed the beam at Vince’s foot as Sahdev unwrapped the tee, exposing the injury. The sight killed my flash of humor. Puncture wounds were ugly, especially a through-and-through like this one. Jerry had yanked Vince’s foot off the stake, but God knows how much dirt and debris had been embedded into the wound. Fibers from his socks or bits of leather from his boot—ordinarily innocuous enough—could contaminate the wound. Heard stories of stake tips being coated with poisons or even feces, upping the chances of killing the victim. Vince could be facing one hell of an infection.
I’d get the man who did this. Even if he was some survivalist nutjob and not the bomber, unless he was under attack, it was careless and irresponsible to set potentially lethal booby traps. Self-defense against enemies was one thing, rampant disregard for the lives of hapless strangers was another.
“Are you allergic to any antibiotics?” Sahdev asked Vince.
“Nope.” Vince clenched his teeth.
Sahdev pulled tweezers and a bag of sterile saline from the backpack. I handed the flashlight to Kyle and knelt down next to Vince. Somebody would have to hold his leg still while Sahdev cleaned and irrigated the wound. Soon as the doctor started to dig splinters out of the puncture, Vince turned green. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, then he passed out, a mercy under the circumstances.
“Get antibiotic ointment and gauze from the pack,” Sahdev ordered. I handed them over, and he finished dressing the wound.
“Good thing you had a first aid kit,” I said.
Sahdev glanced up, meeting my eyes. “We can thank Miles for that. He had go bags of emergency supplies ready in case he had to evacuate the compound. Including antibiotics.”
Pain lanced my chest at the mention of Mac’s cousin. The flashlight beam bobbled, and I turned my head toward Kyle, whose hands were shaking, either from fatigue or the reminder of Miles’s death.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Not a problem, man.” I took the flashlight from him and returned it to the pack.
Sahdev stood up. “We’ll need to keep the dressing dry and weight off his injured foot. Over the next few days, we’ll watch for signs of infection: redness, swelling, fever.”
“I’m on it, Doc,” Jerry said.“I took a Red Cross first aid class at the church. If you guys help me get him to my vehicle, I can drive Vince back home. I’ll keep an eye on him till you and your friends get back from dealing with the bomber.”
“I was planning on coming back to the cabin with you,” Sahdev said, frowning.
“No need. Listen, the bomber is smart and knows how to set traps.” He nodded toward Vince. “You saw what he can do. If anything goes wrong, your friends might need a doctor. Besides, with any luck, you’ll be back tomorrow. I can handle Vince till then.”
“All right,” Sahdev said slowly. “Perhaps I’d be of more use here.”
He glanced at me, and I nodded. I’d always assumed that the soft-spoken doctor would be useless in a fight. Truth was, I didn’t know whether he had any fighting skills or not, but what he undoubtedly had was courage and heart. Whether he could fight or not, I suspect he’d find a way to help out.
Vince was a short man with a slight build—thank fuck—so hauling his ass the four miles back to the trailhead would be a helluva lot easier than carrying Jerry. I found a straight, sturdy tree branch, stripped off the twigs, and crafted a carrying pole. Sahdev and I stood side by side, then slid the branch under our backpacks, so that the pole rested on top of our hip belts. Kyle and Jerry hoisted Vince onto the pole and propped him up with his limp arms draped around our necks.
“Kyle, I want you to stay behind and try to get some rest while we carry Vince back to the road,” I said. Kyle opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “By the time we get back, it’ll be evening. We’ll need to lay low tonight, then we’ll start looking for the bomber at first light. Might need to take turns keeping watch. Be a good idea if you could catch some sleep now, so you can take watch later.”
Kyle nodded, reluctant acquiescence on his face. Good. He’d be no use to me if he depleted all his energy on an unnecessary hike.
Once again, Hector led the way, nosing the undergrowth and alerting to any animal movement. Sahdev and Jerry switched places halfway through our trip back to the road. By the time we reached the trailhead, Vince had regained consciousness, although he was in a lot of pain. After getting final instructions about changing the bandages, pain pills, and antibiotics, Jerry and Vince headed back to Nicole’s cabin. Sahdev and I turned around and marched back to Kyle. Had less than an hour of daylight left by the time we reached the fallen log hideaway, definitely not enough time to safely scope out any booby traps that lay between us and the cabin.
“We don’t wanna risk alerting the bomber to our presence, so we’ll hunker down here for the night,” I told Kyle and Sahdev. “No fire. Keep our voices low.”
“You don’t think he’s figured out that somebody’s on to him?” Kyle asked. “After all, Vince fell into his pit.”
“Yeah, he’s gonna be on guard, but he won’t know for sure if anybody’s still around or how many of us are here.”
We sat on the ground in a circle, talking quietly while we dug in our packs for food. Jerry had packed candy bars, peanuts, and cans of cola for our dinner. I sighed. I’d lived off junk food for a solid week when that asshole deputy locked me up in the Jackson County jail. Had sworn that I’d never eat another candy bar, yet here I was, chowing down on chocolate.
The sun set, and the air grew cold. We couldn’t risk a fire, and our jackets weren’t enough to keep the chill at bay. I unrolled a sleeping bag and dropped it on Kyle’s lap then spread a foam pad and my sleeping bag on the ground. I walked a short distance away to take a piss. By the time I returned, Sahdev had set up his bedroll.