If he didn’t leave, he knew this place would kill him. He’d die here, his family and friends would never know what had happened to him. No, he couldn’t and wouldn’t live in a cage. His freedom was more important than a full stomach.
He went to his bunk and sat down. He had to think, he had to get his mind right. There were a lot of moving parts. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
Ӝ
Kansas City, MO
Hogan opened his eyes and tried to sit up but grimaced and hissed through his teeth. He felt Trish’s cool hand on the side of his heated face. Her fingers moving the hair from his eyes.
“Easy Hogan. You’ll rip your stitches.”
He groaned as Trish helped him to sit up. He was on the couch and two of the dogs were panting near him, and their doggy breath stank. It was dark in the house and he looked around, there was only a candle burning.
“Christ, how long was I out?” He asked, using his other hand to wipe his face. The pain in his shoulder pulsed with aching, rippling through him with each heartbeat.
“Just a couple of hours. How are you feeling, beside shitty?” She smiled at him. He grinned back.
“Better I guess, or at least better than that asshole I shot. He can’t feel anything.” He grunted with dark humor; she squeezed his good arm.
They’d reached the barn earlier; he had wanted to show off his kill. When he opened the barn door, someone from within had shot at them. The bullet had hit the barn door, sending a large shard of wood into his shoulder. He’d been damned lucky, because it hadn’t been his gun hand and he’d staggered back, pushing Trish aside. He’d been able to get his weapon loose and had fired into the barn. He’d seen the man dive for cover, in the dim barn.
He’d gone in and ran into one of the empty stalls. The goats were bleating wildly in the back of the barn. He’d shot several times and had gotten the son of a bitch. The man hadn’t died instantly, and Hogan had kicked answers out of the man. He’d been alone. He was just looking for food.
“Yeah, well you just about killed me and my friend.” He’d snarled. Trish had been beside him and he’d felt the heat of her and the trembling. She’d already had a bad day, and this was just a crappy end to it. The man died, and he was surprised to hear Trish’s grunt of satisfaction. With Trish’s help, they dragged the man across the property to the back of the pasture. She’d helped him throw dirt into the grave. His arm was on fire by then. He was sweating and had vomited. Trish’s face had been pale, but she’d helped him, and he was proud of her. She’d not crumbled or fallen apart. He was thankful he’d previously dug the large hole, because he could never have done it in his current condition.
He’d spent nearly a week digging the damned thing and that was with a pickaxe and shovel. Good thing, because Trish would have been hard pressed to dig something so deep in the cold hard ground and he sure as hell couldn’t dig it now. His arm was nearly numb by the time he and Trish had covered the body with dirt. It would be cold enough to keep the stink of decomposing down. He’d have to go out later, when his arm healed, and add more dirt.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have antibiotics. I cleaned it with a betadine solution and put triple antibiotic ointment on it. That’s the best I could do. I think you should be fine, if I got all the splinters out. We’ll keep an eye on it, make sure it doesn’t get worse. I’ll change the bandage tomorrow and check for signs of infection.” Trish smiled, handing him a bowl of venison stew. He grimaced at the memory of her digging the smaller pieces of wood out, once she’d pulled the larger one out at the barn. She had gone to the house for a clean rag to staunch the bleeding. They’d then disposed of the body, which kept the wound bleeding. He’d bled like a stuck pig. He felt queasy all of a sudden and Trish grabbed the bowl.
He gritted his teeth and shook his head.
“I’m okay. Just thinking about when you were pulling the splinters out. Christ, that hurt like hell.” He said, taking the bowl back and taking a tentative bite of the stew.
“Oh, just thought my cooking was making you sick.” She grinned and he snorted.
“No, this is delicious. Thanks. Tomorrow, we can butcher the rest of the meat. I was going to set up a smoking tent, guess you’ll have to help with that.” He grinned lopsidedly.
“Sure, but I think the deer can wait a day or two while you heal.”
“It might freeze solid.” He worried, thinking of the piercing cold.
“Okay, then tomorrow, we’ll build your smoking tent. I’ll process and can the rest of it. You sure you’re okay, you look a little green?”
“No, I’m good. Just, it hurts like hell.”
“Eat that and I’ll give you some pain reliever. You’re lucky, there weren’t many splinters in there. The wood was pretty solid.”
“Yeah. Thanks for patching me up. Christ, I’m really sorry. I should have been more careful.” Hogan said, shaking his head.
“Hey, that asshole snuck in there. He could have cut some of the meat off and skedaddled, but
