Blood Red Road

bitter an I make a face. Willow bark, he says. It brings down the fever. I brewed it myself.
    He makes me drink the cup dry before he lets me stop.
    My right shoulder’s wrapped tight in a strip of ripped shirt. How bad is it? I says.
    A lot better’n it was, he says. We cleaned you up an put a poultice on to draw out th’infection. That wurm slashed you deep. It needs stitchin, but we had to wait till it’s clean.
    You bin out fer two days, says Emmi.
    Two days! I says. I sit up like a shot an go to shove my blanket away, but Jack stops me. Presses me back gently so’s I lie down agin. My shoulder throbs. It cain’t be, I says. That means we only got … when’s midsummer eve?
    Him an Emmi look at each other. It’s tonight, she says.
    No! What time is it now? I try to sit up agin an this time Emmi stops me. I gotta git there!
    It’s okay, says Emmi, we got time.
    We’re here, says Jack.
    What …? I says. Whaddya mean … we’re here?
    Freedom Fields, she says. Saba, we’re at Freedom Fields.

    It’s jest th’other side of this hill, says Jack. He gits up an goes over to the fire. Starts doin somethin, takin pots offa the fire an movin things around, but I cain’t see what.
    I don’t unnerstand, I says. How’d I git here?
    You passed out while you was still on the lake, says Emmi. Jack found you. He carried you all the way till he caught up with us. You would of bin dead if it warn’t fer him. Ain’t that right, Jack?
    He grunts.
    He wouldn’t let nobody else touch you, she says. Then he loaded you onto Hermes an we jest kept goin till we got here.
    Hermes? I says. But we set the horses loose. They should of bin long gone.
    Not Hermes, says Emmi. He waited fer us. Fer you.
    Remind me to thank him, I says. I lie back. We made it in time, I whisper. We made it.
    By the skin of our teeth, says Jack.
    Where’s everybody else? I says.
    Outside, he says. They’re gittin a few things together that might be useful.
    They’re makin arrows, says Emmi.
    I need to help, I says.
    You can help in a minute, says Jack. Soon’s I stitch that wound.
    There ain’t time, I says.
    You ain’t got a choice in the matter, he says. He starts to thread fine catgut through a thin bone needle.
    Emmi says, You should of seen ’em all run when Jack asked who was good at stitchin.
    Cowards, says Jack. Every one of ’em.
    Ike said only a fool ’ud dare touch a prickly pear like you, says Emmi.
    Is that what you are, Jack? I says. A fool?
    Seems that way, he says. Now, let’s take a look. He pushes my shirt offa my shoulder an unwinds the bandage. I peer at it. The oak bark poultice done its work. The wound’s ugly but clean.
    Yer gonna have a big scar, says Emmi.
    You ain’t seen me sew yet, says Jack. I do real neat work. He holds out a bottle of Ike’s vodka. It’s half full. Here you go, he says, drink it down. It’ll help dull the pain.
    No, I says. I’m gonna need a clear head later on.
    He lifts one eyebrow. You sure? he says. Go on.
    No, I says. I don’t wanna drink.
    Well I sure as hell do, he says an he takes a long swig.
    Jest git on with it, Jack, I says.
    He hands me a cloth. I shove it into my mouth. Then he gives me a rock fer each hand.
    Emmi sits on my legs to stop me kickin. She’s got a flamin torch in her hand. Don’t throw me off, she says.
    I’ll work as fast as I can, says Jack, but this is gonna hurt like the devil. You ready?
    My heart’s thumpin. I bite down on the cloth. I squeeze the stones hard. I nod.
    Gimme a good light, Emmi, he says. All right, here we go.
    Then he commences to stitch me up.
    Lucky fer me, I faint right away.

FREEDOM FIELDS

I STEP OUTSIDE INTO THE MIDDAY SUN . I BLINK AFTER THE arkness of the cave an take in a deep breath to clear my foggy head. The air’s cooler’n I’m used to. It smells different. This air smells of fir, sharp an sweet at the same time.
    The longest day of the year. Midsummer. This is it.
    Yer awake, says Jack. He’s sittin on a big rock. It’s on the edge of a little clearin to the side of the cave. He finishes tyin the head onto a arrow an tosses it onto a growin pile. How’s the shoulder?
    I roll it around. A bit stiff, no surprise there, an a bit sore where the stitches are, but no pain. I guess I got Jack’s disgustin willow bark brew to thank fer that.
    Feels good, I says. Thanks. I look up at the sky. Any sign of Nero?
    He shakes his head. No. My stummick tightens. I look up at the sky agin, like he might of appeared in