The Ritual

torchlight moved further upward, spearing through the drizzly air. The briefest visual offering of which
liquefied Luke’s guts, then made the sense-memory of his stomach vanish altogether into a total absence.
    Luke moved around Dom and leapt at the tree; as he moved he dropped his right shoulder and filled his fist with the cold density of a heavy rock from the little cairn that weighted down a guy
rope. Landing upon his front foot, with the full range of his arm, his shoulder and his back, he catapulted the stone like a baseball, right into the tree and its shadows.
    The terrible thunk of stone on flesh was followed by a shriek that deafened them both. Luke recoiled from the throw. But before he could straighten his spine, something whipped out from
the howling presence behind the tree and cracked his skull.
    His vision flared white with pain before his eyes and mind clicked off into complete darkness.

FORTY-TWO
    Silty light seeped through his half-closed eyelids and worsened the pain. Relentless in its encasement of his entire skull the agony made him feel sick, and bewildered, and
unsure of where he was. His head and face and neck were wet and cold, dripping.
    The shape of his head felt too big, ungainly and misshapen. Something wet hung over one eye and restricted the light.
    A rucksack had been slipped like a pillow beneath his head. The angle hurt his neck. He raised himself to one elbow and squinted. Empty of anything but gas, his stomach lurched.
    The awning of the tent flapped like a sail in a swift wind. He could see it through one squinting eye. Two sleeping bags covered his body. The little stove was hissing a blue flame under the
steel pan not far from his feet. He reached up and gingerly touched the part of his forehead where the pain started its thunder, before it rolled backwards. Something soft and loose was arranged
about his head, squashing his ears flat, and tied tighter at the back. He swallowed at a dry and swollen throat. Water. He was desperate for it. He coughed. ‘Dom.’
    He heard the sound of rocks grinding together under someone’s weight. The clack of a stick followed, accompanied by a gasp of exertion. He turned towards the sound, then closed his eyes as
the pain threw itself against one side of his head and nearly made him throw up. Skull fracture. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit . Suddenly dizzy, he slipped back down to his former position,
resting against the rucksack.
    ‘Mate. Thank fuck. You’re awake. Wasn’t sure if you were in a coma,’ Dom said, close enough for Luke to smell his harsh breath and the pungent oily smell of his dirty
clothes.
    ‘Any water left?’
    ‘Last of it is in the pan. I used most of it on your head. I had to wash it before I put the bandage on. Coffee and chocolate for breakfast.’
    ‘What’s the time?’
    ‘Eleven.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You’ve been out cold. It’s made a mess of your face. You need stitches.’
    ‘Is it bad?’ he muttered, and felt stupid. How would Dom know?
    ‘Good news is it didn’t come back after you hit it. What did you do, get it with a knife? Jesus, that sound. You hurt it. You must have hurt it.’
    Luke squinted through the one eye it was easiest to open. ‘Threw a rock.’
    ‘Rock?’
    ‘Uh huh.’
    ‘Shot.’
    Luke tried to smile, but that made him nauseous too.‘How bad is it? My head. Don’t B.S. me.’
    Dom paused and looked at his boots, then winced as he returned his gaze to Luke. ‘I’ve never seen so much blood. But that can be misleading. Doesn’t mean it’s serious or
anything. There’s more blood in the head than anywhere else in the body. I think. Which is why head injuries look worse.’
    ‘Shit.’ Head injury – the phrase made him tingle, then wash cold all over. It could be really bad: a fractured skull, or a concussion, which would explain the nausea. Maybe
something worse; a blood clot, or a head trauma that required immediate surgery to prevent brain damage. Fluid had to be drained. Now.
    Panic started to lurch through him again, to join the squeezing pain that pushed reddish flashes into his vision. He took a deep breath and shuddered down to his toes.
    ‘You are covered in it, mate. I didn’t know it was so bad until the sun came up. I nearly heaved. But we got through it. We made it to morning. Can you believe it?’
    ‘Painkillers. Any of those Nurofen left?’
    ‘Sorry. My knee’s been a bit greedy on that front.’
    ‘I don’t think I can even stand