MissTaken: Ch3

If you haven't read the previous chapters, I recommend you go to this page which has links to all the chapters as I post them. 

Chapter 3

The Sobbing was over as quickly as it started. Jessica hardened her eyes and set her jaw as she roughly swiped the tears from her face.

“C’mon Jess,” she chided herself, “This is neither the time nor the place. Pull it together.”

Jessica took a few deep breaths, then rose to her feet. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, bringing with it the long shadows and muted colors of early dawn. She dismantled the campsite, reclaiming the bits of rope.

The fire was reduced to a few glowing embers. Jessica retrieved the bottle of water from the fire hole—a bit misshapen in places, but intact. The bottle was warm to the touch, but not unbearably so. She opened the bottle and took a sip. The water was flat and tasteless, as boiled water generally is, and the warm temperature left it even more dissatisfying to the palate. Which was probably a good thing, as it tempered the urge to drink it in great gulps. She recapped the bottle and set it to one side.

  Jessica filled the holes in and scattered loose debris over the disturbed earth. In a matter of minutes, the clearing looked as if she had never been there.

She surveyed the area once more to make sure nothing had been missed. Satisfied with her work, she collected the sack and the bottle. Stowing the bottle back in the sack, she continued upward to the summit. She was still tired, but less so than yesterday. Her head no longer ached, and her mind was clearer.

The muscles in her legs were slightly stiff from yesterday’s exertion. Fortunately, she had competed in cross-country, and in track as a distance runner in high school since her freshman year. She had continued a relatively consistent training regimen since graduating. In only a few minutes, she was loosened up and striding comfortably up the steep slope. She reached the summit in no more than an hour—maybe two.

The foliage was as dense on top of the mountain as it was elsewhere, frustrating her efforts to get a good view of the region. Craning her head back, she gazed at the treetops. If she could get to the top, she might be able to see everything she needed to.

Jessica continued to walk, studying the bases of trees as she went. She needed to find a tree tall enough to look over the forest, with branches low enough to reach, and with branches up high that would be strong enough to support her weight. Twenty yards away she spied two massive trees growing side by side, contending for dominance on a raised knoll. Both went straight up, with sparse, sturdy branches angling up and away from the trunk. Neither was particularly climbable, but there were enough intersections of branches that between the two of them she was confident she could get to a high perch.

She placed the sack at the base of one trunk. Looking upward, she took a deep breath, then exhaled, her eyes darting from branch to branch, plotting a route. She shook her arms, hands, and fingers, loosening them up. Coiling like a spring, she leaped with a grunt, stretching her arms upward to grasp the first branch. She paused a moment to adjust her grip, then with a quick jerk she pulled herself upward, swinging one leg up and over the branch. She wriggled onto the branch and stood up, leaning against the trunk for balance. The branch was angled more steeply than she thought. Leaning forward and gripping either side firmly, she monkey-walked up the steep incline, struggling to keep her balance as her shoes shifted and slipped on the bark.

Ten feet out from the trunk, she stood up quickly, grabbing a branch crossing above her head from the other tree. She pulled on it gently, testing its strength, it was thinner than the branch she was standing on, and a bit springy, but would hold her weight. She pulled her feet up and wrapped her legs around the branch. It bobbed up and down, but not dangerously so.

Jessica waited for the branch to settle, then she shimmied to the trunk of the second tree. Once she had footing against the trunk, she wormed her way onto the branch. A couple closely spaced branches here gave her purchase to scramble several feet directly upward, then out along another branch to reach a crossing branch from the first tree. Back over to the first tree, pull up to another branch.

Back and forth and up she went. She had to retrace her steps once when the branch she selected began to crack as she moved out onto it. It took several minutes, and a few breaks to shake out the tightness in her arms and fingers, but she finally found herself above the canopy, with an excellent view in all directions.

North, South and West of her looked much the same, lush and mountainous. To the Northeast was a rugged, more barren region, lots of scrub brush, and open spaces. Interrupted on occasion by large, rocky formations. That would be more familiar territory for her—more like the high deserts of Utah where she grew up, but familiar didn’t necessarily mean better. She knew just how challenging it would be to survive. She felt drawn to it, nonetheless. Was that just a trick of her mind? A desire for something familiar? Or was she being guided? She flicked her gaze between the lush, alien tropic and the familiar but treacherous desert.

Then Jessica noticed a line, meandering snake-like through the desert region. It appeared to be a gully, and it was dotted with greener, more dense clusters of foliage. That had to be a stream or a river cutting through the baren area. That settled it. She climbed back down out of the trees and started down the northeast side of the mountain. It was likely to be a long trek, maybe two days to get there. She really needed water sooner, her lips were dry and beginning to crack. Opening the bottle, she took a gulp. She resisted the urge to drink more. Until she had a way to replenish it, she would need to ration it.

It was still morning when Jessica came to a large, open spot in the trees on a flat area near the base of the mountain. It was completely covered with small, red, white, and mauve flowers on tall stems—about waist height. She froze. Nature wasn’t big on homogeneity. This had to be cultivated.

She crept to the left, staying in the trees, but near the field, watching and listening for any activity. She was nearly to the northeast corner when the rumble of a vehicle approached from the north. Jessica crouched lower, her heart rate quickening.

A break in the trees lay about 50 yards ahead. A small shack, camouflaged with branches and netting stood near the break. It blended well with the surrounding trees and shrubs.

She moved to heavier cover as a jeep came in sight through the break in the trees.

The jeep stopped near the shack and two men got out. They were talking, but they were too far away for her to make anything out. They strolled casually into the open field. Both men had pistols strapped to their hip. They examined a few of the flowers as they walked through the field. The men were talking, occasionally laughing. Jess strained to hear but couldn’t pick anything out.

After several minutes the men returned to the jeep and started the motor. They turned the vehicle around and disappeared into the trees the same way they’d come.

Jess hesitantly moved through the denser vegetation toward the shack, pausing every few steps to listen. She peered intently at the shack, watching for any movement.

The break in the trees was the head of a primitive road. Two worn tracks where wheels kept the vegetation from growing wound through the trees and out of site. The shack was on the same side of the road as her, so she slipped up to the side. There were no windows, but the construction was rather shoddy. She was able to peer in through one of the many gaps in the boards.

Inside were a few worn and rusty cultivating tools. Among the tools was a hatchet. That would be handy to have.

She paused, considering. She was not inclined to steal. On the other hand, she needed to survive, that meant gathering resources to make herself reasonably comfortable.

“Comfortable,” she chuckled softly. “Good choice of words Jess.” However, it really was her aim.

Her family used to watch survivor reality shows on TV together.  Her dad who was an avid outdoorsman often sighed and shook his head as they watched. “They make the same mistake right at the start” He would always say. “They act as though they are going to be rescued. That whole optimism thing, I guess. But it’s wrong.

“You have to assume you aren’t going to be rescued. When you assume help is around the corner, you end up doing just enough to get by until the cavalry comes to save the day. Then, if something goes wrong, which it inevitably will, you aren’t prepared to handle it, and you fall apart. When you know the cavalry isn’t coming, you do what it takes to thrive.”

Jessica checked the door, there was no lock, she inched the door open and reached in to grab the hatchet. Closing the door again, she slipped back into the trees. She paused, crouching, and listening again for any sound of pursuit. All remained quiet.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she slid the hatchet handle into the rope belt. And started off again.  She adjusted her direction of travel slightly to the north, running parallel to the road for a while, to see where it led. After two miles, she could make out a small village on a rise in the distance.

Those must be the people farming the flowers, she thought. The jeep with the two men was parked there, and the men were talking to a small group of women.

Jess wiped the back of her hand over her sticky, sweat covered face and squinted skyward. The sun was directly overhead.

She swung the sack from her shoulder and sat in the shade of a large oak tree. Where she could watch the village. She opened the sack and retrieved the bottle. After taking another gulp of water, she tore off another chunk of bread. Except for the two men in the jeep, all the villagers were women and children.

To her left, she heard a vehicle driving toward the village from the southeast. Another jeep came into view with three men in it.

As it approached the village, the group of women scattered, racing for homes, and the two men ran to their jeep. She watched as they pulled rifles from their vehicle and aimed at the approaching jeep. The new arrivals stopped abruptly and jumped from their vehicle, their own weapons at the ready.

Jess could hear them shouting, though she couldn’t make out what they were shouting. She scuttled around behind the thick oak tree, for cover.

Peering around the trunk, she saw one of the three newcomers collapse before she heard the first staccato bursts of gunfire. The remaining four men scrambled for cover. The newcomers boarded their jeep while firing wildly into the village. They turned the vehicle around and retreated the way they came.

The other two men gave chase in their own vehicle, kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake. Jessica stayed low, hugging the base of the big oak until the sounds of motors and gunfire were gone. She looked back to the village. She could hear screaming. A woman was crouched over a small form.

“Oh Jess, this is a bad idea!” she mumbled to herself.

Staying low she raced toward the village. As Jessica approached, she could see the small form was a young girl, no older than nine. Blood stained her dress.

Jess dropped down next to the little girl. The growing spot of blood was near the base of the girl’s neck, just above her heart.

Jessica grabbed the fabric and pulled hard, enlarging the small hole made by the entering bullet. She could see the hole in the girl’s shoulder. Dark blood was oozing out. A lot of dark blood was oozing out!

Jessica pressed her hand firmly against the hole to stop the flow of blood.

But then what? Two memories flooded her mind simultaneously, each competing for her attention. She closed her eyes, inhaled sharply, and exhaled slowly, fighting the panic welling up in her.

The first memory was from a first-aid class she had attended with a group of her friends as a church activity in her teens.

“Arteries pump. Veins dump.” The instructor repeated the rhyme several times, trying to fix it in the youths’ minds. The girl’s wound was oozing, not spurting. The bullet must have hit a vein.

Jessica fought to steady her trembling hands as she shifted her focus to the second memory. She was with her father and her older brother. They were deer hunting. Her brother had just shot a deer, and her father was examining the wound.

“Bullet entered here,” he said, examining the small whole high in the creature’s neck, close to the head. He rolled the deer over, exposing a much larger hole on the opposite side. The bullet deformed and expanded as it travelled through the deer.

Jessica briefly removed her hand from the wound to examine it, then applied pressure again. There were tears in the flesh around the wound. That meant this was probably where the bullet came out. The hole wasn’t very large though, and exit wounds are bigger than entry wounds. She’d been on enough successful deer hunts with her family to know that.

Jessica slipped her free hand behind the girl’s back. More blood, then her finger found another small hole. Jessica breathed a hopeful sigh. That suggested the bullet had passed right through the tiny body, without even expanding. Other than nicking a vein, this wound might not be so bad. She pressed her hand against the second hole.

“I need clean rags and water! Trapos limpios y agua!” Jessica said, mostly to give the panicked women something to do for a few minutes, other than screaming and waving their arms.

Her confidence cut through their fear, and they set about searching for water and rags. It took a few minutes for the requested items to be gathered, which gave Jessica a moment of quiet to think.

“Direct pressure for a vein,” Jessica rehearsed to herself reviewing again the instructor’s direction from the first aid course, “It shouldn’t take more than about five minutes to get it stopped.” Of course, holding pressure for five minutes was not an easy task.

When the women returned with the rags and water, Jessica quickly pressed a clean rag against the wound and instructed one of the women to hold it tightly in place. She did the same for the wound on the girl’s back. She used some of the water to clean the blood from her hands, then using another rag, she worked to clean away the blood from the little girl.

The girl regained consciousness as she was finishing up. She cried, complaining of pain in her shoulder, but otherwise, she seemed okay.

Under Jessica’s direction, the women slowly removed the rags. Blood was seeping, but no longer oozing from the wound. Jessica’s shoulders sagged and she breathed a sigh of relief. She instructed the women to continue pressure with clean rags.

“Is there a doctor?” Jessica queried. There was a quick discussion, and one older woman raced off to bring her car, to take the girl to a nearby town where a doctor could be found. The remaining women continued to fuss over the little girl.

Jess quietly took a few steps backward. She was uncertain what to do now. She ran both hands through her hair, pulling it up off her neck, then letting it drop. She could feel the slight trembling in her fingers. She continued to take slow, deep breaths as she turned about, looking this way and that.

“The men who were just here,” a voice startled her. Jessica whirled about, facing back toward the group of women. One younger woman had followed Jessica away from the group and was studying her closely.

“They were looking for a girl. A gringa with dark hair. They offered a reward.”

Jess fought to keep her face passive. Her fists clenched tightly and the muscles in her legs tensed. She glanced to the group of women around the little girl, then back to the young woman.

“I don’t think they will turn you in. Not after what you just did.” The woman held Jess’s gaze. “But it won’t be safe for you to stay here. They will be back, soon.”

“What just happened?” Jess asked.

The woman shrugged, “Rival Cartels. Los Zetas and Los Caballeros Templarios. Sometimes they fight.”

“Where are the men?” Jess looked around and then back to the woman inquisitively.

The woman glanced away. “Some are dead, some join the cartels. The rest try to get to America.” She looked northward, wistfully, “They send money when they can, and they will send for us if they can find a way to get us there safely.”

She paused for a moment, then turned back to Jessica, “You must go, it isn’t safe here. They will be back.”

Jessica reached out and gently touched the woman on the shoulder. She nodded soberly, then turned northward.

“Be careful!” The woman called after her. “Don’t trust the police. Don’t trust anyone.”

Jessica slipped into the trees and out of site.

* * *

As the day progressed the trees began to thin. By late evening, Jessica could see only small clusters of trees and scrub brush ahead of her. She had used nearly all the water in the bottle, even with careful rationing. She might be able to push on and reach the river before morning.

No. Better to make camp here in one of the small clusters of oak trees. She selected a spot with good cover, constructed another Dakota fire hole, and got a fire going.

Propping herself against a tree, she tilted her head back to the night sky and stared at the stars. Were her family looking at the same sky? Did they even realize she was missing? It had been only three days after all. Even though she called them every night to check in, maybe they thought she was having such a good time she forgot.

With a weighted breath, she lowered her head and rummaged in the sack for the last scrap of bread. It was small—not enough to stave off the loud growls coming from her stomach—but it was enough to keep her going until she got to the river.

Biting down on the crust, her thoughts turned to the little girl. Had the women got her to the doctor in time? She hoped so. She’d done all she could for her under the circumstances anyway.

Not wanting to use the last of her water, she finished the bread and settled in for the night. Leaning back against the trunk, she wriggled to find a more comfortable spot and pulled the shawl over her as a makeshift blanket. Her eyes heavy, she gave up trying to fight them and let sleep take her.

She had the same dream that night, her baby sister morphing into Meredith, begging her not to leave.

She startled awake as before yet froze the second she heard the unmistakable buzz of a rattlesnake nearby.

Turning her head slowly, Jess could just make out the coiled shape in the pre-dawn light, not more than two feet away, near the fire hole. It must have come during the night, drawn by the warmth. It was difficult to judge the snake’s length, but it looked like a timber rattler. She had seen those as long as five feet back home. Best guess, this one was between three and four feet long, which meant sitting two feet away she was likely within striking distance.

Not taking her gaze off the snake, Jessica moved ever so slowly, ever so imperceptibly away from the snake. First one leg, a mere fraction of an inch, then the other. She pressed her palms against the ground just enough to allow her body to shift, then she slowly slid her hands. It seemed as though an hour had passed before she managed to widen the gap by a foot, her arms trembled from the exertion. She continued until she had placed five feet between her and the snake, ensuring she was out of striking range.

She stood, and looking around spied a fallen branch, roughly 5 feet long, with a sturdy, forked end. Keeping a close eye on the rattler, and using the hatchet, she quickly shortened the ends of the fork to just over an inch.

The snake ceased rattling and began to uncoil, preparing to move on. Jessica walked slowly toward the snake, stepping deliberately heel to toe to avoid making any sudden movements or sounds. When she was close enough, she lifted the stick up, and taking careful aim, brought the fork-end down just behind the snake’s head, pinning the head to the ground. In a swift motion she raised the hatchet and swung, striking the body hard directly behind the stick. The blow severed the head cleanly. The decapitated body coiled and uncoiled, dropping small spatters of blood as it flopped about aimlessly.

Jessica used the stick to push the head away from her campsite. Eagerly, she rekindled the remaining embers of the fire. Once the fire was refueled and burning well, she took the still writhing snake body, and placing her boot on the tail just above the still buzzing rattles, she stretched the body out. Using the SOG, she cut a slit down the belly of the snake from end to end. She spread the skin apart near the top of the neck and located the esophagus and gripping it, she began pulling the innards out of the body.

Once the entrails were free of the body, she peeled the skin off, leaving her holding a creepy, twitching, naked snake body.

Using the remaining water, she cleaned out the body cavity and rinsed her hands. The fire was a hot pile of embers now. She gathered a few green branches and fashioned a grill grate over the hole. She cut a green branch from the tree and skewered the snake body at several locations, to keep the still twitching body in check. She then placed the skewered snake on the makeshift grate.

While it cooked, she attended to the head, gouging a hole in the dirt with the SOG and burying it, to reduce the chances of someone or something unintentionally coming in contact with the still venomous fangs.

Jessica removed the snake from the fire, peeled open the crisped outside, and proceeded to pick out and eat the stringy meat.

Some people said snake was good and tasted like chicken.  Jessica didn’t agree. She thought it might be edible with enough barbeque sauce. But plain, it tasted to her the like result of an unholy pairing of a chicken and an oyster. Still, it was meat. There was probably close to a pound of good, lean protein, which would satisfy her hunger and give her a much-needed boost.

With her belly filled and her spirits lifted, Jess filled in the fire hole and as before, cleared all traces of her having been there. She spied a nice, long, straight stick which would serve well as a walking pole as she was preparing to move on. Things were definitely looking up.

She gathered her meager supplies and began the day’s trek hoping to reach the river before dark.

The ground had changed now, less grass and more gravel. There were fewer trees as well. She began to reconsider the wisdom of her decision, there were few places where she wasn’t exposed. Still there would be water ahead, and she needed water.

The sun was beating down now. Jessica used the bandana to cover as much of her face as she could to protect her skin. She wished she had a little water left, to mix with dirt and then rub the resulting mud on to serve as sunblock, as she had done the previous day. Much more of this exposure would likely leave her burned, peeling, and perhaps even blistering,

“Standing outside the fire,” Jess sang the words from the country Song by Garth Brooks softly to herself, “Life is not tried it is merely survived if you’re standing outside the fire”.

She took comfort from the words. It was a reminder that most things worth doing were hard. She felt energized as she continued to hum the music, her paced quickening to match the rhythm.

Ducking into the next shady spot she found, Jessica took a break for several minutes. She’d been limiting her exposure as much as she dared while still making progress across the barren landscape, and the pauses gave her a chance to assess the situation.

The sun was getting close to the horizon now. She held her hand up between the sun and horizon to count the number of fingers between the two. Six fingers. It was a primitive way to measure time, each finger representing about 15 minutes. She had roughly an hour and a half until sunset.

She had hoped to be at the river by now. Could she chance getting over one more hill? She wasn’t desperately dehydrated yet. She had a goal and didn’t want to miss it. Gripping her walking stick firmly, and setting her jaw, she plodded forward.

As she crested the rise, she flashed a celebratory smile. There was definitely running water down there. She could see the shimmer and sparkle, could hear the distant gurgle and splash of it against rocks. She could almost feel its coolness in her throat. Using the high ground, she began scouting out potential campsite locations. She looked for an open area, free of any tall grass, logs, large rocks or other debris that might attract critters. She spotted a location about halfway down the hill, still some seventy yards from the water.

She hurried down the hill as quickly as she dared, eager to reach the campsite and set up for the night. She covered the distance in just a few minutes.

Jessica set to work, using the stick she had fashioned into a trekking pole that morning to scratch out a small circle to serve as her campsite. She had needed to pee for several hours but had been holding it until the campsite was selected. Now she squatted at spots every couple of feet and released a small amount of urine, working her way around the circle to create a pee fence. Hopefully that would help discourage any snakes or other critters form snuggling up to her tonight. She had heard once that most critters avoid human urine scent. It was worth a try anyway.

She used the hatchet to cut a few branches from the trees down by the river and erected another marginal lean to. Grandpa Hansen would likely chastise her if he saw it. There really wasn’t time to do a good job though. With any luck it would be enough to keep her mostly dry, should it decide to rain that night.