Page 73 of Wild Temple
At least the trail had already been cut. We knew the way back and the pitfalls to watch out for. This time, there were no guns at our backs.
We trekked back through the jungle until nightfall, then I used a flashlight to lead the way. I figured we’d carry on until the beam gave out. Even then, with the full moon and the stars above, with no cloud cover, we’d be able to navigate. Our eyes would adjust.
I took point, leading the way and keeping an eye out for snakes and other critters. With the weapons we had taken from our adversaries, I felt more equipped to deal with anything we met along the trail.
We marched for a few hours, then decided to grab dinner. Stomachs rumbled, mouths dry like salt flats. There were enough MREs to go around. We each had a nice meal of chili mac with all the goodies. Caspian had packed water purification tablets with his gear—chlorine dioxide, in case of emergency. I mixed the electrolyte powder with the sacred water. It was all we had, and we needed to replenish everything we'd sweated out.
After a short break to let our food digest, we set out on the trail again. Going down the mountain was easier, but it worked different muscles.
The critters of the night swarmed, and I slapped at my neck and ears more times than I care to recount.
We marched through the night and all the next day. My legs were jelly by the time we reached the Temple of Wind. If I was feeling it, I know everyone else was too.
The setting sun angled fast toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the jungle.
I searched the area, looking for Rex.
He was gone.
I followed the trail of blood where he had crawled from our campsite back toward the Valley of Darkness.
“Rex!” I shouted into the jungle.
There was no reply.
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Somehow, Rex had managed to crawl all the way into the Valley of Darkness. When I found him, I thought he was dead. His skin was baked from the sun, peeling and raw. He had lost a lot of blood. His breathing was shallow, and his pulse barely thumped my fingertips when I felt his neck.
"Rex!” I shouted, lightly tapping his cheek. “Rex!”
He peeled open a sticky eye and gazed at me with a vacant expression. I don't know if he recognized me or if he thought he was hallucinating.
Sweat misted his forehead, feverish from the festering infection. His belly was distended, and a foul puss oozed from his wound. His lips were dry and split. He was alive but wouldn’t stay that way for long without immediate attention.
I unscrewed my canteen and tipped a swallow into the desert that was his mouth. Dry and swollen, he was barely able to get it down.
"Hang in there, buddy. We’re going to get you help."
The valley had sheltered him from the blistering sun. It was probably the thing that had saved him.
He’d used his shirt to plug the entry wound. It was thick with dark, crusted blood. The sour, fishy smell of death clung to him.
The reaper was close.
I kept giving him small sips to rehydrate. Too much, too fast, might induce vomiting.
With care, I pulled the dressing from the wound and irrigated it.
Jack found a first aid kit in one of the backpacks. It had gauze, tape, disinfectant, and antibiotics. I did my best to clean the wound and repack the dressing.
When Rex could swallow better, I gave him a dose of medication to fight the infection.
Jack scavenged two branches and broke off stray twigs so they were relatively smooth. From the backpacks, we used two ponchos to form a makeshift stretcher. With care, we transferred Rex.
I hoped the branches would hold. Rex was a big guy.
On the count of three, JD and I lifted the stretcher and carried Rex through the valley.
