Page 28 of Loathing Ryan
I chuckled weakly at the callback to what he started before we got into this whole mess. “Did you know there is a town in Michigan called ‘Hell’?”
He looked down at me. “For real?”
I nodded. “Yep, you should be the mayor.”
Ryan threw back his head and laughed before groaning and clutching at his side. “You’re hilarious.”
“I’m glad you’re finally starting to notice,” I grumbled, shifting my shoulders so that his arm wasn’t crushing me as badly.
Ryan was silent for a few minutes as we kept walking. “There’s got to be something out here other than just trees.”
“What’s that?” I asked him, pointing up ahead. He followed my finger.
A few hundred feet in front of us was what looked to be a small shack.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, my eyes taking in the small house before us. My heart rate picked up at what this meant. This was a dream come true.
“It doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Ryan added as we got closer to the cabin. The stairs onto the porch were apparently really hard for Ryan. He struggled to get up the three steps, grunting with each swing of his leg on the injured side.
He finally let go of my shoulders and braced himself on the side of the cabin. He gave a few hard pounds on the door. When no one came to answer, he looked back at me, and I shrugged. Carefully, he went for the doorknob and gave it a twist. To my utter relief, the door swung open, allowing us entry.
Ryan turned back to look at me with a grin on his face. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”
I rolled my eyes and pushed past him into the little cabin. “You’re a dork.”
He snickered from behind me and followed me inside. This was by no means an all-inclusive mountain getaway. I’m not even sure this house was built for more than one person. There was a small makeshift kitchen right off the entryway, with a dated stove and a number of pots and pans stashed on top of a small mini fridge right next to it. On the other side was the bathroom—I was beyond thrilled to see it had indoor plumbing, probably from a septic tank somewhere. There was one bedroom, off the kitchen—not even a separate room—and a tiny living space with an old box TV and a dilapidated red knit couch. In the corner was a little wood-burning fireplace, which would explain the pile of firewood we saw on the porch.
I walked around slowly, going through cabinets and peeking into the rooms. There was a bunch of canned goods, but not much else. The fridge was only stocked with ketchup, a half-full jar of strawberry jam, and a few sticks of butter. I twisted the handle of the kitchen sink’s faucet, relieved to see clear water splash into the basin. I didn’t know if it was sanitary or safe enough to drink, but at the very worst, we could boil it over the stove.
While I stood there staring at the water falling into the sink, my head spun and I licked my dry lips, realizing just how long it had been since I had provided my body with water. Deciding this was now a priority, I reached for a pot and filled it close to the top with the faucet water. I carefully carried it over to the stove and ignited a burner. I placed the pot of water right on top and looked at it, satisfied that we weren’t going to die of dehydration. At least not today.
While waiting for the water to boil, I peeked through the rest of the cabin, seeing what we had to work with. The bathroom had a standup shower, which I couldn’t have been more thrilled about, and a few bottles of what appeared to be generic soap and shampoo. Underneath the sink, I found a tube of toothpaste and one spare toothbrush. I frowned at it, realizing either Ryan and I would have to share—gross—or one of us would have to use our finger to run the toothpaste over our teeth to keep them clean. I rummaged through the drawers in the bathroom, praying that whoever lived here believed in first aid.
To my immense pleasure, I found a half-used tube of triple-antibiotic cream and a few gauze pads, medical tape, ibuprofen, and band-aids. I unscrewed the lid of the ibuprofen and popped two of them, swallowing them dry to help fight off the headache. Grabbing the items, I rushed out to where Ryan had taken a seat at the small two-seater table in the kitchen area.
“Look what I found!” I dropped my bounty on the table so he could see. His eyes met mine, and he smiled. He scooted back the chair he was on so I could get to the gash on his side.
I pulled off the torn t-shirt wrapping and set it on the floor next to me. The wound was still red and inflamed. To make it worse, it was open and bleeding again from all the walking we had done today. I squeezed out a large dollop of the ointment onto my finger and gently rubbed it on Ryan’s side. He winced a little bit when I made contact with the sore, but he didn’t protest. After I was satisfied with my work, I covered it with a gauze pad still in its sterile wrapping. Then I taped the pad onto his skin to hold it in place.
Sitting back on my heels, I looked at my handiwork. Then my eyes darted up to Ryan’s, who was watching me intently, a questionable expression on his face. I didn’t feel like taking the time to decipher what that expression meant, so I swept a piece of my hair back behind my ear and looked away.
“There, now you won’t die from infection,” I told him softly. “And take these.” I held out two more red ibuprofen pills. “This will help with the pain.”
“Thanks, Bells,” he told me sincerely, taking the pills and swallowing them dry. “You’re a good nurse. I wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t here.”
I brushed off his comment with a wave of my hand as I went to investigate the cabinets further. “Who do you think lives here?”
Pushing himself out of his chair, he came to explore with me. “I don’t think anyoneliveshere. It’s probably a weekend getaway for hunting and fishing.” He nodded to the fridge that I was looking into again. “It would be better stocked if someone lived here full time.”
He was right. I was somewhat let down by the fact that we didn’t know when someone would come to our rescue, if at all. By the looks of things, it appeared that no one had been inside this cabin for a hot minute. Or they just didn’t care to keep it nice.
“I wonder if there’s a map around here somewhere?” I thought aloud.
Ryan turned his attention back to me. “That would be useful. Then we could see how far away we are from camp and if we could walk it ourselves.”
The two of us dug through everything: cabinets, a few closets, and drawers. Neither of us turned up with anything but cobwebs and dust. No map. Not even a phone book. With a sigh, I looked around the cabin—there was no landline or anything. I reached for the worn remote sitting on a small table and aimed it at the TV. Nothing.
From the looks of it, it was just the two of us still. How long would that be the case?
