"You should get then," James said hurriedly. "Sooner is better," he said as he slowly started peeling away his shirt. With slightly-trembling hands he folded the shirt bloody side-up and set the clean dise down on the small table.
"Okay," she said softly, getting up on her feet and then approaching the exit. She opened the flap and then turned to face James one last time. "Be right back."
She then exited the tent, closing the flap again and then briskly walking down the same path she came from. Now that she knew where the tent was, she could somewhat draw up a map of where she was in her mind. Elliot and the camels would be past the dinner area.
She silently walked past everyone again, trying not to make as much noise and instead blend into the shadows. Everyone was still cleaning up, and she didn't want her appearance to cause anyone to turn their heads and ask if she could help out. If that were to happen, she could use James's sickness as an excuse to get away, but she didn't want to draw more attention to the situation than necessary.
The walk went by uneventfully, and she finally approached Elliot who was sleeping. Staying in his line if sight, she reached out and touched his snout, and he opened his eyes and lifted his head.
"Hey, it's just me," she quietly cooed in his ear, giving him a few pets. "Sorry I can't stay long. I just need the supplies."
She went over to the saddlebag and began to pile the items they needed, but it turned out to be more items than she thought. Bandages, salve, medical kid, clothes, and more. They lost one saddlebag, but wasn't like they had kitchen supplies or food anymore, so the bag was lighter than normal. She heaved the whole bag up, strapping it across her back. It was still heavy. Almost too heavy, but nothing she wouldn't be able to manage.
Evaline started back the same path, but this time, she wasn't as sneaky as she thought she could be. Edna seemed to spot her scurrying in the shadows. Maybe the noise of the little bounces from the saddlebag caught her attention.
"Evelyn, I thought that was you," she said, coming closer. Luckily it was just her. No one in the background seemed to pay attention as they continued their cleaning duties.
Edna eyed the bag, but luckily, she was not a nosy woman and didn't ask her about it. The other oasis residents could take notes.
"How is Yoen feeling? Do you need anything?" she asked.
Evaline gave her a sheepish smile, giving a quick lift of the bag when she felt it droop. "He might have eaten too fast. I think he just needs to rest, that's all. Thank you, though."
"Ah," Edna responded, giving her a quick nod. "That happens with our travelers sometimes. How about I come by and drop off some tea in front of your tent later?"
"Really, it's okay—"
"Oh, now, I insist." Edna warmly smiled. "What kind of hosts would we be if we did nothing for our guests while they're sick? I'll go get a kettle ready."
She turned and headed back towards the kitchen, turning around and giving her one last nudge of the head towards the tents.
"Go on, then. No need to wait for me," Edna said, flashing her another quick smile and then continued forward.
"Oh... thanks," Evaline said quietly, but Edna was already far gone. She shook that whole conversation away and then proceeded down the path, trying to be quieter.
Eventually she reached the tent again.
"I'm coming in," she announced, then let herself in, closing the flap behind her. She hoisted the saddlebag off her and kept her back on James in case he needed a few more private moments.
"I figured it'd be easier if I brought everything, so I brought the whole saddlebag with me," she said, setting it down and then opening the bag to take out the medical kit.
James had managed to get his shirt off, and he was attempting to put pressure on his side, but he felt like it wasn't enough. His brow was creased with worry as he pressed as hard as he could against the wound, and a sickly chill ran down his back as Evaline opened the tent again.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but he was still bleeding. He knew that. The shirt that wasn't his was soaking through. He hadn't had anything else around.
Worry started crawling up his back, making him feel like he was being watched.
How could he explain this? How could he hide this? Wouldn't they find out? What would happen if they did?
He was starting to feel woozy. Even on the stool, he felt like his sense of balance was wavering. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and he was seeing spots.
"Eve..." was all he managed to say. He leaned forward onto his knees, and he started laughing weakly.
Evaline got out the bandages, gauze, and salve, but then turned when James called her name, or specifically, Eve. It had been a while since he called her that, and an unexplainable flutter of sparks coursed through her chest, just for a moment. It was broken when she saw him with his balled up shirt in his hands, using it as a rag to soak up blood. What used to be a green shirt was turning deep red as it became drenched with blood.
"Oh, James, it's okay, I'm here," she said as she rushed to his side, helping him apply pressure on the shirt. She winced as the blood seemed to soak through to her skin without much pressure.
"Come on. Take my arm. Let's lay you down." She wrapped an arm around his back under his shoulders and draped his arm around her shoulder, helping him get up and walk him over to the bedroll.
James's whole head was spinning. The moment he stood up his footsteps wavered, and it took all of his focus to not fall over. It was only a few steps to the bed, and that was as far as he made it. The moment Evaline motioned to help him sit down, his balance went askew, and he fell backward onto the bed, out of Evaline's arms.
His head felt heavy when it hit the bedroll.
The balled-up bloody shirt fell out of his hands in the fall, landing somewhere. He wasn't sure. With panicked hands, he reached for his side, but it was a mess. All he did was get his hands bloody. With eyes glazed over, he looked up at Eve, trying to tell her that he was sorry. Sorry for all of this. Sorry he was probably going to die if they couldn't stop the bleeding soon, or at all. Sorry he was constantly in pain. Sorry he couldn't be stronger. Sorry he couldn't figure this out.
Evaline tried to stop James from falling, but he slipped out of her hands, and he landed on the bedroll with a thud. She immediately tried to play damage control, grabbing the dropped bloodied shirt before it could soak through the blanket on the bed, but it did leave a small stain.
She quickly went to the saddlebag, pulled out her ragged black pants, and set the bloodied clothes on top. It was better for that to soak up blood than anything in this tent. She then grabbed all the medical items and a few rags, rushing back over to James's side.
His hands were over the bloody mess of the wound that kept spurting out. She stacked two rags and lifted his bloody hand, placing it on the wound. She then used another rag to wipe his bloody hand, although it was more out of comfort than practicality.
"Don't worry about the bloodied items," she said, trying to sound as gentle as possible.
James needed this. He needed to be assured that everything would be okay, and she needed to prove that she could take care of this. She could take care of him.
"I'll wash it out later today. Don't worry about it."
Her eyes then drifted over to the blood already soaking through the rags. It wouldn't stop bleeding even with pressure applied.
She grimaced, holding his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"I think you need stitches," she said softly, trying to meet his guilty eyes even though it pained her to see him like this. "I've done it before, and I can help, but it's been a while. I can't promise it would hold. And I can't promise it won't hurt."
She gave him another squeeze, not sure if he was in a state of full consent, but she was willing to try anyways.
James didn't have any alternative solutions. He couldn't think of anything that would be faster, or more discreet, or more effective. He could hardly think of anything - anything besides how many more things could go wrong if they didn't get his bleeding under control.
He wasn't sure he felt fully there anymore. Not in the same way when he'd pretend he was someone else, or detach himself from a situation. This was different. He felt... cold.
He squeezed Evaline's hand.
"Do it," he said quietly, feeling his eyes unfocus from her face.
"Okay," Evaline said softly, dropping his hand so that he could still apply pressure on the wound, but at this point, she didn't know how much more strength James had. "The stitches can ensure it won't open again. But before I can do that, we need to stop the bleeding."
She watched the blood continue to soak into the rag, and she tried to think back upon her minimal medical experiences. Between her youthful days and the early days of the war, she had more experience than the average person. But that didn't mean she was good or knowledgeable with these things.
If a wound wouldn't stop bleeding, a tourniquet could be used to apply even more pressure. That she could remember. She had never applied one on a chest, but it was worth a try.
"You're losing too much blood, so I'm going to attempt a makeshift tourniquet," she said as she got up and picked up his belt by the stool. "It's an emergency compression method to limit blood flow if normal compression doesn't work."
She sat down in front of him again, taking out two more rags and folding them over once.
"I'll put some gauze under the rags on top of the wound, and then I'll use your belt to tighten it over your chest. I won't lie: it won't be comfortable, and it might be hard to breathe. It may have to be on you for at least an hour."
Evaline looked up to meet his eyes again. If she were going to take care of him, she wanted to have his full consent this time.
James knew what a tourniquet was. He understood it would be hard to breathe. All other thoughts seemed to vacate his brain as his eyes rolled back into his head. He couldn’t keep them open.
Evaline nodded, wordlessly getting the supplies ready. She placed some gauze on the wound and then placed the rags on top. She did have to fidget around James and have him shuffle a little as she slid the belt under him, but then it was ready.
"I'm going to tighten the belt now," she announced, then waited a few moments so she could brace himself.
She then tightened the belt as much as possible, letting the ring-buckle be set on top of the affected area for maximum compression. It looked dreadfully tight, and she wondered if he was truly able to breathe.
She leaned back, trying to observe James.
"Nod your head if you're okay and able to breathe fine," she said, figuring it would be hard for him to talk.
"Good, good," Evaline murmured, sitting back and letting her body relax from the built-up tension. Now she just had to wait. It took time for a wound as nasty as his to stop bleeding.
There were things she could do, though. Things she had to do before the end of the night. Namely, wash off all the blood from the clothes and rags before it dried up.
Some moments passed, and she kept weighing both options in her head. Wash it out now, or stay by James's side. It was hard to pick, especially when his breathing sounded so raspy.
"I can wash off the clothes now before the blood dries up," she said, deciding to see if James had a preference. "I can also stay here by your side if you want. I don't mind."
She reached out to touch his palm again so that he could feel that she was nearby.
"Nod if you want me to stay, and shake your head if you'd rather I wash now."
James wanted her to stay, but what he wanted more was for no one to find out. Washing their clothes was a necessity if he wanted any chance at secrecy.
Evaline wondered if that was truly what James wanted, but she wasn't going to test it.
"Okay," she said, getting up and walking over to grab all the bloodied items.
It was mostly his shirt, her pants, their own rags, and many other rags that were in this tent. She emptied the saddlebag, organizing all the items on the floor next to the woven basket. Evaline tried not to make a sour face when she took out the wrapped-up rag and bandage "package" that she had put in there earlier today. It smelled musty and gross, but she didn't know where she could toss it, so she hid it in the corner for now.
For extra measure, she tore off a page from her journal and quickly wrote a note to Edna saying to leave the tea in front of the tent. She had a feeling she'd come by, and she didn't want her poking around the tent.
She placed all of the items to wash in the bag, careful to wrap up anything that was drenched with blood.
"I'll be back," Evaline said at the exit of the tent, giving James one last long look.
Please be okay.
She then left the tent and closed the flap behind her, balancing the note on top of a protruding seam. It seemed to hold in place, so she turned her heel and started to head towards the river.
When Evaline left, James found himself falling into a light, dreamless, sleep-like state, but the struggle to breathe and the pain kept him from fully falling asleep. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed by the time he heard footsteps again outside the tent.
He thought he heard a questioning voice, but it hardly registered. A part of his brain told him to be alert, but he didn’t have the energy to pay attention. He felt so cold, but his feet were burning up.
Evaline must have come back already, and it sounded like she was worried. He tried to pry his eyes open, but his eyelids felt heavy, and for what little he was able to see when he slit them open, all he was able to make out was a blurry figure above him.
Eve...
She grabbed his wrist, and it took him too long to realize she was checking his pulse. He didn’t know it was that obvious that he was struggling to hold on, but he wasn’t dead yet.
Then a hand touched his forehead, and it was so cold. He’d thought he was the one who was cold.
“Oh, hon... you have a fever.” The voice didn’t sound like Evaline. Normally, he would be concerned. Normally, he would feel something akin to panic, or discomfort, or fear. But he hardly knew what was going on.
How much time had passed, again?
He heard more things being said, but nothing registered. It was just noise in the background of his mind. What he tried to focus on ahain was opening his eyes so he could get a clear picture. He didn’t know how long that took, but he was finally able to see something more than a blurry shadow.
Wrinkled, coarse hands. Grey hair.
She looked old. He didn’t realize he said that out loud until she replied.
“Oh, honey, you’re worse off than I thought.”
The words went in one ear and out the other, and he felt a pair of hands go behind his head as he faded out of consciousness.
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