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Chapter Sixteen

C harlie opened his eyes, licked his dry lips and tried to swallow. His mind was a dark fog and he wondered if the plane crash was just a bad dream. But the shredded undercarriage above him soon brought him crashing back to the present. Although, he was confused by the distinct aroma of freshly baked bread. He rolled his head, following the smell and saw Abigail and Mackenzie squatting by a fire.

“That smells good.” He didn’t recognise his own croaky voice.

“Good morning.” Mackenzie arrived at his side. “Or should I say afternoon?”

Charlie held his hand toward him and stabbing pain in his side reminded him of his injury. “Did you find my satchel?”

“Yes. Do you want it?”

Charlie sighed with relief. “Yes, please.”

Mackenzie placed the bag within Charlie’s reach and the old man immediately fumbled with the clips. With Mackenzie’s assistance, the buckles released and the bag fell open, spilling out an assortment of papers. Charlie pushed aside the loose sheets to reveal a bundle of envelopes neatly tied together with white ribbon.

He picked them up with trembling fingers, placed them on his chest, folded his hands over them and fought a tide of emotions. A sob released from his throat, but it hurt so much he nearly choked .

Mackenzie’s warm hand caressed his shoulder. “Hey man, don’t cry. You’re going to be all right. Are you hungry?”

Charlie’s stomach twisted as if it understood what Mackenzie had said and he nodded. Although he doubted he could actually eat. At least he won’t be eating alone, unlike most meals he ate.

Mackenzie returned from the fire with warm damper. As he handed it over, Charlie avoided his concern-filled eyes.

“Can you help me up, please?”

Mackenzie put a hand under his elbow and pulled him to a sitting position. Charlie cried out and panted until the sharp pain faded to a dull ache. Mackenzie handed him a damper bun. He hesitated for a brief moment then bit through the crust and savoured the warm bread. But his dry throat made it impossible to swallow. He had to sip water to force the food down.

“How long have we been here?”

Abigail cleared her throat and seemed embarrassed. “Well, we crashed four days ago, but you’ve only been here since yesterday.”

“Four days!” He imagined his boss’s distress at not receiving any communication from him. His superior was a brilliant scientist but lacked any personality, preferring his biology equipment to people. Charlie’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “That’s not good. Not good at all.”

“We’ll be okay for a while,” Mackenzie said. “There was food on the plane, and we have bottled water.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie. Spencer’s family will come for us soon.” Abigail laid her hand on his arm.

Charlie considered her words. Who would be looking for me? Only his employer knew where he was and his boss would be the only one who cared, but not for compassionate reasons. He needed this trip to be a botanical success to receive further government funding. The security of his job and that of his boss were riding on his shoulders.

His heart sank. I’ll be letting him down. He stared at his blood-soaked shirt.

Success was impossible now.

But Charlie wasn’t ready to give up. This injury wasn’t an obstacle, it was motivation. His survival depended on that elusive berry. If ever there was a moment in his life when he needed divine focus, this was it. He reached into his satchel and Mackenzie helped him lift out his heavy journal.

The leather-bound book was crammed full with additional pieces of paper that swelled it like a concertina file. The pages were yellowed and curling in the corners from repeated handling. “My journal will help us. I have heaps of information on edible plants in this area. It’s my research project. Remember, I’m here to find an antioxidant plant. It will help me, so we need to find it.”

“Um … Charlie, your wound is serious.” Abigail spoke with a mixture of concern and confusion. “Your rib is?—”

“These berries will help.” Charlie nodded with conviction. He leaned toward the book and howled as gripping pain ripped through his chest. Panting, he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.

“Jesus, Charlie.” Mackenzie jumped. “Take it easy. Your rib is sticking out of your chest for God’s sake.”

Charlie trembled as he swallowed hard. “Help me lie down.”

Darkness seeped into his field of vision as Mackenzie lowered him. He panted rapidly, fighting to retain focus. “I want to see it. Open my shirt?”

“Are you sure?” Mackenzie’s brows drew together.

Charlie nodded and with obvious reluctance Mackenzie unbuttoned the blood crusted shirt and peeled it back. A large purple bruise stained the entire side of his torso and dark, dried blood surrounded the wound. A grey bone, jagged and gruesome, pierced his pale skin.

Charlie stared in amazement. He couldn’t believe he was looking at his own body. He’d never been seriously injured before and was puzzled by his lack of fear, as if he knew he was going to survive. “So how do we fix this?”

Mackenzie reacted with a double take. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t leave the bone sticking out like this.”

Mackenzie shook his head and Charlie saw fear in his eyes.

“Did you find my backpack?” Charlie asked.

Mackenzie shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”

“Find it. I have a bottle of rum.”

“Oh yes. We found that,” Abigail said, suddenly awkward .

“You didn’t drink it all, did you?”

“I had a small sip.” Abigail’s voice was panic stricken.

“Hopefully there’s still enough to knock me out.”

Abigail got up and moved out of his sight for a few moments. When she returned, she handed the rum bottle to Charlie.

“I was saving this for a celebration, when I found my plant.” He removed the cap and held the bottle up as a toast.

“What’re you doing?” Mackenzie asked.

“Not me. You. I should pass out when I drink all this and then you’re going to push this bone back in and wrap up my chest.”

“Oh God.” Mackenzie backed away. “I can’t do that.”

“One of you has to. I’ll die if I stay like this.”

Mackenzie helped him sit again and he chugged at the amber liquid, forcing it down like a miracle antidote. His throat burned with each potent mouthful. “You have to do it.” Tears stung his eyes.

Mackenzie knelt beside him, taking Charlie’s hand in a firm grip. Mackenzie’s fingers trembled and Charlie looked into the younger man’s eyes. The escalation in fear he saw within those brown eyes almost tilted his conviction. Almost.

As a light drinker, the rum affected him very quickly, but he needed to drink it all to ensure it knocked him out completely. His tongue soon became thick and numb; his eyelids grew heavy and for some inexplicable reason he began to giggle.

Mackenzie’s brows drilled together, and he grimaced like the plan was pure craziness.

“Lay me down.” Charlie’s voice was a ragged whisper.

Mackenzie took the bottle off him, and Charlie craned to see if he’d emptied it. But it was impossible to gauge through the thick, brown glass. As he was lowered onto the clothes, he braced for pain but was relieved it had lost its intensity.

His mind settled into a dark fog.

“If I don’t make it, please get these letters to my daughter.” The lack of response from Mackenzie or Abigail made him wonder if he’d actually spoken the words aloud.

He reached for his letters but couldn’t move. His body was like lead poured onto the rough bedding. Sombre-faced and silent, Mackenzie and Abigail reminded him of mourners at a funeral .

His funeral.

His world tilted off its axis and began a slow and steady spin. Panic rose up from the depth of his sanity. Nobody heard what might’ve been my dying wish.

His last thought, before he slipped from consciousness, was that his own ragged breathing sounded like that of a dying man.