Kivuli: Shattered Portals

Kivuli

Shattered Portals

by Linda J. Bichler

Copyright Linda J. Bichler 2019

Smashwords License Statement

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit your favorite eBook retailer to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

I would like to thank Patricia C. Pearlman for her tireless hours of proofreading.

A special acknowledgement to my beta readers and idea bouncers:

Lola E. Bichler and Alexander M. Bichler

This book is dedicated to all who selflessly persevere.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: Out of Nowhere

Chapter Two: A Tearful Reunion

Chapter Three: What Goes Around

Chapter Four: Mission Statement

Chapter Five: Daphoenictis the prehistoric bear-dog

Chapter Six: Bubbles

Chapter Seven: Headspace and Timing

Chapter Eight: Bloodsport

Chapter Nine: Sticks n’ Stones

Chapter Ten: Hello Mr. Owl

Chapter Eleven: Sharing Memories

Chapter Twelve: Hypothermia

Chapter Thirteen: Heat Rounds

Chapter Fourteen: Friend or Foe

Chapter Fifteen: Promises Made

Chapter Sixteen: Trust Me

About the Author

Chapter One: Out of Nowhere

Kára was really just looking for a nice wide spot in a stream to do her laundry and have a bath. Male companionship had not been a priority for decades. In fact, had he not been unconscious, she would have quietly snuck wide around him. He would never have known the nimble woman was in the same part of the mountains. Kára didn't want to be around people, especially men. Men were dangerous and stressful to be around.

It always seemed to happen, they see her, then they come toward her. She didn't hold it against them or think them bad for it. While still young and hopeful of a happy romance in her life, she would even have walked toward them. But that time of her life had passed, and all of her romantic notions had died agonizing deaths, long ago. But this situation was different. He was bloody and unconscious. Her sense of responsibility and training were overpowering her misgivings.

Searching the unstable slope for the most reliable looking footing, she cautiously descended the crumbly shale that covered the mountain side. The rocks were slippery and sharp. A fall would likely result in cuts and bruises or worse. Yet, she continued to skid and stumble down the treacherous slope to the lifeless form.

It appeared that he had rolled several yards causing rocky debris to tumble after him coming to rest at last on the relative flatness below. Small droplets of blood dotted the sharp rocks that he had collided with on his descent and now his eerily still body was draped haphazardly across the sharp rock.

It crossed her mind that he was not actually hurt, perhaps it was a ruse, a trap. Perhaps he had seen her running hill repeats the day before and wanted to lure her to him. That thought made her nervous. She became distracted and misjudged how well a particular rock was balanced. Her foot slipped forcing her to use her right hand to break her fall. Now, her hand had a cut right below her index finger. Although more than a little shaken from the slip, her determination remained intact.

With her thighs taught, she continued cautiously downward. Falling would be bad, very bad. She imagined the resulting cuts on her hands and elbows and took a long slow breath. No more daydreaming, her focus had to be on not falling the rest of the way down.

Minutes later, her arrival was punctuated by a clumsy stumbling over one final slab of wobbly shale. Kára unbuckled her backpack and let it slide to the ground. It felt good to put the weight down, and even better to feel a breeze on her sweaty back. The man was dressed like he had come from a Renaissance Fair or something similar. He had on a long robe made out of a rather heavy fabric, and fancy at that. It was actually not at all appropriate for trekking around in the mountains. Although the privacy of the forest often attracted the repressed, creative types, they did not usually climb up this high.

His face was banged up. There was a nice bump on his forehead and a deep laceration running across his eyebrow. His hands and arms had not fared so well either. His limbs were all oriented in natural directions and no blood puddles had formed around him. She knelt down next to him and touched his shoulder. Mister? Are you alright? The question seemed absurd, he was clearly not alright. Sir! She raised her voice a little and jostled his shoulder enough to awaken someone who was at least semi-conscious. He didn’t budge. While bending over him to see if he was breathing, the end of her braid fell onto his face. Kára grimaced and pulled it back, momentarily glad that he was not conscious.

His face was red and hot, and his lips parched. He had been lying in the sun for far too long. Using the corner of her own sweat rag and a few ounces of sun warmed bottled water, Kára gently wiped the dried blood off of his face. What he needed was shade, but there was no way to create any for him in this spot. Trying to use her own body to block the sun, would surely result in her sliding down the slope.

It seemed likely that he would have a concussion and perhaps a spinal cord injury. Moving him would be a dangerous task. With no backboard or cervical collar, it was a fool’s errand. On the other hand, leaving him here alone while going for help could easily be a death sentence. The forest was full of hungry predators. Bears were especially dangerous this time of year.

She looked around, hoping to find a backpack, fanny pack or something in which he might have had a cell phone, but there was nothing. Something did sparkle a few yards away. It appeared to be a walking stick that was caught between rocks. Retrieving it required more climbing around on unstable rock; but determination had gotten the best of her. It was her hope that the sparkle was from a phone or some other helpful piece of technology. After just a little more grinding of boots and knees over the shale, it was in her grip. With a sigh of disappointment, Kára looked at the completely low tech but artistic workmanship on the staff.

Someone had put a lot of time into carving it and mounting colorful gems into its head. Suddenly, she felt a pathetic sort of pity for the man. Had no one even missed him? Then she had to scoff at herself. If she vanished into a maw of darkness, no one would miss her either.

Calculating a reasonably safe fall line was an easy task from the staff’s position. The fallen man’s sliding body had cleared away much of the loose shale on his descent, leaving a relatively stable surface. It was only seconds later when Kára found herself fighting gravity to safely stop near her new patient.

The man was beginning to exhibit a few more signs of life. He had heard the gravelly rumble that her boots made as pebbles ground beneath them. With a low moan, he turned his head, but did not immediately open his eyes.

Sir, are you alright? she asked again. She was hoping he would show some more promising signs of being able to help himself up. He did not. He just laid on his back, his eyes finally blinking at the sky above him.

There was a shady spot a few meters away. It had just recently formed when the sun slipped behind a boulder jutting out from the ridge. That spot would have to do. Getting him into a sitting position was going to be a struggle, it only followed that getting him onto his feet was going to be impossible. Her best option was to drag him backwards by his shoulders. Even this would only be possible if she first cleared away the loose rocks that littered the only available path. Dragging one boot sideways while cautiously traversing the slope, she managed to make a trail of marginal worth.

Maneuvering her hands under his arms enabled her to clasp them around his chest. You’re going to have to help, or we aren’t going anywhere! she explained softly into his ear. Ready? Here comes the lift! Use your feet! She grunted while pulling him up with all of her strength. He groaned, then for a moment, everything seemed brighter. Kára blinked against the sudden flash of light. She reasoned that most likely, her sudden burst of effort caused her eyes to dilate. Whatever had happened, it seemed to be connected to the unexpected ease of picking up his torso. Perhaps all those days at the gym had made her remarkably strong! Looking back over her shoulder, she took careful backwards steps toward that solitary spot of shade. The man’s feet were dragging quietly on the ground. He had rather funny boots; but this was not the time to critique footwear.

The moment that they had reached the shade, Kára’s boot caught a loose rock which gave way beneath its heel. The sudden loss of traction caused her to fall onto her backside. Crashing down on top of her; the back of the man’s head collided with her mouth. Her shoulders and head slammed onto the ground with a thud. The taste of blood filled her mouth and her lip began to swell.

The man was unconscious again. His body weight was pinning her to the sun baked earth. For a moment, she just waited for her strength to return. Getting out from under him was going to be another struggle. Her only hope of freeing herself was to manage a bridge followed by a roll to one side. Pulling her feet as close as possible to her butt, she pushed up with a grunt then let one leg go straight. The man rolled over the straight leg onto his belly, his face falling into the dusty gravel. Kára stood slowly and looked him over. He was breathing, that would have to be good enough for now.

It was not a good spot to camp. The slope was dangerously steep, and the evening winds could easily blow them right off their perch. While lightly touching her quickly swelling lip, the possibility of using the gems from the walking stick to signal for help came to mind. It seemed possible. By propping the staff up with a few of the heavier rocks she was able to angle it toward the road that wound down to the valley.

The odds of someone seeing the reflection, and then coming to see what exactly was sparkling were quite small. But they were greater than zero. Just maybe, someone was indeed looking for this lost soul and they would be willing to expend the energy necessary to investigate these jewel tone sparkles on the mountain side. At last sitting in the shade, she silently considered her water supply and complete lack of enthusiasm in sharing her handful of trail mix. How long would she be willing to sit here with this guy? It would be absolutely unethical to leave him here unconscious. Of that much she was certain.

There were maybe three hours of daylight left; plenty of time to write SOS on the side of the mountain with rocks. Kára stood back up and slowly made her way to the more exposed slope. It was just three letters. How long could that take? The direct heat from the sun was punishing enough without the reflected heat from the rock. Kára got as far as the first S, then stopped. Her ears had begun to ring, and she felt a bit dizzy. The remaining O and S would have to wait. For now, rest and hydration were higher priorities. Stumbling back to the shade she at last realized that her dog, Bear had not followed her down the slope.

He often rested under the shady tree canopy and waited until she had finished her hill repeats before rejoining her. Kára wasn’t worried about him. Bear was quite capable of taking care of himself in the woods. He just wasn’t too keen on running around in the heat of the day.

Sitting quietly in the shade, Kára at last heard the faint sound of the rushing of a stream below. The thought of cold fresh mountain water was enticing. Imagining herself sitting in cold water, washing away dust and salt from her aching body brought her some comfort. If only she still had the energy. For now, sitting in the shade with a warm plastic water bottle would have to do. She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythm of her own breath. Sleep crept upon her suddenly.

Although the nap was far too short, it was enough. Kára got up and brushed the dust off of her clothes. She was about to scout the stream and fill her water bottles when she noticed that the man had again opened his eyes. So, you're not dead! she remarked.

He squinted, blinked and stared at her through the narrow slits between his eyelids. He was having trouble focusing. Then as if suddenly remembering something he looked around.

Where’s my staff? He brought his hand tenderly to his head, seemingly for the first time discovering the gash and bump.

That? she pointed back to the staff. He nodded and motioned with one hand for her to bring it to him. It was only a few yards away, so she obligingly retrieved it. I was using it to try to signal for help. She stretched one end of it into his reach but firmly retained the other end. It was her hope that he would use it to get up, but he didn't.

Let go! He was rather blunt.

Fine. After releasing her grip, she continued to roll her palms skyward in a gesture of futility. He had only been conscious a few seconds and she was already becoming annoyed with him. He had refused her assistance in getting up and had taken a rather bossy tone with her. Could he possibly think that she would take the trouble to drag his sorry ass into the shade and then steal his walking stick? If I was going to steal your walking stick she began a little hotly; I could have just taken it and left you where you were! Kára pointed back toward the spot in the sun where she had found him.

He wasn’t listening to her. Instead he was studying every inch of his staff for damage. He seemed a bit obsessed. Perhaps this was one of his favorite toys, she huffed and again inspected the swelling in her lip with the light touch of a finger.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. He sighed and grabbed a bit of hem from his sleeve. Then wetting it with a drop of spit, he buffed and polished a small red smudge. Blood… he muttered, before gazing back up at her expectantly. She rotated her hand outward to reveal the cut she had acquired in her excursion to save him. Hmph… he grumbled.

Sorry. Her tone was less than apologetic. He nodded slowly and looked back at the still damp spot on his staff. I don’t have any blood borne pathogens. If that is your concern.

When he looked back up at her, she was scanning the ridge above them. He watched her as she pulled a baggie of trail mix from her pocket and poured the last of it into her mouth. It appeared that she was looking for something specific. After washing down the trail mix with a mouthful water, she held her hands to her mouth and yelled up the ridge.

Bear! Here Boy! Then, a shrill whistle split the air. The man placed his hands tightly over his ears. The yell made his head pound; the whistle was excruciating. Kára noticed that the noise hurt him and stopped. Perhaps Bear would find her on his own.

Kára’s plans for the day had been ruined. There was no way that she was going to go take a bath or do laundry in the stream now. And, she would have to find her dog. The man had begun to examine the cuts in his arms and the one on his head was starting to bleed again. I am trained to render some basic assistance in these situations, with your permission. Although not enthusiastic she was at least willing. He nodded and looked for something to wipe the blood off of his fingers.

There was a well-stocked first aid kit in her backpack with ample sterile gauze pads. And, there was at least one clean cotton t-shirt that would make a fair bandage to secure a gauze dressing. It was one of the shirts that runners are given when they pay for their race registration. Since anyone with the entrance fee could get one, she was not particularly attached to these lesser shirts. To Kára, the ones that matter say Marathon Finisher on them. She pulled the unvalued garment from the bottom of the backpack and folded it up to make a bandage. Reserving her latex gloves for higher risk operations, she unpackaged a few gauze pads.

He glanced at her with a little concern as she knelt down next to him and pressed them against his head wound. Hold this, please, she instructed, before sacrificing her shirt to bandaging material. Had she not tied it quite so tightly he would have been perfectly silent through the process, but she had tugged the ends just enough to make him wince. She backed up to see his face and laughed a little when part of a sleeve dropped down and covered one of his eyes. He waved her off and tucked the errant sleeve back into the top of the improvised bandage.

You good, then? she asked. Since he was conscious, and a jerk, there was no real reason for her to stick around. He looked confused. I could go for help. She put on her backpack, belted it snugly and tightened up the shoulder straps. This was a ritual at which she had grown very efficient. Having spent the past two weeks running up and down the side of the mountain to build aerobic endurance had made her quite well practiced with her equipment. Frequently dropping her backpack and later retrieving it had become crucial to her managing the energy demands of the trail looming ahead of her.

Picking up on her non-verbal cues, he softened his expression. He didn’t really mean to run her off. She could still be useful. Wait! he said. Don't go. He was still squinting at her and blinking. She paused to think before responding. It seemed less irrational to give him the benefit of the doubt. He probably wasn't very dangerous. Her therapist had told her that most men aren’t violent. Not to mention, she assured herself, with a concussion, he would be easy to out maneuver. He was still just staring at her. She had to say something.

This is not a good place to spend the night. I do not plan to stay here, you should not stay here either. She was careful to appear ambivalent to his choice. He was beginning to realize that she was a little afraid of him now that he was conscious and had his staff.

Please, he extended his hand toward her. She shook her head slowly and laughed a little.

I don’t think so! Use your stick to get up. She nodded toward his staff.

Please... he again reached forward and waved a bloodied hand toward her water bottle. I just need water.

Oh. That was a little embarrassing for Kára. Again, taking off her backpack she pulled her water bottle from a side pocket and handed it to him. He eyed it strangely; as if he didn't quite know how to open it. Assuming that he was delirious, she took it back to open it. He watched as if he had never seen this done before.

How can a grown man not know how to use a simple pull top water bottle? Kára mumbled to herself. Then raising her voice into the audible range, she continued. So, I take it you have never been to a gym, much less in the wilderness. Although her words were more condescending than he was accustomed to, it was her physical precautions that caught his attention. She handed the bottle back to him in such a way that he could only reach the bottom of the bottle with a fully outstretched hand and arm. Indeed, he was not familiar with this type of bottle. He watched her press her lips together and shake her head as he again tried but failed to drink from it.

It was hard for her not to scoff at him when she realized that he didn't know to squeeze the bottle to get water out of it. Only by reaching a little further and venturing another step deeper into his reach, was she able to again assist. Ignoring the nagging fear that he would grab her wrist and pull her to the ground, she forced herself to quickly grab the middle of the bottle. Giving it a quick squeeze, it shot water onto his neck and chest. He gasped before snatching it from her grip to end the humiliation.

Kára stepped back suddenly to where she again felt safe. He hadn’t tried to grab her. A small bit of tension released from her body. Don’t put your mouth on it! She warned. It was beginning to look like he was going to stick the nozzle right into his mouth. Just shoot it down the hatch! He pulled the nozzle away from his lips then shot most of the contents into his open mouth. Now, he knew how to use a stranger’s water bottle without creating conflict.

Good job! she said. He raised his eyebrows a little and sort of nodded. He didn't set down the bottle or hand it back. Instead, he parked it on his chest. Then, carefully laid his head back against the rock and closed his eyes. She would have to come very far into his reach to retrieve the bottle. He was betting that she would not attempt it. He had no malicious intentions toward her. He just didn’t want her to leave.

The shade and water seemed to be helping him out considerably. His color was returning, and his head hurt a little less. On top of his injuries, he was dehydrated. Water is the only cure for dehydration, but it does not work quickly. Kára wandered back to the slope and resumed construction of the O for the SOS that she had begun writing with stones.

Eventually, it happened. He sighed, and with a groan turned onto his side to push himself up. He used his hands to get up then picked up his staff as if he were afraid it would break under his weight. It was a sturdy staff; his weight could not have been the issue. After standing very slowly he took one step forward and cried out. A sharp pain shot through his foot. It had not bothered him while sitting, but walking was going to be excruciating.

Although Kára had heard his cry of pain, she was not going to blindly rush to his aid. Instead, she stopped what she was doing and silently watched his progress. Where...? At last, leaning on his staff, he began to speak. His expression was pained and confused. Too slow for her liking, she interrupted him.

Up is the nearest logging road, down is the nearest water. She pointed up and down the slope. Do whichever you are up for. He looked up the slope, then down.

No... he replied. I can’t. He let out a deep sigh. Her jaw dropped open a little. Had she not already explained that here was not a good option? The thought of spending the night on the slope alone with him was terrifying.

So... you will be ok here alone then? She put a little extra emphasis on the word ‘alone’. She was hoping for the stoic yeah, I'm good. response that most guys would give, but he didn’t give it.

No. You must stay with me. It almost seemed that he was giving her a command, but he was in no condition to be issuing commands to a stranger. Although her disdain for him was growing, so was her curiosity. Remembering her missing dog again had momentarily distracted her. She could hear the man sitting back down on the gravel.

Well, you should ice and elevate your foot. If you want, I can wrap it for you… but all that is around here to ice it with is old snow and it will get the bandage wet when it melts. For a moment, he stared at his foot and she stared at him, waiting for a response. I guess I can put snow into one of my plastic dog poop bags. That will help. He was still just staring at his foot. Mister? At last he looked up at her and opened his hand toward his injured foot. Kára shook her head and rolled her eyes before setting off to find a patch of snow under the trees that rose far above them.

He wasn’t bad looking, even as banged up as he was. He was middle aged with thick dark hair with some greying. His face was lined with laugh lines, crow's feet and two vertical lines between his eyebrows. Apparently, he had lived a life full of colorful, emotional expressions. His hands were void of calluses or any other clues about his livelihood or more sensible pastimes.

Although his hands were clean and reflected a life without manual labor, they were not manicured. It looked like he cut down his nails with a knife. His body was lean with broad shoulders and strong arms. In most ways he was rather nondescript. Just an average looking white guy wearing a man-dress and carrying a big walking stick.

Kára returned with a green plastic bag full of snow. Her hands worked efficiently to remove his footgear and wrap the foot. It wasn’t obviously broken. One could never tell without an x-ray. Just the same, a nice wrap, ice and elevation would have to suffice. With a bit of luck, he would be able to walk on it in the morning.

The sun was sinking below the horizon. It would be dark soon. Kára gave up on the SOS. It was time to set up camp. One thing that could make matters worse would be dropping tent pins down the slope in the dark.

Although the man had again closed his eyes, he was aware of her every move. He could hear her weight shift in her boots and the nylon straps of her backpack zip through the buckles as she thoughtfully re-adjusted them. She still wasn’t sure if she should leave him or not. It seemed wrong, it was clearly not the most ethical choice to leave him here stranded. A decision had to be made.

If she left him, for how many years would she be wondering if he had died out there when she could have stuck around and saved him. Most likely, she would wonder for the rest of her life. If she stayed, the worst case is he would attack her or do something very stupid and one or both of them would die. Best case, they would become lifelong friends and he would return the favor someday.

The most probable outcome would lie between those points. He would be harmless but annoying, and they would not part as mortal enemies nor lifelong friends. In any event, staying offered a higher probability of an interesting outcome than leaving did. I’ll wait with you until morning. she announced, then warned. Do not even try to touch me. Then with a heavy sigh she pulled a folded shovel from her backpack and proceeded to level a flat spot big enough for her backpacking tent.

It was dusk when she pulled her sleeping bag and inflatable pad out of her backpack. She felt around carefully with her hands to find the area with the least sharp rock beneath it. Even with a pad, sharp rocks were unpleasant to sleep upon. Her final step was to pull her poncho liner out of her sleeping bag for the stranger to use.

This poncho liner had been with her since her first army days. It had been with her through freezing nights as added protection inside her sleeping bag, and it had been her solitary cover during warm nights. She had used it constantly as a blanket or pillow and never to actually line a poncho. After careful folding, it made a wonderful pillow. Tonight, she had decided to manage without it.

She lifted the door flap and crawled over clattering shale until it was safe to stand. You can use this if you want. The man accepted the rolled-up poncho liner and looked grateful for it. Don't let the wind take it. she warned. He shook his head to assure her that he would not. She started to return to her tent, then turned back. If you get too cold, as in you might die of hypothermia, you can come into the tent. But, if you touch me, I will hurt you.

Although she didn't especially like having a hunting knife in her sleeping bag with her, she would keep it close just the same. She was still hoping Bear would show up, but she was beginning to doubt that he would. Half of the tent looked so empty without Bear. She bunched the top of her sleeping bag into a pillow.

It was like army bivouac days, but no rifle. She slept in her clothes removing only her boots and socks. If nothing else, her redundant layers would give her time to get her knife unsheathed and in her grip. Just to provide her with an additional advantage, she unfastened the snap on the sheath. She missed her dog. Bear always made her feel safe. To most people he looked like a wolf, but she pretty sure that he wasn’t. Maybe a little, there was no telling without a DNA test. He was her best friend and constant companion though, of this she was