Free Resistant by Michael Palmer Page A

uneven terrain. The concierge had warned him that cell phone signal strength in the mountains was spotty at best. After failing to get a dial tone, Lou checked the time. He had a new concern. It could take two hours to get back to the lodge and return with help—probably not much less even with an ATV. By that time there could be severe tissue damage caused by the tourniquet. The other potential danger was one he could not shake from his mind—severe shock and cardiac arrest.
    Despite what Cap had said right before he stumbled and fell, he was never hot about making this run. Lou had talked him into it. Now there was no way he could allow him to die. The tourniquet had to be loosened as soon as hemorrhaging had clearly been stopped. Somehow, someway, Lou would get the man out of these woods without leaving his side.
    “Listen, buddy,” he said, his voice managing to stay even. “This is going to be the tough part.”
    “Do … what has … to be … done,” Cap answered, stopping between words to breathe.
    With a few decent sips of water, and the bleeding slowed to an ooze, the physical evidence of shock had begun to ebb. As Lou had done with the tourniquet, most of the tools he needed to complete the next phase of the process would have to be improvised. Most medical schools and hospitals, Eisenhower Memorial included, offered a variety of continuing education classes on a regular basis. Six months back, Lou had taken a two-day wilderness emergency medicine course. Ironically, his decision to do so was inspired by his newfound passion for trail running. The class, taught almost exclusively by incredibly competent paramedics and specially trained EMTs, with a few ER docs sprinkled in, was well organized and terrifically informative. With two jobs and a kid, courses and lectures were often triggers for him to catch up on sleep. But fortunately, not that one.
    Lou performed a quick, repeat physical. Cap was going to need all of his will and his strength just to survive the pain of what was about to be done to him. The exam offered Lou a whisper of confidence that his friend could endure what lay in store for him without slipping back into shock. Looking over the leg, the ugly bent angle, twisted like a wrung-out dish towel, the bone splintered and frayed at the edges, Lou questioned his own ability to inflict the required amount of pain. But the leg had to be straightened or the chances of saving it were negligible.
    No matter how hard he tried to reason away the guilt, it kept gnawing at him. If only he had been less insistent. If only he could have been less exuberant.
    If only …
    Lou forced those thoughts to the back of his mind. For Cap’s sake, he had to stay in the moment, fully focused and committed to the process.
    “I’ve got to straighten out your leg so I can splint it,” Lou heard himself say, his voice actually breaking between words.
    Cap’s gaze seemed to sharpen. He eyes locked with Lou’s. There was no trace of doubt or fear on his handsome, bloodied face.
    “You do what has to be done, Doc,” he managed.
    “Actually, Cap, to do what has to be done, I’m going to need your help.”
    Cap brushed the back of his hand across the damp bandage on his forehead.
    “Tell me,” he said.
    The misty rain had largely let up, but the world was still slippery and cool. To make matters more difficult, bugs had reappeared and were beginning to attack Lou’s face and naked back.
    “Straightening and splinting your leg is a two-person production. Unfortunately, you’ve got to be one of those people. I’m going to get a couple of thick branches to be the splint. Then I’m going to tie the rope around your right ankle and loop it around that tree by your foot. When I say push, I’m going to need you to push your left foot against the tree with all your strength.”
    “And you’re going to pull the rope.”
    It was a statement, not a question.
    Lou nodded. “If together we have the strength to do