Horizons by Catherine Hart

the toddler, trying to get her to eat a banana.
    “Poor tyke, she’s almost too tired to eat,” Blair commented. She glanced toward the tree where Roberts was tied and whispered to Kelly, “Has it occurred to you that our fearless leader has left us alone here with a murderer, with only Mr. Benson and his broken leg to protect us? What if that maniac manages to break loose and attack us?”
    “Right now, I’m too tired and too busy to care,” Kelly admitted. “In fact, if someone offered to strangle me this minute, I’d almost be grateful.”
    “Yes, but he could beat us, or rape us, or anything!” Blair went on, her eyes wide with worry.
    “If he’s got enough energy left for that, more power to him,” Kelly replied grumpily. “Personally, I’m too pooped to pop. Don’t work yourself up over it. The man is effectively out of commission.”
    Kelly was currently more concerned about her “patients” than any threat from Roberts. She squatted down beside the unconscious woman, who was laboring with every breath she drew. Every now and then, the woman would go into a spasm of coughing, spewing fresh blood. “I know she must have internal injuries, maybe a pierced lung. I wish Zach would hurry back with some help, preferably an entire medical team. I feel so helpless, just sitting here un able to do anything for her… for them.”
    She adjusted the blanket over the shivering woman and crawled to the teenager. “This kid will be lucky if he makes it. He took a real whollop to the head, and hasn’t shown any sign of regaining consciousness all day. And if the needle marks on his arms are any indication, he’s either into drugs or diabetic.”
    “ Have you checked for a wallet? Or a medical alert tag? ” Wynne inquired in another rare burst of lucid speech.
    “Good idea.” There was no tag, but among other I.D. in his wallet, Kelly found a medical alert card. “Damn! He is diabetic! God only knows when he had his last shot of insulin! No wonder he’s in shock. For all I know, he could already be in a coma.”
    “Probably better off that way than awake and in agony,” Frazer Benson remarked, not without sympathy. He handed Kelly another portion of coconut, advising her, “Do what you can for yourself. Eat. Drink. You need the fluid.”
    The coconut milk was delicious and thirst-quenching. But getting the meat out was another matter. “Do you have a pocket knife, Frazer?” Kelly inquired.
    He nodded. “Over there, tied to that stick we were using to hack weeds with,” he reminded her. He started to struggle to his feet, but Kelly gestured for him to stay put. “I’ll get it. You rest that leg.”
    She got the knife, and began stabbing the coconut meat. “Let me get mine sliced up, and I’ll pass the ‘cutlery’ on.”
    “You could check the boy’s pocket for another one,” Frazer suggested.
    Kelly grimaced, but taking the steward’s advice, she did so as quickly and gently as she could. “God! I hate this! I feel like a blasted grave-robber!”
    Without disturbing him unduly, she came up with another small pen knife. She tossed it to Blair, and kept the other. “You share with Wynne. I’ll take turns with Frazer.”
    “What about me?” Roberts called out. “You just gonna let me sit here and starve?”
    “You had some earlier, so don’t play on my sympathy,” Kelly responded callously. “ You can have more when Zach and Gavin get back, because I’m not about to get that close to you, buster. Besides, you’re not going to starve. You could live for a week on the fat stored in that beer gut of yours.”
    After she’d finished eating, Kelly offered to rebind Blair’s ankle and Wynne’s ribs. Blair had previously; removed her tennis shoes, and was feeling some relief already. Wynne, modest as she was, was reluctant to unbutton her blouse in front of the men.
    Roberts was now asleep, or f eigning it. Either way, it was only a matter of shifting out of his limited field of view.