Trapped in a Island with James Tullos

Chapter 6

His head whipped around, and he eyed me suspiciously. James' hair had been pulled back in low ponytail, though that had done little to hide how tangled and frizzy it was. He was wearing jeans and a light grey short-sleeved shirt. Across the front, there was a red picture of a bearded man wearing sunglasses, along with text that read "John Brown did nothing wrong." He sat cross-legged on the ground, and held his left arm close to his chest, as if trying to protect it.

"How do you know my name?" he asked.

This is weird, this is too weird, what's-

"I- I watch your videos. On YouTube." I cringed.

Good thing you clarified that. He might have though you watched them on the goddamn Disney channel.

"Oh." We stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Who are you?"

"I'm – my name is Cass. There, uh, there was a storm." I gestured vaguely to the ocean.

"Yeah, I fell out of the boat and would up here. What happened to you?"

I frowned. "Same. Kind of a weird coincidence, huh?"

He shrugged one shoulder and glanced out towards the shore. "I guess." As he was facing away from me, I looked more closely at his arm. About halfway down from his wrist, there was a slight, unnatural bend.

Oh shit.

I tried to remain casual. "Hey, so, what happened there?" I gestured to his injury. James looked down at his arm.

"I'm not sure. I think I must've hit it pretty badly when I fell." I nodded, trying not to panic. Sure, he might be fine for days with a broken arm. I'd heard stories from my mother about people walking around with untreated fractures for days before getting help, and they turned out okay. James would probably be fine. But...

Nerve damage. Loss of circulation. Compartment syndrome. Amputation. Death. My stomach churned at the possibilities, and I began to breathe faster. I bent over, one hand clutching my stomach and the other squeezing my thigh painfully. I heard James' voice from beside me. He sounded wary.

"Hey, you good?"

I took a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I just... need a second." I could see James out in the corner of my vision. He side-eyed me for a moment before turning back to the shore. Trying to flex my legs as little as possible, I sat, stiffly and awkwardly, beside him.

I could try to fix it. I'd set broken bones in the past... granted, never on a human, but on large dogs. The principle was the same. Of course, there was always the chance I'd make it worse. In trying to fix it, I could cause worse damage than if I'd left it alone. And if help was on the way, maybe it would be better to do nothing. But if rescue was hours or, god forbid, days away, James could die due to my inaction. Dead if I do, dead if I don't. Either way, my fault. My thoughts spun in endless circles until a pinprick of clarity punctured my panicked spiral.

I can't do this. Not now.

I had to be collected, for James' sake. Panic could come later. I took a deep breath, and another. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Focused on the sound of the nearby waves. As my mind cleared, I remembered. There were field tests you could do to determine if traction was necessary.

Visual deformity? Yes. The angle of his arm was very obviously wrong.

Immobilization possible? Perhaps. I leaned towards him and twisted my head to try to get a better visual. James turned to me, a look of confusion on his face.