Intervention | NaNoWriMo 2018

Chapter 20 - Rescued

Disclaimer: The following chapter is the non-edited draft of what was written during NaNoWriMo 2018. My apologies in advance for plot holes and other inconsistencies.

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When Lincoln woke up, his head was pounding. His throat was dry as sandpaper and his tongue felt as big as a whale in a pond. He blinked a couple of times and tried to swallow and as his eyes focused on the canvas above him. Canvas? Where am I? 

With a groan, he pushed himself upright and looked around. He was sitting on a bed up against a canvas wall. A small table on the left side of the table served as a nightstand and a small dresser had been positioned by the foot of the bed. A glass full of water was the only object on the table.

His eyes returned to the glass of water and without thinking, he picked up the glass and greedily drank the whole contents of the glass, then returned it to the table. He wiped the dripping water from his lips and was just about to swing his legs out from under the thin blanket that covered his body when a woman entered the room through a partially folded canvas flap.

"Oh good, I see you are awake. I am pleased. Here, have a glass of water," the woman said and handed him another glass of water, identical to the one he had just inhaled. A few seconds later, he returned the empty glass to the woman.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Who are you?" Lincoln said as he examined the woman in front of him. Dressed in a dark blue dress with small yellow flowers, her graying dirt-blond hair was tied up in a bun and her green eyes, although tired, sparkled.

"All will be explained soon enough, my dear," she said. "You are lucky to be alive."

At those words, Lincoln became aware of the signals his body was sending him. Pain. Lots of pain. Lincoln grunted and grabbed the back of his head with his hand, only to find a bandage wrapped around his whole head.

"Wha...what happened?" he whispered.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm hurting everywhere," Lincoln replied slowly, enunciating every word.

The woman nodded. "I am not surprised. Can you walk? My husband would very much like to meet you."

Lincoln swung his feet out of the bed and stood up on wobbly legs. He swayed back and forth a couple of times, fighting the rush of vertigo. As it faded, he looked at his host and nodded.

"Very well. There's a set of clean clothes in the top drawer of the dresser," she said and pointed towards the dresser he had noticed earlier. "I'll wait outside the door."

The woman promptly turned and moved towards the exit.

"Wait," Lincoln said and took a step towards her. "Where's Marie?"

The woman glanced at Lincoln over his shoulder and smiled. "Get dressed and I'll take you to her." The woman exited the room, leaving Lincoln standing with his arm stretched out. He withdrew it and hesitated momentarily. Did the woman really know who Marie was or was it some sort of trick? There was only one way to find out.

Lincoln opened the dresser and dressed as quickly as his aching body would allow. His arms and legs protested every move he made, making the whole process outdrawn and cumbersome. As he buttoned the shirt, he tried to remember what had happened. There was the trip and the fall that had catapulted them both down the slope. He remembered the approaching rushing river and their futile attempts to stop their descent into the water. Then, there was nothing. He couldn't remember what had happened in the water, nor how they had ended up in the tent. He had a feeling the woman, whatever her name was, had the answers he was looking for.