Once outside, Jake cautiously lowered his load down onto the car door and tied him down with a length of rope from his pack. “This isn’t gonna be pleasant, but I can’t carry you all the way to Goodsprings.” “I got you.” Despite his dark skin, the powder ganger was already white-faced from the pain of being manhandled like this. “I ain’t gonna complain about someone trying to save my sorry ass.” Jake wordlessly tied another length of rope to the door and, after slinging this around his shoulder, set off down the road, back towards Goodsprings, dragging the makeshift travois behind him.
They needed frequent breaks as the jostling and bouncing on the rough, cracked tarmac caused the wounded powder ganger simply too much pain. By the time they passed Primm, the man on the travois was drenched in sweat and trembling with exhaustion. “Not much farther now”, Jake told him, and looking at the wounded man, realised he was close to dying. “Hey.” The powder ganger managed to open his eyes. They were grey and glassy. “You got a name, pal?” “They called me... Boxcars.” “Huh. And what’s your real name?” The other man seemed to be near-delirious, for he just blinked a few times as if the question was utterly confusing to him. Jake left it at that for now and picked up the reins of the travois again. The man he wanted to save might not make it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.
When Jake finally reached Goodsprings with his load, the man on the travois was unconscious, his breathing shallow and irregular, his face the colour of a week-old corpse. The first person to spot them was Sunny, and she hurried to Jake’s side to help him, concern written all over her. When she noticed the wounded man’s outfit, however, she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “I don’t believe this. A powder ganger?” Jake stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “A wounded man, Sunny. He had his legs smashed by the Legion and they left him to croak it in his own blood and filth.” “But...” “You think I should’ve killed him.” Sunny pressed her lips together. “He’s...” She broke off and shook her head. “He would’ve killed you had he had the chance.” “Probably.” Jake arched his aching back. “But I don’t kill a defenceless, helpless, wounded man.” Taking a deep breath, Sunny looked at the wounded man again, and swept her eyes over his legs again. “It doesn’t look good.” “No.” Jake picked up the ropes again. “But I can’t let him die like this.” A small smile flitted over Sunny’s face. “No. You’re a good man, you know that?” Jake shrugged. “I guess so. Give me a hand?”
Sunny took another deep breath, then she took one of the ropes and helped Jake drag the travois up the last, steep ascend up to Doc Mitchell’s house. Needless to say, the Doc was rather surprised at seeing Jake with a wounded man knock on his door, but even when being told it was a powder ganger, Mitchell didn’t move a muscle in his face. “A wounded man is a wounded man”, he said after Jake had lowered Boxcars onto the stretcher in the clinic. “And I’m a doctor. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
It took three weeks for the injured powder ganger to be able to leave the bed for the first time. Jake was there, too, he felt a responsibility for the man whose life he had saved. It was clear that he would never walk again as he used to be able to, the damage to his legs had been severe and he had spent several days in that house before help had reached him. He would walk with a limp for the rest of his life.
Enemy mine 2/4
“I got you.” Despite his dark skin, the powder ganger was already white-faced from the pain of being manhandled like this. “I ain’t gonna complain about someone trying to save my sorry ass.”
Jake wordlessly tied another length of rope to the door and, after slinging this around his shoulder, set off down the road, back towards Goodsprings, dragging the makeshift travois behind him.
They needed frequent breaks as the jostling and bouncing on the rough, cracked tarmac caused the wounded powder ganger simply too much pain. By the time they passed Primm, the man on the travois was drenched in sweat and trembling with exhaustion.
“Not much farther now”, Jake told him, and looking at the wounded man, realised he was close to dying. “Hey.”
The powder ganger managed to open his eyes. They were grey and glassy.
“You got a name, pal?”
“They called me... Boxcars.”
“Huh. And what’s your real name?”
The other man seemed to be near-delirious, for he just blinked a few times as if the question was utterly confusing to him. Jake left it at that for now and picked up the reins of the travois again. The man he wanted to save might not make it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.
When Jake finally reached Goodsprings with his load, the man on the travois was unconscious, his breathing shallow and irregular, his face the colour of a week-old corpse. The first person to spot them was Sunny, and she hurried to Jake’s side to help him, concern written all over her. When she noticed the wounded man’s outfit, however, she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
“I don’t believe this. A powder ganger?”
Jake stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “A wounded man, Sunny. He had his legs smashed by the Legion and they left him to croak it in his own blood and filth.”
“But...”
“You think I should’ve killed him.”
Sunny pressed her lips together. “He’s...” She broke off and shook her head. “He would’ve killed you had he had the chance.”
“Probably.” Jake arched his aching back. “But I don’t kill a defenceless, helpless, wounded man.”
Taking a deep breath, Sunny looked at the wounded man again, and swept her eyes over his legs again. “It doesn’t look good.”
“No.” Jake picked up the ropes again. “But I can’t let him die like this.”
A small smile flitted over Sunny’s face. “No. You’re a good man, you know that?”
Jake shrugged. “I guess so. Give me a hand?”
Sunny took another deep breath, then she took one of the ropes and helped Jake drag the travois up the last, steep ascend up to Doc Mitchell’s house. Needless to say, the Doc was rather surprised at seeing Jake with a wounded man knock on his door, but even when being told it was a powder ganger, Mitchell didn’t move a muscle in his face.
“A wounded man is a wounded man”, he said after Jake had lowered Boxcars onto the stretcher in the clinic. “And I’m a doctor. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
It took three weeks for the injured powder ganger to be able to leave the bed for the first time. Jake was there, too, he felt a responsibility for the man whose life he had saved. It was clear that he would never walk again as he used to be able to, the damage to his legs had been severe and he had spent several days in that house before help had reached him. He would walk with a limp for the rest of his life.