Ranger

And then we tied his ankles.

And then we tied his wrists to his ankles.

And Trent sat on his back while I took my jacket off to look at my arm.

The cut was deep.

It had gone through to the bone, but the bone was intact.

Elise cut the sleeve off my thermal shirt with Dale's knife and wrapped the wound with the strips, and then she wrapped my forearm again with a bandana from her pocket, and then she wrapped the whole thing with duct tape from my pack.

She did it fast and tight and correctly.

Later she told me she had done two tours as an army medic in her 20s before she had become a technical editor, which was not something that was on her permit, but which was true.

I was shaking by the time she finished.

Blood loss and adrenaline.

I sat down on my bunk.

Trent stayed on Dale's back.

Dale was conscious.

Dale was breathing in a shallow rhythm through his broken nose.

Dale did not say anything for a long time.

Then he said quietly into the planks of the floor, ''You're Pete Gilliland's boy.''

I didn't say anything.

He said, ''I thought it was you when you signed my permit.''

I didn't say anything.

He said, tell your old man I said hi.