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I was in shock.
I could see a chunk of bone sticking through my right fore-arm. There was no pain.
Shock was awesome.
This is why I hated camping and hiking, something like this always happened. Well, this was the first time I slipped on wet rocks and gave myself a compound fracture, but getting bit constantly by bugs was almost as bad. There wasn’t any mental block from that sensation.
The water flowing around me was accented heavily in crimson. I was probably going to die down here. I really hoped it was before this little mental fugue went away because it was going to hurt like hell.
There was the sound of footsteps.
“Hey,” I called. “Over here. I’m a little banged up.”
I could hear scraping over rock. They must have brought a stretcher. Damn, that was fast. A strong hand grabbed my leg then pulled me from my jagged perch.
I was flipped over. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs and the nerve impulses in my arm began to fire. A scream began to well up in my throat and died as my eyes locked onto my would-be rescuer.
Suddenly dying of blood loss didn’t seem like such a bad thing.