Fenzy by Robert Liparulo Page B

waist.
    “Nothing,” David said. “Everything.”
    Xander made a face. He said, “Does this look as bad as it feels?” He turned to show them his back. A dark blue bruise ran diagonally from one shoulder blade to just above the top of the towel. The edges were red, slowly fading to yellow.
    “Man!” Keal said. “Is that from Phemus?”
    Xander nodded and turned around. “When he hurled the toy rifle at us in the clearing. Knocked the wind out of me.”
    “And you almost fell all the way to the ground,” David said, remembering.
    “I thought I was a goner,” Xander said. “I just tried not to think about—“ His eyes flashed wide, and he cried out, “ Oh! ” He was looking at David’s arm.
    Keal had unwrapped all but a couple of loops of Ace bandage close to the elbow. The cast itself was almost gone, crumbled away. Plaster chunks and powder were spread out on the counter around it. David’s skin was mottled blue and white. Thread-thin tendrils of red networked through it, like the swirls of color through marble.
    Xander said, “It looks like something from Alien . . . or The Exorcist . . . or—“ “
    Xander.” Keal stopped him.
    David moaned. Seeing it made it worse. He bit his lip.
    “What’s that ?” Xander almost screamed. He pointed at a bump in David’s flesh midway between wrist and elbow.
    “Xander,” Keal said, stern. “Go get dressed.”
    “No . . . just . . . what is it?”
    Keal looked at David. He gently touched the bump. David yelped. He was trembling again, the laughter forgotten.
    “That’s your bone, David,” Keal said. “It’s broken, all right. And not set. We have to get you to a hospital.”
    “No,” David said, shaking his head. He closed his eyes, squeezing out more tears.
    “I’ll take you someplace away from Pinedale,” Keal said. “You can’t go on with your arm like this.”
    “No,” David repeated. “Look at me. I have a black eye and a bruised cheek. A bump on my head, bruised ribs, an aching foot, broken skin over my knuckles. The skin on my chest and stomach . . . I don’t even know how to describe it.” He looked down at himself. His entire front was scratched and road-rashed from his slide over ice down the mountain.
    “I got cuts on my shoulder and palm and probably places I don’t even know about yet. If anyone saw me, especially a doctor, they’d be stupid not to call the cops or social services or whoever takes kids away from abusive parents.”
    Keal just frowned at him. “Well,” he said slowly, “I could try to wrap it tightly. Can’t cut off circulation, though. Didn’t the hospital give you a sling?”
    “Yeah,” David said. “It was getting in my way. It’s in the bedroom.”
    “I’ll get it,” Xander said.
    “And rulers,” Keal said. “You got two rulers?”
    “I think Toria does.” Xander darted away.
    “We’ll splint it,” Keal said, squinting down at David’s arm. “And wrap it with three or four bandages. That’s the best I can do here, but it’s going to hurt until you get it set.”
    “I can take it,” David said, not sure he could.
    “It can also get infected.”
    “I can take—“
    Keal raised his palm to stop him. “You can’t, David, not gangrene. You’ll lose your arm. Maybe get sepsis. That’s when the cells that are dying in your arm infect your whole body. Blood poisoning. You could die.”
    “Are you trying to scare me?”
    “Yes!” Keal took a deep breath. “Look, you probably have some time. We’ll wait till your dad gets back, but you know what he’s going to say.”
    David nodded. “Hospital . . . now.”
    Keal reached into a bag in the sink and pulled out a new Ace bandage. He said, “I’ll try to take some of the pressure off with this and the sling, and try to keep the bone from moving any more.”
    Xander returned and slid two rulers onto the counter, one wood, one plastic.
    “Have to do for now, I guess,” Keal said.
    Xander sat on the edge of the tub and dropped