Finally. Number ten. Well, since Lora mentioned it, I suppose I should finish up the Hero du Jour's. More or less. At least for now. Maybe. I was wondering what to do for this character, when the muses bashed. It makes sense, actually. Which is frightening, if you think about it.
Picture the usual disclaimers here. I need to save what's left of my fingers for typing the story.
BTW, ya think Wolfpup will leave herself open to such spamming again? I hope not. If there is a next time, I'm going to practice my 'Just Say No' technique for dares. Besides, she can't make me. If she tries anything, I might just stop writing and really make her suffer. Ya think? Me neither.
Hero Du Jour-Simon
by
[ Reader
comments ] [ Add your comments
]
It was peaceful and quiet along the river. No responsibility, no work, no accident prone anthropologists, no cranky insubordinate detectives, well, not insubordinate, perhaps, but definitely cranky. Of course, he'd have been cranky, too, after spending more than a week on the witness stand, going over and over and over ad nauseum the particulars of his part in the criminal case just about to go to the jury. He hoped it would all be over by the time he got back on Monday. But he wouldn't bet on it. Just a nice peaceful little fishing trip. All alone. Quiet.......................
He raised his head and took the cigar from his mouth, cocking his head and looking in the direction from which the noise was coming. He sighed and pulled his line from the water. There wouldn't be any more fishing until late that evening, now. He watched, sadly, as a pair of jet skis came screaming around the bend in the river. The river was a good hundred yards across at that point, deep and deceptively slow moving looking. He watched as the jet skiers ripped back and forth across the river. Destroying his peace and quiet as they dashed back and forth across the water. He was even more disappointed when they continued on upstream around the next bend. Sighing, he headed back to his camp, with only enough fish for lunch for his trouble.
Late afternoon. The jet skiers still hadn't returned. He guessed that they'd probably be back just in time to ruin his afternoon fishing. He was pretty lucky. He caught a pair of good sized trout right off. Then he cast several times with no success. He decided to try for a dark pool he could just make out, upstream. He flipped his line out a few times, finally letting the fly settle delicately exactly where he had wanted it. He started reeling in the slack as the fly floated back toward him. Suddenly, he saw a large fish take his bait. Striking and charging upstream. He fought the fish, it was far too violent to be a trout. It broke the water's surface and he realized that he'd hooked a sturgeon. Smiling grimly, teeth clamped on his unlit cigar, he played the fish. Nearly twenty minutes later, he finally landed the monster. It was small, for a sturgeon, only about three feet long, but quite a nice prize, plus it got the imported predator out of the river.
He had just decided to call it quits, the fight for the big fish had tired him out, when he heard the jet skis returning. He watched the river, waiting for them to come around the bend, when he heard one of the jet skis engine reach an incredibly tortured pitch. There was a loud bang, followed by silence. He watched for a minute longer, and saw the wreckage of the two motorized water scooters drift into sight. He dropped his equipment on the ground and ran upstream, searching for the riders.
They were, fortunately, caught in an eddy, not too far from the bank. One of them was barely conscious, the other one out cold, floating face down in the water. Neither was wearing a life vest. Without a moment's hesitation, he dove in after them. His hip waders slowed him down, but he made it out to the two of them and grabbed the unconscious one, turning him over and checking to see if he was breathing. The other one was trying to grab hold of him, but he managed to keep his distance. He wouldn't be any help if he let himself be overpowered. The unconscious one wasn't breathing. He felt for a carotid pulse, and found it. He pushed the unconscious man closer to his friend, shouting for him to grab on and that he would tow them to shore. The other man did as he was told, and he managed to tow both men to shore. Once he could touch bottom, he quickly dragged the two men onto the pebbled shore. He turned the unconscious victim on his side and cleared his airway. There was still a strong pulse, but no breathing. He then placed him on his back and started rescue breathing. After two quick puffs of air, he again turned him on his side, the man started choking and spitting up water. He held him until he stopped and was breathing normally. Certain that the first victim was safe for the moment, he turned back to the other one. He was lying still partly in the water. He stood up and ran his hands over the second victim, searching for injuries. When he touched the man's head, the second victim moaned in pain. He noticed a lump forming on the side of this one's head. He finished checking out both men, then ran back to his camp to find his cell phone and call for help.
He returned to the two injured men bringing his sleeping bag and first aid kit. He had dialed the 911 operator and requested medical assistance for the two victims. He gave directions to his location, after which, he moved the rest of his camp to their location. When he had finished that, he sat down and waited. When the second victim regained consciousness, he helped him up the shore and wrapped him in some towels and helped him sit near his fire. The first man was covered with a space blanket with his sleeping bag on top to try to keep him warm. He comforted the stranger, reassuring him that help was on the way.
It was more than an hour before the rangers could get to them. They had brought the paramedics with them. He had to answer a number of questions for the rangers' reports, but finally the two injured men were transported to the hospital, leaving him alone. He looked around his camp. Sighing, he packed everything up and headed home. Somehow, it just didn't seem all that relaxing any more. Maybe next time. He'd have more fun listening to Ellison complaining about the lawyers, he decided. If he hurried, he might even have time to talk Blair into making one of his great stuffed fish recipes. But only if they invited everyone else to help eat the twenty pound sturgeon. Maybe he'd call Joel, first, have him set everything up at his house...
".....two very lucky jet skiers. They had gone upriver, not knowing that the river upstream from the lake is reserved for fishing and that jet skis are not permitted to operate in the area. They were returning from their excursion, when one of them lost control and crashed into the other one. One man was knocked unconscious, neither was wearing a personal floatation device. Both men are listed in stable condition at the hospital. They were rescued by Cascade PD's Captain Simon Banks, of the Major Crime Division, who was on a solo fishing trip when he heard the crash and rushed to the rescue, performing rescue breathing for the near drowning victim and pulling both men from the water, as well as calling the paramedics and rangers... Remember, folks, don't drink when out on the rivers and lakes, and always wear the proper safety equipment. Stay tuned for the weather report, next on..."
The End
I did it! I DID IT!!!!!!!!! It's only Friday, and I have finished ten stories since Sunday. Fffffffffftttttttttttttttt! (me blowing a BIG raspberry at Wolfpup) So there. How's this for a house warming present? Hmmmm? And my brain's still functioning. Of course some of these things are only a couple of pages long, but they're complete. I hope. Ahhhhh. Now I can take my time, kick back, relax, dig up the garden, sleep, clean my room, do the dishes, brush the shedding dog, did I mention sleep? Read a few new pieces. Ahhhhh, bliss. Oh, dear. My fingers want me to write some more. No. I can stop any time I want to. I can. Yes, I can. Maybe. I think I'll go read some stuff I promised to beta. Yeah. That's what I'll do. Just as soon as I can knock that hyperactive muse out. GO TO SLEEP NOW! We don't need to write any more this week. Honest. PLEEEEEEEASE? whimper