Broken Wings (6 page)

“Perhaps you should call it a day,” she suggested.

Daniel shook his head. “No, I came here to help you out, and I’m fine now. I just got a little shaken up by that crazy bird of yours.”

“You were more than a little shaken up, Daniel.”

He moved toward the steps. “Sorry, I just overreacted. I’ll get back to your roof,” he said over his shoulder. He quickly walked down the steps and around the side of the house.

Pamela felt a sense of relief when Daniel disappeared from view. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his company; it was more that his presence seemed to unhinge her. Being around Daniel turned her mind into that of a self-conscious adolescent again. Perhaps what she felt were the dying embers of her youth making a last ditch effort to ignite her interest in the opposite sex. But she knew she had come too far in her life to ever entertain the idea of allowing a man like Daniel in. She had enough adrift souls dependent on her for their survival, and she had no room in her heart to try and right another.

*  *  *  *

Later that morning, Pamela returned from feeding the animals in their outdoor cages to find Daniel hammering away on her roof. He diligently labored to pry the cracked shingles from the roof, throw them to the side, and hammer the new ones into place. Pamela wondered if he had ever worked in construction, or if replacing roof shingles was something he had learned from his father. She stopped, shook her head, and silently chastised her overzealous curiosity. Suddenly angry that she had allowed her mind to fill with such frivolous thoughts, Pamela marched to the front door.

Once she stepped inside the door to her home, the constant thud of the hammer seemed to reverberate throughout her house. No room was free of the overhead banging. She noticed even Louis, the squirrel, had hidden himself inside of the sleeping sack in his open cage to try and get away from the noise. Unable to take the intermittent hammering, Pamela walked to her hall closet and took out the Winchester rifle she kept there. She added a few extra shells to the front pocket of her jeans and checked to make sure the rifle was loaded. She eyed Louis once more and observed the array of sleeping baby squirrels in their containers on her kitchen table.

“I don’t have to feed you guys for another hour, so I’m going out to check feeders,” she said to the animals.

Rifle in hand, Pamela headed out the door. As she walked down the steps of her back porch, she toyed with the idea of telling Daniel where she was going, but quickly decided against it. She figured it
would be best to avoid further interaction with him and then maybe her disturbing feelings about him might just go away.

Pamela made her way to the open shed that housed her truck, tractor, and ATVs. She went to the larger of the two ATVs and searched under the seat for the keys. After she had secured her rifle, she started the vehicle and headed for the woods.

A few feet into the thick brush around her property, she found the old trail she used to travel to the feeders that sustained the released animals throughout the cold winters. Normally the feeders would be empty this time of year, but because of the unusually cold winter Louisiana had just endured, Pamela had opted to stock the feeders for another month until spring was firmly entrenched. As she maneuvered the ATV through the high shrubs and around the low tree limbs covering the trail, she continually checked for her rifle. No one should ever be caught out in the thick brush without a weapon. Most animals would run from the approaching sounds and smells of a human, but wild boar, indigenous to the area, were especially aggressive in the spring. Mothers had baby piglets to protect from predators, and they could badly maim, or even kill, when encountered.

After ten minutes of negotiating through the dense vegetation, Pamela came upon a small clearing and the first of four feeders located on her property. The feeder was nothing more than an empty metal barrel with large holes drilled into the sides along the bottom. A mixture of corn, seeds, and nuts would be poured into the top of the barrel and as the animals removed the food from around the bottom of the barrel, more food would filter out through the holes.

Pamela pulled her vehicle up next to the feeder and left the motor running as she climbed off the ATV and went over to the barrel. Lifting the heavy top of the barrel and looking inside, she could see that the barrel was still full of food. Pamela let the lid drop with a bang and then stepped back to her vehicle.

A loud rustling from the bushes off to her left distracted her. Instinctively, Pamela reached for her gun on the back of the ATV and stood watching the brush where the noise had emanated from. Then a long angry grunt came from inside the dense foliage in front of her. As her body tensed, she lifted the rifle and aimed in the direction of the noise. Seconds later, a huge black ball of fur came barreling out of the brush directly toward her. She fired one shot above the creature’s head and saw the animal immediately halt. It was a large black bear, probably female, Pamela surmised. Black bears were common in Louisiana, but they usually never ventured this far south. The animal stared at her, rocking back and forth on its front feet, as if debating the prudence of pursuing an attack. Then from the brush behind the bear, a small black face emerged, and then a second face popped out next to the first. Pamela stood motionless while keeping her eyes peeled on the mother black bear. The stand off seemed to go on for several agonizing minutes, until the bear emitted a low, deep growl. Pamela raised the barrel of her rifle and fired.

*  *  *  *

“Pamela!” Daniel’s frantic scream pieced through the woods.

He ran toward the sound of the gunshots and called out again and again for the woman.

“Pamela, can you hear me?” he shouted and would stop running only long enough to listen for a reply. But there was none.

He ran on, figuring he must be coming closer to the origin of the two shots he had heard. But as he fought his way through the brush, he could feel that familiar pang of dread start to tangle his gut. His heart was racing and his breath seemed to burn like fire in his chest.
The panic, God the panic
! he thought to himself. It was eating him up. He tried to think of the techniques he had been taught to control the powerful flood of adrenalin in his veins, but no peaceful thoughts of sandy beaches or cool ocean breezes were going to allay the absolute terror that was raging through his body. What if he couldn’t find her? What if she was wounded, or worse? Frightful scenarios, with the force of a tsunami, began to slam, one after the other, into his mind. Then, he heard the sound of an engine idling close by. He jumped through some of the brush to his left and soon found himself in a small clearing. There, standing next to a tall oil barrel, was Pamela.

She spun around to face him. The rifle, still at the ready in her hands, was pointed at his chest.

“Are you insane?” she yelled at him as she lowered her rifle. “I could have shot you!”

Daniel stopped, bent over, and tried to catch his breath. “I heard the gunshots…and thought you might be hurt…I took off from the house to come…and help you.”

“And surprising a woman with a loaded gun was going to help me? Do what? Spend the next eighteen to twenty in prison?” she shouted.

Pamela spotted several small trickles of blood flowing down his arms. She ran to his side and inspected his arms. “Jesus, Daniel. You’re all sliced up.”

Daniel stood up and, still gasping for breath, yelled, “What in the hell are you doing out here? And why did I hear gunshots?”

Pamela never looked up from the man’s bleeding arms. “We have got to get you back to the house.”

At that moment, he felt the shaking begin. It always started in his knees and worked its way up. Soon, it would reach his hands and face and he would not be able to hide it from her this time. He eagerly scanned the brush surrounding him. There was nowhere to run and hide.

“Daniel!” Pamela’s voice registered in his brain. “Daniel, are you all right?”

He felt his body caving in. The panic was ripping through his muscles and tissue, taking over his will to fight and his desire to maintain control.

Pamela watched as Daniel sank to his knees. He reached up and placed his face in his trembling hands, and then he started to hyperventilate. His gasping breath rattled in his throat as his body seemed to be taken over by convulsions. Pamela knelt down in front of him and pushed his hands away from his face. She looked into his eyes and immediately saw that unmistakable expression.

“Goddamn it,” Daniel growled beneath his breath. “Not here. Not now.” His eyes burned into hers. “Not with you.” He wrapped his bleeding arms about his body and started to rock gently back and forth. “Go away, Pamela. Leave me alone,” he ordered in a shaky voice.

Pamela calmly placed her hands about his face. “Daniel, I’m not leaving you. I am right here.” She knew she had to get him out of there. “I have to get you back to the house,” she declared.

He covered his ears. “The gunfire! I can still hear the gunfire!” he mumbled.

Pamela ran back to the ATV and put the vehicle into gear. She pulled it right alongside of Daniel. She got off the four-wheeled vehicle and went back to him.

“I need you to focus, Daniel,” she directed as she placed her hand under his chin and tried to draw his eyes to hers. “I want you to listen to me and do as I say. I need you to get up and get on this four-wheeler.”

She watched as Daniel nodded his head and fought to gain control of his rapid breathing. She helped him to his feet and lifted his leg over the back of the vehicle. She then climbed on to the seat in front of him and rested her rifle across her lap.

She turned back to Daniel. “Put your arms around my waist and hold on as tight as you can.”

He did as she instructed. Pamela could feel his respirations beginning to calm, but his shaking body was now soaked through with perspiration. His sweat mixed with blood seeped through her own shirt and created a chill against her skin. She took a breath and slowly started to make her way out of the clearing, her body straining with tension as she maneuvered the ATV through the dense woods. Pamela did not feel her body relax until she saw the familiar blue and white cottage looming before her.

*  *  *  *

“A bear?” Daniel said as his dark eyes stared transfixed at Pamela.

He was sitting on her green couch, naked from the waist up and wrapped in a blanket. He had bandages down both his forearms, along with a few minor scratches on his face, and was holding a half glass of cognac in his now steady hands.

Pamela was sitting next to him nursing her glass of orange juice. She had removed her bloodstained clothes and put on her favorite robe. “A mother bear. She came out of the brush and found me standing next to the feeder. She was probably bringing her babies to eat.”

Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “A bear in Louisiana?”

Pamela nodded. “Not something we see a lot of around here, but black bears have been spotted in this area before. Not many places for them to hibernate, but she seems to have managed.”

“She could have mauled you, or worse,” he calmly remarked, and then he took another sip of the amber liquid from his glass.

“I shot over her head and scared her off. I’m good enough with a rifle should she have decided to charge me.” She shrugged. “But I would have been raising those babies instead of her. And a couple of baby bears would simply wreak havoc on my rehab facility. They are very mischievous and also very destructive.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side as he studied her for a few moments. “You’re a lot tougher than you look, right?”

Pamela smiled. “Yes, I am.”

A few uncomfortable minutes of silence passed between them.

“Are you going to tell me what happened out there?” she finally asked in a soft voice.

Daniel sighed and placed his glass on the coffee table in front of him. “I had a panic attack, that’s all. It happens every now and then when I get stressed.”

She leaned in closer to him. “And is that what happened this morning with Lester, the owl?”

Daniel nodded. “If I get stressed out, or angry, they tend to come in clusters.” He gave her a reassuring smile. He hoped his casual demeanor would make her think that his episodes were no big deal.

Pamela tried to read his feelings at that moment. His features said one thing, but his eyes said another. If she had been less experienced with medical conditions, she might have actually believed his nonchalant reaction.

“Panic attacks, huh?” She reached over and patted his knee. “Nice try, Daniel. But I’m not some airhead blond trying to flirt with an attractive bartender.”

Daniel grinned at her. “Attractive?”

Pamela ignored him. “Panic attacks are usually a symptom of some underlying disorder. And back in the woods you mumbled something about gunfire. You said you could still hear the gunfire.” She sat back on the couch but never removed her eyes from his. “What gunfire?”

Daniel took in a deep breath and lowered his gaze to the glass on the table in front of him. His voice became very faint as he spoke. ”I did two tours of duty in Iraq.”

Pamela raised her eyebrows at him. “Really? When did you join the military?”

“After September 11
th
. I remember watching the towers go down on the television and thinking, I have to do something. So I dropped out of graduate school and enlisted.”