Photo:
Kristopher Kaiyala

See also Contest 01: Chairlift Encounter

The Healing
By PHIL GALLAGHER

I'd never seen blood on snow, and I found its sight mesmerizing. It exploded in crimson color against the pure whiteness. I lost track of time staring, as rivulets dripped off the end of my finger; all this from casually nicking my ski edge. I'd seen blood before. I was no stranger to that unwelcome sight.

When Rat bought it in the central highlands and his back was just blown away from the mortar rounds, there was blood everywhere. The time I rappelled down the waterfall carrying Rafferty, I was drenched in it, even with the water, and when we were ambushed and everyone was shot to death except me, because I took it in the chest and lung, there was so much blood that they thought I was gone. All those old images kept coming as I knelt there on the side of the mountain bleeding in the sun, tears streaming down my face, jarringly lost in the memories of things I hadn't thought about in a long, long, time.

My body started feeling prickly. My tongue felt heavy and I felt myself falling into that place where nothing seems to matter, where wild things stare out from faces gone crazy with horror. I remember that after a while I started talking to myself, saying that I'd better tape up that finger. I should head back. I should tape up that finger and head back now. That would be the smart thing. That's what I ought to do. The mountain's not going anywhere. The north-facing bowl I was hiking for would be glorious, but I'll come back next snowfall. I better tend to that hand. I better get back. Dammit, I better keep it together.

I finally reached with my free hand for my first aid kit and bandaged the cut. For such a mess it was surprisingly small. I told myself everything was under control.

I worked my way off the icy section and back onto my skis. I apologized for putting blood on the snow and for the sadness that came out of me in the place where the yellow moon sets and healing waters gathered. I begged the mountain's forgiveness.

                                                                                        Next: number 2


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