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pair of scissors in a drawer. The most I had
for first aid was a few Band-Aids, some gauze, and an elastic bandage. I
couldn’t even remember the last time they were used, or if they were even mine.
    Finding
something for a splint was a little harder. I considered kitchen utensils, but
wasn’t able to find anything long enough. He was pretty tall, and I needed
something that would work for length. Rummaging through the kitchen, I could
see it sticking out from behind the fridge: a yardstick that hadn’t been used
in years. It would have to do.
    I
clamored back down to the basement with my armload of supplies. Chase had moved
a folding chair from another part of the basement to the foot of the bed; another
was placed on the left, near the Sayner’s head. I couldn’t recall ever having
them, but they seemed convenient for the time. He had definitely calmed down
since the phone call. It seemed he was handling things as well as could be
expected.
    “You
know, his name is Job,” he said slowly. “Like in the Bible.”
    It
was almost as if saying his name made him more like a person and less like an
animal. I had no idea what to say. His name was the least of my concern.
    The
Job I remember from the Bible was a good man who was put through trials because
of a bet. This was a slave that was less than human that probably deserved what
he got. I couldn’t see how the name fit him at all. I didn’t want to take my
focus off of what Sally had requested. I was doing this so Chase felt better,
and so I wouldn’t have a body in my basement stinking up the place in the
stuffy heat.
    “That’s
good to know. Sally is on her way. She wanted us to try to get him cleaned up a
bit before she gets here.”
    After
the two of us pulled the disgusting to-be-burned-later blanket from under him,
I instructed Chase to get some of his clothes off while I tried to wipe off his
face. I was still scared, but figured if he was in this condition, he really
wasn’t going to put up a big fight if he did wake up.
    I
set the chair Chase had brought out near the edge of the bed, so I could get
closer to his face. My hands were shaking as I poured some of the water from
the bottle onto a washcloth. I started at his forehead, where the largest cut
was. After the towel started to pick up the dried blood, I waited for the cut
to issue a fresh new wave. It seemed the gash wasn’t as deep, but it must have
bled a lot when it first happened. I watched him closely as I wiped off the
rest of his face. I was waiting for him to flinch, or make some sudden move.
    I
couldn’t tell if he was still breathing or not, but I looked down where Chase
had removed part of his shirt and could see his bruised muscular chest moving
up and down rhythmically.
    Most
of his face was dirty or caked with blood. As I wiped both off, I could see his
features better. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, but didn’t show any
signs of someone who had lived such a hard life. He had baby-soft skin, like a
boy who had never seen a razor before. It was surprising to see how perfect and
white his teeth were in contrast to his deeply tanned skin.
    I
looked back to see how Chase was coming with his clothes. His shirt was already
cut away, and he had taken off his shoes and socks. He seemed to be stuck in a
daze about getting his pants off. He must have been thinking the same thing I
was.
    “I
think you can just cut them up above the knees.” I said. “I’m sure she just
wants to make sure there is no clothing in the way.”
    Chase
looked relieved at the idea and continued. It broke the tension in the room. I
couldn’t help but laugh about it. Chase joined in. It had distracted me from
noticing a sudden grip around my left wrist.
    Job’s
hand was strong, and I jumped in fear at his touch. I could hear a small scream
escape me as I tried to free his hold. He held on tight with one cool, clammy
hand, and was pulling me close to him. His breathing was shallow and quick, and
I could see