My Wife Switched My Electrolyte Drink To Urine

My consciousness was sliding into oblivion.

I could no longer see anything. The pain had faded into a numb, hollow void.

It felt like my very soul was sinking into nothingness.

All I could hear was Ben’s distant, hypocritical voice.

“Roy, are you okay?”

I could not answer.

He continued in fake concern, “There’s so much blood here! What if predators pick up the scent and attack us? Even if Roy hates me, I can’t stand by and watch him die. I have an idea. Let’s dig a pit and cover him and all this blood with sand. It should hide the smell.”

His suggestion was met with immediate agreement from everyone.

They grabbed shovels and quickly dug a shallow pit beside me.

Then, they kicked me into it.

Grit and sand flew into my mouth and nose. I choked and gasped for air.

This had nothing to do with hiding the scent of my blood. He was burying me alive.

With the last flicker of strength I had left in me, I caught the cuff of his pants.

Ben reacted violently and broke my wrist with a hard stomp.

Then, he yelped and stumbled back.

“Are you trying to kill me, Roy?”

Amy, fueled by rage, hurled shovelfuls of sand over my body.

The sand soon buried me.

“Ben was trying to help you, and this is how you repay him?! I can’t believe I ever married such a cruel man! I’m divorcing you!”

My breathing came in ragged gasps, and my heartbeat was slowing.

Amy comforted Ben. “Don’t worry about him. Accidents happen all the time in a place like this. Don’t blame yourself!”

With that, the last flicker of my will to survive went out. I let my consciousness slip fully into the waiting dark.

Just as they shoveled more sand, the roaring sound of a helicopter sounded above us.

Powerful downdrafts whipped the sand into a stinging whirlwind.

They instinctively dropped their shovels and covered their faces as they scrambled toward the SUV.

Strong hands yanked me out of the pit.

The suffocating weight vanished. Air rushed back into my lungs.

Many voices buzzed around my head at once.

It sounded like the higher-ups had sent a rescue team.

The rescue captain frowned as he checked my condition in swift, practiced movements.

Then, he barked some orders in a calm, methodical way.

“Airway’s clogged with sand. Clear it now! Severe dehydration—start an IV with lactated Ringer’s now!”

Amy narrowed her eyes and stormed up to grab the captain’s arm.

“Are you even trained? Severe dehydration? Oh, please! He’s faking it!”

The rescue captain did not bother arguing with her. He simply handed her a satellite phone.

“If you have questions, take it up with your superiors. My job is to save lives, not debate the specifics of it.”

They cleared the sand out of my mouth and nose and strapped me to a ventilator.

The IV started to pull me back from the edge of severe dehydration.

Through the satellite phone, I heard the Minister of Natural Resources’ voice. It was stern and icy.

“Amy, all members of your expedition team except Roy will be dismissed and investigated. You will all be held responsible for the losses from this failed expedition.”