Jack pulled his arm free from Mac startling the younger man awake. Jack covered his mouth and whispered in the kid's ear.

"Somebody's coming." Mac nodded. Jack let go and pulled out his Baretta. He was painfully aware he only had 15 rounds. He duck walked to the edge of the boulder and peeped around the stone. Jack frowned. Through the trees, he could see two flickering lights small in the distance. The crashing footsteps were much closer.

"I think those are lanterns," Mac whispered at his elbow. Jack jumped and bit his mouth from squawking in surprise. He turned to glare at Mac, but it was too dark. If it weren't for Mac's hand on his shoulder, Jack wouldn't know Mac was there. They heard a scream.

"Son of a…"

"We have to help him," Mac whispered as he moved to go around the stone. Jack gritted his teeth grabbed Mac by the waist and pulled him back. Mac landed on his back with a whoof. Jack put a hand on his chest and leaned over him holding him down.

"Jack, dammit…" Mac hissed as he tried to push his partner off of him.

"Mac, calm down," Jack whispered. Mac stilled.

"We have to help him," Mac growled. Jack gritted his teeth.

"We can't." He said. He could feel waves of rage roll off Mac. Jack waited then Mac nodded. Jack rolled off him. Jack kept a hand on Mac's arm making sure the kid didn't slip away from him. Jack hated it, but there were too many variables how many guns? How many pursuers? Above all, the terrain was unknown, and they couldn't see an inch in front of their faces. Jack could feel the muscles in Mac's arm bunch, and his body almost vibrated with the need to do something. Jack moved closer knowing it would not take much to send his partner barrelling off into the blackness around them.

"There he is!" A gritty male voice yelled. A pair of whoops came then the lamps began to run closer in Mac and Jack's location. The closer crashing steps faltered. Backlit by the faint light of the lanterns, Jack saw Mac was right. It was a man. Jack felt bile run up his throat and held onto Mac harder. The man was missing both of his arms. He screamed and fell.

Mac dove forward his heart banging. Jack grabbed him across the chest holding him still. Mac writhed and tried to wiggle loose. He wheezed in pain, his breath stolen by the throbbing from his ribs. Jack dragged him behind the boulders.

"Shhh," Jack whispered in Mac's ear. He could feel a growl echo from Mac's chest.

"No, no more please!" The voice was barely human. It was garbled and moist, and less than twenty feet on the other side of the boulders. Jack moved his arms holding Mac in more of a hug. He'd seen enough human hunts to know they never ended with smiles and candy canes. The flickering lanterns made the dark forest around them glow and sway like demons from hell dancing around the trees. The screams were some of the worst Jack had ever heard.

Jack counted four different voices three male and one female. They didn't talk only whooped and laughed. Jack frowned. The woman and one of the man sounded young. Mac started squirming. Jack focused on him.

"Shhhh. We can't help, I'm sorry." Jack said it over and over leaning his face into Mac's sweaty neck his own eyes closed. The screams reached a crescendo with the solid thud of blows then came the distinctive slap of large blades into flesh. The cries broke down to gurgling that ended with a final wet wheeze. Mac slumped in Jack's arms breathing hard and shaking. Jack wished he had the kid's leather jacket or his own. Jack pulled Mac closer for heat. Mac's head leaned down, and he sagged back. Jack didn't know if he passed out or was curling into his head to avoid the horror unfolding on the other side of their shelter.

Jack forced himself to take easy breaths even as the stink of iron grew. The murderers spoke to each other in a language Jack had never heard before. Jack winced at the knuckle cracking of bones snapped like wishbones and the meaty squish of flesh sliced by large knives, probably machetes. Jack got a whiff of bowel. Mac went limp. Jack prayed the kid was unconscious. Jack began to count Mac's breaths forcing himself to focus on something to keep himself calm.

Jack guessed it took three hours before the group stepped away and the light of the lanterns faded. Jack leaned his head back taking silent deep breaths. Even after the lights were gone and the forest was wrapped in absolute darkness again it remained unnaturally quiet as if all life was hiding by the brutality of the death.

Mac jerked and pulled free from Jack. Jack let him go feeling exhausted and drained. He heard Mac shuffle through the fallen leaves then puke gasping in pain between spasms. Jack curled his knees to his chest and wiped his damp cheeks with his palms. After Mac finished, he scooted back to Jack's side. He leaned against the boulder his elbow touching Jack's.

"We should have helped him," Mac said his voice full of barely suppressed rage. Jack sighed but didn't answer. What could he say?

"Try to sleep," Jack said after a long uncomfortable silence hung between them; his voice was flat. He felt Mac snug in closer, and yet the kid's stiffness made Jack feel farther away from him than he ever did.

Mac woke up shivering at first light. He tried to ease from Jack's side without waking the older man. Jack, however, snapped awake bringing up his Baretta eyes scanning the environment. The thick forest was alive with birds yammering around them. A pewter-colored sky painted the solid wall of trees and underbrush into shades of grey and green.

"Morning." Mac offered. Even in the noisy morning forest, his voice sounded muted. He pushed off the boulder to his feet. Mac rubbed his hands up and down fast trying to get some heat flowing. Jack studied him. Mac looked away stretching. Mac grimaced his first few steps. After that, they eased into a stiff limp. Jack was happy to see no fresh blood oozing from the wound. He was not so happy to see Mac avoiding him. Jack stiffly got to his feet. He groaned rubbing his chest and touching his head. The gouge had stopped bleeding and had sprouted into a large lump. He could feel bruising from his seatbelt and overall pain of the crash. The second day was always the worst.

"Morning, how are you doing?" Jack asked. Mac glared at him then stalked around the boulders. Jack rubbed his eyes and fought a yawn. He braced himself for the onslaught of Mac's anger. Jack knew Mac was more angry at himself than Jack but also knew Mac would turn it inward like a spear unless Jack could get him to lash out and focus on something else. He circled the boulder preparing for the grisly sight of a dismembered corpse and froze. Other than splotches of blood in the leaves and a blood trail leading away there was no sign anything had happened.

Mac knelt by the bloody streaks on the ground his eyes far away with a look that Jack knew well.

"Whatcha thinking, Mac?" Mac glanced at him.

"They took everything bones, skin, every ?"

"I don't know, hide evidence?"

"And left the blood trail? Something else is going on."

"Do you think they're the ones who shot us down?"

"I'm not sure. Why would these psychos use lanterns if they had that kind of tech?"

"Not a lot of electricity out here." Mac nodded and stood up. He ran his hand through his hair. The sky was now a rose red.

"We have to find that plane," Mac said urgently.

"How? We don't even know where we are." Mac didn't answer only started limping, following the blood trail. Jack rolled his eyes and huffed. "Mac, c'mon are you going to ignore me all day?" He growled as he fell into step behind his partner who navigated the thick foliage with soft, careful steps.

"I'm not ignoring you," Mac said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, you are."

"How can I be ignoring you if I'm talking to you." Jack stepped ahead quickly and grabbed Mac's arm spinning him around. Mac grunted with pain and shot Jack a full powered glare. "What do you want me to say? We could have helped that man." The forest echoed with Mac's bellow. Jack's face softened, and he stepped back and crossed his arms. He deliberately kept his voice level and calm.

"You know we couldn't." Mac shook his head and snarled at Jack.

"I guess we'll never know now, will we?" Mac stalked off shoving branches away with angry swipes. It caused Jack to follow him at a longer distance or get thwacked in the face by rebounding tree limbs. Jack eased over to the side of Mac's path keeping pace with the furious blonde while maintaining watch around them.

The forest's return to normal told him the killers were probably long gone, but Jack wasn't one for assuming the best of any situation. Well, he amended, any case where they were shot down and forced to witness the butcher of a man.

After an hour of walking, Mac finally stopped and took a deep breath, his eyes closed. The forest still had many dark crevasses that made Jack's skin tingle with unease even the small pools of sun and explosions of thick greenery couldn't calm. Jack waited knowing it had to be Mac's choice to move on from his fury or not. Mac sighed and turned looking over at Jack. Although the delta had moved with the stealth of a jungle cat, Mac always knew where he was.

"I'm sorry Jack. You were right." Mac said his soft voice seemed to echo off the trees close around them. Jack smiled and picked his way to his partner's side. He put an arm on the kid's shoulders.

"It's ok, brother. Last night…" Jack's voice trailed off unable to come up with words to describe the horror and madness they had both witnessed. Mac looked down at the ground and moved leaves with the toe of his boot.

"I know." Mac wiped his sweaty forehead. He looked up at the tops of the trees and closed his eyes. Jack held off asking him what he was doing when he saw Mac mouthing technical words and formulas to himself. Mac opened his eyes.

"Which way is East?" Mac asked. Jack smiled. As smart as the kid was, he never did well at directions. Jack pointed to their left. Mac looked up at the tips of the trees again and his brow furrowed with his mental concentration. He nodded at Jack. "This way." Mac turned and led them south-east.

"Why are we going this way, I thought we were going to follow the blood trail?" Mac nodded and pushed his bangs back.

"I figured out a way of doing some rough triangulation to estimate the plane's location. We can use the radio to call for help."

"That's a whole lot better than following a trail leading directly to some weird forest cannibals." Jack agreed. Mac shot him a surprised look.

"Cannibals? We don't know if they're cannibals."

"Why else would they dismember then take away the whole body?" Mac opened his mouth then snapped it shut not having an answer.

"I hope you're wrong," Mac said slowly picking their way through the dense forest.

"You and me both, bud.." They shared an uneasy glance of fear. Suddenly the fresh air was cloying clinging to their bodies somehow thick and greasy. They walked in silence-not a natural condition for Jack.

"What was that language they were speaking?" Mac paused considering this.

"I'm not sure, but it sounded like a form of Cherokee pidgen with bits of English and something else, possibly French."

"Pigpen?" Mac rolled his eyes.

"Pidgen, it's a mixing of one or more languages when different groups are forced to interact and live together. It usually develops into a creole…" Jack held up a hand forestalling the lecture. Mac shrugged and continued their walking. Jack frowned.

"So where would all these groups come from and how did they end up here? It's not like this is the open Appalachian trail."

"A lot of groups of people vanish into these woods. There a lot of pockets of people that hid in here so they could bootleg their moonshine."

"That was back in the 1920's."

"Their families probably just stayed. I would guess drug smugglers probably do the same thing today."

"It would be a perfect place to grow pot, other than the thick cover...which would keep them away from prying eyes." Mac nodded.

"All kinds of fugitives have hidden in these woods- draft dodgers, hippies, rapists, criminals…"

"Cannibals?" Mac shuddered and shot Jack a glance.

"I hope not."

"Yeah me neither. I'd be the one chopped up first."

"Oh?"

"Well, I'm obviously meatier and tenderized by age and experienced…"

"So you'd be stringy and past your due date?" Mac chuckled even as a finger of ice seemed to slide up his spine at the black humor. He paused scanning the forest around them. Jack froze beside him automatically drawing his Baretta and putting his back to Mac's.

"You feel it too," Jack said in a low pitched whisper.

"Yeah, someone's watching us." They stood eyeing every leave, every flutter; every twig snap hardly breathing with the tension. The birds were silent, too silent.