At the end of this chapter, you can resume cannon. The next morning they'll be riding along in a truck headed for Akator. :) I'm not really planning to add more to this one, but if enough people bug me, I might.

Remember, at this point Indy knows Mutt is his son, but Mutt still has no clue.

As usual, I don't own these uber-cool characters.

PRESSURE POINTS

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2: Sense

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Marion didn't get another chance that night to pump Dr. Jones about Mutt's ordeal. That suited the professor just fine, and Mutt didn't blame him. He recalled Jones saying "I am a tenured professor of archaeology." Try throwing that in his mom's face. Tenured professor...mother on the warpath. The two didn't compare.

The Russians shoved Jones and Mutt into the same tent for the night, seeming to think that the two were still somewhat at odds and that they wouldn't be making any plans together. Mutt never would have admitted it, but he was very glad not to be alone.

Once things quieted down, Mutt heard his older companion whisper, "How's your stomach, kid?"

"Oh...I'll live," Mutt answered.

"Your arm?"

"It's OK."

"Does it have free range of motion?"

Mutt rolled his eyes in the darkness. Why couldn't the old man just say, "Can you move it?" He stretched his arm out and moved it around. "Well, it hurts. But I can move it all right."

"No torn ligaments, then?"

"How should I know?"

The correct answer was probably something like "Nope. It's fine." But since he had given a different answer, the professor was now moving toward him. Great.

"You're planning to sleep in your jacket?" Jones asked in a condescending tone.

"Got a problem with it?"

"You should keep the blanket between you and the ground and spread your jacket over you."

"Really."

The Russians had given them each one small wool blanket against the chilly night. Mutt had put it over himself—like a normal person would, he thought.

"Just take your jacket off for a minute—I want to make sure your arm is all right."

"It's fine."

"Don't start with me, Junior."

Mutt thought Dr. Jones really had a nerve talking to him that way, but he also figured that this would never end if he didn't comply.

"Fine. Whatever. Just remember the last time this came off, bad things happened." He shed the jacket and put it over his legs. He sat shivering in the dark.

He twitched when he felt the professor's hands on his arm, feeling his shoulder joint, then moving the arm around behind his back. The pressure was nowhere near what it had been when the Russian thug twisted it, but it still hurt.

"Hey, lay off, will ya?"

Jones let Mutt bring his arm back around in front of him. "There's certainly nothing broken," he reported, "and I don't think there's any permanent damage to the tendons. You got off easy."

"Sure. Easy."

"I can tell your mouth is fine. No teeth missing?"

Mutt half-smiled. "Nah. He messed up my lip pretty good, but it'll heal."

"How about your back?"

This time Mutt knew better than to make a smart remark. "It'll be fine."

"Sure, it will. Did they break the skin?"

"I don't think so. Is there anything you could do if they had?"

"Maybe. Do you not want help?"

"I didn't ask for it."

The professor sighed. "Kids," he muttered. "As if you'd ever ask for help."

Mutt reached his good arm around behind him and explored his back. "Well, they tore my shirt a little, but it didn't break the skin. Happy?"

"Good. Now put the blanket on the ground and put your jacket over you."

"Get off my back, Gramps."

"You'll be warmer that way."

"Really. Then why do people always put a flimsy sheet over the bed and the warm blankets over the top?"

"Because a bed has a mattress, which insulates you. The ground is stone cold and it'll sap the heat out of you. A wool blanket makes a good buffer between it and you."

Dang, that makes sense. Mutt silently spread the blanket over the ground and stretched out on it on his side, pulling his jacket up over his torso. To his chagrin, he did feel warmer. "The ground's hard," he complained.

"You want my jacket to put under you?"

"No," Mutt snapped immediately. "I'm not taking an old man's coat to save my hide. I'll be fine."

"You're hurt and I'm not."

"Rub it in."

Another exasperated sigh. "Do you think I'm trying to make this harder for you? I know you've been through a lot today on my account."

"I told you, that wasn't your fault." Mutt thought back to the way Dr. Jones had looked coldly at him as if he didn't care whether Mutt lived or died. "You're a pretty good actor, you know. That was a pretty good plan."

"You're not so bad yourself," Jones answered. "You had me wondering whether you'd caught on. But in the end it didn't do us much good...they still got what they wanted."

"It was worth it. They would have hurt my mom next. I'd have trashed any plan to keep that from happening."

"So would I. That's partly why I feel so bad."

Something wasn't making sense. "Um...why?"

"Because I'd have given them anything they wanted for Marion. But when they were hurting you I waited to formulate a plan. That's not right."

Mutt shook his head in the darkness. "It just goes to show chivalry isn't dead. I'd save my mom over you any day. No offense."

"None taken." After a moment's silence, Dr. Jones said, "Listen, we don't know what we're in for tomorrow. We should try to get some sleep."

"Yeah. Do you think if they find Akator they'll let us go after?" Mutt waited. "You don't, do you?"

"I can't think of any reason they'd keep us alive."

"Then we have to get away tomorrow. Somewhere along the way."

"That's the idea. Keep your eyes open for opportunities, OK?"

"OK." Mutt swallowed. He'd never seriously thought about dying. He was too young. He was supposed to live forever—well, to outlive crusty old professors, anyway. "Professor, do you believe in life after death?"

Jones rolled over and then stayed still awhile, seeming to think it over. "Yes," he said at last.

"What do you think it's like?"

"The Egyptians—a lot of ancient civilizations, in fact—thought it was like this one, only better. Take the best things from this life and compound them."

"Yeah, but what do you think?"

"I think if we go together, we'll get through it all right."

That surprised Mutt, but it was kind of nice. He thought about leaving this life with his mother, Oxley and Dr. Jones. If they all got killed together, they wouldn't be leaving anything important behind, right? Well...except his motorcycle, of course.

"Yeah," Mutt said at last. "Nobody on the other side could hold a candle to us."

Dr. Jones chuckled. "Good night, son."

Ordinarily, Mutt would have found the familiarity patronizing, but somehow he knew the professor didn't mean it to be. "Good night, Pops," he answered lightly.

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This is the end. Instead of adding another chapter, I have decided to post the next installment as a new story, since it can stand alone. It is called "Compromise."

PS Indy's view of the afterlife is not my view. But I thought this one kept him in character and added to the story nicely.