"… in the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in the streets or villages… in the woods we return to reason and faith."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter Two

12:27 PM

Metro Medical, N. 115th Street, Sector 5,
Seattle, Washington

They reached the hospital in less than the predicted forty-five minutes, despite the grim weather and annoyingly slow checkpoints as they moved from sector to sector. Metro Medical was one of the less desperate facilities, though it felt the post-Pulse pinch like everyone else. Dr. Sam Carr, the neurologist who had operated on Logan and was monitoring his case, worked there. He was one of the good guys and the hospital itself had an excellent reputation. Of course, if you had money, you had a better chance of getting assistance. Supplies didn't grow on trees.

They were able to find a parking spot out front. Logan transferred into his wheelchair just as the rain decided to come on harder. He sighed, unlocked his brakes and began the tedious journey to the cement ramp. Max thought briefly about grabbing the back of the chair and quickly and efficiently pushing him onto the sidewalk. She decided he wouldn't appreciate it and waited for him on the other side of the automatic doors. He arrived not far behind her, damp but with his pride intact.

Logan gave his head a quick shake to get some of the water out of his hair and placed his hands on the wheels, moving towards the elevators for the west wing with quick, hard motions.

Max hesitated, he thought, like she was going to offer to push me.That shouldn't make me angry, damnit.

But you would reject the help of a beautiful woman, his Inner Voice stated.

Logan chose not to pursue that thought. He was remembering the blurred images of his time in the ICU. He hadn't needed Matt's instructions on how to reach it; he knew all too well how to get there. The elevator pinged as they arrived on the fourth floor. Max followed him; the wheels whispered softly towards the nursing station. Not too long ago, they had both been here, Logan fighting for his life and Max providing an unscheduled blood transfusion. AB negative…

Logan sighed. The hospital disappeared, and for a few blissful moments, he recalled the dream with vivid clarity.

Max stood before him, resplendent in a white dress with her hair pulled back from her face. He sat in the wheelchair, dressed in formal wear, and she was making a request.

"Dance with me," she said quietly.

"I can't," he said, regretting his injury all the more, longing to take her into his arms.

She shrugged. "Sure you can. Mind over matter."

"See, my problem is I can't walk," he said, stating the blindingly obvious and wondering why she was putting him through this sweet torture. The soft white lights bathed her in a heavenly glow. She was so beautiful…

She smiled. "I'm not askin' you to walk. Just dance."

And he stood, pushing the wheelchair back, and held her in his arms as 'Valse Triste' by Sibelius played in the background. It was a miracle. It was all he wanted.

It couldn't be real.

"Whose dream is this, anyway, yours or mine?"

"Don't ask me."

And they danced…

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little dizzy."

Concerned, he asked, "Do you want to stop?" Though he hoped she never wanted to stop.

"No. Don't let go."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"I promise." And he meant it.

"Logan?"

As their lips almost met, the dream dissolved.

Upon waking and finding he was hooked up to machines and an IV, alone in the room and unable to feel his legs, Logan realized he'd discovered another level of despair.

The nursing station was busy. One of the women looked up from her work as they approached and recognized Logan.

"Mr. Cale?" He could tell she was trying to figure out why he was here, if someone had processed him downstairs and not alerted her.

"I'm looking for Matt Sung," he said, and hoped his smile was reassuring.

"Oh. Of course."

Of course, thought Max. What does that mean?

"He's in room twelve."

"Thank you." Logan turned away and headed down the hall. Max stared at the nurse, irritated for some reason she couldn't put her finger on. What did it matter if they thought he was here for medical attention?

The assumption that he'd need it, her Inner Commentator said.

She followed Logan past the open, quiet rooms, machines humming softly, her mind replaying that wonderful dream she'd experienced not long ago in this very wing.

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"So, you can't think of any reason they'd be chasing you, in particular?"

The young man - Peter Hurst, Logan corrected, intent on putting a name to this latest victim of the twisted, post-Pulse world - regarded him cautiously with swollen eyes that were set in a bruised face. With all his injuries, he's lucky to be alive…

"No," the hoarse voice said, and the eyes darted to Max for a moment. She was standing near the bottom of the bed next to Matt Sung and a man who had been introduced as Peter's father, Andrew. Detective Hurst was broad and stocky and the anger and fear for his son was palpable, like a barely restrained creature crawling just under his skin.

"Peter, I just want to review this so I understand the facts correctly and give the right information to Eyes Only." The swollen eyes brightened a bit at the name of Logan's alter ego, as they had when Matt had introduced him as one of his operatives. "There weren't any other campers at the site, right?" Peter made a noise that was taken to be agreement. "But you were meeting some friends there next week." The noise came again. Logan glanced at Matt then returned his attention to the young man. "There was a man with a rifle that had night gear, and after he ambushed and assaulted you, he told you to run, gave you a head start. Then he chased you, hunted you, shot you."

The lips moved. "Yes."

"And that's when you found out he had a friend."

"Yes."

"If the ranger hadn't heard the gunfire, if she hadn't made it there in time -"

Matt placed a hand on Hurst's shoulder. "Andrew."

Something passed between them that Max recognized as a silent plea and appeal conversation. Hurst blew out a huff of air and visibly tried to contain himself.

"Sorry," he said gruffly. "I just want them caught and punished, but it's out of King County jurisdiction. We've passed it along to the authorities in Mason, but…"

"He bragged." All heads turned to Peter, who lay very still in the bed. Pain medication and an IV drip were set up beside him. He hadn't been out of surgery for his right leg three hours yet and had drifted several times during the conversation. A single tear pooled at the corner of his eye and slid down his temple to rest in his hair. "He bragged that I might be fast, but he'd be faster," the weak voice continued. "I might do track but he'd been doing this for years."

"He knew Peter was an athlete," Matt stated grimly. "And knew he was there alone. The park just opened for the busy season a few weeks ago and they knew there wouldn't be many people around."

There was a pause as all present digested this information.

"It was a game."

All eyes turned to Max. Peter managed to look at her incredulously. Logan and Matt seemed startled that she'd spoken and she wondered if Logan had remembered that she was there. Hurst gaped at her.

"What?"

Max wasn't comfortable with the intensity of the attention she was receiving, especially since Logan was among them. She sighed but didn't avoid the question.

"It was a game," she repeated, locking eyes with Hurst. "I don't think he was after Peter in particular. It didn't matter who it was, as long as they were healthy and could give him some sport."

"On what do you base this revelation, young lady?"

Running through the woods, picking up the scent of the criminal, getting her signal from Zack as the group fanned out, circling the desperate fugitive, hunting him, sensing his fear, his sweat -

"I recognize the scenario," she stated flatly, and by silent agreement, the men decided not to question her.

"I'll pass this along to Eyes Only," Logan said to the room in general. To Peter, he added, "We'll do everything we can to catch these guys."

Peter Hurst closed his eyes and almost smiled. "Thanks." He slipped willingly now into the arms of sleep. It was as if a blanket of reassurance was being wrapped around him. Eyes Only was on the case. He'd find the men who tried to kill him and bring them to justice.

He hadn't mentioned the elk he'd seen; they'd think he was hallucinating.

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