Chapter 4

Extreme thirst. Sand. Grit. Pain. Birds singing, more thirst. Each of those sensations pulled at Illya Kuryakin's mind as he slowly regained consciousness. Why couldn't he move his legs? Worse, why couldn't he feel his legs? He took a deep breath, or at least tried to, and felt the weight of the wrecked car on his back. The breath caused pain to the injured ribs and his memory of the earlier events came rushing back.

"Kessler?" His voice croaked at a bare whisper. His throat dry. He swallowed what little spit was in his mouth. "Kessler? Where are you?" There was no response and there was no one within the Russian's limited field of vision. Illya hoped that the young agent followed his orders.

Illya tried to move his head, but his neck was stiff and he could barely raise his cheek an inch, not far enough to turn his face the other direction. The branches that Kessler had used to cover him for shade also hindered movement. His eyes narrowed as he realized there was a paper between his face and the sand. His left arm was still pinned under him, but he was able to maneuver his right hand and grabbed the paper. He was just able to put the paper in front of his eyes and read the message left by Stephen Kessler.

Illya,

I've gone to try and find help. I am hoping that once I'm out of the arroyo I will be able to reach Headquarters with the communicator. I have left you with what's left in the canteen and some flares. I have also left my special with you, yours was lost in the roll over.

I'll be back as soon as I can.

I'm sorry my ineptness has caused you so much pain and trouble.

Stephen

"Oh, Stephen," Illya murmured, "it wasn't your fault." He hated that the junior agent blamed himself for their predicament. His brow furrowed with the strain of a headache as his mind flashbacked to the crash.

The car came to an abrupt halt, the nose dangling beyond the torn up guard rail at the edge of the sandstone cliff. Only steel a quarter inch thick kept the truck with its three occupants from disappearing over the edge to a certain death. Illya Kuryakin was the first to become fully aware of their predicament. His head throbbed from the hard impact with the steering wheel. He touched his left temple, his fingers feeling the blood that flowed from a cut. The prisoner in the back seat, his arms still secure behind him, was unharmed, a savage sneer on his face.

"You might as well give up, Kuryakin! You're a dead man either way."

"Shut up, Hinderman."

Kuryakin looked to his right to see his partner shake his head looking a bit dazed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yea, I think so. Do you think we lost them?"

"I hope so. We need to..."

A sharp jolt followed by a mournful groaning interrupted him. The weld on that section of the guard rail was about to fail. Any sudden move could send the car into the arroyo twenty feet below.

"Do you have any way to get out on your side"

Kessler moved too quickly as he looked out his window.

"...NO Easy..." Illya shouted. "If you move around too much you're going to send us over the edge." This last statement was punctuated with another groan of metal against metal and a gut wrenching lurch before resting once again against the guard rail.

"You seem to be forgetting something," the voice from the back seat snarled. "If you think I'm going to quietly back to Phoenix then you are deluding yourselves. He purposely moved abruptly to further unbalance the car.

Illya drew his pistol, "Hinderman, if you don't hold still I'll shoot you now!" He pointed his weapon at Hinderman's head. "Stephen, can you reach back to his door and open it?"

"Yeah." He reached back to open the right rear door, the vehicle rocking slightly.

"Okay, HInderman, get closer to your door. We'll all jump."

"Do we all jump out on the count of three or go one at a time?" Kessler asked.

Illya paused to consider. " I think we better do it together. I need to move over to your side. All I have here on my side is open space," he whispered as if the very sound of his voice would set the car on a crazy slide over the cliff's edge. They all cautiously moved to right side of the vehicle.

"Okay, on the count of three. One...two..." An instant before he could say 'three' a violent jolt from behind knocked both agents off balance. As the truck teetered over the edge, Illya cursed under his breath.

Kessler panicked and lept for safety. Hinderman, seeing a chance for escape, head butted the Russian forcing him back behind the steering wheel and prepared to leap. The sudden and violent motion was all it took for the car to begin its plunge into the arroyo below. Illya grabbed at the steering wheel as the car plunged over the steep embankment. He flailed helplessly as it began the first of its rolls. The last he remembered before darkness took over was being flung out the driver's window.

Kuryakin strained against the weight of the car to see how much, if any, movement he could create with the thought that he would try to dig himself out from under the car. The effort caused him to cry out in pain. Shutting his eyes, he rested until the pain subsided. Raising his right hand he swatted at the gnats and flies that buzzed around his head, attracted by the dried blood from the scalp laceration. Illya's hand brushed the canteen. He felt around for the flares and Kessler's UNCLE special and felt somewhat reassured when his hand closed around the pistol grip.

He moved his hand back to the canteen. With great effort he lifted his head just high enough to turn his face towards the canteen, moving many of the branches off of him in the process. He could only drink from a horizontal position and much of the water spilled into the sand below his mouth. The water that made it into his mouth was like the sweetest nectar and he marveled at how something so simple was so necessary for his survival.

When Illya finished the small ration of water that he allowed himself, he took a look around and caught his breath. About 10 yards away lay Hinderman's body. His neck was clearly broken and the body was already showing signs of decay in the 105 degree heat of the Arizona summer.

He also noticed footprints, Kessler's he assumed in the sand leading down the sandy wash. Good at least Kessler is clear. He should be able to contact UNCLE once he was away from the canyon walls. Illya's next thought was of THRUSH. He was quite sure that they would come looking for them and was surprised that they hadn't been found yet.

Kuryakin returned to analyzing his situation and trying to figure out how to get himself out from under the car. Now with his head turned towards his free hand he was able to move a bit more easily. Slowly, he started digging at the sand around his chest and the roof of the car.

The work was tedious and after what he estimated was an hour, Illya, stopped to rest. His right hand abraded by the coarse sand was bleeding and his finger tips were badly skinned. As he rested his ears picked up the sound of a car approaching on the road above. Quickly he moved the gun and flares into the shallow hole he had dug and covered them with his chest. He couldn't do anything about the note as the breeze had blown it out of his reach. All he could do was close his eyes and feign unconsciousness.

Above him car doors slammed, he counted at least three slams. Voices could be heard, one voice louder than the others gave the commands.

"This must be where the car went over. Get down there and see what you find."

The sound of boots sliding and scraping on rocks filled Illya with anticipation. He tried to relax.

"Hey, Simons, here's an UNCLE pistol."

Simons took the pistol from Rodriquez. The "K" on the grip shown through the dirt. "It's Kuryakin's gun. Look for bodies, but be careful."

"Boss, we found Hinderman! He didn't make it."

"Shit! The captain is gonna be pissed. All right, there's nothing we can do about it, find those UNCLE agents, and remember, Kuryakin's mine."

Steps drew closer, the Russian tried to keep his breathing shallow.

One of the THRUSH minions approached the car. He didn't see anything except some bushes were piled up next to it. "That's odd," he murmured. As he go closer he saw a shock of blond hair through the branches.

"Hey, Simmons, looky here what I found!"

Simmon's ran over. "Ain't that Kuryakin?"

Simmons grinned maliciously. "It sure is. Clear those branches away. Let's get a look at the mighty UNCLE agent.

Illya held stock still, even as the thorns from some of the branches raked across his head.

"Is he alive, boss?"

Simmons noticed the blood trickling from the scratches caused by branches. Dead men don't bleed. He looked at his men and motioned for them to be quiet.

"Gee, I don't know, boys."

With that he climbed up onto the undercarriage of the car and jumped up and down on the edge that was over Kuryakin. Illya let out an involuntary cry of pain.

"Yep, I guess the SOB's alive," Simmons laughed.

"Simmons, I found a note." Vargas handed it to his boss.

"The other UNCLE agent has gone for help. We need to track him down before he succeeds. Gather your gear."

"What about him?" Rodriquez pointed to the helpless agent. You want me to put him out of his misery?"

"No!" Simmons slapped him. "What did I say about Kuryakin? He's mine. I'll deal with him when we get back. Tie his free hand to the frame of the car so he can't move around. He's not going anywhere."

Illya felt his right hand being jerked behind him and tied fast to the frame of the car. He moaned from the pain of being jostled.

Simmons leaned down and grabbed the blond agent's hair forcing eye contact between them. "Well, you little bastard, look at you know. Enjoy your rest UNCLE man because when I'm finished with you, you'll wish you had died in the crash."

Kuryakin met his gaze. "Go to hell!"

"Maybe I will, but I'm taking you with me." With that he pushed the UNCLE agent's head hard into the ground.

"Oh, grab his canteen. He won't be needing it."

The men gathered their gear and filed by the car as they followed Kessler's tracks. Each one of them walked close enough to Kuryakin and made a point to kick sand full into his face as they filed by.

Slowly, the noise of the group receded as they put distance between them and the site of the wreck.

Illya's hope for rescue sank as he was once again left unable to help himself, and was …alone.