AN: Welcome new readers and thank you to those who are still following along. Keep and eye out for what happened in this chapter... may be important later. ;p Enjoy!

Chapter 4

"You're awful quite." Ray says as he and Brock press forward. In the thick of the jungle—yes, jungle, not forest—there was no way of knowing how far they've traveled since splitting off from Jason and Sonny. It's been almost three hours, and they were due for another check-in soon, but if Perry is being honest, Brock's silence was driving him nuts. "I mean, more quiet than normal. It's freaking me out, dude."

"I don't have anything to say."

"I call bull. What's on your mind?"

Brock makes a face, looks down and steps over a log. "Nothing."

"Bull times two." Ray carefully follows the path Brock is making, but he isn't going to let this conversation go. He knows why the canine handler is so silent. "Sonny didn't mean it. You know how he gets when he's dropped in a place that houses more of his fears than the San Diego Zoo."

"I'm not mad at Sonny." Thwack. "I'm mad that he's right." Thwack! "We should have brought Cerb."

Ray is shaking his head before Brock is finished with his sentence. "Jase would never ask you to risk Cerb's life just to rescue Trent and Clay. The jungle is no place for a dog. No matter how badly we could use his nose right now."

"Yeah. 'Least then we'd know if we were walking in circles or not," Brock stops, points his machete to a very large tree. "because I'm pretty sure that is the same damn tree we passed an hour ago."

"No, it's not."

Reynolds walks over to the tree, circles the trunk twice, then points. Ray joins him, squints at the chipped bark. "So?"

"So? So, I did this... an hour ago!"

Ray thinks back to the last sixty minutes, then recalls the moment Brock is referring to. "I thought you were killing a snake or something."

"No, I've been leaving small marks on trees because we lost the trail and this jungle is too fu-"

Ray keys his comms while Brock continues his (slightly muffled) outburst of frustration.

#

"I hate this, Jason."

"I know."

Sonny swings his machete back and forth, cursing as he does. "No, not this. I mean, yes, I hate this too, but I hate that Clay and Trent are out here somewhere and we're just walkin' around aimlessly with no clue where they are."

Jason feels the same way. Hell, they all do, there was no hiding that fact. But them hiking through the jungley-forest was still the best they could do. "Don't give up hope, Sonny. We'll find them. They'll be okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, I hope so." Sonny continues to lead them through the damp jungle, cutting down branches, walking around trees. At one point, they have to climb over a rotting log. Quinn tries not to grimace as he places his hand on a pointy and squishy tree trunk that should not be pointy and squishy, then propels himself over. "This sucks."

"Hey, Jase?" Ray's voice cracks to life through the comms. Right on time.

Jason replies, "Yeah."

"We lost the trail." Says Ray. "We're walking in circles here."

Well… crap. "Did you find anything before you lost it?"

"Negative. The brush it too thick to see but a foot or two ahead of us. They could've turned another direction and we just walked right past it."

"Okay. We aren't having much luck either." Jason pauses, thinks for a moment. "Let's meet up at the river, reassess, make a plan."

"Yeah, that sou-" Ray's next words were cut off but the sound of gunfire. Through the thick foliage it was hard to tell where it came from, but there was no denying that familiar pop.

"Ray? You hear that?" Jason and Sonny wait a few seconds.

There are no more shots.

And Ray doesn't reply.

"Ray? Ray, come in!" pause. "Brock? Guys?!"

#

Why'd it have to be a snake?

Clay looks at Trent's still form, then around to the thickly wooded area and back. The snake wasn't really large, but it wasn't exactly small either. And it was right next to Trent, as if considering whether it wanted to slither up onto the SEAL or not. Spenser weighs his options, brings information about local wildlife to the forefront of his mind.

"Not in the States, not a cottonmouth." He mutters as he leans closer, taking in the color and design of the creature. And since most—keyword on most—water snakes are nonvenomous, he'd just have to take his chances in getting it away from Sawyer. Grabbing a long stick, Clay reaches out and tries to pick the snake up.

It moves away from him—closer to Trent's motionless body.

He tries again. This time it stills, and Clay is able to pick it up. The bug-eyed serpent seemingly enjoys the free ride from the human to a log that rests in a puddle far, far away. Clay lets out a shaky breath as he jogs back to his brother and quickly places two fingers to his exposed neck.

It's faint, but there. Clay whispers, "Trent? Hey, Trent? C'mon, Four, wakey-wakey."

At first, nothing happens. Then Sawyer begins to stir slightly. Thankfully the puddle he was laying in dissipated quickly, else his sudden inhale of air would have been nothing but murky water and mud.

"Easy, easy, don't try to move."

"'Lay?" Trent said his (almost) name in a gruffy voice, but it was there. Even with the (slowly) fading ring in his ears, there was no denying it. "Ahh… dammit-"

"Hold still will ya!" Clay tries to keep Trent from moving, but the older man is having none of it.

"'m fi'e." comes a mumbled reply. Trent wavers as he tries to push himself up onto his arms, halts when the world starts moving. "S'tp mo'ving the gro'nd."

Clay helps Trent into a seated position, kneels down in front of him and holds up his hand. "How many fingers?"

Trent squints, chuckles. "A… number."

Clay whips out a flashlight, turns it on. "Follow the light."

Trent slams his eyes shut.

"Concussion. Great."

"I've… 'ad worse…"

"I know you've had worse, buddy." Spenser sighs. "Okay, we need to get some place that isn't so out in the open. Does your radio work?"

Trent doesn't appear to have heard the question, so Clay doesn't press it. He'll give Trent a thorough look over, check all their gear once he's found some shelter. Then he can figure out how to signal base that they're alive and in need of exfil.

Spenser stands and helps Trent to his feet, then reaches down and picks up Four's weapon that had thankfully washed up on shore with him. Doing so jostled some leaves, and another snake slithers out of the camouflage pile. But not before shooting out and biting Clay on his right hand.

"Sonofa-!" he bites his cheek, not wanting to alert any one of their presence. Sawyer looks over with glassy eyes, wondering what happened, but not coherent enough to ask what was wrong. Clay shakes his right hand and readies his weapon, while grabbing a hold of Trent with his left.

Yep. He finally understands why Sonny hates the jungle so much.