Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed and followed this story. It gives me the encouragement I need to keep writing it.
As usual I can't thank my beta 'PP' (my writing Obi-Wan) enough for her help and support she's given me. All while collaborating and writing her own stuff. Mahalo, my friend. We share the Steve whump bug. Is that a bug? :) If so I hope there's no cure.
Hope everyone enjoys.
Disclaimer: I make no money from this. All in fun.
Steve was startled awake, jolted back to consciousness thanks to a bad dream. He looked around in a daze, disoriented. Slowly his mind was fed the details of his predicament, his initial confusion dissipating slightly like a slow morning fog that burns away in the sun. His brain felt like mush, unable to string together much of a coherent thought, a sign of his lack of water intake. His condition would continue to deteriorate the longer he went without, his body's ability to fight slowly eroding away with each passing hour like a sculptor chipping away at a slab of rock. He had no intention of dying out here, but even his survival training would only take him so far. Eventually his body would succumb to his injuries, and he would be powerless to stop it.
Danny. He knew deep down his partner would be looking for him, and he had every intention of staying alive for that moment when he would be found. Reaching down to pick up his bottle, Steve took baby sips of his water, resisting the urge to down the remainder. Conserve, he reminded himself. Closing his eyes, he rested the back of his head against the cold rock, and drew in as deep a breath as the abdominal wound in his side would allow. The cool air around him brought relief to his sun burned skin, and soothed his dry, sand-layered lungs. He was not perspiring near as much as before, and sadly he knew it was not all due to the cooler environment. While that helped, he knew the reality was that he was in the early stages of dehydration, which explained his dry, low sweat skin.
Steve had no idea how long he'd been out, and he knew he needed to get moving while under the cooler blanket of the night. He sighed tiredly. He had little energy to compel himself to move, let alone think about his journey ahead. Maybe just a little more time, he told himself, eyes feeling heavy once more. His arm wrapped protectively against his side as he once more lost the battle to unconsciousness, head slumping against his shoulder, dwindling thoughts lingering on his partner.
-H50-
After having left Lashkar Gah behind, Afzal piloted their jeep down the only road that traversed central Dashti Margo. There were two other roads leaving Lashkar Gah that split to the south and north, their paths running the outskirts of the desert, coming to a head once more in Zaranj. A few towns were sporadically laid out along these two alternate routes around the desert. These settlements were generally smaller than most, and Afzal knew of a safe house or two that Al-Rashid had hidden amongst them. Hiding in plain sight.
While the central road wasn't the most desirable of roads to take, it was the only one that led right through the heart of the desert. In order for them to get to the crash site by vehicle, they had to take this road. There were no other options- unless they wanted to spend extra time. Time that Al-Rashid would never allow them to take. Afzal had the rough location of their helicopter's crash site, so they would be as close as possible to take their trek northward once they reached their longitudinal co-ordinates.
Deep down, Afzal was unsure about their chances for survival, but this course of action was a necessity to get what he wanted. They had brought some supplies, along with their rifles and a radio. They were only to report in if they had important information to relay, and Al-Rashid had made it clear he wouldn't accept anything less than success. Night would soon be overtaken by the heat of the day, and they intended to get as much travel in as possible while the air was not filled with the scorching heat. If Allah graced their journey, they hoped to reach the site with little hurdles.
Afzal slowed the jeep, and pulled off to the side, brakes whining as they came to a stop. "This is the right spot, As'ad," he stated, glancing at his friend.
As'ad sighed in resignation, the moonlight playing off his worried expression. "I am afraid, Afzal. This is the devil in true form. If we anger it, my family will be without their father."
"Allah will guide us. Have faith, my friend," Afzal assured him, dark eyes glistening in the moonlight. "We need to get moving. I've no doubt the Americans will be out looking for their men." He grinned sadistically. "We will get to them first, and their rescue team will be too late to save their men from our justice."
As'ad found himself smiling, Afzal's mood was growing contagious like an airborne virus, easily transmitted by proximity. These people got him into this and he would look forward to making them pay for it. He would be in everyone's good graces. Surprisingly, the thought pleased him.
"Good. That is the spirit," Afzal praised, hopeful that his friend was finally on board with this. He'd had concerns surrounding As'ad's loyalty to this mission, as the man had been vocally against this ever since it began with his own original find.
Afzal looked north towards their destination. His road to power lay before him, and it was time. He planned to do whatever was necessary. Touching As'ad on the shoulder, he looked the other man in the eye. "Our future lies before us, my friend," he announced, right hand moving from his friend's arm to reach up and stroke his beard. "Let's go."
Taking one last look at the road they'd come in on, Afzal put the jeep into gear, and cranking the wheel sharply to the right, he pressed hard on the accelerator. The tires' treads threw sand behind their vehicle, the particles flying in the air like a mini sandstorm. The suspension groaned with the effort, and Afzal gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white with pressure in attempt to keep it from bucking in his hands.
He managed to keep it under control, and the jeep tore through the sand leaving the central road behind, the retreating red glow of their taillights the last thing visible before they disappeared into the night.
They'd been driving for what felt like forever, and most of their journey consisted of silence. As'ad, his conviction wavering each time his unsure mind would come up with a scenario he didn't feel comfortable with, had occasionally pleaded with Afzal, citing the fact that it wasn't too late to turn back, and forget this suicidal task.
Afzal had proceeded to dismiss As'ad's worry-filled words, replying that there would be only success under Allah's watchful gaze, and his earlier concerns over his friend's determination had once more taken place in the forefront of his mind.
As'ad remained silent after that, despite feeling the need to tell Afzal that his lust for power may be affecting his rationale. Deep down, he really didn't want to do this. Sure he was no innocent, but necessity had dictated that he join Al-Rashid. Afzal had already been part of the movement, and having been befriended by the man for reasons that he'd rather forget, he'd ended up under their umbrella of terror.
When he'd first met Afzal, the man wasn't so fanatical. They did what they needed to do to keep the infidels out of their lands, spread the will of Allah, and keep the people in order. The years of influence and exposure to the power that surrounded them while working for Abdul Al-Rashid had slowly consumed his friend.
Now, As'ad was in too deep to get out, and it felt like Afzal had unknowingly dragged him into a pit of quick sand, and he was sinking deeper and deeper. He knew for sure now that Afzal had meant to see this through till the end. There was no telling now what his friend was capable of, and that thought alone scared him to no end. Far, far worse than Dashti Margo ever could.
Afzal had been occasionally glancing in As'ad's direction when the man had grown unusually silent, and he could tell that he wasn't happy with him, if the lack of communication was any indication. While he appreciated his friend's opinion, he felt that the man never really was totally invested in their mission. He hoped that he could show him the way, and that Allah could forgive his friend's 'confusion'.
Afzal narrowed his eyes as he spotted the end of a rotor just ahead, and he slowed the jeep to a stop. He double checked the co-ordinates of where their Mi-35 wreckage should be. He frowned. The hulk up ahead must be the American helicopter.
"Time to prove that we are worthy, As'ad," he stated, the corners of his mouth upturned in a smile filled with greed.
The words were like a dagger to As'ad's stomach, as he'd hoped somehow this would all magically go away. He sighed, knowing he had little choice. He felt the jeep move once more, Afzal having put it back into gear, and he watched the hulk of the chopper grow larger in his view as they approached.
Afzal slowed the jeep to a stop, and switched it off, the engine's rumble dying. Only silence surrounded them now. He climbed out, and carefully made his way towards the crash site, his AK-47's muzzle pointed cautiously at the remains, should they be ambushed.
"I don't like this, Afzal," As'ad muttered as he came up beside the other man, his own rifle trained on the helo, his unsteady movements displaying his nervousness.
"Shhhhhh," Afzal quieted him. "Keep your voice down."
As'ad shot Afzal a glare and did as he was told, not bothering to point out the obvious fact that they rolled up in a loud jeep. He was sure that if anyone was still here, they already knew of their arrival.
They rounded Steve and Tac's helo, and were met with silence. A gentle breeze swirled around them, kicking up dust, and assaulting their noses with the faint smell of burned electrical components, charred metal and flesh. The air around them was filled with the aura of death and destruction.
Afzal lowered his gun, nose wrinkling. "There's no one alive here, As'ad," he stated, his words filled with indifference.
As'ad's innards relaxed when he heard the statement. Perhaps once they checked for Hamad at the Mi-35 wreckage, they could leave this place. The thought raised his spirits, until he noticed what looked like blood in the sand nearby, leading away from the crash site. His stomach dropped like an elevator free falling from the top floor to the bottom.
"Afzal!" He called, hand raised as he gestured to the red-tainted sand, his voice unsteady. "I think one of them got away."
Afzal's body shifted from relaxed to alert. He raised his rifle as though expecting some type of ambush as he moved to where As'ad had indicated. He noticed the sand appeared to have been shifted by the body weight of a sitting or kneeling person. The fact that the sand had not been smoothed by the wind suggested to him that the indentation was probably made recently. He praised the find.
"Good work, my friend." He patted As'ad's shoulder as his gaze followed the intermittent lines in the sand that led away from the place Steve had tended to his injuries. "Looks like we have a partial trial to follow. Let's find Hamad, and then pay the wounded American a visit. He can't have gotten far bleeding like that."
As'ad watched the dark smile from before return to Afzal's face. The look only added to his nervousness, and he prayed he would be granted the strength to see this through so he could go home to his family. He'd hoped that by pointing out the blood that his friend would believe the man to be dead and they could move on. No such luck.
Afzal's voice was sharp, almost demanding. "Let's go."
-H50-
Danny quietly regarded Brick as they drove out of Lashkar Gah, heading across the shortcut road through the center of the desert. In some ways Brick's silence since leaving the old man's home back in town reminded him of Steve. He could see the emotions churning like a tremulous storm just beneath the surface, kept at bay by the ability to school his features. The man's jaw was taught like a bowstring.
Against his better judgement he decided to pry.
"I'm guessing you don't want to share what you're brooding over?" Danny voiced, his blue eyes searching Brick's face for answers.
"You guessed correctly Detective Williams," Brick firmly replied, the use of Danny's title clearly leaving no room for discussion.
Nonplussed at the use of the term 'Detective', Danny slowly nodded at the familiar shutout. He didn't know Brick all that well, and in the end it wasn't his place to pry. Had it been Steve he'd have kept on him to open up. But this wasn't his partner. In the short time he's known Brick, it seemed unusual for the man to be so shaken. It had piqued his curiosity, but he wisely chose to leave well enough alone.
Brick glanced quickly over at Danny as though expecting to be prodded further, but he was met with thoughtful silence. He was thankful that Danny didn't continue to press the issue, as it had been quite a while since he'd been reminded of that day, and he wasn't prepared for the onslaught of memories. He knew that the blond was only curious, but he was not inclined to share. Not right now.
The awkward pause that followed prompted Chin to pipe up, changing the subject.
"So this road takes us right into the desert?"
Brick appeared grateful for the shift in topic. "Sure does. This leads right to Zaranj. Most don't usually take this shortcut- too dangerous. Unless of course one has something to hide. Like our terrorist friends," he added with a scowl, still angry that they had managed to escape.
"Do we have any idea on where to start looking for Steve and Tac's helicopter?" Chin inquired, concern etched in his usually placid features.
"Not exactly, Chin," Brick replied with a hint of frustration. "I'm leaving the details up to Fox on that. I'd say that if our two dirt bags have the head start that Samir thought, then we just need to stay hot on their heels."
"And what if they get to Tac and Steve before we do?" Danny voiced angrily, hand darting towards the open desert around them.
"I don't like it any more than you do, Danny. We have no choice. We've got the co-ordinates from their last signal. Nothing more," Brick stated, his earlier funk replaced by anger towards the guys responsible for this mess.
Danny ran a hand through his wind-swept hair and sighed. This felt like looking for a needle in a haystack, and the longer this went on, the more he left like he might never get to see Steve again.
Fox led the team's small convoy of two down the center of Dashti Margo's only road with apprehension. He knew he was taking a gamble attempting to follow the two men that had been spying on his compound. But without any concrete intel to go by, other than the general area they'd lost contact, he had to roll the dice and hope it came up boxcars. Samir was a good man, and he had nothing to gain by lying.
He looked to Kono, who hadn't said much since they'd left base. "You ok Kono?" He questioned lightly, gaze soft in contrast to his battle hardened, wise features.
Kono sighed, deflating like a balloon with a leak. "I feel like if I hadn't lost their signal, we'd have rescued them by now. There must have been something else that I missed that I could have done."
"Don't beat yourself up, girl," Lou interjected, a wan smile passing his lips. "I've no doubt you did all that you could. In fact with your bad ass skills you could probably program that computer to make you dinner and do your laundry. All while you relaxed with a cool cup of shave ice.'
Kono smiled at Grover's attempt to boost her spirits. "I know. I hate the fact that Tac and bossman are out here alone; maybe seriously injured."
"When Tac and Steve severed their GPS link, we had no eyes anymore," Brad reassured her, stating nothing more than the hard truth. "There wasn't anything you or anyone else could have done different. You shouldn't be beating yourself up over it, Kono. All that matters now is to find our boys and bring them home. That includes Joe White."
The vehicle's occupants were silent as each of them considered the difficult trek ahead of them, their hopes and fears all mixing into a giant ball of emotions that needed to be kept in check, so their minds were on task.
As the jeep's headlights flashed across some marks up ahead, Brad's blue eyes narrowed as he spotted what looked like a pair of tire marks leading off of the road. He slowed the jeep to get a better look, and keyed his mike. "Well, well. What do we have here? Hold up here, Brick." He pulled over and rolled to a stop.
Brick followed suit as he came to a stop just behind Fox's jeep. "Got something sir?" He questioned as he grabbed his HK416 and moved to stand next to his commanding officer. His body was relaxed but alert, finger hovering just outside the trigger guard.
"Stay here," Fox instructed the rest of the team and he and Brick rounded the front of the vehicles. He switched on a flashlight that he'd retrieved from his cargo pants and waved it, the beam passing over the sand. "I love it when guys get careless," Fox announced as he pointed at the tire indents, the deep troughs leading to the north as they left the roadway.
Brick looked to where Brad had indicated, a smirk appearing on his face as his mouth upturned. "Roger that. I knew these two yahoos would screw up sooner or later." He thought they were fortunate not to have had any major sand storms or high winds blanketing the area. The trace evidence could have easily been lost.
At any other time one wouldn't bat an eye at anything that happened on this road. But this wasn't any other time, and their group wasn't here for a sightseeing tour. Fox and Brick climbed back into the waiting jeeps, the Five-0 team watching them with questioning glances.
Brad keyed his mike. "We've got tire tracks, more than likely our two 'friends.' They definitely headed north from here, which is exactly where we're going to go. It's going to get a lot hotter before we know it as daybreak sets in. Stay in formation Brick. We're about to kick up some dust in your face."
Brick grabbed his bandana that had been hanging lazily around his neck, and pulled it up over his nose, looking like a renegade from the old Wild West. "Hold on to your butts, boys. This part can get a little rough."
Danny and Chin exchanged apprehensive glances, their eyebrows raised. Danny decided to follow Brick's lead and he tied his bandana over his face. He was beginning to think that Brick was cut from the same cloth as his partner.
His partner. Steve was lost out here somewhere, and this was the first real visual sign that they had to go on that they could use to try and track his friend's location. He hung on to the door frame as their jeep leapt forwards, and as their vehicle took a position alongside Kono and Lou's, he found himself hoping for some good fortune to come, for so far they've had none.
-H50-
The moon had been overtaken by the dawn of the day, the sun's reign beginning as it appeared, peeking above the horizon. The temperature was still tolerable, the residual cool of the night lingering like a pleasurable aroma. One that would regrettably dissipate at some point soon.
Steve groggily awoke, muddled brain pushing away the fog of confusion and he became more aware of his surroundings. He noticed the light coming into his temporary accommodations, and he silently cursed. Damn. He'd missed most of the night's travel time.
He knew that getting some rest had allowed his body to recoup a minute fraction of his energy reserves, but his predicament demanded that he get at least some rest. Better than none at all.
Gathering up his pack, he prepared himself for the next leg of his journey. While he had planned on travelling when the temperatures were cooler, he couldn't afford not to get moving ASAP. His plan was to continue moving northward, as he recalled the military base Delaram was in this area. To be honest he couldn't be sure if it was even still an active one, nor how accurate his memory was mostly due to his precarious health issues.
Steve had little else to go on, and his mind needed a goal- a purpose to use to command his body to move. All the more so because part of him, a rather significant part of him, would rather just take a long, long nap and hope to wake up and find out this was only a poorly written dream sequence.
He took one last sip of his water before stowing it away in one of his pants' pockets. He stuffed the Mi-35 pilot's pistol into his waistband, and returned his 226 to its holster before venturing out into the growing warmth of a new day.
Steve had walked for at least an hour in his opinion, based on the sun's travel, but it felt more like he'd been out here for days. So little distance in way too much time. He cursed his banged up leg- it was slowing his pace and adding to the stress his body was already enduring while coping with the unbearable heat.
His skin and innards felt like they were on fire, and he was reminded of the time he and Cath watched Raiders of the Lost Ark. Suddenly Tote's demise didn't seem so far-fetched. Scratch that. Such a thing can't really happen, his logical mind reminded him.
But what if it was true? If no one found him would he melt into a pile of liquid hot skin?
Wait. He stopped, pressing his eyes shut in an attempt to discard such ridiculous thoughts. He was losing his grip on reality. Dehydration was a very real threat, and he began to question if he was even thinking clearly.
Steve pressed his sunburned, dusty fingers against his closed lids, and shakily rubbed them as if he'd be able to clear his mind. Running a hand across his forehead he opened his eyes. His skin was so dry.
God he was so thirsty, and he resisted the urge to drink what remained of his water. The larger problem was that he wasn't certain how much longer he could remain in control of his actions. The hallucinations were becoming more frequent, albeit sporadic.
He could easily become a hazard to his own health.
Pushing the onslaught of negative thoughts aside, Steve plunged onward, drawing on his training and what little energy he had left to keep himself moving. He was spent, but he reminded himself that every step he took northward, was a step closer to possible rescue, and an exit out of Dashti Margo.
TBC