The Old One had happened upon the derelict mill in the early hours of the morning, but the scent of the fire and the unfamiliar presence of the creatures inside had made him hesitant. His highly sensitive nose told him that the wounded animal he was hunting was inside, but the other members of its pack were strong and healthy and no doubt protective of its injured member.

A grizzly bear, like all apex predators, preyed on the weak and sick, separating the prey from its group, picking it off when it had the least chance of being defended. These human creatures, he knew by experience, could be dangerous in a pack. He usually gave humans a wide berth, but hunger and pain drove him beyond all normal caution.

But he was also weary and very thirsty, so he had filled his belly with water from the fast-running and swollen river, and found a hollow in amongst the long-forgotten stack of cut trees one hundred yards or so from the mill. There he had settled, his head aching and his foreleg sending jolts of agony up into his huge, muscled shoulders.

And as he slept, he missed one of the humans leaving the mill and heading along the old dirt road.

Noise woke him - the prey was on the move inside the mill. The clinging fog wrapped around him, deadening scent and making sounds more difficult to pinpoint, so he heaved his enormous bulk up and out of his resting place, and began to investigate. He found it too painful to put his full weight on his injured leg, so he slowly made his way around the mill walls, snuffling and huffing, looking for any small hole or crack in the wooden walls which he could pry apart with his long claws, something he often did when digging out groundhogs or ripping apart rotten trees for larvae.

What he didn't expect was one of the humans coming straight to him.

The bear smelled really, really bad.

For some unholy reason which he couldn't comprehend, that was the only lucid thought in Hardison's brain as he piled into its back end, surprising the grizzly so much it actually tucked its stubby tail down and skittered a few paces ahead before finally turning to look at him as he staggered back a couple of steps, almost knocked off-balance by the impact.

In that split second of clarity before all hell let loose, Hardison saw the deeply embedded quills in the animal's head and leg, he saw the swollen, oozing wounds, and he also saw the backbone sticking out of the loose skin. The bear was thin and starving. And it was going to eat him.

Hardison did the only thing his terrified mind could think of – he went big.

He took an insanely deep breath, stood straight and tall, and then ran a few steps towards the bear, his arms waving frantically. He let out the loudest, most unintelligible, most ridiculous scream he had uttered in his entire life, and to his profound surprise, the bear actually took a couple of steps backwards, huffing.

For one absurd moment, Hardison thought he'd done it. The bear was going to run away. But it didn't.

It reared up onto its hind legs as though to get a better view, and it let out a chopping growl, which halted Hardison in his tracks. The damn thing must be over seven feet tall.

Uh-oh.

Hardison turned and ran.

"ELIO-O-O-O-O-T!" he yelled, even as he remembered that Eliot was in no fit state to stand up, let alone fight a grizzly.

Arms flailing, Hardison ran around the side of the mill, heading as fast as his long legs would carry him to the heavy door leading inside.

He heard a coughing growl behind him and could have sworn he felt the earth shake as the bear dropped again to all fours, before the animal lunged after Hardison's lean frame.

It was the embedded porcupine quills that saved the hacker's life. The spongy, infected muscle in the bear's foreleg wouldn't support his weight properly and the animal stumbled, ploughing headlong into one of the old saw-bench supports. It let out a bawl of pain and frustration, but it was too late – Hardison was through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Parker was whistling.

She was setting a brisk pace along the road, eyes constantly checking out the world around her, ears attuned to any strange noise. But in the meantime she was practising her Eliot-whistling. She had always been fascinated by Eliot's whistle, which came from his throat or his tongue or somewhere that wasn't his lips. It always made her laugh, even when he was making gentle fun of her and pretending she was crazy, although they both really knew she wasn't. But that's what brothers did, she decided. But she just couldn't figure out the knack of Eliot's whistling. She didn't care. It was fun trying.

Something large suddenly loomed out of the fog to her left … a great framework of metal, reaching upwards, taller than the trees around it. It was an old electricity transmission tower, its four legs sturdy and broad, girdled about fifteen feet above the ground by rows of barbed wire to protect the structure from vandals trying to climb it.

Although the connecting cables were long gone, Parker knew that there would be another tower a few hundred yards away. And another. And another. They followed the line of the dirt road, and the fact lightened her heart. Transmission towers had a purpose, and that was connection, the ability to make the world smaller and accessible. They led somewhere. And her brothers needed her to save them.

She picked up her pace and forged onward.

Hardison's scream percolated through to Eliot's consciousness just as he was about to doze off.

"Hardi …" He jerked awake, straightening in the chair despite the pain it caused him. Then came a deep bawl of noise, and the sound of someone running. His blood ran cold, despite the fever sending the suffocating heat of sickness through him.

Bear. That was a friggin' bear.

"HARDISON!" he yelled hoarsely, and then the door slammed open and shut before he could even move, and there was Hardison, frantically slotting the heavy wooden bar across the back of the door and settling it firmly in its metal bars.

Something very big impacted on the door, making the whole room shake, dust shivering down from the wooden ceiling and dancing in the still air.

Hardison almost collapsed, but managed to prop himself against the wall beside the door. He was gasping for air and obviously completely terrified.

"BEAR!" he yelled at Eliot, who was levering himself to his feet, swaying, and Hardison pushed away from the wall and reached out for Eliot. "C'MON! We gotta move!"

And before Eliot could move Hardison had slung the hitter's good arm around his shoulder and hoisted him way from the table.

Eliot couldn't control a yelp of pure agony, but even as Hardison began to haul him towards the back door which led to the stairs, he dug his heels in.

"Wait … Hardison, wait!" He grated, trying his best to bring Hardison to a halt. "Hold on a sec! We gotta think, man … think!"

Hardison's eyes were wild.

"Think about what, Eliot? It's a goddam bear! An' I'll tell you now, it is very, very pissed!"

The sound of snuffling began to work its way around the building, and then a powerful paw started to dig and scrape against the wood. Something splintered.

Eliot leaned heavily against Hardison. The sheer effort of just standing upright was taking every ounce of willpower he had left, but he needed to get his foggy and fever-befuddled brain into gear and work the odds.

Straightening, he pulled his arm from Hardison's shoulder and somehow managed to sit down on the edge of the big table.

Hardison's eyes widened even more.

"Ohhh … no … no you don't Eliot! Don't even go there!"

Eliot frowned.

"Don't go … what the hell are you talkin' about?"

Hardison's mouth became a grim line.

"I ain't leavin' you. You an' me are gettin' outta here together –"

Eliot lost his patience.

"Oh, shut up, Hardison!" he growled weakly. "I need you to be my eyes here … I need you to look for options." He wiped sweat out of his eyes. "I can't even see straight … tell me what we got goin' for us."

Hardison looked at Eliot as though he'd lost his mind. He glanced at the part of the wall where the bear was rooting around trying to find a weak spot. The animal's grunts of effort made his mouth dry with fear.

He blinked and took a deep, deep breath.

"Okay … um … right." He nodded to himself. "Options … well, we can't get out of the building. Bear … mayhem … carnage …" His gestures mimicked the spilling of blood and guts as he moved to the windows. "Can't go thisaway either."

"Why not?" Eliot asked, struggling to keep himself upright.

Hardison swallowed the terror threatening to loosen the scream in his chest.

"The windows are about twenty feet above the river. The only thing beneath us would be a pile of rocks or deep water. Either which way the fall would kill you an' probably me too. An' even if we could lower ourselves down on a rope, we couldn't go anywhere. Lose-lose scenario."

Eliot thought about it.

"How about the roof?"

Hardison frowned, confused.

"What about the roof?"

"It … it's the only option," Eliot said, his brain cells working hard to keep him focused. "We got a door an' stairs as a barrier, an' the lack of space means the bear will have limited movement. We got more of a chance to control the situation."

Hardison shook his head.

"No, Eliot! That means we're stuck, man! We got no place to go!"

Eliot blinked sweat out of his eyes.

"We got nowhere to go if we stay here, Hardison! Other than be a bear Happy Meal, an' I ain't gonna let that happen. That thing weighs … what … six, seven hundred pounds? I doubt the stairs'll take it."

The hacker thought about it for a split second and then realised Eliot was right. They had no choice whatsoever.

"Okay … okay, El. That's what we do. Roof." He grimaced. God, he HATED roofs.

Decision made, Eliot nodded at the two rucksacks lying on the table.

"What're our assets?" he rasped. He had to put his hand on the table suddenly to stop himself falling over as the world did a tilt to the side. Jeez, he was dizzy.

The bear was now working away at the wall of the mill, steadfastly ripping a hole in the fabric of the building. The animal grumbled softly as it worked. The sound of splintering wood made Hardison's skin crawl.

Grabbing the rucksacks, he emptied them both onto the table.

"Okay … here we go …" Hardison began sorting through the pile of clothing and other items and hauled out Parker's ropes and carabiners.

"Yeah … those," Eliot said quietly. "An' the rappel if it's in there. First aid kit, oh, an' the pemmican."

Hardison frowned.

"Pemmican?"

"Yeah," Eliot muttered. "Take the balls and hide 'em where you can in the room. He'll go lookin' for 'em. It'll keep the bastard occupied for a little while an' we can maybe have more time to get outta the way." He shifted painfully. "An' really jam 'em in someplace difficult. Make him work for 'em."

Hardison saw the sense in that. Packing the ropes and medical kit into one of the rucksacks he then worked his way around the room, squashing the pemmican balls in between boards and cracks in the woodwork. The scent would drive the bear nuts looking for the tasty morsels. Or at least Hardison hoped so.

There was a sudden crash as part of the outer wall gave way. The bear growled.

Eliot and Hardison looked at one another.

"C'mon El – time to go, brother!"

Hoisting the rucksack with its precious cargo onto his back, Hardison pulled Eliot's good arm over his shoulder for the second time in minutes and levered the hitter to his feet.

Biting back a cry of pain, Eliot steadied himself and tried to take a step, but his balance was all shot to hell and he stumbled, almost dragging Hardison with him.

"Don't!" Hardison ranted. "I'll lead, man! I can take the weight! Jus' don't try an' help – I can do this!"

Eliot realised the hacker was right – he was holding him back. Hardison could do this. All he needed was for Eliot to trust him, and all Eliot could do was try and put his boots squarely on the ground so he didn't unbalance the tall man. Then he had an idea.

"Use the thumb-stick, Hardison! It'll give you somethin' to balance with."

Hardison looked around and found the thumb-stick leaning against the bunk-beds. He hauled Eliot a few steps forward, grabbed the stick, and used it to steady both Eliot and himself. It worked perfectly, although the stick was a little short for him.

Eliot peered into Hardison's sweat-sheened face.

"Ready?"

"Hell, no!" Hardison griped.

Eliot managed that feral grin that usually sent the bad guys back a step or three.

"Let's git!" he said.

And the pair of them slowly made their way through the back door to the stairway, slamming and barring the door behind them.

As the rear door banged shut, the bear finally tore a hole through the wall and squeezed its way into the empty room.

Parker was sitting on a large rock at the side of the dirt road, humming to herself. She had finally given up on the whistling, so she was taking a break, eating a ball of pemmican and checking the map. Behind her, one of the huge transmission towers loomed overhead, its rusting bulk disappearing into the fog as it soared towards the sky.

She crunched away on the preserved meat and fruit, and thought about how brilliant it would be if the fog would lift and she could climb one of the towers and actually see the lie of the land, not just a blanket of dank greyness.

She finished her last mouthful and swallowed, sucking the last of the flavour from between her teeth. She frowned and cocked her head to one side. She could hear something odd.

That noise … that funny noise she could hear faintly, as though from a great distance. What was it?

And then she grinned. She remembered the noise from their trip up the mountain in the first place.

It was a helicopter.

"Up, Eliot … we gotta go up … help me out here, bro," Hardison grouched as he tried his best to haul Eliot up the short length of narrow, steep stairs leading to the makeshift storeroom some eight feet above.

The stairs could not take two abreast, so Hardison had to resort to alternately pulling and lifting Eliot up each step behind him, a procedure which Eliot was finding excruciating.

They could hear the bear grunting and tearing at the wooden walls – obviously the pemmican was working its greasy, meaty magic, and the starving creature was attempting to strip away the planked wall and lick up every delicious morsel.

"We … we near the top yet?" Eliot gasped breathlessly, unable to lift his weary head to take a look.

Hardison grunted, and grabbed Eliot's heavy jacket to heave the hitter up another step.

"'Nother couple," he said grimly. "Providin' that big s-o-b don't decide to come bite our asses."

Eliot bared his teeth at the agony and getting his booted feet under him, tried to help Hardison guide him up the last steps.

His breath was hissing through his teeth and he was just one big, pounding pain, but he didn't stop. Using the last of his strength, Eliot pushed himself forward and both of them fell in a heap through the small door at the top of the stairs and into the small storeroom.

They weren't a moment too soon.

The wooden frame of the door below them gave way, and the bear pushed its way through the gap into the tiny hallway, its nose scenting the air. The huge, flat head swung upwards, and the bear opened its mouth and let out a heavy chuff.

Eliot couldn't move, He was out of steam, his body was one big mass of agony and he was wheezing, trying to drag enough air into his lungs to stop him blacking out. He felt Hardison untangle himself and haul Eliot further back into the room and then turn to shut the door.

There was a tremendous crash as the bear tore the flimsy wooden bannister off the side of the stairway, and the animal reared up onto its hind legs to get a better look at its target.

To Hardison's horror, the grizzly was just tall enough to lunge forward, its open jaws snapping at the hitter's leg. A huge paw hooked upwards through the doorway, and before Hardison could do anything about it, there was a tremendous blow to his chest and he was punched backwards, landing flat on his back, the air driven from his lungs.

Eliot's bleary gaze settled on the hacker, suddenly realising that the bear was on the attack and that Hardison was down.

"Hardison!" he yelled hoarsely, and he noticed the thumb-stick lying on the floor a few feet away. He summoned every bit of energy he had left and reached for the thumb-stick with his good hand, even as he lay on his wounded shoulder to do so. He let out a bellow of agony as he managed to curl his fingers around the shaft, and then the wood felt solid and strong in his grasp and he suddenly felt everything slot into place. The pain receded, and his heartbeat slowed … his nostrils flared and his lungs filled with air, and calm filled his mind.

He deftly rolled onto his belly, and even with his left arm strapped to his side, Eliot was able to use his right elbow to lever himself onto his knees, and the thumb-stick swung forward to help him get to his feet.

It was at that very moment that the bear's hooked claws caught on Hardison's pants leg and began to drag him over the edge of the doorway.

To be continued …