In this chapter: Jack starts putting some pieces together, and Markus and Daniel get a terrible surprise.

Posted Aug 26, 07.

Chapter 21

Four and one half paces across. Turn. Four and one-half paces. That was all the pacing room Daniel had, as he went back and forth across the front of the cell.

Bored. Boredom. Boring. Probably from Middle German bord, a board, something flat and dull. But it would be more interesting if it were sourced in the same root as bordello…

A soft voice broke into his linguistic musing. "The phrase 'tiger in a cage' springs to mind."

Daniel turned, smiling. "Good morning. Or afternoon, maybe. How are you feeling?"

Markus reached up to rub his face and then his hair with a grimace. "Scruffy. I'd love to have a shower and brush my teeth."

"Me too. But that wasn't really my question." Daniel folded his arms and just regarded him for a moment. "You know what I was asking." He thought he knew the answer to it anyway. There was a pinched, pallid look around his mouth and eyes that spoke volumes of continued pain, despite the attempt at distraction.

"I think every single bruise stiffened up while I was asleep," Markus admitted after a moment. "Most of it'll work out once I move, I hope. But my head is killing me. That's what woke me up. I don't suppose Gordon brought more of those pills?"

Daniel lifted his eyebrows in surprise that Markus was actually asking for them. Unexpected and probably not a good sign.

Markus must have seen the worry, but misinterpreted its cause. He rushed to lie to him, "It's not that bad, Daniel. If you don't have any, it's fine."

"No, I'm sorry," Daniel stepped forward fishing in his pocket. "I have some. The doctor didn't come, but Libby did. She brought these." He held up the handkerchief with the dozen pills and plucked out the three for Markus to take now.

He helped Markus sit up against the wall. He didn't comment on how Markus muffled a cough on his sleeve once he was upright, nor that he had to hold onto his chest afterward until the color came back into his face. Daniel helped him hold the water cup to drink too.

Daniel helped, as matter-of-factly as he could, glad that he could be there. Then, when Markus was settled again and resting, he snaked a hand under the cot and grabbed one of the jars from where it was hidden behind the draping blanket. "The pills weren't all she brought either. Here, take a look. Applesauce."

Markus looked at the glass jar and his lips tightened, before he glanced away, admitting, "I don't think I can keep it down."

"Just try a little." Daniel unscrewed the jar, popping the seal. He sniffed with appreciation as the distinctive aroma of cinnamon filled the small space. "It smells good, doesn't it? You don't even have to swallow it, if you don't want -- just think of it as toothpaste." He offered the spoon with a small bit of applesauce on the end and was relieved when Markus took the spoon.

"Toothpaste? That's sort of disgusting, Daniel," he said, but put it in his mouth anyway. He swallowed and, promptly held out the spoon to Daniel. "You're right. It's good. More, please."

With Daniel's help, he managed to eat about half the jar. The food plus the pills obviously helped him feel better, and Daniel was glad to see him stand and gingerly try to loosen up. Even after he'd sat back down to rest, he stayed alert, keeping Daniel company.

That let Daniel ask a question he'd been curious about for awhile. "After we get out of here, what do you want to do? Are you going to try a meeting like St. Louis again?"

Markus nodded. "Of course. But I think I'll bring everyone to Thunder Mountain next time." He made a wry face. "A little safer that way. Of course, that's only if they dig out that damn spy first."

"They will. So… once you've got your constitution, what then? You gonna run for president?" Daniel asked.

Markus shook his head once, then thought better of the motion, wincing. "No, probably not. Better just to set it up and step away, don't you think?"

It was a nice thought, but even given the little Daniel knew, he doubted that was going to happen. Markus liked knowing what was going on too much to walk away. Daniel chuckled. "I think it would drive you nuts to watch someone else do things you know you could do better."

"That's what Meaghan says," Markus agreed, with a small, but bright smile at the thought of her. It was the first genuine smile Daniel had seen on Markus' face for days. "She's probably right. She usually is. But… I've been in charge a long time, Daniel," he added more wearily, leaning back. "And honestly, sometimes I get so sick of people looking to me for the answers all the time. Looking to me to choose. Like I have some special knowledge or tablets from God or something. But I don't."

"Sounds like what you need is a vacation, Markus," Daniel pointed out, only half-kidding.

Markus snorted lightly and looked around the cell. "This place is somewhat lacking in sun, sand and drinks with little umbrellas, but I guess it'll have to do."

"Being a prisoner doesn't count."

"Well, when we're out of here, I'll hop the first flight to Tahiti."

"Ha ha," Daniel said, making a face at Markus' sarcasm. "Just go fishing a few days or something. Decompress once in awhile. That's all I'm saying."

Markus seemed to accept the suggestion, with a small nod. "Maybe once things have settled down. I did invite Jack -- the major -- to go fishing with me. I've never done it, but maybe he'd be willing to teach me."

"I'm sure -- " Daniel started and broke off when the hall door opened. Markus twitched, then straightened with a careful breath, watching the front of the cell with poorly hidden anxiety.

But Daniel heard a cheerful, familiar voice, "Here, let me help you, Kenny. I've got the tray, you get the door."

Momentarily, Libby reappeared, carrying Daniel's lunch tray, trailing the nicer, young soldier from yesterday morning. "Oh, you're up! Wonderful!" she exclaimed seeing Markus sitting upright. "You look like you're feeling better." Without waiting for a response, she turned to the sergeant. "But there's only enough on here for one. Isn't there another tray you can go get?" she asked, fixing her big, dark eyes on Thomason.

He shifted his feet, "No, ma'am. This is all. Mister Alexander isn't allowed food."

Her mouth opened in surprise and she blinked in stunned shock. It was a convincing display of acting, Daniel thought, when she knew perfectly well he was restricted from food. "But -- but that's just horrible," she said. "How's he supposed to answer any questions if he's delirious with hunger? Honestly, what are they thinking up there on the second floor?" she rolled her eyes and then smiled at Thomason. "But you could do me just one tiny favor, couldn't you, Kenny?"

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"Just find something else to do for a little while," she murmured, trailing her hand down his arm. "I think it's awful the general's being so mean. I'd be very grateful…"

He swallowed hard, and his eyes darted from Libby to Markus and back. "I really shouldn't -- "

"Just for a few minutes," she coaxed. "I'll watch them, I promise. And if you don't tell, I won't tell, and nobody ever need to know."

He nodded jerkily. "You're right," he agreed. "It won't do no harm. I've got a sudden urge to take a leak."

He smiled at her, and she gave him a smile back. The smile lasted until he was gone and the door closed. She turned back toward the cell and swung a knit purse-like bag off her shoulder. "Here, I brought two more. Plus Gordon said to tell you he can't come until this evening. Simmons put watchers on him, so he can't come while he's supposed to be working. I don't know when I'll be able to come back either. This place is stuffed with troops now that they've come back, and they're not all as easy to deal with as Kenny."

Daniel stood to take the two jars of applesauce from her and hid them under the blankets at the end of the cot.

"Daniel, eat," Markus said, with a nod toward the tray on the floor.

Instead, Daniel picked up the plastic bowl of mac-n-cheese and a spoon and brought it to Markus. "Here. At least a few bites, while you can."

"Hurry," Libby urged. "He's only going to be gone a few minutes. Gordon and Devon also wanted me to tell you that with all the soldiers here, it's going to be difficult to get you out soon. The secret way out won't work if there's too many people around. So you have to be patient. Hold on and wait. But they are working on it."

"Good to know," Markus said. "Thank you."

She smiled at him. "My pleasure. You're turning into quite the local hero, Markus. I've overheard more than one person whispering that it wasn't right to be keeping you prisoner and hurting you. So don't be surprised if you get a parade by the time you leave here."

Markus made a wry face. "I'll settle for leaving." He took the spoon in his hand and started eating without complaint.

Daniel let Markus feed himself, though Daniel desperately wanted to shovel the food in him. He was being so slow about it. He ended up with only four bites, before Daniel heard a key in the lock at the outside door. Taking the bowl and the spoon back, Daniel plopped on the floor, with the bowl in his lap, by the time Thomason came into view.

"Wow, that was fast," Daniel looked up with mock amazement. "I've barely started."

"Hurry up," Thomason ordered, grumpily. "I've got to take it all back."

Daniel ate the rest, drank the cup of Tang, and pushed the tray back. "Thank you," he said more seriously to the guard. "Every little bit helps."

"Little bit of what?" Thomason asked and gave a little shrug, as he locked the slot and picked up the tray. "Come on, Libby. My ass is gonna be in trouble if they know I let you in here."

"And it's such a cute ass," she grinned. "We wouldn't want that." She gave a little wave to Daniel and Markus, and followed the sergeant out.

Daniel exchanged a look with Markus, only then noticing that the younger man had his arm across his stomach and a set, pale look on his face. "You're not going to throw up, are you?" he asked, concerned.

"Maybe," Markus answered, with worrying uncertainty. "I'm trying not to."

Daniel hovered anxiously, wondering what he could do. Then he sat down next to Markus on the cot. "Can I distract you?" he asked. "I could tell you the story of how the Tau'ri met the Tok'ra."

"Yes, Daniel. Please."

Faced with that urgent request, Daniel nodded. "Once upon a time…"

---+---

Jack O'Neill rushed through the hall, eager to catch Jeremiah before he left.

The day had gone well, the people eager to learn from him--after Jeremiah had practically vouched that he was a good guy. But he'd gotten caught up, and now he was worried he might be too late. There were things about Millhaven that Jeremiah should know.

He rounded the corner, nearly knocking Terence down. The young man flashed him an angry look, but Jack was in too much of a hurry to care.

Jeremiah was in his room, shoving clothes into a bag.

"Hey, Jack. I was gonna come find you. I'm gonna need directions."

"That's why I'm here." He drew a map of the small town, outlining the different building, who lived there and where the power base was located. "Captain Davis is the local officer. Him you should avoid -- plus his men might know what you look like. However, this is where Wiley lives." And he put a little box on the western edge of the paper and surrounded it by little stick trees for forest.

"Wiley?" Jeremiah repeated.

"He's not from Valhalla; he lived in Millhaven when the military took it over a few years ago. He comes off as a kook, but he always knows what's going down. He's kind of into the whole conspiracy theory scenario. Go to him first; tell him you're a friend of mine."

Jeremiah stuffed the map into his pocket and shook Jack's hand. "Thanks for your help. Don't worry about the others now. Do your part and everything'll work out." He moved to the door and glanced back over his shoulder, "Don't let the spy kill you."

Jack nodded, when suddenly Terence's face flashed before his eyes. Terence who was so desperate to go to Millhaven with Jeremiah. Terence who had the physical characteristics of the man on the tape. Terence who had just looked at him with hate. "I'll be careful," he assured Jeremiah. "You be careful too. Remember what I said about the bounty on you. If they catch you, you'll get a free ticket straight to a cell right next to Markus."

"Yeah, yeah, "valuable", I get it," Jeremiah grunted in annoyance. "I'm outta here. See you."

Jeremiah left, but Jack followed more slowly. He now had something to think about, and maybe a trap to set. He wouldn't condemn Terence yet, but…

He had a feeling.

---+---

As the afternoon wore on into the evening, Daniel started to get concerned. Markus dozed off, and when he woke he seemed oddly fixated on what day it was, asking Daniel three times in less than an hour. Daniel kept reassuring him that it was still Monday, and eventually Markus seemed to believe him. He wondered if the confusion was because of Markus' concussion, but wanted to ask Fukizaki.

But the Tok'ra didn't come. Nor did anyone come with dinner. Markus unwillingly choked down two spoonfuls of applesauce with his pain pills, and then told Daniel to eat the rest of the jar. Daniel kept waiting, but still no one came, so he did eat a little.

Something was happening outside. He only wished he knew what.

But he started to get a very bad feeling when the guards came -- Simmons' men -- and removed them both from the cell. Of course, none of the guards would say anything as they escorted them. They stayed on the fourth level, but went to the other main corridor and to a guarded door.

It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the inside, the room was so dimly lit. There was a table set up on a dais, with brass lamps casting the only light in the room down on to the surface of the table. There were three chairs there, currently empty, and two large flags on poles behind -- one was the American flag and Daniel had no idea what the other one was, maybe a military flag or the flag for Valhalla Sector. There were a few rows of chairs facing the dais, enough for an audience of twenty or so.

A second smaller table was set before the dais with two chairs. Daniel and Markus were taken to the chairs and their hands cuffed to the arms. After they were seated, another light turned on, a bright spotlight shining directly on to them, dazzling his eyes.

Another door opened and the sound of many booted feet entered, both in front of them and behind. If he squinted, he could just see the vague shapes of men taking the chairs behind the other table.

"I call this procedure to order." Waverly's voice filled the small room along with some rustling paper noises. "The trial of Markus Alexander and Daniel Jackson will now begin."

Daniel straightened. "Trial?" he demanded, dumbfounded. "This? Where's our counsel? What are the charges?"

"The prisoners will be silent, or they will be gagged," Waverly ordered. "This is a military tribunal -- no counsel is necessary. And as for charges… colonel?"

Simmons cleared his throat. "The charges against Markus Alexander are as follow: treason, sedition, terrorist acts, unlawful assembly, and conspiracy. He has gathered a group of like-minded traitors to plot the overthrow of this country and install himself as dictator. He has conspired to assassinate the president, and to keep the rest of the country hostage with his control over the Big Death virus."

Daniel cast a glance at Markus to see how he was taking this recital of his "crimes". Markus was listening, with only the faintest curl to his lips of either amusement or disgust.

Simmons continued. "And lastly, but certainly not least, he has illegally occupied property belonging to the United States, namely Cheyenne Mountain, taking control of advanced weapons to terrorize surrounding communities."

Markus snorted and said loudly, "You forgot my overdue library book."

That won him a few chuckles in the audience behind them. But Daniel could feel the chill from the ones behind the table and was not surprised when Waverly ordered, "Silence the traitor."

Markus struggled, but eventually the guards got him in a headlock and slapped a strip of heavy-duty tape across his mouth. He subsided, but still sat straight with his chin raised defiantly.

As soon as silence descended again, Simmons said, "Now, if I may continue? The charges against Daniel Jackson are sedition, illegal assembly, and treason. You see, Daniel, I believe you are his follower, despite the lie you tried to sell me. But for all that, we do take into account that you only recently came under his dominion and control, so your sentence will be commensurate with that fact."

Daniel opened his mouth to complain, but realized he'd rather save his words for when they might be necessary.

Waverly asked, "What say you to the charges, Colonel West?"

The name made Daniel sit up straight and try to squint in the light. Could it be? It was, he knew, when a familiar, slightly Southern accented voice answered, "I say guilty, General."

Daniel wanted to smirk -- how the mighty had fallen. His universe's General West had gotten stuck at colonel here, and certainly never been put in charge of the Stargate program. But West had still managed to get himself in a position of power, whatever his rank.

"Colonel Simmons?" Waverly asked.

The satisfaction was evident in Simmons' voice, as he answered, "Guilty."

"And I also declare both guilty on all charges." Waverly banged a gavel. "The vote is 3-0 for guilt. Colonel Simmons, if you will read the sentences."

Daniel couldn't keep quiet. "That's it?" he demanded. "Why are you wasting everyone's time with this ridiculous dog-and-pony show? This wasn't a trial, and it for damn sure wasn't fair. So what's the point?"

Simmons answered, "The point, Daniel, is that certain formalities must be observed. And there is no point in a lengthy process when the outcome is not in question."

"It's not in question because you've already made up your mind!"

Waverly intervened, "He's right, we're wasting valuable time. Daniel Jackson, be silent, or you will be gagged. Simmons, the sentences."

"Yes, sir. Any of these charges alone carries a death sentence. For Daniel Jackson, it is decided that your execution will be lethal injection. It should be quick and relatively painless. And for Markus Alexander…" he trailed off and Daniel could feel his eagerness, coiled like a serpent ready to strike.

"Because he is unrepentant, and to use his death as an example to all those who might think of joining his rebellion, we have decided that his death will be neither quick nor painless. And since he considers himself something of a martyr to his cause, we decided to give him the death he deserves." He paused and everyone was silent, waiting for the announcement.

"He will be taken outside at sunset and bound to wood, which will be set alight. He will burn on that pyre until he is dead."

A shocked gasp came from the watchers. Daniel could only stare in utter shock.

He couldn't have heard properly. He could not have heard Simmons just say that they intended to burn Markus at the stake, like some sort of witch or latter-day Joan of Arc.

"You can't do that!" Daniel exclaimed, and his words nearly tripped over themselves, to get out before Waverly had him silenced. "That's not the rule of law. That's not American. It's not right! No --" he jerked to one side to avoid the guards trying to grab his head, yelling, "These men are drunk on their own power. Markus isn't a traitor -- he wants peace -- " He bit one of the men trying to gag him and managed to shout in the moment of freedom, "and justice!"

His lower jaw snapped shut with teeth-rattling force as someone struck him. The tape went across his mouth. No matter how he tried, he couldn't do anything but make inarticulate noises in protest.

"Order!" Waverly shouted and banged his gavel, above the noise of the crowd all whispering and talking among themselves. "Order!"

Waverly continued after silence fell slowly, "You may think this is somewhat extreme, but I assure you, it was a decision we did not come to lightly, only after due consideration. We believe the punishment fits the many crimes committed by this rebel and traitor, in his attempt to overthrow the legitimate government and install himself as a dictator over the United States of America. It is my earnest hope that it is the last time such a sentence need be pronounced. The date of the sentences is not yet determined, but I will give an announcement when it approaches. Dismissed."

---+---

Back in their cell, Daniel watched Markus with some concern, as the other man rubbed at his face where he had ripped off the tape.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked. "I'm not really cheerful about my sentence, but yours must have been worse."

Markus shrugged one shoulder a little, like he wasn't much bothered. "Like you said, it was a show. Partly for the audience's benefit, but mostly for mine. Simmons wants to have something to hold over my head when I go back to him, plus he can promise to get the sentence commuted to something less nasty if I cooperate. It's just a head game, Daniel."

Daniel frowned. "So you don't think they mean to do it?"

Markus gingerly lowered himself to one knee to fill the cup with water. "Oh, I think they do. But by that time I'll probably be glad. After all, Simmons is going to try to get his questions answered first." He sipped his water and glanced out into the empty hallway, frowning in thought. "I wonder though, if he didn't overplay his hand. I heard several people mutter as they left that Waverly had gone too far."

Daniel waited, but that seemed to be all that Markus intended to say.

"I can't believe how calm you are about this!" Daniel exclaimed, almost in accusation. But Markus was kneeling there, pondering how his death might possibly cause a coup d'etat in Valhalla Sector, and totally missing the point of what was happening. "They're threatening to burn you alive, Markus."

But Markus was not quite as calm as he looked. "What do you want from me, Daniel?" Markus flared, as buried anger flashed to the surface. "Am I supposed to fall into a panic, just because Simmons thought of an awful way to kill me? Don't you think I knew the minute those men showed up in St. Louis what was going to happen?" He climbed to his feet and faced Daniel. "Shit, I knew when I left Thunder Mountain what could happen. And you know what? I made that choice. I don't particularly want to die, and not that way, but I've watched death. I've seen it, up close and very personal. And I've lived with that memory every goddamn day of my life since. I'm not afraid of dying. Only of dying for nothing!"

A series of coughs racked his body, which he tried to muffle in his arm, yet his eyes still blazed when he looked up again.

Daniel waited until he seemed recovered then crossed his arms, hearing something he definitely didn't like. "So, then you're actually kind of glad that they picked something dramatic, aren't you? This way, the story gets to spread and eventually the legend of Saint Markus will spring up, and inspire everyone to overthrow Valhalla Sector. Is that the plan?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Markus sat down on the cot and returned Daniel's look with one of his own, equally mocking. "Isn't this academic, anyway? Our friend's going to help us escape, isn't he? Oh, but too bad this base is crawling with soldiers and our friend has gotten the brass suspicious of him so he can hardly move without being watched." His eyes narrowed and his voice flattened to something chilly and tightly controlled, "And in the meantime, Colonel Fucking Simmons is going to be hosting a little party in my honor in two days, when he's threatened me with days of rape and electric shock until I don't even know my own name. So I'm sorry, Daniel, that the thought of death really doesn't bother me as much as you think it should."

Daniel felt cold, and it was not because of Markus' hostility. "He said that?" he asked, more quietly.

Markus nodded, and then his anger slipped away like it had never been. "He was making the point that he doesn't have to hold back when he questions me again." His gaze dropped to his hands, which were nervously fiddling with the hem of his jacket, making tidy little accordion folds. "I don't want to go through that, Daniel," he admitted softly. "I would rather be dead. Is that so wrong?"

Daniel realized that underneath it all, Markus was afraid. Afraid he would talk, afraid he would break, and just plain afraid what the coming days might bring.

He sat next to Markus on the cot. "No, of course not. It's very understandable. But we do have hope, Markus. Malek's here with us, and I'm sure my team and all your people are doing everything they can to get to us."

Markus shook his head once, and wouldn't look at him, staying hunched against dark contemplations of the future. "But what if they take too long?" he whispered. "What if they can't? What if -- "

He didn't say any more, but Daniel knew what he almost asked: What if they carried out their threat to burn him alive?

"Then…" Daniel paused to consider. He thought about suggesting Ascension, since he believed Markus could achieve it. But he had the vague feeling that it wouldn't help him feel better, but something else might. "Then… Malek will end it, Markus. If he can't get you out, he won't let you die like that, I promise."

Markus didn't even ask if Daniel could make such a promise. He just let out a long breath of relief which turned into a shudder of pain. He reached across his body to hold his chest still. After a moment, he added softly, "If, by some chance, you get out and I don't, tell them…"

Daniel froze, not ready to hear any last messages, but Markus continued.

"Tell them I'm sorry. And tell Meaghan… " Markus stopped, looking off into the distance with a brief look of anguish. Then he shook his head once. "Never mind. She knows."

---+---

Jack and Charlie waited in the forest beside the old interstate, screened by a wild tangle of berry bushes, as a convoy of three trucks passed by, heading south. Then they slowly crept out, watching both directions like wary rabbits, and started toward the bridge at a fast trot. There was no cover on the bridge at all, so they had to wait until their chance.

The paving was kept up reasonably well, Jack observed, with potholes filled in with cement and the road had enough traffic to keep vegetation from growing in the cracks. But the edges were crumbling, and eventually the forest was going to nibble away at the road and take it back.

The canyon wasn't as deep here as before, but still a difficult climb to go down to the water, cross it, and back up the other side. Jack had thought the risk of using the bridge was worth the time they could save.

But he felt very exposed as he stepped onto the old concrete of the span. The sky was clear blue with only a few scattered clouds, the late afternoon sun was bright, and anyone in a chopper could see them from miles away. They'd already seen one high in the air, but it was far and couldn't have seen them.

"Don't like this," Charlie muttered, hustling along with him. "This is a bad idea."

Fifty meters left, before cover on the other side.

Jack twisted to look behind him. The road climbed a low rise southward, meaning if anyone was coming from that direction they'd have a clear view of Jack and Charlie on the bridge, from half a mile away. No one was there yet, but Charlie was right -- this was a bad idea.

"Come on, let's get the hell into cover," Jack said and quickened his pace. Forty meters.

That was when he heard the distant thump of helicopter rotors. He glanced up, above the treeline, and saw the chopper rising in altitude.

Silently willing the pilot to look someplace else, Jack continued to hurry. The sound of the rotors grew louder -- it was heading this way.

Ten meters. He sprinted off the end of the bridge, heading for the brush that had grown up next to the road. But dead brambles hid a deep gully and he lost his footing. He tried to catch himself on the vegetation, but it all had prickly things on it. He swore, loudly, while falling and then again when he hit the ground.

"Jack!" Kawalsky shouted.

"Get down," Jack ordered. The helicopter was close now, the beat of its rotors now distinguishable, and he froze, unsure whether he'd ended up in cover or not, just knowing it was too late to move. Movement would attract attention that staying still might not. Hopefully the pilot and anyone else in the chopper wouldn't be looking for anything on the ground. I am a patch of early spring grass. Nothing to see here, he thought, staring at his hand which had a long scratch on the palm from some thorny thing and a little gray burr still stuck in his finger. He wanted to pluck it out, but remained still. Damn roadside weeds.

The helicopter seemed to be smack overhead for the longest time. Had they seen him or Kawalsky? Were they getting out weapons to shoot them down? Or talking to the base about the two intruders?

But then the noise of the helicopter moved off and he raised his head to watch it head off into the setting sun.

"Jack, you okay?" Kawalsky moved first, tramping through the crunchy vegetation to get to him as he was slowly trying to get up.

"Yeah, yeah," he plucked out the offending prickly burr from his finger and then several more from his clothes. "Let's go find someplace to camp."

Kawalsky gave him a hand to his feet. "Y'know, we're not that far from the gate. Only five miles or so. We could just walk."

Jack shook his head. "No. They'd only throw us in a cell to wait for morning anyway. And I don't want to give anyone an excuse to "forget" about us. No, we'll go in the morning, early-ish, and make enough noise they'll have to deal with us."

Kawalsky shrugged. "Your call."

This close to Valhalla Sector they couldn't risk a fire, so it was a cold, cheerless camp they set up beneath some low-hanging pine boughs. They stretched a camo-blanket over the branches for shelter and sat beneath it, atop their bedrolls in a makeshift tent. Jack quickly scarfed the last of his cheese and dried berries, and introduced Kawalsky to the modern wonder of the mint chocolate chip protein bar.

But the satisfaction of seeing Kawalsky's face light up wore off as it got dark, and Jack's thoughts turned toward the past.

"I probably should have asked this before, but does he -- do I -- have family in Valhalla? I presume not or you would've said something …" he said, trailing off.

"No," Kawalsky answered after a moment. "You don't. His wife, Sara, died of the Big Death. There's been no one else, no one serious, anyway. And nobody right now."

Jack shut his eyes. So the other him had married Sara, too. That probably meant something else had happened as well. "And did he have a son, too?"

"Charlie," Kawalsky murmured. "After me. He died too. Sara called Jack to tell him she was infected and couldn't make it here. And honestly, I've wondered whether she infected herself on purpose, or at least didn't care anymore, because Charlie was already dead."

It was no more than he had expected, but it was still a blow. But then he realized that something didn't make sense. He frowned and shook his head. "I thought the virus didn't affect the kids."

"It didn't, at least not directly. But he was hit by a car. The driver might have had the virus, or was panicked and trying to run away, but the car drove right up on the sidewalk, where Charlie was playing outside." Charlie stopped and his voice choked up a little. He cleared his throat. "After Jack heard about it, he closed up like a clam. I don't think he said more than five words those first months we were in lockdown. The instant the doors opened he left to try to find them -- not winning himself any friends in the brass, I should add -- and he came back a month later. He didn't find them." After a little while, Kawalsky asked, "What about you? Your world didn't have the virus, so …"

"He still died," Jack said, holding his knees tightly with his hands. He tried to just say the words and not see it all again, but it was hard. "Sara and I got divorced in '97, not long after. He and I … I was gone a lot… he was mad at me, I told him to go inside… he found my sidearm in the drawer of the bedstand and -- and it went off."

"Oh." That was all Kawalsky said for a long time. "Somehow I guess I thought that since your world didn't have the Big Death, everything turned out better. But shit still happens, I guess."

"True enough. Let's get some sleep," Jack suggested. He didn't really want to keep thinking about how his life had gone wrong, whether here or his own. "We're going to have to be on our toes tomorrow."

(I'm not sure if I'll be able to get online later to post a second chapter for the week. I'll try, but it's going to be tough.)