After the strange exchange between Rebecca and the rebel they'd rapidly altered their course, avoiding the more direct way down from the steep incline. Michelangelo's arm returned to resting protectively around the young woman, and she didn't even flinch this time. Greg and Tim were still leading with Marcus, trailing a path along the side of the carved rock face. They were being forced to pick their way down more slowly than they probably wanted to on the uncertain ledge.
A couple of small trailing stones that fell from above them were the only warning that Michelangelo had, before a figure leaped off the ridge overhead. The orange-masked turtle quickly thrust the woman behind him, and pounced at the shadow before he had the barrel of his gun completely raised. A sharp kick connected with the rebel's chest, and Mike followed that blow with another punch to the man's chin.
Before he even had time to take a breath, he heard someone alight behind him, and whirled around to face the man who was now crouching in between him and Rebecca. Without hesitation he hurled himself at their second attacker, and barely had a chance to disarm the stunned man, before the sound of gunfire echoed from above them.
"Get Marc out of here! Keep going!" Michelangelo yelled to the others, without bothering to even glance over his shoulder.
"We're not leaving you!" Greg's voice stubbornly returned, and the turtle was certain it was his own friends return fire that he was hearing now.
Michelangelo grunted in irritation, as he feigned from the right to avoid a strike from the man he'd disarmed, and ducked much faster than the rebel anticipated he could have. His assailant's' own weight made him stumble as his attempted blow struck nothing but air, and he careened over the edge before he could catch himself.
The report of another weapon almost on top of them startled Michelangelo for an instant, before he realized that yet another man was bearing down on the woman. She wasn't bothering to cower - the woman took off in the direction they'd just come from, with the man directly on her heels. Michelangelo wanted to curse, but yelled at the others once more instead.
"Guys, I have to get her, just GO!"
He didn't wait to see if they would obey, but tore back up the ridge after the fleeing woman, and the gunman chasing her. Within four strides he was in range of tackling the rebel, and took him down using all the weight he possessed. With the man on the ground, the orange-masked turtle looked around for Rebecca, but didn't see her right away.
Michelangelo continued climbing a couple more feet, straining to hear what could be happening on the ridge above him, while also trying to figure out where this girl could have gotten to so fast. As he approached the blind side of a curve, a voice called to him so softly that he would have missed it if he hadn't been paying attention.
"Here, get in here quick!" Rebecca's hand darted out from a crevice that looked nearly invisible in the darkness.
Mike was relieved to see her, but also urgent to get moving again. "We can't stay here," he hissed at her. "Don't you want to get off this thing?"
Rebecca motioned to him severely to keep his voice down further than he had. "They're close," she said, still hardly audible. "Very close. I heard them talking, I think they're going t-"
The woman didn't get to finish, before what sounded like an avalanche of bodies jumped from the ledge above them. Michelangelo rolled his eyes heavenward, as he realized the new masses were cutting off their escape route. The only choice he could immediately muster was to attempt to plow directly through them, or keep retreating the way they'd already come, where more of these goons would certainly be waiting.
Michelangelo shifted uncomfortably behind their hidden perch, his mind reeling with possibilities of what could go wrong. He wasn't truly satisfied with either one of the choices. As he held his breath imagining what Leonardo would try in this spot, yet another previously unexplored option occurred to him. Michelangelo couldn't see the face of the river that raged under the very cliff they'd been traveling on, but the sound of it had been accompanying them for several minutes now.
On a whim, he turned to Rebecca. "How deep would you say that water is out there?"
"The river?" she exclaimed, finding difficulty in keeping the question quiet. "We can't - that's suicide! We'd have a better chance of surviving being struck by lightning. The rocks alone-"
"I think it's pretty much suicide to stay here, don't you?" the turtle interrupted grimly. "But we've gotta make a choice. Either we can try and hope for the best outcome, or we can hand ourselves over to the morons out there. If I thought I could hold all of them off long enough, I'd be happy to let you make a break for it. But there are so many guns..."
"You'd give your life for me?" Her voice was tinged with some kind of emotion that he couldn't identify.
"I'm here, aren't I? This whole thing was one of the biggest suicide ventures we ever took on."
She exhaled quietly. "I'm sorry you got involved; I'm sorry it has to end like this. It would have been better if you hadn't found us at all. Then again, this is exactly what I prayed for. I asked God to make a way out for Marc, and it seems like He has."
"Actually, I should probably be apologizing to you too," Michelangelo said seriously.
"Why?"
Rather than answer her, the turtle threw both arms around her waist, dragging the young woman physically off the ground. She hardly had time to be stunned by that move, before Michelangelo darted out of hiding, and ran for the edge of their path. The turtle almost felt like he was caught in slow motion, as he attempted to pick up as much speed as he could within the short distance, before lunging off the cliff toward the flooded river below.
Leonardo and Donatello had been waiting out Raphael and Brandon in the brush nearby the quarry. They were trying to stay there until they received the radio contact that would confirm where the others were, and if they were getting closer. Both turtles knew full well they were still being hunted, but now an unnatural silence had filled the air as the hunkered down close to the ground.
Donatello felt like they'd been waiting for ages, though he was certain it hadn't been as long as it seemed. He fidgeted nervously in his crouched position, and shot Leonardo a pointed glance. "Since we've got the time, I figured I'd ask..."
"Why did I pull you to come with me, instead of Mike?" Leonardo suggested casually, as if they really were on nothing more than a picnic.
"You may be becoming a mind-reader."
"I knew you'd wonder," the blue-masked turtle replied. "I was only thinking of that girl. She's got to be completely overwhelmed, and Mike...well, you saw him with Kirkland. He's got that gift for putting people at ease, without even trying that hard. I remember Luke saying something similar, the night that he first met all of us."
"That feels like about a hundred years ago right now, doesn't it?"
Leonardo only snorted in reply, but then shifted from his own stance in a way that instantly revealed his true nerves to Donatello.
"It's too quiet, isn't it?" the purple-masked turtle ventured. "I don't want them shooting at us, but this just feels..."
"Like we're lying in wait for something bigger?"
"There's not enough room in my head for both of us Leo."
"Not with that brain of yours, there sure isn't," he answered ironically, and then caught his breath when he heard the click of his radio.
"Leo, Donny, you guys still out there?"
The blue-masked turtle shot Donatello a triumphant fist, before hitting the button to respond. "We're ready when you are Raph. Watch your step, there's all kinds of unfriendlies in the vicinity."
"All the more reason we ought to split. I never been one to run from a fight Fearless, but we don't have fire to fight their fire."
"We're on the same page Raph. Donny and I will start heading down along the edge of this thing - what's your position?"
"We're not far from the quarry, if we all head that direction, we're bound to catch up with you."
Leonardo replaced the radio on his belt, and nodded at Donatello. "Time to go."
They emerged from the tree-line into unobstructed moonlight for the first time that evening, their senses alert for the sounds of anyone that could be nearby. All they heard was the same dead silence, an empty lie that was trying to portray that they were alone out here. Even the intermittent wind had died down, leaving nothing behind but stillness.
Donatello missed having the use of his scanner, which he'd intentionally sent back with Greg so that Luke could use the machine. He would feel better if he could see the positions of all the characters in play. The two turtles raced alongside the small canyon that was serving as the landmark to reconnecting them with the others.
A couple of minutes had passed already when Donatello did hear something odd, a distant whistle that reminded him of the sound of fireworks going off over the Bay at home. He looked over his shoulder, in time to see trees go up in flames not fifty feet away from them.
"Leo!" he hardly had time to gasp, before the sound of more of the incoming whistles made his heart drop out of his chest.
A flash shattered the darkness much closer by than the last one, and he felt Leonardo's arms from behind. It was hard to say whether he was trying to simply protect him, or spur him on faster. Donatello guessed it was a combination of both. The third projectile landed so close-by that the sound of the explosion was deafening. The force of the blast sent searing heat across the landscape, even as it lifted both turtles completely off their feet.
It all happened so fast, that Donatello could barely comprehend the fact that he was hurtling out of control, tumbling down the canyon. He was aware of heat still radiating from the back of his left leg, and even more aware of the jarring blows and bruising that was occurring with every rock he struck on the way down. He tucked his head protectively, but couldn't keep it completely out of the way on the mad descent.
A parting strike clouded his vision slightly, and he finally dropped off in the dust at the bottom. Donatello fought to maintain a clear head as he lay motionless on his shell for a few seconds, choking on the clouds that had been raised around him. Then he got both arms underneath him, and looked around with blurry eyes.
Donatello raised a hand to massage where temple had hit stone. He wasn't surprised to find that he was bleeding, but there was also a sense of relief that the damage hadn't been worse. He started trying to work his way upright, as somewhat groggy thoughts were still trying to piece together what had just happened. The purple-masked turtle stumbled precariously on his leg, clenching his jaw against the burning pain that traveled the entire length of it.
Aw shell, seriously?
He couldn't see the source of the issue, but it felt very much like something had been buried in the limb itself, a sharp material serving as the source of all that heat.
Darn it, Doc's gonna kill me with his bare hands.
That thought was the last thing to run through his mind, before he suddenly remembered Leonardo. Panic canceled out his own pain, as he scrambled across the ground to look for his older brother. Donny staggered the first few steps on the injured limb, but he was still able to support his weight. Within another two yards, he saw what he assumed had to be Leonardo's shadowed form, lying in a helpless heap on the earth.
Without thinking about it, Donatello fingered one of several pieces of shrapnel that were buried in his brother's shell, and had to withdraw his hand instantly from the burning metal. He left Leonardo on his plastron where he'd found him, as he quickly searched for a pulse. The purple-masked turtle let out a massive breath when it throbbed strongly under his touch.
He handled his brother's head carefully, probing for injuries that had occurred either in the initial blast, or the descent that had followed. His shell seemed to have borne the brunt of the shrapnel, though he found some smaller pieces embedded in his skin as well. Leonardo was bleeding from a number of places, but none more than the gaping gash in his forehead, from where he'd likely struck the limestone slab.
Donatello fervently hoped he hadn't been fractured somewhere else that he couldn't see, as he yanked off his backpack to find sturdy enough fabric to bind it with. He had only started to tightly knot a frayed piece, when another cloud of dust alerted him that someone else was approaching. The turtle jolted to his feet with a small grunt of pain, and whirled around with bo in hand to face whatever was coming. He wouldn't be able to stand very long through a hailstorm of bullets, but he wasn't leaving Leonardo either, that was for certain.