"Look at me. Just hold still and look at me for a second."
Pressed against the side of the Galaxy, Steve rolled his eyes when Mike got a hold of his chin, tilting his head up in order to check his pupils.
"I told you I'm fine. Just…just hit my head on the dash."
Acknowledging the answer but not buying the reassurance for one second, Mike held his chin in place for a couple more seconds, before finally letting go.
"I think I hear a chopper approaching. Let's head downhill, see if we can find a place to hide until backup arrives. I am sure it won't take long for Esteban to go after us. We need to buy ourselves some time."
Shaking off some of the fogginess enveloping his mind, Steve nodded, unable to hear the same thing beyond the blood rushing in his ears, but trusting Mike's senses unconditionally.
If the completely destroyed Galaxy was any indication, they had just survived what would have killed any regular human being; miraculously walking away from the wreckage with nothing more than a few scrapes and headaches.
Perhaps their guardian angels were on duty today after all, possibly even pulling overtime.
"-twentyfive minutes, give or take. If they can triangulate our position, we should be alright. Do you still have your revolver?"
Glancing over at Mike sheepishly after missing most of what had been said, Steve nodded insecurely, then reached for his holster.
"Yeah, everything is still here. Why? Yours isn't?"
"No. No…I ehm…I must have lost it in the crash. Come on, let's get moving before he finds out that we're not dead."
Nodding slightly to keep his nausea and dizziness at bay, Steve followed his partner around the front of the Galaxy, glancing down at the uneven ground in a desperate effort to stay upright.
"You…you sure your nose is alright?", he tried, hoping that the small talk would keep him alert enough for the time being. Without turning around, Mike nodded, then pointed downhill.
"My nose is fine. Just keep going. We have to make some headway."
The light breeze coming off the mountains gave him chills, the situation made worse by the fact that his overcoat was still at the motel and the custom-tailored gray suit was designed to cater toward the eyes, not inclement weather.
Several hundred yards below was a small creek and plenty of underbrush that could provide an attractive hideout for the time being. If nothing else-
Steve never got to finish his thought when a loud shot rang out, making the world around him turn black.