Mike stopped the LTD behind the Fairlane that had been carelessly parked in front of a small rock formation bordering the nearby ravine. Though unmanned, the other car was still running, the fumes from the exhaust slowly rising in the chilly afternoon air.
Turning his car off and sliding the keys into the right-side pocket of his black overcoat, Mike slowly exited the LTD, his eyes surveying the surrounding area but detecting no movement.
Despite standing the collar of his coat up as the afternoon was fading into early evening, the cold breeze was chilling him to the bone, making his sore and achy muscles hurt even more.
Dispatch had informed him that help was on its way, including a distressed Devitt who was having a helicopter readied. Realistically though, Mike knew well enough that they were both on their own, and that Milan's fate would rest in their hands, the case hopefully closed long before any backup could ever arrive.
As such, he'd unloaded all the long guns stashed in the cabin, then grabbed the two .38's he'd found left behind, along with all the ammo hidden in the right-hand drawer of the kitchenette area, before heading out to aid his partner.
With the long grasses tugging on his pant legs, Mike crossed the distance to the rock formation, cuing his ears to any sounds from the forest down below, eyes scanning the perimeter for trails and footprints.
Despite the cold gust hitting his eyes, making them blurry, he could see a number of broken twigs several yards out, leading toward Milan's flight path- and Steve's.
Swallowing his unease, the fingers of his right hand wrapped tightly around the grip of the .38, he stepped over the threshold leading downhill, maneuvering the uneven ground carefully, the steep terrain straining his knees and ankles as he ducked bushes and low hanging branches alike while avoiding tree roots and rocks in his path.
Once he reached the forest, the ground below was covered in a thick bed of pine needles, dulling much of the surrounding noise, as he headed northeast on a slope, hoping to catch up with Sawyer and Mahoney in time.
Suffice to say, in her heightened state of trauma-induced anxiety, Milan would be hard to capture for either one of them, more than likely rushing through the dense woods ahead like a startled deer. Even more reason for Mike to hurry up, worrying about the chance that Steve would come across the two remaining goons while tracking Milan, leaving him painfully outnumbered yet again.
Picking up a small path left behind by wildlife heading into the very direction of his travel, Mike clenched his jaws, before speeding up to a hasty run.