Progress was slow, worryingly, frustratingly, horrifically slow, but Kateri slowly did make progress, picking and worrying and pulling at the ropes and knot until slowly it began to loosen. Without her watch, Kateri had no way of telling how long it took her to free herself. She would have estimated that at least two or three brutally long hours had passed, hours that brought her to tears multiple times, both from pain and from sheer frustration and fear.
Finally, finally, Kateri felt the ropes give, and she shook them off and pulled off the blindfold. With practiced efficiency, dulled by pain and cold, she took stock of herself and her situation. She was locked in some sort of small empty room that looked like it was once a shed or the tack room of a barn. The barest hints of fading light filtered in through cracks in the walls and around the door, meaning that she had been missing for probably at least 12 hours.
Kateri then looked down at her wrists and nearly vomited again, swallowing hard several times to keep the remaining contents of her stomach, if there were any, in her stomach. Hours of fighting with the ropes to free herself had left her wrists, hands, and lower arms stained with blood, and the rope burns on her wrists made them look like they had been through a meat grinder. I think the cold is the only reason it doesn't hurt too much right now. Her fingers were stiff with cold, which had made it all the more difficult to free herself from the ropes.
With the hand that still had the most feeling, Kateri fished around in her pockets for anything that had not been rifled through and stolen. She emerged with one bandana and one roll of gauze. She ripped open the gauze wrapping with her teeth, and between her teeth and the other hand, she managed to wrap both wrists semi-well, one with gauze and the other with the bandana.
Even that little activity made her head spin and her heart pound, and she had to stop and rest for several minutes before she could think of doing anything else. Between whatever drugs are left in my system, dehydration from puking (probably), blood loss, no food for hours, and exposure, I'm in a bit of a pickle.
When the world stopped spinning, Kateri started trying to rub a little feeling back into fingers and then fished her boot knife out of her boot and slit the duct tape that bound her ankles together. Somehow, she managed to not cut herself in the process.
Climbing to her feet was the next task Kateri gave herself. Giving herself small tasks and then focusing on accomplishing them one at a time helped her when she was struggling and hurting to not get bogged down by how terrible she was feeling. Getting to her feet proved to be a battle all its own, and she fell several times before she finally stood, wavering like a newborn foal, braced with one hand against the wall. The world spun sickeningly for the umpteenth time, and Kateri felt like she was standing on a boat in a storm. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the world to stop spinning and her stomach to stop rolling.
A few tears trickled down her cheeks.
Please come find me, guys. Please be alright, Kenny.
After being recruited to the Fugitive Task Force after several years doing undercover work,
she had grown used to working with a team and always having a team at her back. Having to rely on only herself for the moment was unpleasant to say the least. Even if Kenny is hurt, you've been gone long enough that the others'll know something's up. They'll be looking for you. Finally, the world steadied enough for her to cross her small prison on shaky feet. A little force applied to the door, and it opened, and nearly stumbling and falling, she was free.
Her prison was a tack room after all, considering the empty stalls that she emerged by. The smell of age and decay and the decrepit condition of the building indicated that the barn had not been in use in quite some time. There was no sign of her stuff or other rooms where her stuff might be.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
Kateri reached the great doors of the barn, which stood half-open, decaying in their slides. From the entrance, she could see a dark house some distance away. If there was a car there, she couldn't see. The moon had risen, and the air was brisk, windy, and extremely cold.
Do I dare try the house? No. I couldn't fight a rabbit right now. I run into the guy who jumped me, I'll end up right back in that room or worse.
Time to start walking, I guess. Find a road. Find someone who looks like he/she couldn't be whoever jumped me. Find a phone.
Kateri ducked her chin down into the collar of the fleece jacket she had had on under her coat, gently tucked her injured wrists into her pockets—my gloves are gone, too—and started walking. Her chosen path paralleled the driveway but was deep enough into the trees that the shadows would hide her somewhat.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
Everything in Kateri's mind narrowed to that one instruction: keep putting one foot in front of the other. The longer she kept moving, the better chance she had of finding help. The longer she kept going, the farther she was from her prison. The longer she kept moving, the longer she could keep herself somewhat warmer.
Kateri had no idea how long it took her to get from the barn to the end of the driveway, but it was a ridiculously long time, or so it felt. She glanced each way, saw no cars, and finally picked a direction at random, and started heading left, still keeping to the shadows inside the tree line.
One foot in front of the other.
Now would be a good time to find me, guys. Please.
One foot in front of the other.
I hope you're alright, Kenny.
One foot in front of the other.
I'm so **** cold.
One foot in front of the other.
At least I'm not in that box and trussed up like a pig. Or was it a chicken?
One foot in front of the other.
Couldn't this have happened in July?
One foot in front of the other.
Keep moving. Just keep moving. They'll find me soon.
One foot in front of the other.
Warm cars. Warm clothes. Tea. Lots and lots of tea.
One foot in front of the other.
Please be alright Kenny. I won't forgive myself if you're not.
One foot in front of the other.
A stumble and a heavy fall.
Ow.
Pick yourself up and keep moving. You can do this.
It's so cold.
One foot in front of the other.
Another intersection. Now what? Can I hear traffic? How about another left.
One foot in front of the other.
I hate this. A few tears trickled down her cheeks, freezing in the cold. Her teeth chattered violently. I'm so cold.
One foot in front of the other.
I'm an FBI agent. I refuse to die of hypothermia.
One foot in front of the other. Another stagger and heavy fall. It took longer for Kateri to drag herself back to her feet this time, but still she went on.
Another intersection. Right this time. Maybe more cars that way, I think. Maybe. I hope I'm not imagining things.
One foot in front of the other.
Please come find me.
One foot in front of the other.
Please come find me.
One foot in front of the other.
Another intersection. This looks like a bigger road. Maybe I should wait and watch for a few minutes. No, no, it's too cold. Gotta keep walking. Got to keep moving. Got to.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
Please come find me.
One foot in front of the other. Another stagger. Another fall. It took Kateri even longer to get to her feet this time, her knees and hands skinned and bleeding.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
I must look like a sight.
One foot in front of the other.
One foot in front of the other.
Finally, from far in the distance down the long, straight road, Kateri saw headlights.
In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. I don't know how much longer I can keep going.
She staggered to the edge of the road and waited, wavering on her feet and practically vibrating she was shivering so hard.
The car screeched to a halt, illuminating Kateri in the headlights. She squinted and threw up one bloody hand to shield her eyes from the light that felt like icepicks stabbing through her skull.
A car door flew open. A woman's voice, old and motherly, "Land sakes alive, what happened to you? Were you in a car accident? Do you need me to call 911?"
Definitely not whoever hurt me. Got to take a chance anyway. Can't keep going. Now that she had stopped moving, Kateri was not sure if she could keep going any longer.
Kateri shook her head, "I'm an FBI agent. I need a hospital and a cellphone."
Gentle hands on her arm, and an arm supporting her. The woman beside her was probably in her lower 50s, dark skin and a coil of neatly bound hair at the nape of her neck. "You're the agent from the news."
"I expect so," Kateri replied through chattering teeth.
"Let's get you inside, honey," the woman began guiding her toward the car, "I'm Marina. I don't have anything hot to share, but I've got heated seats and a good, working heater."
"That sounds lovely."
To Kateri's embarrassment, it took Marina's help to get her into the car and get the seat-belt buckled. Without gloves, her hands had gone stiff and numb, even tucked into her pockets or beneath her armpits. Marina hurried around to the other side of the car, got in, and turned the heat up high.
The car started moving again, and Kateri could hear the engine rev as Marina pressed down hard on the gas. "The nearest hospital is in Elizabethtown. That's almost 30 miles north-east of here. Can you make it?"
Kateri nodded, "Yes. Nothin'll make me drop dead." Internally, she was swearing. I was in Plattsburgh this morning. Whoever jumped me sure wanted to give the others a **** of a time finding me.
"That's good, honey. Just hold on tight, and we'll be there soon. My phone's in the cupholder by your left hand. No password, so feel free to call whoever you need."
It took Kateri three tries to grab the phone—the pain in her wrists didn't help anything either—and she began to pray she didn't have frostbite or something. I don't think my fingers look funky. Finally, she was able to grab the phone and not drop it. It took two tries to thumb it open. She dialed a familiar number with the help of the voice-activated AI thingy and held the phone up to her ear. Her shivering had increased, and her teeth were chattering harder. Skilled in outdoor survival techniques she was not, but Clinton had taught her enough, and she knew that shivering was good. Being so cold you stopped shivering was really, really bad.
The phone rang and rang and rang and rang, but finally a familiar voice picked up. "Skye." Her partner's voice was curt and distracted. There were voices in the background.
"Hey, boss," her voice wavered badly, and she cursed herself for sounding like a scared kid, "can you come get me, please?"
"Kateri?! Where the **** are you?" His voice changed to somewhere between utterly relieved and dumbstruck. The noise in the background rose by an order of magnitude.
"About 30 miles sssssouth-west of Elizabethtown, ssssso I'm told. I gotttttt free, found help, and a lady'sssss driving me to the hossssspitttttal." The background noise changed as if Clinton had put her on speakerphone.
"We'll be on your way soon, kid. Just hold on. How badly are you hurt?" he asked.
"I'm *** cold. Rope burns. My head's wonky, too. Is Kenny okay?"
"I'm fine, Kat, and you'd better be, too," came an answering bellow. Oh, thank God.
More voices and doors slamming in the background. Then her partner said, "We should get to the hospital in Elizabethtown about the same time you do. We'll let them know to expect you."
"Thankssssss, bbbosssss."
Kateri hung up the phone and returned it to the cup holder. Tucking her hands into her armpits, she tried to get some more warmth into them but then winced and returned her hands to her lap, when that position put pressure on her injured wrists.
Marina kept up a soothing flow of meaningless chatter all the way to the hospital. Focusing on her words helped the exhausted agent stay awake when, now safe and a tad warmer, all she wanted to do was sleep, despite the horrific ache that came with returning warmth to her hands and feet.
The team's cars were already in the parking lot by the ED entrance when Marina pulled her sedan onto the grounds of the Elizabethtown Hospital. Kateri could see her team gathered together by the cars. She cataloged them all one by one in her mind, utter relief sweeping over her to see Kenny visibly uninjured with her own eyes.
Clinton moved with unusual speed and was by the car by the time Marina stopped and Kateri had fumbled her seatbelt open and made to get out. Her partner helped her out, half-supporting her, and then pulled her into a tight hug. Considering there was an audience, Kateri refrained from doing something undignified liking bursting into tears but returned the hug tightly, leaning more and more weight on him as the moments went by.
The others were suddenly there—their voices kinda distant—but the sudden change in position had been a little too much for Kateri, and the world was starting to spin a little.
"Let's get you inside!" her partner said, helping her toward the nurses with a gurney who had appeared from the direction of the ED.
Clinton helped her on to the gurney, and she was wheeled inside, where she was separated from her partner—which was somewhat nerve-wracking considering her horrible mess of a day—and then there was a succession of doctors, rooms, and tests, exhausting what little strength Kateri had left. Eventually, she was settled in a room, the doctor stating that she would probably be able to be released later that day once her body temperature was at normal levels and they were sure the drugs were fully out of her system.
The blankets were warm; the lights were low; and the bed was soft and comforting after the hardness of the shed floor, and soon Kateri fell asleep, the steady sound of the heart monitor ringing in her ears. When she awoke several hours later, a female nurse with a nice smile had come in to check on her, and Kenny was sitting sprawled in a chair by her bed, his hands crossed over his stomach and his chin sunk all the way to his chest. He was snoring like a chainsaw, which usually drove Kateri crazy if they ended up in the same hotel room and he fell asleep first, but for one night she appreciated the familiar nose. The nurse gave her a thumbs up and readjusted the blankets and then departed as quietly as she had come, and Kateri soon drifted off again into a dreamless sleep.
Dim light was filtering in through the drawn curtains when she awoke for the second time. The clock on the wall said it was almost 8am. She was alone in the room, and Kateri took a minute to consider how she felt.
(1) She was finally warm again and no longer felt like she had fallen asleep in a walk-in freezer.
(2) Her hands and feet no longer felt like icy, achy, near useless lumps.
She finally glanced down at her wrists. They were wrapped neatly in gauze, and she could move her fingers without pain.
Nothing was blue, black, or otherwise multi-colored, except for the gauze wrapped around her palms and a couple of her fingers. Those had a tiny spot or two of blood.
(3) Her head no longer felt like she had a hangover, and her thoughts were no longer muddled.
(4) However, she still felt tired, despite the sleep, and somewhat weak. Her body had been through an ordeal, and those things were to be expected, she concluded.
Progress. Definitely progress. Now, when can I get out of here?
Kateri did not try to move yet but started to look around a little and quickly caught sight of her partner out in the hall, his back to the door, talking on his cellphone. A doctor entered before Clinton returned. After a quick examination, the doctor informed her that she would be released as soon as she had eaten breakfast and the discharge paperwork had been completed. Breakfast was plain, but with Clinton updating her on the case, she didn't care much or taste much of what she was eating. Soon after she had finished eating, her partner went off to check on her release paperwork, just after Barnes arrived carrying a familiar duffle.
"I come bearing real clothes," she announced as she entered the room.
"Hurray," Kateri replied, sitting up. The only thing she despised more about hospitals than being in one was being in hospital clothes. They were scratchy and uncomfortable and not anywhere near warm enough and showed much too much skin in very unfortunate places.
"How are you feeling?" Barnes set the duffle down on the end of the bed, as soon as Kateri had pulled her feet away.
"Better. Less like I'm an icicle and spent the day trussed up like a chicken."
"That's good," Barnes replied with a smile. "You gave us all quite a scare." She paused and then continued, "There were some implications…"
"I gave myself a scare … and a panic attack. That was … not … a good day." Barnes' final words then sunk into Kateri's mind, and she blanched. "That I was dead?" she asked.
"Or worse…"
Kateri swore colorfully in every language that she knew. Dare I ask how Clinton reacted or Kenny, for that matter?
Barnes snorted and stopped pulling out clothes long enough to quickly squeeze Kateri's shoulder, "We had never been that glad to hear your voice before. And if you need to talk, Kat, we're all happy to listen."
"Thanks."
Dressed in an extra flannel shirt and pair of cargo pants and ensconced within a fuzzy jacket, Kateri was finally released about 11am. Much to her discomfiture and embarrassment, she had to suffer the indignity of being wheeled outside to the waiting cars in a wheelchair. All of her team was waiting there, except for Barnes who had helped her dress and then had appointed herself wheelchair-pusher. There were hugs and back slaps all around, all her teammates relieved to see Kateri safe and in one piece and feeling well enough to complain about the wheelchair.
Her partner helped her get settled in their car, and then they were finally on their way home.
After today I'm just glad to be able to go home.
I wonder how long it will be before Clinton lets me out of his sight in the field again.
I don't think I'll be getting re-partnered anytime soon.
I should talk to Kenny soon, make sure he doesn't beat himself up. Wasn't his fault.
With these and other thoughts circulating in her mind, Kateri eventually fell asleep.