The first bullet hit the tree trunk right above his head, shattering the bark and sending it into every direction imaginable.
Instinctively, Mike grabbed Gifford by the shoulder, dragging the reporter down to the ground and away from any rogue shots that were disrupting the silence of the night.
Chong fired his automatic weapon in sheer carelessness, hitting trees, rocks and soil, creating a cloud of debris that surrounded them in no time at all.
Curled up on his side, with his arms wrapped tightly around Gifford, Mike tucked his chin to his chest, praying that the bullets would miss them, possibly even stopping long enough to give them a chance to climb down the embankment and escape the deadly hail.
But so far, the onslaught hadn't slowed down one bit, turning the quiet forest into a war zone, the echo of the machine gun so powerful that it could be heard for miles.
Powerless to move and at the mercy of the spray of bark, dirt and rocks that engulfed them, Mike pulled the .38 out of his holster again, waiting for a reprieve to glance up and pinpoint his target without fearing to be blinded by flying debris.
Below his tight grasp, Gifford whimpered in fear, her entire body shaking violently, mumbling something he couldn't understand over the deafening noise.
Suddenly, without the slightest warning, the shots stopped altogether.
As the noise of the last twigs breaking died down, the area once again returned to the eerie silence that had accompanied them throughout their frantic escape.
A couple sets of footsteps approached them, then slowed down again.
"You were so close, Lieutenant.", Chong yelled from a few yards away, "I am impressed. You have been a worthy opponent and I enjoyed this game a lot. Now, if you don't mind, it's time to die. I have other important business to attend to."
"You're wrong.", Mike countered and dared to lift his head somewhat, seeing the vague outline of two people in the distance of the dim daylight appearing over the horizon, "My partner and I split up. He's already miles ahead of us and calling in support. Your reign of terror is officially over. You will not kill any more people."
Hoping the bluff would buy them valuable time, he nudged Gifford backwards, hoping to get closer to the edge of the ravine for a quick escape. Better to deal with one opponent down below than the powerful weapon of the manic doctor and his helper up here.
"You're wrong, Lieutenant. The next phone is many miles away from here, too many to reach in the short time you have been on the move. Why do you think I allowed you to escape to begin with?", Chong countered before moving off to the left, the other man circling in from the right, "As far as your nuisance partner is concerned, he's dead. He stepped into one of my many…devices. It made him a sitting duck, unable to run. I was kind enough to put him out of his misery."
Mike's stomach turned into knots at the words said in calculated cold-heartedness.
It had to be a bluff… had to be. Chong knew well enough how closely they worked together, surely, he would use a ruse to get him to make mistakes, let emotions drive his actions rather than logic.
Letting the doctor's statement run through his mind over and over again, taking apart every word and evaluating its authenticity, a quiet voice deep inside questioned the legitimacy of his claim, the chance that perhaps he had found Steve hiding amongst the underbrush, and the chance that he would opt to kill the young Inspector rather than "spare him" for future surgery.
It had to be a ruse, Mike told himself, after all, he hadn't heard a gunshot.
But the doctor could have used a knife to cut Steve's throat, the quiet voice returned worriedly, painting a horrific image neither his mind nor his heart could handle.
It was a bluff, had to be.
But why would he bring up the point that he was unable to run and had stepped into one of his traps? Steve had tripped over a root…or had he? In the darkness and their heightened sense of urgency, could they have mistaken a trip wire for a root?
No, it had to be a bluff.
It went along with the nerve-wrecking game of poker they had played with the manic doctor all along, chasing shadows and half-truths through every aspect of their involvement in his terrible actions.
It was the only thing his heart currently could handle.
"Nice try, Chong. We both know you're lying.", he finally returned, his voice quivering from the prolonged exposure to the elements, and slowly crawled backwards, his feet inching their way toward the ravine at an agonizingly slow pace.
"I could argue with you, Lieutenant, but it won't do no good. You won't be alive long enough for me to drag you back there to see his corpse. It's over. For both of you. And I couldn't be happier about it. it's time I return to my work, then close down this office and move to the next state. After all, my patients deserve results and I cannot allow for people like you to continue to disrupt my research."
With those chilling words, the gunfire erupted once again, this time disconcertedly closer to their position, joined by the second man opening fire from the opposite direction. Somewhere behind him, Gifford cried out, either from fear or pain of getting hit, but Mike couldn't tell from his position.
Ducking behind a small fallen limb and wrapping his arms around his head, he drew in a deep breath and said a silent prayer for Steve to make it out of this situation alive, and for Chong to be stopped.
Effectively pinned in place, his sorrow mixed with anger for having gotten so close to escaping, just to fall victim to the manic doctor a few miles from safety.
Would their bodies ever be recovered? Would the Feds care enough to keep searching or write them off like many of the other victims who'd fallen prey to the massacre that had happened right under their noses for the past few months?
How many more would have to die before that man could be stopped?
As a bullet struck close enough to his position that it hit his upper arm, leaving a deep scrape behind before impacting in the damp soil, Mike winced in pain, then forced his thoughts to drift to the last thing he wanted to have on his mind before dying.
His beloved Jeannie.
The most important person in his life, the one he knew would carry on his legacy with the same fierce bullheadedness she inherited from her father, the young lady who would have made her mother proud had Helen lived long enough to watch her mature in a beautiful and caring human being.
The one person he'd regret leaving too soon now, due to the inherent risks of his job.
The one he'd miss dearly, the pain she'd have to go through making his heart ache.
And yet, the time had come to find peace with the current situation and accept his imminent death.