A/N: Again, thank you all for your kind reviews; I do so appreciate it from each and every one of you. I'd thank each of you separately, but I think you'd all be more interested in reading the fic than endless pages of thank yous. :D Oh, and, Antea? Don't worry: yes, it's weird, yes, it's part of the story, yes, it's confusing, but I promise, there is an explanation. ;)
A/N 2: Nope, the mystery isn't quite revealed today, but we're leading up to it. I'm sure it won't take Challenger much longer to tell everyone what's happening, after all, Veronica's just as curious as all of you. :D I do hope the ending of this chapter, however, will make certain peeps feel a bit better.
A/N 3: Hopefully will have the next part out by Sunday night, if not you can expect it by Monday night. Really depends on how much time I have tomorrow. :D
Disclaimer: See Part One
Phased and Confused
Part Four: Festering Wounds
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
The sun was barely above the horizon as Roxton retraced his steps back to the riverbank. Knowing that the start of this entire disaster was when the women left to go swimming, the river seemed the obvious choice as a point of reference.
His step was heavy as he moved through the jungle, his keen eyes aware of each and every broken branch and patch of crushed grass indicating the passage of one or more people. When he arrived at the riverbank, he moved instantly to the carnage left by the women, taking note of the bullet trajectory in each raptor, leading him to the spot where Marguerite and Veronica defended themselves against the onslaught. From there he managed to follow Marguerite's trail to the river, taking in the formation of grass from where she'd sat so long waiting for Veronica's return. Putting the whereabouts of Veronica and Challenger to the side for the moment, Roxton traced Marguerite's footprints back into the jungle, arriving back at the campsite. He nodded.
"So far so good, old boy," he muttered to himself, following Marguerite's trail to the center of camp, only to instantly frown as he caught sight of the irregular depression in the wild grass. She'd fallen, that was clear, but moments later her trail continued. An expression of deathly determination crossed his features as he slipped out of the campsite and deep into the jungle trees. The sun was bright as he traveled into it, his eyes squinting against the rays his battered hat couldn't quite fully shadow, but still he continued on.
The heat of the day wore into him by the time he came upon Marguerite's makeshift campsite, and he sat a moment by the charred remains of her fire, taking a deep swallow from his canteen. His gaze was instantly drawn to a darker patch of dirt, the crushed grass around the stain showing him that this was where his love had rested the night previous. Fear gnawed at him as he forced himself closer to the discolored earth, pinching several grains between his fingers and raising them to his nose. Blood.
"Where are you, Marguerite?" His voice was calm and low even through the intense fear clutching at him. He'd known she was wounded, but to be bleeding this heavily so long after the attack...
Roxton cut off the thought before it could grow into the debilitating worry that came over him only when Marguerite was in danger. Never in his life had he been faced with such a need to protect anyone; never in his life had he been faced with someone with so little need to be protected. Marguerite faced life as she lived it, full on with no fear of what may lie around the next corner. Everything that happened to her, Marguerite always managed to take in stride. Roxton was unsure how she did it, could never quite understand how deeply his love buried the pain she felt from actions of the past, but every day he grew to respect her and love her that much more. That is where his need to protect her originated; she'd been through so much hurt in her life that Marguerite should have nothing but happiness from this point forward, and Roxton was damned determined to make sure she received everything he felt she deserved.
Swallowing back the water that now rested as a lump in his throat, Roxton quickly readjusted his pack on his shoulder and slung his rifle so that it was within easy reach should he run into any danger. His eyes hardened as he picked out Marguerite's unsteady trail, and he began tracking her anew.
****
Warm fingers traveled down Marguerite's back as she rested her head in her hands. His hot breath blew across her exposed neck, her hair sliding to the side to allow him the access she so craved. Gentle shivers coursed through her tired body as his calloused flesh eased the tension from her frame and new sensation burned as his lips lowered to taste her warm skin.
A soft whimper escaped her lips as she tightened her hands against her head, willing the distraction of pain away as she forced her full concentration onto Roxton's sweet touch. Soothing words filled her mind, Roxton's low voice comforting the wounded heiress.
A crackle of branches behind her drew Marguerite's attention back to reality, snapping through the sweet delusion of Roxton's care. She dragged her exhausted body back to her feet, glancing to the trail behind her in concern. Her fingers instantly moved to her gun, struggling to pull it free from her holster, her aim less than steady as she watched the trail in a cloudy daze. A dark shadow cut across the trail fifty meters behind her; Marguerite's reaction was slow, delayed by the fever eating away at her mind, and by the time she pulled the trigger the shadow had once again disappeared into the cover of the jungle trees.
Shaken, Marguerite turned away once more, her eyes traveling to the sky. Instead of seeing one sun, however, three suns burned hotly down upon her from three separate directions. Frowning, Marguerite blinked and tried to clear her vision, but the three suns remained. With a sigh, Marguerite chose the brightest sun and continued her trek in its direction.
******
Roxton's head shot up, his eyes moving to the horizon hidden behind the jungle trees as the sound of a gunshot rang out nearby. He paused a moment, his keen ears instantly turning him in the direction of the shot, and seconds later he was moving through the jungle at a full run.
He crashed through the underbrush, leaping haphazardly over any obstacle in his way, certain that Marguerite was only a few kilometers ahead of him. Branches and twigs cut at his face and arms as he dashed between trees, his usual stealth abandoned as his first real contact with Marguerite in over twelve hours dangled precariously before him.
Regardless of how fast he ran, the space between them seemed to take an eternity to decrease, and by the time he reached the bullet shattered stump of a thin tree, Roxton was completely out of breath. He gasped loudly, leaning against the ruined bark for support as he drew precious oxygen into his complaining lungs, but the hunter paid no heed to his over worked body. Instead, the only thought in his mind was that Marguerite had to be nearby. Judging by the weaving easterly path he'd been following, she was attempting to return to the tree house but her pain was growing worse. Twice in the time he'd been tracking her did he find evidence that Marguerite had stopped to rest, her stamina lower than was normal, even for the feisty heiress. Twice he'd found drying blood staining the bark of trees, and sometimes the ground beneath where she sat, proving just how dire Marguerite's condition was becoming. What worried Roxton further, however, were the tracks of a small dinosaur that had infringed upon Marguerite's trail; the reptile had picked up the scent of her blood during her last rest and now the hunter was joined by the predator in the search for a certain raven-haired beauty.
Judging by the tracks on the path, Marguerite had finally caught sight of the creature. The small reptile had veered off into the jungle, but from the every day sounds of the wildlife around him, Roxton figured it was long gone. Frowning, Roxton lowered his eyes to the ground once more, noticing Marguerite's deterrence from her original path. His frown deepened. The new direction she had chosen was leading her not only away from the tree house, but also deep into T-Rex territory. Bleeding as badly as she was, it wouldn't be long before Marguerite found herself in more trouble than it appeared she could feasibly handle.
Roxton groaned, lifting his hat from his head, and ran his hands through his short dark hair. Replacing the hat, Roxton gripped his rifle with a sure hold, ducked his head, and disappeared into the jungle.
*****
"Marguerite."
Her name whispered past his lips, warming her suddenly chilled flesh as she moved through the dense foliage. She pushed her attention away from his voice, trying to focus on placing her feet where stones and fallen branches couldn't force her to her knees, or worse.
"Marguerite."
The whisper became more insistent, and Marguerite brushed her hand across her neck, waving away the buzz of some persistent bug. Silently she cursed what she now realized was delusion. The flesh on her back was burning, swelling, aching and Marguerite knew the crawling she could feel within the wound was infection. She swallowed back the despair that threatened her as she realized the tree house was still far away and she was growing weaker with each passing minute. Fighting pain and fatigue, she mused, was far easier when one had the support of friends.
"Marguerite!"
Her hand again brushed against her ear, succeeding only in pushing her damp hair into her eyes. Still, as she spun in place, struggling against the weight of her pack combined with the distraction of her hair, she caught sight of the dark shadow that had been tracking her once more.
"No!" she hissed softly, unwilling to become the first course in some dinosaur's dinner. She withdrew her gun, her fingers trembling so terribly that the weapon tumbled to the ground with a metallic ring as it struck a nearby stone. "Please!" Marguerite's plea, whispered in desperation, fell on deaf ears even as Marguerite fell to her knees, reaching for her gun and clutching it to her chest. The dark shadow grew closer, forcing the ill heiress to take a weak aim at something she could hardly see.
She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on controlling her shaking limbs as she steadied her hand. When she opened her eyes the form was closer, and Marguerite swallowed deeply. Her unsure vision blurred the creature until she could see little more than it's outline, but it was enough for her to pull the trigger.
One shot.
Two.
Three shots rang out before Marguerite's hand fell to the ground, her body screaming with agony brought on by the force of the kick back from her weapon. She whimpered quietly, tears filling her eyes as she could barely bring her hand back to her lap for the all encompassing pain that could no longer be ignored.
"Marguerite!"
Knowing how far she was from home, knowing that whatever infection had taken hold of her was ravaging her body and mind far more quickly than could be fought, knowing that her "family" had left her to this, Marguerite's will fled from her body. She folded over before she realized she'd even moved, her head striking the hard dirt, her knees pulling to her chest until she was curled into herself.
Her last conscious thought was of the dark form standing still in front of her. It moved towards her and she felt herself being lifted from the ground, a great tearing agony ripping shrill screams from her throat even as her mind descended into the welcome comfort of black.
*****
"Here, Veronica. That's right, place that flag right on that spot." George Challenger's eyes cast a brilliant light as his gaze transferred from the jungle ground to the sun in the sky. "Yes, yes. We're definitely on to something here." He took three steps to the west, watching as the sunlight cut a direct path through the murky under shadows of the foliage.
"Challenger, I still don't understand."
"Never mind about that now, just keep placing those flags where I tell you. Quickly, now. One right there." Challenger pointed to a new spot on the ground; Veronica sighed but dutifully placed the marker in its assigned location.
The day passed in near silence as Challenger moved about the clearing, Veronica following closely, posting flags until they had a direct line following the path formed by the sun. Each time the shadows edged backwards the space of a foot Challenger would issue another marker. Soon the jungle between their campsite and the riverbank was divided by a straight diagonal line beginning at the top of the path Marguerite and Veronica had taken the day before, ending at the entrance to the jungle through which Veronica had left the river bank mere hours later.
"Yes, yes." Challenger muttered to himself, puttering along the line of markers, careful to stay on a single side as he examined the times written on each flag. "Yes. You and Marguerite would have stepped across the barrier here at exactly the right time. Veronica, look, you crossed the barrier here at approximately this time. By crossing it a second time, you crossed back, but Marguerite took your original path back to the camp, crossing the barrier at the wrong time. It all makes sense!"
Veronica stared at Challenger, a blank expression on her face; nothing the older man was saying made sense, but the blonde knew better than to argue. Whenever this level of excitement took hold of the scientist, every one of the explorers knew to just stand back, trust, and know that the explanation would come once he'd proven his point. A small smile crossed Veronica's face as she watched him work; trusting in Challenger had saved each of their lives more times than she could count, but it didn't prevent a few minor explosions along the way.
Leaving the scientist to finish studying his line of flags, Veronica returned to their camp and brought to life a new fire. The least she could do was have something ready for him to eat when he was finally ready to talk.
*****
Roxton's heart beat a painful rhythm in his chest, a tightness clutching at his throat he'd never before known as he rushed towards Marguerite's broken form lying on the jungle ground. He dropped to his knees beside her, instantly reaching down to pull her body into his arms. He didn't even have the time to say her name before her body turning suddenly stiff in his embrace took him aback, her sharp painful cries piercing the jungle air. Nothing, not even when he'd finally come upon the missing woman only to have her turn against him, emptying her gun into the space near his head, could have shocked him more than her reaction to being held.
"Marguerite?" Tears filled Roxton's eyes as the heiress passed out against him, and very gently he leaned her against his chest. Instantly he moved his hands to her shoulders, realizing he'd unconsciously increased her pain when he'd brushed his hands across her back. Regret flashed through his eyes as he gentled his grip upon her. "It's all right now, my love, I'm here and we're going to get you home." He lowered his lips to her forehead, pressing a soft kiss against her fevered skin before carefully placing her back upon the ground. "I swear."
End Part Four
A/N 2: Nope, the mystery isn't quite revealed today, but we're leading up to it. I'm sure it won't take Challenger much longer to tell everyone what's happening, after all, Veronica's just as curious as all of you. :D I do hope the ending of this chapter, however, will make certain peeps feel a bit better.
A/N 3: Hopefully will have the next part out by Sunday night, if not you can expect it by Monday night. Really depends on how much time I have tomorrow. :D
Disclaimer: See Part One
Phased and Confused
Part Four: Festering Wounds
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
The sun was barely above the horizon as Roxton retraced his steps back to the riverbank. Knowing that the start of this entire disaster was when the women left to go swimming, the river seemed the obvious choice as a point of reference.
His step was heavy as he moved through the jungle, his keen eyes aware of each and every broken branch and patch of crushed grass indicating the passage of one or more people. When he arrived at the riverbank, he moved instantly to the carnage left by the women, taking note of the bullet trajectory in each raptor, leading him to the spot where Marguerite and Veronica defended themselves against the onslaught. From there he managed to follow Marguerite's trail to the river, taking in the formation of grass from where she'd sat so long waiting for Veronica's return. Putting the whereabouts of Veronica and Challenger to the side for the moment, Roxton traced Marguerite's footprints back into the jungle, arriving back at the campsite. He nodded.
"So far so good, old boy," he muttered to himself, following Marguerite's trail to the center of camp, only to instantly frown as he caught sight of the irregular depression in the wild grass. She'd fallen, that was clear, but moments later her trail continued. An expression of deathly determination crossed his features as he slipped out of the campsite and deep into the jungle trees. The sun was bright as he traveled into it, his eyes squinting against the rays his battered hat couldn't quite fully shadow, but still he continued on.
The heat of the day wore into him by the time he came upon Marguerite's makeshift campsite, and he sat a moment by the charred remains of her fire, taking a deep swallow from his canteen. His gaze was instantly drawn to a darker patch of dirt, the crushed grass around the stain showing him that this was where his love had rested the night previous. Fear gnawed at him as he forced himself closer to the discolored earth, pinching several grains between his fingers and raising them to his nose. Blood.
"Where are you, Marguerite?" His voice was calm and low even through the intense fear clutching at him. He'd known she was wounded, but to be bleeding this heavily so long after the attack...
Roxton cut off the thought before it could grow into the debilitating worry that came over him only when Marguerite was in danger. Never in his life had he been faced with such a need to protect anyone; never in his life had he been faced with someone with so little need to be protected. Marguerite faced life as she lived it, full on with no fear of what may lie around the next corner. Everything that happened to her, Marguerite always managed to take in stride. Roxton was unsure how she did it, could never quite understand how deeply his love buried the pain she felt from actions of the past, but every day he grew to respect her and love her that much more. That is where his need to protect her originated; she'd been through so much hurt in her life that Marguerite should have nothing but happiness from this point forward, and Roxton was damned determined to make sure she received everything he felt she deserved.
Swallowing back the water that now rested as a lump in his throat, Roxton quickly readjusted his pack on his shoulder and slung his rifle so that it was within easy reach should he run into any danger. His eyes hardened as he picked out Marguerite's unsteady trail, and he began tracking her anew.
****
Warm fingers traveled down Marguerite's back as she rested her head in her hands. His hot breath blew across her exposed neck, her hair sliding to the side to allow him the access she so craved. Gentle shivers coursed through her tired body as his calloused flesh eased the tension from her frame and new sensation burned as his lips lowered to taste her warm skin.
A soft whimper escaped her lips as she tightened her hands against her head, willing the distraction of pain away as she forced her full concentration onto Roxton's sweet touch. Soothing words filled her mind, Roxton's low voice comforting the wounded heiress.
A crackle of branches behind her drew Marguerite's attention back to reality, snapping through the sweet delusion of Roxton's care. She dragged her exhausted body back to her feet, glancing to the trail behind her in concern. Her fingers instantly moved to her gun, struggling to pull it free from her holster, her aim less than steady as she watched the trail in a cloudy daze. A dark shadow cut across the trail fifty meters behind her; Marguerite's reaction was slow, delayed by the fever eating away at her mind, and by the time she pulled the trigger the shadow had once again disappeared into the cover of the jungle trees.
Shaken, Marguerite turned away once more, her eyes traveling to the sky. Instead of seeing one sun, however, three suns burned hotly down upon her from three separate directions. Frowning, Marguerite blinked and tried to clear her vision, but the three suns remained. With a sigh, Marguerite chose the brightest sun and continued her trek in its direction.
******
Roxton's head shot up, his eyes moving to the horizon hidden behind the jungle trees as the sound of a gunshot rang out nearby. He paused a moment, his keen ears instantly turning him in the direction of the shot, and seconds later he was moving through the jungle at a full run.
He crashed through the underbrush, leaping haphazardly over any obstacle in his way, certain that Marguerite was only a few kilometers ahead of him. Branches and twigs cut at his face and arms as he dashed between trees, his usual stealth abandoned as his first real contact with Marguerite in over twelve hours dangled precariously before him.
Regardless of how fast he ran, the space between them seemed to take an eternity to decrease, and by the time he reached the bullet shattered stump of a thin tree, Roxton was completely out of breath. He gasped loudly, leaning against the ruined bark for support as he drew precious oxygen into his complaining lungs, but the hunter paid no heed to his over worked body. Instead, the only thought in his mind was that Marguerite had to be nearby. Judging by the weaving easterly path he'd been following, she was attempting to return to the tree house but her pain was growing worse. Twice in the time he'd been tracking her did he find evidence that Marguerite had stopped to rest, her stamina lower than was normal, even for the feisty heiress. Twice he'd found drying blood staining the bark of trees, and sometimes the ground beneath where she sat, proving just how dire Marguerite's condition was becoming. What worried Roxton further, however, were the tracks of a small dinosaur that had infringed upon Marguerite's trail; the reptile had picked up the scent of her blood during her last rest and now the hunter was joined by the predator in the search for a certain raven-haired beauty.
Judging by the tracks on the path, Marguerite had finally caught sight of the creature. The small reptile had veered off into the jungle, but from the every day sounds of the wildlife around him, Roxton figured it was long gone. Frowning, Roxton lowered his eyes to the ground once more, noticing Marguerite's deterrence from her original path. His frown deepened. The new direction she had chosen was leading her not only away from the tree house, but also deep into T-Rex territory. Bleeding as badly as she was, it wouldn't be long before Marguerite found herself in more trouble than it appeared she could feasibly handle.
Roxton groaned, lifting his hat from his head, and ran his hands through his short dark hair. Replacing the hat, Roxton gripped his rifle with a sure hold, ducked his head, and disappeared into the jungle.
*****
"Marguerite."
Her name whispered past his lips, warming her suddenly chilled flesh as she moved through the dense foliage. She pushed her attention away from his voice, trying to focus on placing her feet where stones and fallen branches couldn't force her to her knees, or worse.
"Marguerite."
The whisper became more insistent, and Marguerite brushed her hand across her neck, waving away the buzz of some persistent bug. Silently she cursed what she now realized was delusion. The flesh on her back was burning, swelling, aching and Marguerite knew the crawling she could feel within the wound was infection. She swallowed back the despair that threatened her as she realized the tree house was still far away and she was growing weaker with each passing minute. Fighting pain and fatigue, she mused, was far easier when one had the support of friends.
"Marguerite!"
Her hand again brushed against her ear, succeeding only in pushing her damp hair into her eyes. Still, as she spun in place, struggling against the weight of her pack combined with the distraction of her hair, she caught sight of the dark shadow that had been tracking her once more.
"No!" she hissed softly, unwilling to become the first course in some dinosaur's dinner. She withdrew her gun, her fingers trembling so terribly that the weapon tumbled to the ground with a metallic ring as it struck a nearby stone. "Please!" Marguerite's plea, whispered in desperation, fell on deaf ears even as Marguerite fell to her knees, reaching for her gun and clutching it to her chest. The dark shadow grew closer, forcing the ill heiress to take a weak aim at something she could hardly see.
She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on controlling her shaking limbs as she steadied her hand. When she opened her eyes the form was closer, and Marguerite swallowed deeply. Her unsure vision blurred the creature until she could see little more than it's outline, but it was enough for her to pull the trigger.
One shot.
Two.
Three shots rang out before Marguerite's hand fell to the ground, her body screaming with agony brought on by the force of the kick back from her weapon. She whimpered quietly, tears filling her eyes as she could barely bring her hand back to her lap for the all encompassing pain that could no longer be ignored.
"Marguerite!"
Knowing how far she was from home, knowing that whatever infection had taken hold of her was ravaging her body and mind far more quickly than could be fought, knowing that her "family" had left her to this, Marguerite's will fled from her body. She folded over before she realized she'd even moved, her head striking the hard dirt, her knees pulling to her chest until she was curled into herself.
Her last conscious thought was of the dark form standing still in front of her. It moved towards her and she felt herself being lifted from the ground, a great tearing agony ripping shrill screams from her throat even as her mind descended into the welcome comfort of black.
*****
"Here, Veronica. That's right, place that flag right on that spot." George Challenger's eyes cast a brilliant light as his gaze transferred from the jungle ground to the sun in the sky. "Yes, yes. We're definitely on to something here." He took three steps to the west, watching as the sunlight cut a direct path through the murky under shadows of the foliage.
"Challenger, I still don't understand."
"Never mind about that now, just keep placing those flags where I tell you. Quickly, now. One right there." Challenger pointed to a new spot on the ground; Veronica sighed but dutifully placed the marker in its assigned location.
The day passed in near silence as Challenger moved about the clearing, Veronica following closely, posting flags until they had a direct line following the path formed by the sun. Each time the shadows edged backwards the space of a foot Challenger would issue another marker. Soon the jungle between their campsite and the riverbank was divided by a straight diagonal line beginning at the top of the path Marguerite and Veronica had taken the day before, ending at the entrance to the jungle through which Veronica had left the river bank mere hours later.
"Yes, yes." Challenger muttered to himself, puttering along the line of markers, careful to stay on a single side as he examined the times written on each flag. "Yes. You and Marguerite would have stepped across the barrier here at exactly the right time. Veronica, look, you crossed the barrier here at approximately this time. By crossing it a second time, you crossed back, but Marguerite took your original path back to the camp, crossing the barrier at the wrong time. It all makes sense!"
Veronica stared at Challenger, a blank expression on her face; nothing the older man was saying made sense, but the blonde knew better than to argue. Whenever this level of excitement took hold of the scientist, every one of the explorers knew to just stand back, trust, and know that the explanation would come once he'd proven his point. A small smile crossed Veronica's face as she watched him work; trusting in Challenger had saved each of their lives more times than she could count, but it didn't prevent a few minor explosions along the way.
Leaving the scientist to finish studying his line of flags, Veronica returned to their camp and brought to life a new fire. The least she could do was have something ready for him to eat when he was finally ready to talk.
*****
Roxton's heart beat a painful rhythm in his chest, a tightness clutching at his throat he'd never before known as he rushed towards Marguerite's broken form lying on the jungle ground. He dropped to his knees beside her, instantly reaching down to pull her body into his arms. He didn't even have the time to say her name before her body turning suddenly stiff in his embrace took him aback, her sharp painful cries piercing the jungle air. Nothing, not even when he'd finally come upon the missing woman only to have her turn against him, emptying her gun into the space near his head, could have shocked him more than her reaction to being held.
"Marguerite?" Tears filled Roxton's eyes as the heiress passed out against him, and very gently he leaned her against his chest. Instantly he moved his hands to her shoulders, realizing he'd unconsciously increased her pain when he'd brushed his hands across her back. Regret flashed through his eyes as he gentled his grip upon her. "It's all right now, my love, I'm here and we're going to get you home." He lowered his lips to her forehead, pressing a soft kiss against her fevered skin before carefully placing her back upon the ground. "I swear."
End Part Four