Chapter Five

For a moment there was just horrified silence as Jesse, Amanda and Ron watched Mark's lifeblood seep away but then, almost as if joined in some way, they all moved as one.

"Mark!" Amanda screamed out the name of her oldest and wisest friend, barely noticing as Ron drew his gun and took up a protective stance.

"Amanda, Jesse, get down!" The pause had been only a fraction of a second but still Ron was furious with himself for not calling out sooner. The area was totally deserted, the only unnatural sound that of the gradually fading echo of the gun retort.

For a moment they did as they were told but then Jesse, fearful for his friend's life, moved around so that he could open Mark's shirt and assess the damage.

"Oh, God." The two words were almost forced from him as he saw a vicious wound, pouring blood from the body of one of his closest friends. Jesse looked around for his medical bag, brought with him for Steve and, seeing it lying on the path, where he had dropped it as the gun went off, he called out, "Amanda, I need my stuff." As soon as he knew Amanda understood him he undid his shirt and took it off, then he rolled it up and gently placed it underneath Mark's head.

Ron had made his way across the street to where he was pretty sure the gunshot had come from. There were two houses there, larger than the one Arriaga had rented, and both of them looked lived in. As he made his way carefully towards the driveway of the first house he heard the roar of an engine and suddenly a jeep flew towards him.

"Ron!" Again Amanda screamed out a name, this time that of the man she loved. She had just given Jesse his bag and turned to see where the tall, dependable FBI Agent was when she saw him hurl himself out of the way of a fast moving vehicle before rolling out into the street and firing off at least four shots.

. . . . . . . . . .

It was the agony of the dry heaving sobs which finally stopped the tears and caused him to collapse onto the hard stone beneath him. The pain only increased as he did so, but he didn't have the energy to move in any way to improve his situation.

The entire world around him was silent. He longed for noise, any type of noise, to show that he wasn't alone, but none came. Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, he was able to think about resuming his journey, but first he had to get up and that was far easier said than done. He knew that taking a deep breath to help him on his way was out of the question and so, instead, he tried to empty his lungs and relax. Then, carefully placing his left hand on the warm stone, he raised that side of his body and moved one knee up towards his waist. Once he had done that he was able to do the same with the right leg but then he was exhausted again and as he rested his head on the ground he felt the heat of the late afternoon sun beat down upon his back, causing the wounds there to split and crack, increasing the pain and making him finally cry out. "Oh, God, please … please help me."

. . . . . . . . . .

The things in Jesse's bag weren't ideal to treat a gunshot wound, especially not one as serious as this looked. He hooked his stethoscope into his ears and began to assess Mark's breathing.

It was laboured, but still reasonably steady and his own breathing relaxed a little as Jesse realised that wherever the bullet had gone it wasn't into a lung. "Ok, Mark, that's one for the good guys. Now, let's see what else we have going for us." He was feeling for a pulse as he spoke and counting internally almost without realising it. The pulse wasn't anywhere near as strong as he would like it to be and Jesse knew that the possibility of his friend going into hypovolemic shock was huge.

He took one of the large pads from his doctor's bag and carefully put it over the wound in Mark's chest. Amanda, seeing what he was doing, placed a hand over the top of it and began applying direct pressure.

"Ron! I need that chopper and I need it now!" Jesse didn't even look up and so had no idea what else was happening. He had heard a vehicle but it had been a secondary occurrence to his main objective; keeping Mark alive. Steve would never ever forgive him if he let him die.

"Amanda, I have to find out if the bullet is still inside of him." Jesse didn't need to say anything else. His friend tore her eyes away from her view of Ron and forced them back towards that of her two friends. She then, very carefully, rested her hands so that she could slide them underneath Mark's body when Jesse began to raise it. He knelt the other side of their friend and placed one hand on his arm just below shoulder level and the other one by his elbow and then gently, talking softly all the time, he began his task.

"Mark, this is gonna hurt, but I have to know if you are hiding that bullet. I'll be as quick as I can." He stopped talking and watched as Amanda took some of the weight and then looked at the ground which had been suddenly opened to her view.

"No, nothing. Sorry."

"Dammit." Jesse wasn't sure if he was sorry or glad. If the bullet was still in there then Mark would need to be operated on to remove it, if it had gone right through him then there would have been two bullet holes to deal with right now and he would still have required surgery. Either way it wasn't a good situation.

Ron came back in through the gate, trying to brush some of the dust off of his suit as he did so, and stared down at the man whom he admired greatly. "I called; it's on its way." He put his cell phone back into his pocket and then looked at Amanda and Jesse. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Get back to the general store and get a vehicle. Amanda will need to go with Mark to the nearest hospital, but you and I have got to go find Steve." Jesse was carefully packing the wound as he spoke before he re-applied the pressure his friend needed to keep him alive. He didn't want his patient to lose any more blood than was absolutely necessary and right now one more drop was more than that.

"Right. I'll come back here and pick you up. Amanda." He didn't need to say anything else. She had already gently laid her friend back on the ground and made sure that his head was, once again, resting on Jesse's shirt. She looked to see if Jesse was ok on his own for a moment, and realising that he was working steadily and almost automatically to keep Mark alive Amanda got to her feet and, taking Ron by the hand, moved a little way away with him, but not so far that she couldn't still see Mark and Jesse and feel that she was close enough to help them.

"Is that alright?" Ron looked at her as he spoke and saw the strain in her beautiful brown eyes. Maybe it would be better if she was away from here. Especially if they found Sloan the way he had a feeling they might find him. But to lose both of them in such a short space of time … no, he couldn't think that way, Jesse, Mark, Amanda, Steve, all of them were optimists, even in the direst of circumstances that optimism had pulled them through. Hell, he'd even followed Steve into a bombed out building relying on that optimism alone to convince him that he would find Amanda still alive, it had worked then, it had to work now. He finished his meanderings to discover that she was looking quizzically at him.

"Is what alright?"

"That you go with Mark." Ron suddenly needed to know that she was comfortable with what she was going to be doing before he could let her go.

"Yes. Steve would want me to. He would want Jesse to operate too, but that can't be, not this time. I'll go with him, that way …" She closed her eyes for a second, "That way he will have someone who … someone who loves him … with him if ... he … if Steve …" For a moment she couldn't continue.

"Hey," Ron gently placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to look at him. "Steve has to get his stubbornness and thick skin from somewhere. They'll both be fine." He carefully wiped away a tear that had escaped and then he placed his lips over hers and kissed her so tenderly that it was almost as if she was dreaming.

"Take care of yourself, I need you back." Amanda pulled herself together mentally and then, knowing that Jesse would understand, and Mark too, she kissed him once more before watching him walk off down the path and out onto the road where he broke into a jog and headed off in the direction of the store.

. . . . . . . . . .

The building he had seen was still small, too small to make out, he had to walk faster. But that took energy and he didn't think he could make it that far. He stopped and looked around him. There was no real way to judge distances out here, wherever here was. Even stopping hurt if only because when he stopped he had to start up again. The sun was lower now in the sky but it didn't seem to be making much difference to the temperature. With another burst of sudden clarity he knew that he wasn't in California, that wherever he was the heat was going to be with him all night. Suddenly the small building seemed too far to travel. He carefully raised his left hand to his eyes, trying to cause a small shadow so that he could see around himself a little more clearly. His eye hurt, when he lifted his arm the skin on it split open and hurt, his back hurt, when he breathed his chest hurt, hell everything hurt. The rocks and hilly outcrops seemed a better bet; he could find shade there because as the sun did dip it would cause shadows to fall between them. That decision made, he turned in their direction and, mentally preparing himself for the pain to come, placed one foot in front of the other telling himself as he did so that, that was all it would take to get him to his destination.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Melosa wished that she could have stayed where she had been but it wasn't to be. She was a good shot, and had been practicing ever since Mando's death for her moment. If she hadn't killed Mark Sloan then let the landscape take care of him as it was taking care of his son. He would be lucky to survive out here in this godforsaken place.

The arrival of another man with a gun had startled her and she had aimed right for him. He was quick though, Melosa would give him that, and she didn't even want to think about how close to her car the bullets had come.

The dogs had whimpered and cried, not understanding but knowing that they were in danger. If he had hurt her babies, well there would have been another name on her list, even though she had no idea who he was.

Now she had to get back to Sloan. For a moment she felt just a twinge of regret. That woman, Denise Steiner, had said how handsome he was, how she would commit a crime just to have him arrest her. She had been right, he was handsome, devastatingly so. They would have looked real good together. Him, with his California tan, dark blonde hair and blue eyes, and her, with her dark colouring, jet black hair and eyes. Now though, he would be ready for her babies. He'd had longer than she'd planned on his own but there would be a good trail. He had been bleeding when she left him, and Dimi would find him, whichever direction he had taken, her beautiful faithful hound would find him for her.

She pulled a bottle of iced water out of the cooler on the passenger seat and flipped up the lid with one of her long red nails. Then she drank from it until almost half of it was gone before re-capping it and tossing it back into the box it came from. The entrance to the park wasn't that far away now and she didn't want to be prevented from entering. She pulled over to the side of the road and began to prepare herself, pulling her dark hair up and into a band before winding it round and around to form a makeshift bun. Once that was done she ferreted around in a bag in the well of the seat next to her and pulled out a lighter coloured wig. Not too light to look false, but light enough to throw someone off the scent. Realising what she had just thought Melosa put her head back and laughed aloud. The scent! She ran her hand across the soft head of her largest dog and blew him a kiss. Then, picking up the shirt, or what was left of it, she let him sniff at it until he let out a deep bark full of meaning and feeling.

When she had let Sloan out of the basement and placed him in the vehicle she had made sure that he would be in the same area that the dogs would occupy later. That way they were surrounded by his scent the entire time. Once he had been left in his new prison, the one with no walls, no manacles, no bars, just unending terrain, heat and no water, she had stopped about a half mile from the entranceway and run his shirt along the side of the road. Now, as she let the dogs loose, she knew that they would wait for her when the scent went cold. She could then pick them back up, and carry on. In the meantime, anyone checking wouldn't be looking for a brown haired woman with no dogs, just a black haired one with three of them.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The time seemed to drag by, the heat was almost unbearable, but he couldn't move him into the shade. Jesse had gone back into the house, thankful that he had been unable to lock the door, and got water for all of them. Amanda still looked as if she was relaxing on a cool California day. Not a hair was out of place and even the dust from the pathway seemed to have disappeared from the knees of her light brown pants.

They had drunk their fill and then carefully sponged Mark's face, letting just a little of the water drip onto his lips. Once again he began to check Mark's vital signs and as he did so he let out a sigh.

"He's getting worse isn't he?" Amanda's voice almost cracked as she spoke and she saw Jesse nod.

"Yeah. Amanda, what am I gonna do if he …" He stopped as Amanda gently touched his hand but never for a moment letting up on the pressure she was applying to her friend's wound.

"Shhh, he won't. Ron promised." She said it with such certainty, such fierce loyalty that, even though the FBI Agent had no specialised medical training to speak of, somehow it made all the difference, all the difference in the world.

As Jesse looked back down at his friend he realised that his breathing had gotten fainter and he felt his pulse, that too was weakening. He was just about to tell Amanda when he heard it, in the distance at first, but then gradually getting louder and louder, the sound of a helicopter. Jesse just hoped that it wasn't too little too late.

. . . . . . . . . .

The rocks were definitely getting nearer, there was no doubt now that if he looked up at them they were bigger, more defined than they had been just a little while before. He, though, was getting weaker and weaker. His lips were cracked and swollen, his tongue felt far too large for his mouth and he was no longer sweating. That, he knew, was a worry. The wound in his stomach which had seemed to disappear amidst all the other agonising injuries had begun to throb as he'd slipped on a small slope and crashed to the ground, jarring every bone in his body, including those which felt as if they couldn't take any more of anything.

As he looked down at his abdomen now he could see that, as well as the whole of his upper body being a very vivid red and with cuts from a scalpel across it, the wound, not that big in size, was oozing, and the liquid, which should be either clear or red, was neither but instead a yellowy, reasonably thick substance. He guessed that until he had hit it the pus had remained beneath the surface, gradually increasing in volume and taking a hold of that part of his body. Maybe it was just as well he had burst it open and he gingerly touched it, surprised both at the heat emanating from it and the pain just a fingertip could cause.

Gasping for air reminded him that even breathing was a luxury. The fall had increased the pain he felt in his chest, and he wasn't sure that he could actually survive another tumble, or at least not be able to get up and carry on should he suffer one.

For a moment all of his resolve, his clarity of mind deserted him. He felt as if he was unable to make a rational decision and that even if the decision was rational he wouldn't realise it. Again the indecision and anxiety arose within him. Should he be going in this direction? Maybe the other way was just as good. NO! The word, although not spoken surprised him. He had changed direction once already and it had cost him time. If he hadn't done that then right now he would be sitting on the rocks watching the sun going down and waiting for his dad to find him. Instead he was still walking, still hurting and still afraid.

He paused for a moment, the anxiety winning him over just a little and turned awkwardly so that he could look back the way he had come. As he did so he saw the sunlight reflect off a car windshield and for some reason his fear rose to new levels.

. . . . . . . . . .

The helicopter had landed, stirring up so much dust that Jesse was sure when it took off again there would be a totally bare piece of ground where it had been. The two men who had jumped out as soon as it touched down looked like Ron, only white. The suits, the shades even the phones were all the same.

"This isn't a medivac chopper." The closer of the two agents spoke to Jesse.

"We know that. But you are the best we have right now and he needs to get to the nearest hospital. Doctor Bentley will be going back with you. I'll wait here for Agent Wagner."

To their delight and surprise, as they spoke, a stretcher was unloaded from the helicopter and then very carefully, and as gently as they could, Jesse and Amanda laid Mark onto it. For a second Jesse took the hand of his friend and held it tightly knowing that there was a chance that he would never get the opportunity to do so again and praying he was wrong.

"Jesse, I'll stay in touch. I have my cell and I'll make sure that I find some place where I can call from. You've done all that you could do in this situation. It's only a half hour since he was shot. He will be ok." She smiled and then took Jesse's hand into her own as he finally let Mark's arm fall back onto the stretcher.

"I hope so. Tell him … tell …" He stopped. What did he want her to tell Mark Sloan? That he was sorry that he hadn't been in front of him so the bullet had hit him? That he was glad he was still alive, but it had been more by luck than judgement? That Steve was still out there but they would find him. No, what he really wanted her to say was don't you dare die, Mark, I need you, but he knew she couldn't so he just shook his head. "Tell him I said hi."

Amanda leant over and kissed Jesse gently on the cheek. She had seen the emotion as it washed across his face and knew the terrible feelings he was trying to chase away. She was doing the same thing herself. There was no way that she could tell her children that both Uncle Steve and Grandpa Mark had died and so there was no way that it was gonna happen.

With a final look at the small, non-descript house which had caused them all so much misery Amanda climbed aboard the helicopter and took the set of headphones which one of the FBI agents handed to her. As she carefully put them on she looked down, first at Jesse as the rotor blades mussed up his hair even more, and then at Mark, an oxygen mask now over his face, and hoped that time would be on their side.

. . . . . . . . . .

There was a car following him. But how? Nobody knew he was here. He didn't know he was here because he didn't know where here was. Stop it. Those thoughts just confuse you and you're confused enough already. His feet faltered on the stone and again he had to stop as both his mind and his body rebelled. A wave of nausea fought its way to the surface, making him gag and then cough, the blood splashing on his feet, pain causing his ribs to protest and at the same time his vision blurred and for a moment he could see nothing clearly.

He staggered forward, his arm out in front of him as he blindly felt his way. The car meant danger. He had to keep moving, but his body was telling him that there was no way it could keep taking those steps, those one step at a time steps, that he had been taking up 'til now. He pressed his fingers to his temples and tried to clear his mind. Gradually he felt that he might at least be able to see where he was going and so he looked up.

The rocky hills were suddenly there, just in front of him. They must have crept up on him because he knew that they were now easily accessible. As this knowledge buoyed him the silence of the early evening was split as a succession of barks reached his ears.