Chapter Six

Jesse had stood at the gateway to the house for about two minutes before the enforced inactivity got to him and he started back the way he'd come a little over ninety minutes before.

He had no idea what the temperature was but he knew that he was lucky. He had his shirt back, although already he could feel his skin hot and uncomfortable beneath its protective layer. He also had water, two large bottles of the stuff; Steve, he was sure, wasn't in such a fortunate position.

Ron had the forethought to call him from the general store to ask what type of supplies he should pick up. Jesse, shouting above the noise of the chopper as it took Mark and Amanda away, had told him to get all the liquids he could. Water, as well as sports drinks, things supplemented with electrolytes. He also thought to check if Ron could get, amongst other things, some of the small, battery-operated, hand-held fans and see if the store sold clothes. A shirt, some pants and a couple of hats. He didn't know what Ron would be able to get but he had a feeling that anything would probably be useful.

A car whizzed past him as he made his way along the road and he was sure that he saw a sheriff's uniform on one of the occupants. A minute or two later another one went past him, this time it slowed, just a little bit, and Jesse knew that the man closest to the sidewalk would recognise him again by the way he had stared.

The noise of a helicopter above him startled Jesse; he looked wildly about and almost sent himself spiralling into the street right in front of the vehicle that Ron was driving. It screeched to a halt and the passenger side door flew open.

"Jeez, Travis, one of these days you are gonna kill yourself. Get in the truck!" The words were almost spat out and Jesse prepared himself for a roasting as he did as he was told, but no sooner had he closed the door than Ron floored the accelerator pedal and followed the others.

Once they were back in the speeding convoy Ron turned to his companion, "I've got three cars entering the national park this way, they left twenty minutes ago, two search and rescue helicopters are out and there are three other vehicles going in on various popular routes. We're picking up a chopper on the outskirts of town."

"Wow! You Fed's sure move fast when you have to, huh? And I'm betting that you were the one responsible for a stretcher and oxygen supply on an ordinary 'copter."

"Well, yeah, I figured they had them available and we needed 'em. Was I right?"

"You might just have saved his life, or at least given him the chance to have it saved." Jesse was smiling now, enormously cheered by the news that Ron gave him. Finally things were moving, and better than that, he was moving with them.

. . . . . . . . . .

The sound of the dogs had frozen him to the spot and for a moment he hadn't known what to do next. This wasn't the right place for dogs. They would be hungry, thirsty. He didn't know why but he knew they were following him. He wished he had food and water maybe that way they would stay and help him out. Protect him.

No, that wasn't right … They were after him ... Someone was after him and they had dogs ... He didn't like dogs … and usually they didn't like him much either … Bob … he'd had a dog called Bob … His thoughts were getting difficult to control, what had he been thinking about …? Dogs … Bob … They hadn't had him for long, just a day or two while Jesse found him a new home, but he'd been a cool dog.

Not very fast, and his ears would get burnt on the hot stones … Bob's … BBQ … Did Bob like BBQ …? Why was he here …? What was he doing? He was going somewhere … Over the hill … that was it. He was going over the hill because … no, he didn't know … yes he did. He was going over the hill because … because the person with the dogs was hunting for him and he couldn't be found. That was it! He'd finally remembered ... He had to keep himself out of sight and get away from the person with the dogs. He caught his breath and began to cough. The sound of it echoed and the pain it caused made him stop walking and his feet throbbed and burnt as he stood still. The phlegm had blood in it … it always had blood in it now.

His world was quiet again even the faint sound of barking seemed to have stopped; it had been quiet ever since he'd arrived … except for that snake. He shivered. The snake hadn't been cool. He didn't like snakes either, in fact he hated snakes. All the time he was thinking he was climbing … why was he climbing? The terrain had begun to rise and he was rising with it … It was hot, so why wasn't he sweating? He knew that he had cuts on his back, deep painful cuts which hurt real bad. Earlier, when he had been on the sand, the sweat had made them hurt even more, but that had stopped. He would ask his dad when he met him on the other side of the hill … He'd know, he knew everything. He would even know where he was, even though he had no idea himself.

Suddenly his ears pricked up, he could hear the dogs again and knew they were getting nearer, but he could hear another sound. He thought it was a helicopter, and it was coming closer and closer. He had to get away from it. If they could see him then the dogs would see him … she would see him … Melosa would find him and Melosa wanted to kill his dad … His dad was on the other side of the hill and he couldn't let him be killed.

He was quite high up now, the air was thinner … or maybe he was just out of condition. He staggered as he went to take the next step and his left arm banged against the stone and he paused for a moment to rest his head against it but it wasn't cool as he had hoped but warm, hot even and it made his head throb even more than his feet. He couldn't remember ever feeling this weak before ... He couldn't even walk in a straight line. He had to get away from the chopper … from the car … from the dogs ... had to save his dad. He carefully and painfully took another three steps up the slope and saw that the rocks to one side went round in a curve in front of him and as he turned the corner he realised that he was at a dead end.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Ok, don't get too close, but make sure that you keep an eye on him … I wish I could tell you, light in colour but it was dusty, it might even have been white once … Ok, just stop any vehicles that don't belong to us. Yeah, me too."

Ron forced his eyes to stare through the glare of the sun, which even at this point in the day was still strong enough to hamper his view. His shades were in his jacket but he didn't have time to fumble for them. He could see a dot in the sky; in fact he could see two dots, which way should the chopper go? Which one was the search and rescue team that had found Steve?

"This is FBI Special Agent Ron Wagner …" Ron paused as the voice of another agent crackled in his earpiece. "What is the heading of the chopper over Sloan's position …? Yeah, I got it, thanks."

"Where, where is he?" Jesse was scanning the area, his sunglasses keeping most of the glare out of his eyes, and wishing that he was in one of the helicopters in front of him.

"The dot to the left."

"How high up is he?"

"About half way but he's in a sort of dead end type of place. The only way he can get out is to come back down or pull himself up to the next level and then carry on climbing. I'm just hoping that he doesn't do that before we get him."

"He won't." Jesse's voice showed not only his certainty but his worry as well.

"You seem awfully confident about that."

"You saw those pictures. He has a dislocated shoulder; his back is covered in wounds from a whip. He won't be able to get up there… I just hope we get to him before the dogs."

. . . . . . . . . .

The helicopters had come again … he had to protect his men, his platoon. The snipers could take out all of them … his fault … it would be his fault. He turned to see where they had gone … where were they? Had he not heard the shots … were they dead? It was his turn … No! He wasn't ready to die … not here; not so far from home … he wanted to be home. He could see them … he had to get away.

A hill, he was on a hill … but it was so hot, so dry … why was the air dry? They would see him … he had to get to low ground … go back the way he came. The whirring noise got louder; there was more than one of them. How could he have missed them coming? "Dad … I'm sorry … I'm so sorry." The tears fell down his cheeks as he tried to make his way back the way he had come but his feet wouldn't move, couldn't move ... God help him, he was too scared to move.

Why did he have to move? It was a nice place; he could stay here and … and what? He tried to take in a lungful of air but the action made him cough and once again he saw the blood tinged spittle hit the ground. Dad … Dad would be here soon. He could rest 'til then … that would be good … he'd rest. Without thinking he leant back against the rock and the pain from his back caused him to stumble forward and this time it was his right arm which hit the solid surface.

"Arghhh!" There was no echo this time. Just the agonising pain from his shoulder joining forces with the torture of each breath and the fire in his back and feet causing his legs to give way beneath him and he fell, hitting the ground hard.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Up there." Ron pointed with his sunglasses which he had finally taken out of his pocket.

"Oh great. And I'm only little!" Jesse grumbled a bit and then concentrated again on the scene before him.

"The way up is there, see, the slope starts off quite gently but then after a while it steepens and before you know it you're quite high." Ron considered for a moment. He reckoned that, finally, they were about thirty minutes from Sloan's position on foot. The search and rescue helicopter had backed off a little as Steve had gotten very anxious when he could see and hear it. The pilot had tried to call out that they were friends but Steve had become disoriented and distressed, he had staggered around almost looking as if he was trying to climb back down. It had been decided to call the chopper off until it was needed. The other search team and the 'copter which he and Jesse had travelled in had both gone off to search for Melosa Arriaga and her dogs.

"I would have suggested that one of us went this way and the other tried to get around behind him, but if you're certain that he can't climb to the next level then I'll stay with you." They had been lowered to the ground in slings because it was too risky to be dropped any higher up. Now though, they were about to start their ascent.

"You can count on it. He couldn't do it if his life depended on it. Which I sincerely hope it doesn't." The last sentence was almost a whisper but Ron heard every word and agreed completely.

"Right, follow me." Ron hauled a rucksack over his shoulders and Jesse resisted the temptation to laugh. Somehow a city suit and a backpack didn't quite go together.

The heat was oppressive and Jesse took a swig from his water bottle before beginning to stride out behind his friend and colleague. He felt vaguely ridiculous in his new floppy hat with a triangular bandage tied bandana-like around his neck but he knew that without sun screen, which none of them had thought to bring, it was the best he could do.

The climb at first wasn't too arduous and Jesse realised they were lucky that Steve had walked in this direction. Some of the rocky outcrops rose almost vertically for hundreds of feet, either straight off the ground or after a slow start. This climb however, looked as if it would be one he could complete without having to ask for a hand up from his taller companion.

After fifteen minutes Ron paused to have a drink and looked around wondering how long he would have to wait for Travis to catch up. He didn't want to wait too long, but he needed the water and he also didn't want to find Steve alone if he was as disoriented as the last report had indicated. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the younger man was only a minute or two at most behind him.

. . . . . . . . . .

For a while after he hit the ground he had neither the energy nor the inclination to move any part of him, but finally the awkwardness of his position began to cause more pain than he was able to stand and so he began the process of trying to make himself a little more comfortable.

He looked wearily through one nearly completely closed eye and one which was almost shut due to exhaustion and irritation from the sand earlier in his journey and concentrated on which part of him to put through the torment first.

His feet were burning and bleeding but at least at the moment there was no weight on them and slowly he realised that from there upwards only his knees and his head didn't have something major wrong with them. Carefully he placed his forehead on the ground, ignoring the heat which was everywhere, and then focused on pushing on his knees until he was if not on all fours then as close to it as he was going to manage. He pushed his good arm onto the pathway and used it to help him into a kneeling position. From there it was easy, or as easy as anything got right now, to sit on his bottom.

That was better, now if he leant carefully backwards and just rested his head against the rock … ahh, he closed his eyes gratefully and so didn't see the shadow cast by the animal just around the bend in the rock from where he was.

. . . . . . . . . .

Draining the entire bottle of water Ron recapped it and reached round to push it back into his backpack.

"Hey, that stuff doesn't just fall out of the sky y'know." Jesse smiled at him and, slowing down to a stop for a moment, wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

Ron said nothing, staring at the doctor instead.

"So, how does the eye in the sky think we're doing? Is it much further?" Jesse took a swig of water himself before pouring some of the liquid over his hair and the bandage-bandana around his neck.

"About the same again as we've already travelled. Sloan must be fitter than I thought." There was an admiration in his voice which wasn't lost on Jesse but he knew Ron was wrong.

"I would imagine he was on automatic pilot. He would know how much danger he was in, his one focus would be to get out of it. That can keep you moving, and fast, however hurt you are."

"Adrenaline?" Ron sounded quizzical.

"Yeah, that and a will to survive. He swapped the water bottle to his left hand and his medical bag to his right as he spoke, making himself ready to begin the ascent once more.

"D'you wanna take the lead for a while? That way we won't scare him when we get there."

Jesse grinned, knowing that he was winning the respect of a man he himself respected greatly, and then nodded his head.

"Well then, Doctor, after you."

. . . . . . . . . .

It was wonderful to be able to sit out on the deck and not have to worry about anything. His dad would be home soon and he'd make the dinner. Already he could taste the 'burgers with everything' and the fries. There would be a salad, of course, but he didn't know if he would have any of that and ice-cream, chocolate chip ice-cream. To drink he would have ice cold beer right out of the refrigerator where there would be another one waiting for him should he want it.

He heard a noise, it sounded like a low throaty growl and slowly he opened his tired, gritty eyes and looked around him. Where was the deck? The sand and the sea? Where had it all gone? For a moment he was disoriented and then he heard the noise again. "Bob? Is that you, Bob? What d'you find on the beach this time?" He tried a smile and held out his hand. The animal moved a little closer and then seemed to take flight. The next moment his world exploded in pain.

. . . . . . . . . .

The world had been quiet apart from their breathing ever since he had taken over the lead. The flash of a lizard as it rushed across the path in front of him had startled Jesse but apart from that they had been uninterrupted in their quest.

Suddenly a vulture rose into the sky and at that moment a scream rang out which filled him with dread. "Steve!" Jesse raced away from Ron; he only had one way he could go, so there was no possibility of making a mistake. The path stretched out before him and he shot up it before having to jam on his brakes as he took in the sight which met his eyes.

Steve was lying on the ground with a dog standing over him and attacking from the left while another one was pulling at some material on his right arm.

"Hey!" Jesse yelled at them and threw his water bottle at the two beasts. It struck the one who had straddled Steve hard on the back of the head and just for a second it paused, but its kill was too valuable and after that Jesse was ignored.

The growling of the dogs was awful but suddenly there was another sound and the first dog slumped over Steve's body. The second one, seeing its pack member fall whimpered and, with what tail it had, firmly between its legs, backed away but once it was at what it considered to be a safe distance it growled and bared it teeth again. The gun fired once more and the other dog fell. Jesse was on the move the moment he knew it was dead and he pulled on the original corpse needing to get to his friend to save him.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Jeez, Steve, I don't need the practice, y'know? A quiet day in the country without the first aid would be just fine." He knew he was talking more to keep himself calm than anything else but maybe, just maybe, his friend could hear him and if so maybe, just maybe, it would help.

"At least he isn't sweating too much, that's got to be good, hasn't it?" Ron had moved the two carcasses out of the area they were in. The scavengers would be vying for position soon and he didn't want to have to shoot at something that was native to this area such as a vulture or a mountain lion.

"No, it isn't. That worries me more than any of the other injuries, and God knows he's got enough of them. No sweating means heatstroke and you can die of that alone." As he spoke Jesse pulled another bottle out of his backpack and, placing a finger over the open top to diffuse the water, began to pour it over his friend.

"His breathing is compromised, his pulse is fast and thready, his temperature is 108. I also know he has a dislocated shoulder, a back and stomach full of infected wounds and possibly a punctured lung. I hope you called that chopper because if we don't get him to a hospital STAT we're gonna lose him." Jesse's words were grim and his face was set in a deep frown. Ron pushed the earphone closer to his ear and began to shout a second message into the mouthpiece.

"This is FBI Special Agent Ron Wagner, where the hell's that chopper? We have Sloan, I repeat, we have Sloan. We need to airlift him out of here right now. Alert the hospital en route." Ron paused for a moment and then looked at Jesse. "What can I do?"

Jesse thought carefully, looked first at the tall man standing over him and then at his friend on the ground. "You could massage his legs. It should be all of him, but I think that his arms and body will have to go without." He watched as Ron crouched down and, carefully taking the leg with only half its pants on, began to press his fingers into the muscles carefully but firmly. "That's great. Ok, Steve. Let's see what we have here. I'm guessing you were pretty pleased with yourself when you rigged this up, huh?" Jesse was undoing the makeshift sling, which the second dog had been pulling at, as he spoke and as he carefully removed it he let out a gasp. Ron looked up and both of them could see that the wrist of Steve's right arm, where it had been rubbing against the harsh material of his pants leg, was raw and weeping in places. There were fibres and dirt in it and Jesse could see that it was infected. It was difficult to determine whether Steve's temperature was going to stay high once the heat stroke was under control or not, but right now Jesse would put money on it doing so.

The first dog to die had left a nasty wound on Steve's left shoulder and Jesse poured a little of the water over it, knowing that it would be sterilized and either stitched or glued at the hospital, but wanting to flush it out as infection was so rife in his friend's body. As he did so Steve shuddered and coughed and Jesse watched in horror as blood trickled out of his mouth.

Jesse listened intently to his friend's chest, and then, his face even more serious than it had been; he looked towards Ron and shook his head.

"What? What just happened?"

"He has a hemothorax, possibly a pneumothorax. I would rather wait until I can get him to an ER before I go in. He's in enough trouble as it is. Dirt in a deliberately inflicted wound I can do without."

"What's the difference? I'm guessing they're both serious." Ron carried on massaging Steve's leg but listened as Jesse began to explain.

"A hemothorax is common after a chest wall injury and it just means that he has blood in the chest. A pneumothorax is air in the pleural space. They can be linked and probably are in this case." He wiped his hand across his brow as he finished speaking. "What happened to those fans?"

"I'll get you one." Ron stopped what he was doing so he could open his backpack and Jesse felt Steve's pulse again before carefully laying his arm down by his side. As he did so Steve took a shuddering breath and became completely still.

. . . . . . . . . .

Amanda was sure that she knew every ceiling and floor tile in the ER Department of the Desert Oasis Hospital in Las Vegas. Mark had been in surgery it seemed like forever although she knew it was only just over the hour. Ron's phone had rung out when she tried him and now she was afraid to call him back in case it was the wrong moment, afraid to leave the hallway outside the OR in case they finished working on Mark and afraid to even think about Steve in case the unthinkable had happened.

Finally, unable to put one foot in front of the other any longer, she found her way to an empty chair next to the vending machine, rested her forehead against the cold metal and closed her eyes, just for a minute.

"Hey." The voice was soft, as was the finger which gently ran down her cheek.

"Ron!" Amanda looked round not knowing what had happened or where she was, but as it came back to her she leapt to her feet. "Steve … where's Steve and Mark, did they finish with Mark yet?"

"Shhhh. They're still working on Mark. Jesse is in with Steve. We found him."

"In time? Did you find him in time?" Amanda's eyes were full of tears as she looked into Ron's face and he took hold of her hand tightly as he replied.

"I don't honestly know."