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THE PRESENT
"You were not offended by Mister Webb's open uneasiness at your appearance?"
"At that moment I was too embarrassed. I had confused him with Harriet!"
"But nevertheless it can't be easy to be confronted with such behavior. And you mentioned you were hurt when he stared at you after you had removed your prosthesis."
"It always hurts. As I said: It's not always good when people forget. But ... he was obviously a good deal embarrassed himself that he had reacted like that. Especially in the morning. And to be honest..."
"Yes?"
"At that point it had been two and a half years since I had stepped on that landmine. I had had a lot of time to come to terms with my injury and its consequences. And that was hard enough. There were days I didn't even want to look at my leg ... and days I couldn't tear my eyes away. It wasn't easy for me - or Harriet, my friends - to handle such a ... major change in my life. Some did it better some ... not so well."
"You're thinking of your father."
"Yes. Yes. But what I wanted to say was ... Mister Webb wasn't the first person who didn't know how to deal with my handicap and he will not be the last. Besides ... I know that before I lost my leg ... the thought of spending a night in the same bed as an amputee would have been scaring. Of course that's totally ridiculous - it - it isn't infectious or something like that but ... it's true. And I think there are few people who can honestly deny having a similar feeling - at least at first. I was just lucky to have a family - and friends - who learned very quickly."
"So ... what happened next?"
"Well, it turned out the Parker's were already up but we postponed breakfast and dug the car out first. It had snowed more than two feet in the night - where the snow wasn't piled up - and although Mister Webb had cleared a first path by the time I had finished in the bathroom it took almost an hour to free it completely and clean the windows from ice."
"Did you try to talk to Mr. Webb about what had happened?"
"No. I mean he was still ... Mister Webb. We had never been good at talking with each other. And those other problems - JAG and the colonel and the commander - still existed."
"You had breakfast in the store before you started back to Washington, hadn't you?"
"Yes. The Parker's open early. And I must say that espresso-machine was really good."
THE PAST: January 2005
- The little village in the Appalachian Mountains
"You want another cup, young man?"
"No, thank you, Mrs. Parker - Beth. It's really good but no." Bud smiled at the old woman. But they had already paid for the night and he was getting eager to go. A feeling Webb seemed to share, considering the way he was tapping on the counter.
"Yes, one of the few things I actually agree with my daughter. And you wouldn't believe how many people here stop by just for a cup of cappuccino or latte macchiato or whatever these terrible strange names might be. Ah - there is Jack, finally. Jack, you know these young men want to go back to their families. What on earth took you so long?"
"I've been younger before, Beth, now haven't I?" Parker grumbled good-naturedly as he stamped snow off his boots before coming in. "I've talked to Ted, young man, and everything is settled, yes, it is. He will tow your car as soon as possible and bring it to the address you've given that's no problem, not at all. He loves driving around in his trucks."
"Oh, thank you, that's great." Bud sighed relieved.
"But Ted has talked to Eddy - Eddy drives the snowplow, you know," continued Parker, shaking his head, "- and Eddy said the road down to Washington is blocked by a tree. It happens very often in winter, doesn't it, Beth, and Ted said that Eddy said that they will not be able to start clearing it before noon. They've got to get the right tools and -"
"Oh, Jack Parker, come to the point!" interrupted Beth Parker impatiently; just in time to make Webb and Bud shut their mouths again. She smiled at them. "Don't worry; if you don't want to wait until the direct road is free you can take the longer way to the other side. It's very easy: You follow the road uphill and turn right at the second crossing. Then drive simply straight ahead into the next village. From there you can follow the signs. Just take care in the turns; they are very narrow sometimes."
"Thank you, we'll do that." Webb got up from his chair and put his long overcoat on.
Bud quickly did the same and extended his hand. "Yes, thank you again."
"Not at all, not at all. It was nice to have some guests."
The bell above the door jingled one last time as they left their safe haven and walked over to the car. Halfway there Webb's cell phone rang. Bud just rolled his eyes and got into the passenger's seat while the agent took the call. It was chilly inside and he closed his coat a bit higher. The next second Webb slipped behind the steering wheel and shoved his cell in the middle section of the dashboard. A Jeep(TM) drove by just as he put on some gloves.
"Isn't that this strange man we saw in the store yesterday?" Bud bent forward and caught the dark look the sandy-haired driver was giving them. "He doesn't seem to be in better mood this morning."
"Does it matter?" Webb maneuvered carefully into the path of the snowplow and accelerated behind the other car. He fiddled around with the heating because the windshield steamed up.
Sighing inwardly Bud turned and looked out of the window. The last houses of the village stayed behind and they drove through a real winter wonderland under an immaculate blue sky. Snow was hanging in thick layers in trees and bushes, covered the ground like a soft blanket, glittering almost painfully in the bright sunlight.
"Can you get me my sunglasses from the glove compartment?"
Bud started slightly at Webb's abrupt question.
"Sure. Wait ... here."
"Thanks."
Webb picked the glasses out of Bud's hand without taking his eyes off the road ahead and the back of the Jeep(TM), still driving in front of them. They made the first switchbacks into the forest. On one occasion Bud looked up in time to get a glimpse at the driver, glaring back down at them. Then the other car accelerated hard - and rather dangerously considering the condition of the road - and the distance grew. He shook his head. That was really some ill-tempered fellow.
Several minutes passed in silence. The heating was now working at full capacity and both men opened their coats. Webb pulled his gloves off. After about half an hour they reached the first crossing the Parker's had mentioned and headed further up. High trees covered the slope that started to flatten out a bit. The other car finally disappeared from sight. Some more turns and the road crossed a clearing. Its snow-covered bushes looked like a gathering of snowmen. Bud glanced at Webb as the first trees came nearer.
"How long will it take to get to Washington? What do you mean?"
"I've got no idea."
"Well, Harriet should have called in by now and reported that I landed in the ditch but it would be nice if we-"
A small hole appeared in the windshield with a sharp crack, immediately followed by a second one. Bud involuntarily cried out as the car swerved for a second due to Webb's surprised jerk and skidded along the high snow to the right. Everything shook wildly back and forth then came to an abrupt halt. Bud blinked confused as a third hole accompanied the first two in the glass.
"DOWN! GET DOWN!"
Webb practically leaped sideways into Bud's lap, grabbed the younger man's collar and pulled with all his strength. And just as Bud's face hit Webb's hip he finally made the connection between the holes and the harsh sound of a hunting rifle echoing across the snow.
"Oh God!"
Bud tried to duck deeper as a forth bullet pierced the windshield and went into the driver's seat just above his head. Webb shoved and hammered at the right door but found it blocked by snow. He cursed violently, working blindly to unfasten their seat belts at the same time.
"Open my door! Roberts! Open my door! We must get out of here!"
A fifth shot. Bud fumbled with trembling fingers at the handle of the driver's door until it finally sprang open. Kicking against it Webb scrambled backwards, somehow made it out of the car and cowered behind the thin metal. A bullet cracked the window. Bud pushed forward, Webb pulled and together they half crawled, half jumped towards the back of the car and rolled behind it. A shot zinged off the side, missing them by inches. Gasping they ducked against the rear bumper.
"So that's the reason why you're up here? Someone's trying to kill you?" Bud screamed almost hysterically.
"No! I don't know! Roberts, I didn't know this could happen!" Webb pulled out his weapon and patted frantically over his pockets. Suddenly a look of horror was on his face. "Darn it!"
Bud's eyes shot towards the car. He saw again Webb shoving his cell phone in the dashboard and groaned. "And now?"
Webb gritted his teeth and poked his head around the corner. "Maybe I can-" A shot hit the car with a sharp bang and he jerked back. Bud grabbed his arm and pulled him down.
"Watch it!" He blinked and stared, his eyes growing wide. "W-what is that?"
Webb followed his gaze and swallowed hard. Carefully he picked at the cut in his right sleeve just below the shoulder. His fingertips showed no trace of blood.
"Must have been one of the first shots." His voice shook slightly. About as much as Bud's hands. For a moment they just looked at each other, both aware how close it had been. Then Webb turned abruptly and sat back against the car.
After hesitating for a split second Bud did the same. He took a deep calming breath. It was quiet now that the shooting had stopped. Almost peaceful. The cover of ice and snow on the road they had come up sparkled in the sunlight. Involuntarily one waited for a sleigh with happily jingling bells. Bud shook his head at his own ridiculous thoughts. At his side Webb suddenly narrowed his eyes and pointed down the road.
"You see those bushes over there? To the right? Leading to the edge of the forest?"
"Yes?"
"It's no real shelter but at least we would be out of sight for most of the distance from the road to the trees. A moving target is harder to hit anyway; here we are not more than sitting ducks. What do you think, can you get there if I give you cover?" Webb glanced at the younger man and actually blushed. "I mean ... uhm ... can you run? Walk fast?"
Bud stared at the bushes and the wide open road that led towards them. Ten yards. Right now they looked like ten miles. He gulped. But before he could say anything a sharp call cut through the air.
"HEY! HEY, DOWN THERE!"
They tensed and moved closer to the back of the car, holding their breath. Quickly the echo of the shout died away to silence. Bud didn't dare more than whisper.
"You know who this is? Or why he's trying to kill you?"
Webb snorted. "I didn't even know the threat against my life is up again. I thought it was settled - as much as things like that can ever be settled."
"'As much as things like that can ever be settled'?"
"Listen, Bud-"
"HEY! HEY, NAVY! AT A LOSS FOR WORDS?"
They stared at each other in bewilderment. "Navy?" mouthed Webb incredulously. Bud just shook his head in wide-eyed confusion.
"WHAT IS IT, NAVY? YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU'D GET ME THAT EASY? THAT I WOULDN'T NOTICE HOW YOU FOLLOWED ME? STUPID, NAVY, REALLY STUPID!"
Webb glared at Bud then drew in a deep breath. "LISTEN, WHOEVER YOU ARE, THIS IS A MISUNDERSTANDING! WE WERE JUST TRYING TO GET HOME! THE OTHER ROAD TO WASHINGTON IS BLOCKED WE WERE NOT FOLLOWING YOU!"
The stranger laughed. "YEAH, SURE! YOU JUST WALKED IN ON ME IN PARKER'S STORE, DIDN'T YOU? NCIS IN CIVVIES AND A LIEUTENANT COMMANDER LAWYER! BY COINCIDENCE! HOW DID YOU FIND ME AFTER ALL THESE YEARS?"
"Roberts, is there something you want to tell me?"
"No! I don't know what he means I haven't heard of any other cases up here!"
Webb rolled his eyes and huffed. He got to his knees. "LOOK ... STAN ... WE'VE GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! I'M NOT NCIS! I'M NOT EVEN IN THE NAVY! AND ROBERTS IS WORKING ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CASE! WE GOT STUCK IN THE SNOW AND THAT'S ALL!" He took a breath. "NOTHING HAS HAPPENED SO FAR. WHY - WHY DON'T WE JUST GO IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS AND FORGET ABOUT IT?"
Silence.
"STAN?" Webb called again then cursed and looked around hectically. "Darn it, he's moving! Go! GO!"
Bud suddenly found himself jerked to his feet and reacted blindly to the shove he got, took off down the road in a clumsy gallop. Fear and adrenalin made him move faster than ever after the loss of his leg. In his back Webb's gun barked rapidly. Bud didn't know if the other man had seen movement or if it was just an attempt to force their attacker down to the ground. He whirled his arms even wilder through the air and if it was by sheer luck or the help of some guardian angel ... he not once stumbled or slipped until he reached the bushes. And absolutely inappropriate the thought popped into his head that Commander Turner would be very proud of him now.
A new round of shots erupted and involuntarily he looked back as he turned and jumped into the snow, seeing Webb still standing by the car, aiming uphill. The next second he landed flat on his face as the deep snow caught hold of him like thousand tentacles. Cursing Bud struggled with hands and feet, rowed forward in the white mass to reach at least the treacherous shelter of the first bush. Pushing back up he started wading through the knee-deep snow... But within the first steps he felt the dreaded twist of his prosthesis and cried out in pain, almost falling again.
"No! God, no!"
The pain of the wrong pressure against his stump flashed through his entire body as he struggled to get on. He heard more shots from Webb, suddenly mixed with the unmistakable sharp cracking of the rifle and tried to hobble forward on one foot, dragging his right leg behind. It was impossible. A dead grip closed around his elbow and he gasped terrified.
"Bud! You're hit?"
"No - no!" He almost sobbed with frustration and relief. "My prosthesis ... shifted..."
Webb hissed a curse. In one fluid motion he shoved his gun in a pocket and pulled Bud's arm over his shoulder, wrapped his own around the younger man's waist. But their legs were trapped in the heavy wet snow, causing them to sway dangerously. Open fear was in Webb's eyes as he looked back.
"Can't you fix the damn thing?"
"Not without-" Bud lost his balance and clung to Webb's coat, dragging him down with him, "-letting my pants down."
A bullet whizzed through the bushes and they ducked although it missed them by far.
"Oh, for heaven's - get on my back!"
"W-what?"
"Damn it, Roberts!"
Bud gulped and threw his arms around Webb's neck, pulling himself up. He felt the other man's hands hook under his knees or what was left of them, his effort to keep upright in the hindering snow. The distance to the safety of the trees seemed endless. Pulling one leg out, then the other, then the first again Webb struggled slowly forward. Within seconds his breath was coming in short labored gasps. Another shot. Bud involuntarily cowered tighter against Webb's shoulders. His heart seemed to miss a beat. The spy coughed breathlessly.
"Don't - strangle - me - will - you?"
The next moment he sunk in over his knees and all Bud could do was to hang on for dear life. He felt his shoes dragging over and through the white surface. Finally shifting his grip he prayed silently the prosthesis would stay on as Webb fought to escape the cold trap, plowed through the snow, nearer to the bushes. How he managed to move at all was inexplicable to Bud. Precious seconds ticked by until Webb had finally crossed the snowdrift and stamped on in stubborn resolve. Bud tried to make himself as light as possible. He didn't dare to look over his shoulder but his back muscles tensed in fearful anticipation. And suddenly the trees were within arm's reach.
Webb sounded ready to collapse at any second now but lowered his head and pushed blindly into the snow-covered branches. Snow rained down on them, crept into their collars. Small branches whipped across their faces although Bud held out an arm to shield them. Webb's feet got caught in something on the ground and he went down on his knees. His groan mingled with Bud's hiss of pain as the prosthesis bumped against his stump. The bullet that would have hit him squarely in the back otherwise went unnoticed over their heads.
Staggering back up Webb somehow continued to force a way through the first line of bushes and lower trees. A thick branch almost swept Bud off his back, scratching their skin. More ice showered down then they were through and Webb stumbled again as the resistance suddenly vanished. Old leaves, dry and frozen, crunched loudly under his wet shoes. The high trees had kept off much of the storm last night and the snow on the ground wasn't more than mere two hands high. Suddenly walking was almost easy in comparison with the clearing. Shoving Bud a tiny bit higher up his back Webb stamped a good deal downhill more than once skidding and nearly falling. In a flat hollow he finally came to a trembling halt.
Shakily Bud dropped down to the ground and hopped as good as possible on his left foot. Glancing worriedly at Webb - who had ripped his coat open and rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air - and back up at the edge of the forest he fumbled with numb fingers at his belt, cursing helplessly.
"Goddamn thing, now go...!"
Finally the buckle gave way and he shoved his pants down, ignoring the chilly temperature. His fingers slipped on the shaft of his prosthetic right leg. Entangled in his clothes and the snow it refused to move. He cursed again, wobbling dangerously and suddenly Webb was kneeling in front of him, still panting hard.
"Here - let me - how-?"
There was no hesitation in Webb's hands now as they pulled and shoved together at the uncooperative prosthesis. Bud dug his nails in the other man's shoulder. A sharp jerk. Involuntarily he breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure against his stump returned to normal. Webb was already roughly wiggling his pants back up.
"Comeoncomeoncomeon!"
Zipping his pants with flying fingers Bud stumbled forward. Branches cracked under his boots. Webb's hand had closed around his arm, half supporting him, half dragging him through the snow. He glanced hectically over his shoulder. Stumbling and sliding they hurried deeper between the trees and downhill.