Chapter Nine: Search and Rescue

Jesse turned back from the doorway to find Amanda hovering anxiously over Steve, who was propped up on his elbow, determination warring with the pain and anxiety written on his countenance. Those strained blue eyes held Jesse's as the young doctor returned to his friend's side.

"Jesse?" The hoarse voice was compelling, and, with a sigh of resignation, Jesse abandoned the futile attempt to convince Steve to allow himself to be transported to the hospital.

"Mark really should be back by now," he admitted quietly. "It's going to be getting dark soon. If we're going to look for him, we should do it now."

The three friends exchanged glances, each recognizing that, with the approach of twilight, the situation had reached a critical juncture. As the shadows lengthened along the trails through the forest, the odds of safely navigating through the hazards planted by Cletus were greatly diminished. Which meant that, even if Mark had not already fallen prey to one of the traps, his chances of returning uninjured were decreasing. And if they were to mount any type of search for him, they needed to do so before the increasing darkness put the rescuers in jeopardy as well. They really couldn't afford to wait any longer.

"I'll go with you," Amanda said, moving to repack the medical bag.

Flicking a glance at Steve, Jesse suggested, "Maybe you should stay here . . ." He hated the idea that Steve would be left to worry about his father without the support of either of his friends. And, on a more practical note, if Steve's condition should worsen to the point that immediate transport was necessary, he knew that the EMTs would be incapable of overriding the detective's stubborn refusal to leave.

"Take one of the medics," Steve said shortly. They glanced at him in surprise, wondering at his acceptance that Amanda should remain with him. Steve met their eyes, his own grimly determined. "Just in case you need help getting Dad back." The unspoken thought that Mark might be in no condition to walk back on his own hovered over them in a dark cloud of dread.

"Good idea," Jesse replied briskly, shaking off the moment of silence engendered by the recognition of the implications of Steve's comment. He turned to the EMTs; after a quick discussion, one of them was elected to accompany Jesse while the other remained at the cabin.

"We'll stay in contact by radio," Jesse stated, as he and the medic prepared to leave. "That way we can keep in touch just in case Mark shows up on his own."

As the rescue party hastened out the door, Steve collapsed back onto the cot, his already-depleted resources now completely drained. He couldn't quite suppress the small hiss of pain as he jarred his injuries, and Amanda turned her concerned attention to him, automatically stretching out a comforting hand, hesitating as, like Mark before her, she tried to find a spot where the intended touch would not cause further pain. She settled for gently rubbing a small spot on his arm, as she checked the portable monitor that was registering his vital signs. Seeing that they were relatively stable, and observing the deep creases of pain in her friend's face, she reached for the vial of morphine and prepared to inject a further dose into his IV. As she readied the syringe, however, she was surprised to feel Steve's hand on her arm, halting her.

"No," he ordered, his voice weak but steady. "I don't want any more meds."

"But, Steve, it'll help with the pain," Amanda protested. Steve shook his head.

"No. If you give me any more, I won't be able to stay awake."

"Steve, that's a good thing," Amanda said persuasively. "You need to rest. It's bad enough that you won't let us take you to the hospital; it's important that you don't overtax your system any further."

"I'm not doing anything taxing," he replied with a trace of bitterness; "I'm just lying here. But I need to know what's happening with Dad. I don't want to leave and I don't want to pass out until I know what's happened to him." He looked up at her, seeing the concern and stress in her face, and realized that she, too, was worried – about both him and his father. Softening his tone, he pleaded, "Please, Amanda. I can handle the pain. I can't handle not knowing about Dad."

Unable to resist that appeal, not wanting to add to the mental strain that she knew he was enduring, she reluctantly complied. She did the best she could to make him comfortable, brought him some water to drink, and maintained a careful watch on his condition. She was pleased to see that, after the drink, he settled back with eyes closed. She could tell by his pulse, and the way his eyes flickered back open occasionally, that he was still awake, but at least he was resting.

Steve lay on the cot, fighting the sedative effects of the morphine and his own weakness. Never particularly enamored of prolonged periods of waiting, he found such inactivity absolutely intolerable when his father was in trouble. To lie here helplessly while his father was missing and presumably injured was a worse torment than any he had experienced during his captivity. He desperately wanted to join in the search for Mark, but knew that, in his current condition, he couldn't even walk unaided to the door, much less participate in an effective search. Frustrated and desperate, he was determined to stay awake until Mark was located, but he found himself floating in and out of a type of waking doze, his conscious fears segueing seamlessly into nightmarish visions of his father lying bleeding to death along one of the paths to cabin. Among the items that he had seen Cletus carry outside during his trap-setting jaunts had been an old steel trap with sharp jagged jaws that clamped shut on the leg of an animal that unwarily stepped into it. Such traps had, some time ago, been outlawed as unnecessarily cruel, often snapping the leg of the unfortunate creature it trapped and causing it to gnaw at its own appendage in the frantic effort to free itself. The vision of his father lying in agony, maimed and bloody, haunted him through both his waking and drowsing moments, rendering true rest impossible. He could only wait in anguished anticipation until he heard from Jesse.

Sloan's Deck

Jesse and the EMT followed the path that he had seen Mark take when he left the cabin. Despite the heavy sense of urgency, they trod carefully, knowing that they needed to stay alert for hidden hazards. It wouldn't help Mark any to add yet another person to the list of injured. They skirted around the few traps that they saw, taking some satisfaction in knowing that these had been successfully avoided by Mark as well, finding themselves grateful for the rain which had left softened, muddied patches of earth that retained footprints that reassured them that they were, indeed, following his trail. Periodically, they called out for the older physician as they searched, the foreboding silence after each shout weighing Jesse down with an ever-deeper sense of dread.

They passed from soft woodland into an area of rocky ridge, and, as the shadows started to lengthen across the trail, Jesse knew that their time was running short. Already the medic had reminded him that it would soon be necessary to turn back and await a proper search and rescue team with high-beam lights and better equipment to detect possible booby traps. Jesse forged ahead with an urgency that bordered on desperation, knowing that every minute of unsuccessful search meant not only that Mark's presumptive injuries were left untreated but that Steve's condition would be deteriorating as well. If worse came to worse, he thought grimly, and they failed to find Mark before nightfall, they would have to evacuate Steve, even if it meant sedating him into unconsciousness to do it. Such a move would undoubtedly devastate his friend, but Jesse couldn't and wouldn't allow Steve to jeopardize his life now that they had finally found him. Since he was equally adamant that they wouldn't have saved Steve only to lose Mark, the only acceptable option was obviously to find and rescue Mark as well. He had just mentally reiterated his commitment to that outcome, when they rounded a bend in the path to see a still figure stretched out face down in the dirt, white hair splattered with mud, surrounded by a litter of rocks ranging in size from large pebbles to small boulders.

With a cry of "Mark!", Jesse dropped to his knees beside his friend, as the EMT cautiously scanned for signs of whatever trap had been sprung. Immediately feeling for a pulse, the young doctor felt relief rush through him at the slightly rapid, but steady, beat beneath his fingers. Grabbing the radio, he toggled the switch, announcing excitedly, "We've found him! He's alive!"

"Thank God!" Amanda's voice responded promptly. "How is he?"

"He's unconscious," Jesse replied as he carefully felt for injuries. "I'm checking him over now. I'll let you know more when I'm done." Handing the radio to the medic, who was holding up the trip wire that he had found by Mark's feet, Jesse turned his complete attention to determining the extent of the damage done to his friend.

The first injury he noticed was a swelling on the side of Mark's head, accompanied by a trickle of blood that had streaked down the side of the pale face. The scattering of rocks that lay around and under the body indicated the probable source of the injury, and caused Jesse to carefully examine the prone form for further injuries. There were obvious bruises, but, not finding any immediately apparent broken bones, he enlisted the medic's assistance in applying a cervical collar to Mark's neck and gently rolled the older man over. He was further reassured by the slight groan and flickering of the eyelids that accompanied this maneuver. As he gently wiped the grime from his patient's face to get a better look at the extent of the damage, he called Mark's name, attempting to rouse him, feeling as if he'd just won a lottery when he was rewarded with a gleam of blue as his friend's eyes slitted open.

"That's it, Mark; wake up for me," Jesse encouraged, as he lifted each eyelid and flashed his penlight to determine the reaction of the pupils. Mark flinched away from the light, groaning as the attempt to move his head spiked waves of pain. Noting the expected signs of concussion, Jesse continued his exam as he again prompted his friend for a response.

"Jesse?" The voice was weak, the blue eyes attempting to focus on him cloudy and dazed, but it was music and visions from heaven to the worried physician.

"Take it easy, Mark," he soothed, gently restraining the injured man's attempt to move. "Let me finish checking you out." Noticing the swollen left wrist which had been pinned beneath the fallen body, he carefully prodded it for signs of a break, asking, "Can you move your left hand?"

Tentatively complying, Mark flexed his hand, wiggling his fingers slightly, wincing at the pain that lanced through his forearm at the movement. "What happened?" he asked groggily.

"You seem to have found one of Cletus' booby traps," Jesse said wryly, as he wrapped a bandage tightly around the wrist, having assessed it as probably a bad sprain rather than an actual break. Glancing back up to meet his friend's eyes, he prodded, "What's the last thing you remember?"

Casting his mind back, Mark attempted to dispel the fog that seemed to be dulling his mind. "I was walking…," he replied slowly, grasping at an image that emerged from the mists. "I was heading back to …" With a gasp, Mark gave a sudden, if weak, lurch, as the curtain of fog parted and the whole scenario of the day's events returned in a blinding flash of memory. "… the cabin! Steve… where's Steve? Is he alright?" The words tumbled out in a cascade of anxiety, as Mark grasped weakly at Jesse's sleeve, ignoring the sharp daggers of pain that shot through his wrist and head at the abrupt movements.

"Easy, easy!" Jesse urged, trying to break through the building panic. "Steve's okay. The ambulance is here and we're all set to transport him out."

Mark's eyes frantically searched the younger man's face, desperately attempting to assess the veracity of his statement. Reassured by the sincerity he found there, he relaxed slightly, succumbing to the weakness and dizziness that assaulted him, fighting the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him again. Jesse took the opportunity to radio back to Amanda, reporting what he'd found so far and requesting that she send the other EMT out with a stokes stretcher. He then concentrated on finishing his exam, finding grounds for both concern and relief. There were no broken bones, but there were multiple cuts and bruises, with a worrisome reddish, tender spot over the kidney area indicating possible internal damage, along with the obvious concussion.

Mark lay quietly during the exam, automatically responding to Jesse's queries as the younger doctor worked to determine his physical and mental status, his level of alertness waxing and waning throughout. His concern for his son was obviously the focus of his thoughts, and in his more lucid moments, he questioned Jesse about Steve's condition. Jesse did his best to provide reassuring, slightly evasive responses, knowing that Mark would only be agitated by the knowledge that his son had refused to be relocated until he was found. He consoled himself with the thought that it wouldn't be long now before both Sloans were on their way to the hospital. The EMT should be arriving momentarily with the stokes; Jesse and his companion had disabled those traps they encountered during their search, so the path should be clear and could be traveled now at greater speed. He had hesitated to call the remaining medic away from the cabin, hoping that now that Steve knew that Mark was alive and expected to remain that way, he would allow himself to be taken to the hospital, but that would have meant waiting for the arrival of another ambulance or med-evac copter before Mark could be transported as well. The fastest way to get both their patients to real medical facilities was to get Mark back to the cabin as soon as possible. So Jesse waited as patiently as he could, taking the opportunity to start an IV and hoping that Steve was at least resting more easily now that Mark had been found.

It actually took less time than Jesse had expected before the medic showed up bearing the stretcher. They carefully strapped Mark in and headed back to the cabin as quickly as the terrain would permit. They loaded Mark straight into the ambulance and then went into the cabin to get Steve. Jesse had hoped to find the detective asleep, but although his friend's eyes were closed when he entered, they popped open as soon as the stretcher started to move, as Steve lifted his head to search the surroundings.

"Dad?" he queried urgently, his body tensing for resistance if they hadn't yet returned with Mark.

"He's going to be fine," Jesse soothed, moving to stay in Steve's line of sight as they wheeled him out. "He's already in the ambulance."

Steve lay back down, allowing himself to be rolled along and lifted into the back of the ambulance. He still couldn't relax, however, even when they had secured his stretcher alongside Mark's. Straining to see his father, the sight of the pale face and bandaged head did nothing to reassure him. Reaching out to gently touch the wrapped arm beside him, he softly called, "Dad?"

Blue eyes flickered open, initially heavy-lidded and sluggish, but reassuringly quick to spark with recognition. "Steve?" Concern and relief colored the weakened voice with emotion, as Mark's gaze fastened hungrily on his son. Steve let out a soft sigh of relief, mustering a small grin of reassurance as he finally allowed himself to relax.

Jesse leaned in to check on his patients. "I guess you two get to ride in together," he said, smiling in satisfaction. "And now that everyone's in place…" he leaned over and injected another dose of morphine into Steve's IV. "Have a nice ride," he added, grinning at his friend with a touch of mischief.

The tension that had fueled Steve's fight to stay awake melted away as the effects of the pain medication washed through him in a wave of warmth, carrying him finally into welcome oblivion.