The log wasn't as comfortable as it first appeared. Grissom found himself sleeping fitfully and waking with a start every time he heard a branch snap or an owl hoot. It was a far cry from his neat and tidy Craftsman-style bungalow, with its walls lined with books and terrariums filled with his assorted insect and arachnid friends. And his bed… he thought of his 400-percale sheets- a luxury he would never have admitted to anyone. When you spend a third of your life in a bed, sometimes you need to splurge a bit.
After several hours of sleeping and waking he finally gave up trying and sat up and checked his watch. 4 AM. Still hours away from dawn. He glanced over at Nick. The younger man was still reclined against the log with his eyes closed but there was something about his face that didn't quite look relaxed enough for real slumber. He considered speaking to him, but realized that if he were sleeping that he'd regret waking him up.
Let him enjoy a few more hours of rest. Something tells me the cavalry isn't coming as I hoped and I think we've got a bit of a journey ahead of us…
Grissom had been keeping an eye out for headlights and helicopters- some sign that someone up there was looking for them. Nothing. He thought back to the initial phone call that had started their little adventure. Hodges. It all went back to Hodges.
I'll bet he said something to the sheriff that pissed him off enough to figure either we weren't really coming, or worse, that we didn't show but he doesn't give a rat's ass. Probably the latter.
He mentally pictured the map he had studied the night before. Then he shifted and tried working his bad ankle around. Stiff, but a little better. Maybe. Would have to be better. They needed to start out at daybreak if they wanted to try to make it to where he thought the substation would be before the next nightfall. He really didn't relish the thought of another night in the woods. He leaned back on the log and shut his eyes. Maybe he could sleep a couple more hours…
…
Nick leaned his own weary body against the log. He had been keeping vigil pretty much the whole night. Figured it was smart since he was the one with the gun, and they didn't know if their 'friend' was still around. He had also been scanning the sky and the roads surrounding them, looking for headlights or house lights. Nothing but darkness and trees. The stars were sprinkled as heavy as sand on a black velvet background. Normally, were he here voluntarily, he would have loved laying here and taking it all in. The solitude. Such a far cry from Vegas- the city that literally never sleeps. But they weren't here voluntarily. It was cold and damp. His side felt like Evander Holyfield had used him as a punching bag for ten rounds. The granola bar was a distant memory now and he wished he hadn't been so picky back at the gas station. He'd gladly eat a stale microwave burrito right now.
And then there was Grissom. He was torn. Part of him wanted Grissom to sit up and say, "Nick. I've figured out a way to use twigs and moss to build a super antenna for our cell phones. Help will be here soon." The other part was kinda sick of being rescued and especially by his boss. He reflected on what he referred to as "The Hendler Incident", at least when he thought about it. He tried not to do that. Think about it. Too much. Cuz that usually lead to uncomfortable memories of "The Crane Incident" and he did not need to be thinking about that now. He was determined to offer a solution to their problem. Unfortunately, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that waiting for help that might not come, and continuing to stay here like sitting ducks for the friendly neighborhood sniper was not their best option.
They'd probably have to start walking for the substation. And he wasn't too sure the Big Guy was up to it. Grissom was in good shape but he was no spring chicken anymore and had that bum ankle.
Maybe I should leave him my weapon and take off on my own …
He looked at the gun he'd had firm in his hand the whole night. Checked the safety. Checked the cartridge. Then he went to lean over to place the gun on Grissom's lap, and let out an involuntary groan when his side protested the abrupt movement. He saw Grissom sit up with a start and immediately look over at him. He couldn't read the expression on the man's face in the dark, and hoped maybe he could pass it off, so he cleared his throat. "Sorry, Gris. Didn't mean to wake you. Just stretching a bit. Getting the knots out. Go back to sleep."
Grissom could no more see Nick's facial expression than Nick could see his, but he did notice the younger man's face reflected awfully palely in the ambient starlight. "I wasn't sleeping, Nick. Are you okay?"
Nick pasted on a smile that Grissom couldn't see on his face, but hoped he'd hear in his voice. "I'm fine. Just stiff. We did just get banged around in a giant Denali dryer, you know. I feel fluffed and folded."
Grissom couldn't help but chuckle at the inspired metaphor. He guessed the younger man couldn't be doing too poorly if he still had his quick wits and that Texan sense of humor.
Nick eased back and put the gun back in his lap, retaining his grip on it. Maybe he could just convince Grissom in the morning to let him go get help.