---1---
Don slumped along the outer wall, ears ringing. He thought he'd heard more gunfire.
Charlie came away from the entrance, shivering. "Oh, man. What do I do with it now?" He swiped the gun across his thigh. "Mud."
"My head's pounding," Don said. "I'm hit?"
"No no, I don't think so." Charlie brushed a strand off his face. "Please, get it together. Reylott's out there, I saw him."
Don felt his forehead. With the impaired sensation in his fingers, he detected only a slight notch. Outside, a bullet ricocheted off the rocks. He couldn't mistake its distinctive sound.
"We have to go," Charlie said, trying to get Don up. "We'll take the cave."
"He's maneuvering in for the kill." Don's mouth had become blunt with the fall; he didn't intend to say kill, scare Charlie witless. "You'll have to take him out first."
"What?--I won't do that. We'll hide." His voice was urgent. "Please, get up. There has to be an egress."
Don forced himself up. "We can take him."
"I don't want the gun." Charlie handed it over and twisted away, let out a sneeze.
Two more rounds reverberated and with both hands, Don pointed the gun toward the entrance. His vision doubled and he wavered, bumping the wall.
"Come on." Charlie reclaimed the gun. They hurried farther in, to the back of the cave. Don stumbled, needed assistance to walk, said things he knew had nothing to do with their predicament.
"This is as far as I came," Charlie said. "The water flows--cave could go through." They stood where the light reached its limit, having come by a broad rectangular crawlspace, scrambling into a roomy chamber. Don felt faint and Charlie propped him up, diving into the pack for the flashlight.
"You can..." Don focused; his brain had to obey. "...hold him off." He heard the clatter of stones and he and Charlie went silent, listening for Reylott.
Charlie stuffed the gun in the pack's Velcro pocket, told Don it was hard to carry him and it at the same time. He started forward, adding, "I aimed into the rain. I couldn't shoot him."
"Scare him then," he said, leaning. His legs were uncooperative--the fall had left him with a sore ankle and knee. "He could've picked us off anytime. Cat and mice."
"You're certain?"
"Nothing's certain," Don said. "Takes the thrill out of his game."
The cave floor was a masterpiece of asymmetry. Even with the flashlight, nowhere could they anticipate if they'd thump their heads or elbows or find one foot in a pit and another on a rise, throwing them into one another. Coming round a meandering curve, Charlie noted a circular keyhole and rested Don against the wall to investigate. He shined the lightbeam through and said, "Wow."
Don asked what but Charlie didn't talk, shuffling him to the keyhole and tipping him in headfirst. Don went to ground, gazing above as Charlie trailed him. Yards up, a skimpy patch of blue shone through a crevice, providing a pale shaft of light to an impressive cavern.
After Charlie entered, he turned off the beam and their ears pricked up. Don wondered if Reylott was there at all, if they weren't being herded like cattle, fools for thinking he was tailing them when he was someplace else.
But Charlie, obviously convinced after his abduction, said, How could he not be? He killed my koi, what's to stop him?
A thread trickled down Don's face and he dabbed a gauzed hand to it.
"More blood," Charlie said, and he stretched his shirt to Don's head. "No wonder you're dizzy." Don shooed him away.
They flattened against the walls. Cutting between them, a downpour of wet soil, needles and gravel gushed from the crevice, dusting their hair.
"Go," Don said. Branches and a shred of sky unveiled themselves in the crevice, no sign of Reylott. They faltered on, arriving at an oblong split at a smaller hollow at the end of the cavern. Charlie dumped the pack to check on it, told him he'd be right back.
"Charlie, no," he said, but he was through the split. Kids. He heard a splash of water, called out. Charlie yelled he was okay and Don waited, reflected light streaming in from the adjacent cavern.
Charlie poked his head in. "Come on," he said, and Don eased up along the crags and hobbled to the split, passed the pack and entered-lowered into three feet of cold water.
They waded, Charlie assuring him that it didn't get any deeper than this, but he hadn't actually reached the pool's boundary.
Traveling thirty feet, Don sensed his legs getting numb and insisted they turn around, this was a bust. Charlie protested, positive he'd seen light. The ceiling had gotten lower and Don's claustrophobia, which he'd never known he had, clicked in.
"I feel weird," Don said.
"You'll be all right." Charlie hurried. "See the light?"
Don wasn't up to it-details and variations in dimness eluded him. "Let's go back."
"Trust me, it's there."
Don, doubting his own perception, chose to believe him and twenty feet later the pool got shallower until a bumpy incline led them into a dry chamber. Resting, they sipped canteen water, rationing it. Charlie--go on ahead by yourself, he said, to your light, my leg is tingling.
"Circulation's returning. Good," Charlie said. "If he's on our heels, he would've been here, right?'
"We're guessing."
Charlie took his arm. "We go together."
Don relented. The harsh separation from his brother was vivid; reliving it would be unbearable.
The next section of the corridor would require full cooperation from their nerves, and Don was on his last one. The tunnel narrowed to about three foot wide by five, varying from that to who knows what as they progressed. Charlie loaded on his pack, counting on the light, the glow, he said, can't be over ten meters away.
Don was not encouraged. The pathway and walls were rocky, dotted with cavities and gaps, lumps and nodes. His elbow was slung over Charlie and when the passage shrunk, he would sit and shimmy under the low ceiling or between the narrowed walls first, with Charlie courageously holding the beam steady and following after, forcing the pack to pop through behind him.
An outline attracted Don's peripheral vision and he absorbed the glow with his ailing sight. Indeed, Charlie's blackberry eyes were eagle eyes. The way widened, the ground almost smooth. Side by side, they'd arrived at the end, gone through the cave. He viewed a man-sized gap at the base of a rocky declivity, a short walk. At the bottom, on his knees, with Don warning him to be careful, Charlie stuck his head out a bit. Don thought they'd both cry--he saw evergreen.
The gap exited into a densely bordered narrow zone, walled in on both sides by lofty rock walls, and above, an overhang awash with a graceful run-off, splashing to the side near the cave. It was adequate protection from anyone on higher ground as long as one hugged the rock wall. Farther out, to the right, the east face met a ravine, presumably a drop-off of unknown height. Inclement weather still threatened but the rain had tapered off, leaving a mosaic blue and charcoal sky.
Don said, "Reylott?" and crowded the gap.
"Hard to tell."
"If he didn't want to be seen-" Don began.
"He wouldn't be," Charlie finished.
"Let's get out of here."
"I'm with you," he said, and he helped Don to the gap, unloading the pack.
Don asked him to wait. "The gun," he said. "My hands have had it--I can try."
Charlie stared at the Velcro pocket. "I'll keep it. You're in no shape." He ripped the flap open. "I'll cover you this time."
"We're even, Charlie. This isn't a competition."
"It is to Reylott. And I don't want him to win." He steadied himself at the edge and wriggled out. From the gap, Don watched him recoil--surprised when sunlight was revealed by fast-moving clouds.
A clacking racket arose, demanded their attention. Charlie dashed into the zone, shouting and waving his arms, gun in hand. A helicopter soared through the valley.
"Wait!" Don wanted out--his brother was in the open with a nut case on the prowl. He wiggled out face down and briefly hung, crimson ribs in pain. Charlie, engrossed with the challenge of catching the copter's attention, was yelling at the apex of his lungs, his back to the gap. Drawing his body out a little, Don halted to unhook his snagged shirt. His foot had sunken into a puddle when he saw Reylott leap out from overhead. Charlie was silenced, knocked to the ground with a thud.
Don hustled and ran towards them, a frustrating limp in his gait. Charlie fought, entwined with Reylott, swinging out near the drop-off. By the time Don came upon them, they'd plunged off the muddied edge.
Down on his side, Don propped on an elbow and peered over, watched them scuffle and tumble together halfway, then separate. Most of Charlie disappeared into trees and shrubbery further below while Rey saved himself, coming to a standstill. Taking a foothold, he ascended the slope, carrying another pistol in a holster at the small of his back.
Don squinted. Charlie's foot was visible but he retreated from the edge, out of sight, hastily searching for the .38. It had probably gone down with Charlie. He headed towards the gap, knowing he had to abandon his brother now in order to save him later. The helicopter had steered into the south, apparently without identifying them.
The injured ankle hampered Don and he succumbed on the run, falling into mud. He attempted to rise and halfway up Reylott caught and hoisted him up, wound an elbow around his neck, poised a knife at his throat.
Don transferred weight to his good side and noted Rey had a splint on his finger. He tugged at Rey's forearm and calmed himself, hands aching if he grasped too hard. The blade skimmed his flesh. Don't lose control.
"Confess," Reylott said. "Good for the soul."
Don shuddered; sparks whizzed across his field of vision. "Get off me you son-of-a-bitch," he said. "It wasn't me." Charlie, run if you can.
"Speak up, I can't hear you." Rey tightened his grasp. "They were on me for months. Confess!"
He cleared his throat; it was no help. "I thought you wouldn't harm Charlie."
"He's out of my way." Rey flattened the knife against his skin. "Confess, snitch."
Don squirmed. "And if he's hurt?"
"Maybe he broke his neck. Bothers you, huh?" He angled the tip near Don's artery.
"Kindred spirits," he said. "He's not much younger than you." His head wilted and Rey roused him with a jerk.
"Unlike you, Eppes, he treated me like an equal. We would've played chess."
"He respected you," Don said. "As my friend."
"You had nothing to do with it."
Don was yanked to the rock wall, spine banged on the jagged face. The blade warmed on his throat. "You'd never win," he said, his words muting in and out.
"Watch it. Or I'll find him." Reylott's breath was stale. "Admit your crime."
"I could," Don said. "But it wouldn't be true." He lapsed into a spurt of coughing. "You're a big fan of the truth."
"Harbert said you were in on it."
A rock edge pricked his neck. "He led you on, let you dig your own grave."
Reylott said, "I don't believe you."
"You think I was so naïve I'd get dragged in? I don't play teacher's pet to keep my nose clean, Rey. I don't have to snitch."
"Liar." Reylott slammed him on the rock. "Confess or I'll slice."
"You're the same man..." Don said, stalling, "who saved a drowning lady?"
Reylott's eyes deadened and he seethed, sent a blow into Don's belly. He doubled over and collapsed as the sparks revisited him, floating by.
Sweeping the knife through the air, Rey started toward the drop-off. "Where's that brother of yours?"
Don supported himself on the rock face. "No. Stay away." Rey ignored him, flicking the blade downward in his grip.
"All right." Don spoke as loudly as he could muster. "It was me. I snitched, I did it."
Rey returned, crouched and grabbed him by the shirt. "Say it again."
His vision blurred. "You heard me."
He waved the knife between them. "On the count of three," he said, shifting it up into his face. "Or you're crowbait. One..."
Don pressed his head to the rock while Rey balanced the knife on the bridge of his nose, the blade across his line of sight. I'm sorry, Charlie. He shut an eye. "You..." he said, barely audible. "have nothing..."
"Two."
His fists were on Rey's chest. "in common..."
"Three."
"...with Charlie." I'm sorry, dad.
Reylott suddenly tipped the blade and nudged it against Don's cheekbone, looking up--the helicopter had returned, circling the mountain, nearer this time. Don seized the opportunity; it wasn't over yet. He rallied into action, shoved the knife away and got up, hauled out a punch, landing it on Rey's jaw. Reylott was jarred, repaid Don likewise with a firm blow of his own, tossing a left cross. He brandished the blade at Don's chest, seemingly determined to finish him off.
Don kicked with his good leg, held him back. With deliberate slaps, he aggravated Rey's bullet wound, thinking he could get to Rey's pistol, when his injured leg gave way and they both sprawled into mud. Jabbing at the splint, Don glimpsed the knife as it dropped into a puddle. Rey stretched toward his holster and Don sagged, labored to catch a full breath, the flavor of smoke lingering on his tongue.
Rey searched around them. "Where is it?"
"Charlie," Don said, hushed. His brother had materialized, wobbly and disheveled, snagging Rey's weapon literally from behind his back.
The knife lay near Reylott; Don saw him glance towards it and feverishly signaled to Charlie, pointing. "Get..." he said, words cut, sapped by the struggle.
Rey won and swiftly plucked the knife away. "Dr. Eppes, sir, you won't do it," he said. "You're not the type."
"Toss it," Charlie ordered, then pleaded with him: "Just go, please, that's enough."
"Know how to work that thing?" Rey said, inching closer to Don.
"Stop there!" He quick-stepped towards them. "I'll do it, I swear." The gun clicked.
Rey raised the blade and Charlie shouted a threat, discharged seven rounds into the overhanging rock. It created a minor avalanche; shards and stones broke away, shattered and showering on the men below. Altering its course, a slice of the run-off rapidly sloshed into the new channel and over the gap.
Crawling first and fast, Don shied from the rock, staggered out into the zone. Charlie hastened to him, got him to safety, their feet slipping in the shallow flood. Stooping low, away from the shards, Reylott unexpectedly straightened tall. Don watched from the ground, rivulets splitting around him, terrified, while Rey deftly flung the knife in Charlie's direction.
Don motioned and Charlie engaged a timely turn, dove aside and splashed into mud, the knife skirting the top of his shoulder. Rey pounced, attacking in a fit.
Without a second of protest, Charlie fired.
ooooOOOOOoooo