Thank you, Marilyn!

Chapter Seven

He looks dead.

Hogan lay on his right side facing Newkirk, arms before him, fingers loosely curled. His face was unmarked, yet there was a sunken look to his eyes – or at least the eye that Newkirk could see. A wave of drenched, black hair covered the other.

Newkirk moved forward as fast as he could, dropped heavily to his knees and rolled Hogan onto his back. With fingers shaking from more than the cold, he checked Hogan's throat for a pulse – and found none.

"No," Newkirk moaned.

"Your fingers are cold." Hogan's voice, gently chiding, ghosted through Newkirk's mind. "Warm them up and try again."

Biting off a curse, Newkirk blew on his numb fingers, shoved them under his armpits for a forced count of twenty, then blew on them again. When they felt warmer, he pressed them to Hogan's carotid again and held his breath.

"Come on, Guv'nor," Newkirk hissed, leaning over Hogan's face and moving his fingers higher, just under the officer's jawline. "Come on!"

He slapped a palm down on Hogan's stomach, bent all the way over and put his ear right up to the colonel's mouth. A weak pulse registered under his fingertips at the exact moment he felt Hogan's stomach lift almost imperceptibly and a puff of air waft across his ear.

"ThankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!" Newkirk chanted, giddy with relief.

Sitting back, he stared down at his commander's white, still face and considered his next move. His hand remained upon Hogan's stomach, measuring the slow rise and fall.

For the moment at least, the primary danger confronting them was hypothermia. Especially for Hogan. According to information Carter had once wheedled from their friend Doktor Kurt Metzger, Hogan had nearly died once from hypothermia. For that reason, Metzger was afraid Hogan would be likely to succumb to it quicker than before.

How right you were, Doc. He's an ice cube right now and I'm not all that far behind.

Shivering, teeth clacking together like castanets, Newkirk shook his head. His thoughts were growing foggy again. Struggling to keep the lethargy at bay, he glanced around. Nothing stood out as familiar. Fate or blind luck had dumped them both on the same side of the river. And that was pretty much all he knew at this point.

"No it's not," Hogan's quiet voice drawled in his mind. "You do know more."

Newkirk blinked. "I do?" He looked around again and suddenly understood what Hogan was prodding him to do.

Closing his eyes, Newkirk visualized the river and surrounding terrain. On his mental map, he pictured their starting point – the log footbridge – Stalag 13 and the rendezvous point. With those clearly pictured, he drew a line down river from the footbridge, generously estimating how far he thought they had gone. Then he flagged all the warm, dry, safe places that had been established for just such an emergency. Two were within reach. With a mounting sense of excitement, he traced a course to the closest one. By now, the alarm would have been sounded that they were missing. The hidey-holes were the first places search parties would check.

He patted Hogan's cheek. "All this lying about is no good, Guv'nor. Come on now, you've got to wake up. Setting a bad example, you are." Hogan failed to respond, so Newkirk landed a hard slap to his cheek. The blow rolled Hogan's head toward his shoulder, but again failed to wake him. Newkirk drew a deep breath.

"Well, then."

Clenching his chattering teeth, Newkirk managed to get his feet under him. He pulled Hogan to a sitting position, then paused as he spotted Hogan's jacket lying nearby. He glanced between it and Hogan, grimacing at the thought of wrapping the officer in more cold, wet clothing. He started to pull Hogan to his feet, then suddenly remembered the coded papers.

Lowering Hogan back to the ground, Newkirk went to the coat and to his surprise, found the leather pouch had survived the trip. After a moment's indecision, he tucked the pouch into Hogan's trouser pocket, then quickly stripped out of his own jacket. Thanks to what little body heat he had been generating, the material was slightly drier and consequently, warmer than Hogan's.

Several minutes later and much wrestling of damp material over an uncooperative, unconscious body, Newkirk sat back to catch his breath. Time for a personal pep talk. Hogan was still not awake, but neither was he dead.

Take the good, Peter. Breathing. Life. Going to be fine.

Pulling his feet under him again, he pulled Hogan's left arm over his shoulder, wrapped his arm around Hogan's waist and lifted.

Hogan suddenly twisted, his right fist looping out to catch Newkirk on the jaw. Surprised but not really hurt by the blow, Newkirk released him and stepped back. Hogan's legs buckled, then seemingly by sheer force of will, he gained enough control to stay semi-upright, his left arm swinging unnaturally at his side. His head lifted and slowly turned, his eyes tracking Newkirk without really seeing him.

Newkirk edged forward, one hand reaching out. "Colonel! It's me, Newkirk!"

Hogan lurched into motion, attempted to throw another right hook. Newkirk batted it away with little effort. He had seen newborn foals with more coordination.

"Stop, Colonel Hogan! It's all right! It's me!"

Hogan did a looping turn, fighting weak legs, then found his balance and lunged at Newkirk again. His right fist came up, his whole body telegraphing his intent.

Surging forward and ducking under the punch, Newkirk grabbed Hogan by the upper arms. Hogan tried to twist away, then his head shot up and back and he finally appeared to focus upon Newkirk's face. Relief flashed through his eyes and his lips curled into a weak smile. Newkirk smiled back, but kept his grip.

Hogan took a gulping breath. "Hey."

"Hey," Newkirk repeated softly, wincing at the weakness in the officer's voice.

"You . . ." Hogan paused, gave his head a little shake, as if trying to wake up. "You made it."

"Piece of cake, Guv'nor," Newkirk said with forced cheer, trying to bring a hint of normality to the situation.

Hogan squinted at him. "Hurt?"

"Don't go worrying about me," Newkirk scoffed. "Skull as thick as . . ." Hogan's lips twitched. Newkirk stopped, face going blank in realization. "That didn't come out right."

Hogan's gaze sharpened for a moment, then just as quickly lost focus again. He vaguely looked around, his movements slowing, his strength ebbing. A four-alarm blast went off in Newkirk's mind.

"Steady on. Stay with me."

Hogan's eyes wandered over Newkirk's face, his eyelids drooping. His head wavered on his neck, lolled, righted, then lolled again. Cursing, Newkirk grabbed him tighter. A low moan rolled from Hogan's throat, the sound tearing through Newkirk, locking him in place.

"What is it? What's wrong? Guv'nor!"

Hogan panted, head bowed. The pain had jolted him back to higher level of consciousness, but left him unable to speak. He shook his head, glanced up in apology from beneath his eyebrows. Newkirk merely nodded and waited, heart in his throat. A brief time passed, then Hogan licked his lips. His voice came out a mere whisper.

"Shoulder. Back. Something . . ."

Newkirk leaned closer, straining to hear and understand. "Your shoulder and back, is it?" He suddenly remembered the useless left arm and mentally kicked himself. "The left one then?"

Hogan nodded, still panting.

"Sorry, Guv'nor. I should have –" Newkirk stopped as Hogan waved off the apology. "Well, we can't have you running around like you are. Just hang on." He chuckled at the 'you've got to be kidding' look that came over Hogan's face.

One-handed, Newkirk unbuckled his belt and pulled it free from his trousers. He gazed from it to Hogan, weighing how best to proceed. He was going to need both hands. But Hogan was wavering and wobbling on his feet again, in imminent danger of collapsing. Once he was down, Newkirk was not sure he would have the strength to get him back up.

Slinging Hogan's good arm over his shoulders, Newkirk slowly led the officer over to a tree and propped him against it.

"Colonel Hogan." Newkirk caught Hogan's eyes, distressed to see the glazed look returning. "I'm going to strap that arm to you with my belt. Can you stand up for a few without my help?"

It was not immediately clear if Hogan had even understood him. Then the brown eyes blinked and Hogan's head bobbed once.

"All right, then," Newkirk warned, easing back ever so slightly while keeping one hand against Hogan's good side. "I'll be quick and gentle as I can." Hogan's response time was even longer than before, his eyes barely open. Newkirk gulped, recognizing the officer was fading fast.

It is amazing what desperation, adrenaline and sheer determination can accomplish. Even with cold and shaking hands, it took Newkirk only moments to secure the injured left arm tight against Hogan's body. Still, by the time Newkirk had finished, he was badly shaken, the sound of Hogan's moans affecting him more than he would have thought possible. The pain had to be tremendous.

"Still with me, sir?"

Long seconds passed before Hogan released a shuddering breath and nodded. Newkirk stared at the bowed head, wished more than ever they were back at camp and safe.

"Papers." Hogan's voice was a mere whisper.

Newkirk cocked his head forward, straining to hear. "Say again?"

Hogan's force of will rose up again at that moment, his brown eyes locking onto Newkirk's with startling lucidity. "Papers. Where . . . where are they?"

Newkirk nodded to Hogan's trouser pocket. "You've still got them. In your pocket, there."

"Take them."

"No need, guv'nor," Newkirk soothed, more concerned with keeping Hogan standing. "You keep them."

"No!" Hogan forced from between lips tinted blue from the cold. "Order. You . . ." his head dropped forward again and he took several panting breaths. "Better shape. Go. Leave me. Get them –"

"No, sir," Newkirk snapped, undeterred by the minor matter of rank. "We go together." Hogan's head came back up in one jerk, surprise and anger sharpening his gaze. Newkirk smiled grimly. If they both survived this night, he would be more than happy to face the consequences of his disobedience. "Save your strength for walking, Guv'nor." And with that, he guided Hogan forward.

To be continued. Thank you for reading!