As always, I'm grateful for Marilyn Penner. It would take a whole page to list the reasons why.

Chapter Sixteen

"Praises be," Newkirk murmured, suddenly finding the energy to walk faster.

Doktor Kurt Metzger saw them coming and stood up in the back of Schnitzer's truck. His eyes briefly locked on Newkirk, passed to Tivoli and paused, then went to Hogan. Making eye contact with Rumplestiltskin's agent, Kurt pointed down at a thick pallet of blankets laid out on the truck's bed.

"Put him here."

The agent eased Hogan off his shoulder and onto the pallet, then backed out of the way. Eyebrows raised, Kurt studied the jackets and vines swaddling Hogan. Leaving the jackets as they were, he lifted Hogan's eyelids, checking his pupil reaction.

"Has he been awake?"

"Briefly." Benson steered Tivoli to the truck, helped him to sit on the tailgate. The Italian grimaced, his head bowing in pain. He swayed, clutching his arm, a low moan slipping past his clenched teeth. At the sound, Kurt looked up, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon the bloody hole in Tivoli's back.

"How long has it been since he was shot?"

Benson quickly estimated the time it had taken them to walk to the truck. "About thirty minutes give or take." He rested a hand on Tivoli's good shoulder. "This, by the way, Doc, is Tivoli." He briefly tightened his grip. "Tiv, this is Doktor Kurt Metzger."

The Italian raised his good hand in the air, weakly offered a wave of greeting. Kurt returned it with a nod, then looked over at Newkirk, who was standing off to one side. "What happened to your head?"

Newkirk shrugged. "I fell."

Kurt's gaze sharpened. "Did you lose consciousness?"

"Yes. Don't know for how long."

"Get them in blankets," Kurt ordered, checking Hogan's pulse. Benson grabbed a blanket from the pile nearby, wrapped it around Newkirk, then did the same for Tivoli.

Newkirk coughed, receiving another sharp look from Kurt. "Colonel Hogan's going to be all right - right, Doc?"

"Was he talking? Lucid?"

"No and no." Newkirk frowned. "Not since late last night, anyway." He started, leaned forward. "Almost forgot! His shoulder is messed up. Must have happened when—"

"Which one?" Kurt snapped. Newkirk blinked, thought hard.

"Left. The left one. He couldn't use that arm."

Kurt suddenly blanched. "He's not been shot, too?"

"No!" Newkirk rushed to assure him. "I think he hurt it when we fell into that bloody river."

Tivoli turned his head toward Benson, lost his balance and almost fell off the tailgate. Benson caught him with an arm across the chest, leaned forward to hear what Tivoli was trying to tell him. Pain had softened the Italian's voice to a mere whisper.

"He can't feel his arm, Doc. He said it's gone completely numb."

Kurt left Hogan, crouched on his heels behind Tivoli and pulled the blanket off the Italian's shoulders. He briefly studied where the bullet had entered Tivoli's back, then carefully eased the Italian's jacket down and lifted the blood-soaked cloth. Blood trickled from the wound. Kurt quickly replaced the cloth.

"Tell me when you feel me touching you." Kurt reached around Tivoli, lightly touched the back the Italian's hand. Tivoli shook his head, his gaze fixed upon Kurt's fingers. Benson and Newkirk shared worried glances, neither saying a thing in the stifling silence.

Kurt skimmed his fingers over Tivoli's inner arm and received another negative response. He moved further up the arm, received another 'no'. His hand passed over Tivoli's shoulder blade, hesitated, then came to rest beside the wound. Tivoli glanced back at him, checking to see if Kurt was doing anything. Kurt gave him a tight smile, then made eye contact with Newkirk.

"Get in." He pointed to another pallet of blankets, placed along one wall of the truck. "Sit or lie down, but stay on those blankets." His tone was urgent, his manner even more abrupt.

With Rumplestiltskin and Benson's help, Newkirk climbed into the back of the truck. After settling on the pallet, back against the wall, his gaze fell to Hogan's face.

"I'll be ever so glad to see him back at camp."

"We're not going to Stalag 13," Kurt stated firmly, fingers pressed to the pulse in Hogan's neck. He leaned to one side, giving Benson and Tivoli room to pass into the back of the truck and sit down.

Newkirk turned toward him, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. "Not to—"

"We're going to my parents' farm." Kurt nodded to Schnitzer, who had been watching and listening from beside the open doors. The elderly German nodded back, unfolded another blanket and tossed it over Hogan. Kurt smiled, understanding the desire to do more.

Newkirk stood, steadying himself with a hand to the wall. His other gripped his blanket closed at chest-level. "Why not! The guv'nor --"

Benson stood. "Sit down, Newkirk." His tone was gentle, but brooked no argument. Newkirk glared at him and sat back down. Benson returned to his place beside Tivoli, but remained standing. Kurt's fingers were still upon Hogan's pulse, but he was studying Tivoli with evident worry. Benson frowned. Tivoli's eyes were closed again, his breathing shallow and rapid.

"We're going there because of Tivoli?" Benson asked.

"Because of both of them." Kurt glanced down at Hogan, then back to Tivoli. "The best place for the colonel is in front of my parents' fireplace. A blazing fire will warm him the fastest. And that bullet needs to come out as soon as possible. I am fairly certain it is pressing against a nerve –"

"That's why he can't feel his arm?" Benson sat down beside Tivoli again. His shoulder coincidentally came to rest against Tivoli's, providing support - both physical and emotional.

Kurt nodded. He met Benson's gaze with direct frankness. "The longer the bullet remains there, the more likely he will lose all function in the arm." He gaze slid to Newkirk, who was staring at Tivoli with obvious sympathy. "At the farm, I will have cleaner conditions, an abundance of hot water and better light."

"Right then," Newkirk sighed.

Rumplestiltskin appeared beside Schnitzer at the tailgate. "Good luck to you all. I will see that the papers are delivered to the courier."

Newkirk managed a smile. "Thanks for not giving up on us."

"And for saving our hides," Benson chipped in. Beside him, Tivoli's head moved in an almost imperceptible nod.

Rumplestiltskin gave them a jaunty wave and was gone.

Kurt called Benson's attention to the lantern hanging from a hook in the ceiling. Once it had been lit, Kurt and Schnitzer shared a few words, spoken too low for anyone else to hear. The elderly man closed the truck's back doors. Moments later, they heard the engine start and the truck started moving.

Newkirk leaned his head back, closed his eyes and offered up another prayer. The nightmare was not over yet.

To be continued.

Thank you for reading!