Chapter 5
He'd lost his marbles. All of them. It was the only explanation for why he was trying to crawl into a truck that was hanging onto the side of a mountain by a thread. In the middle of the night.
Because--and this was the best part--Daniel was channeling the ghost of his dead son.
Jack stared at the SUV. His ill-fated attempt to start the engine had caused the vehicle to shift so that the front end now pointed straight up the mountain. The driver's door, however, was still blocked by the tree, which meant he'd have to crawl into the car from the passenger side, inch across the seat, and reach over the steering wheel in order to turn on the headlights.
The headlights that didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of working.
And he had to achieve this little feat of legerdemain without causing the truck, and himself, to plunge down the mountain and smash to bits on the rocks below.
Piece of cake.
The door groaned a protest as Jack pulled it open. He stole a quick look over his shoulder, barely able to make out Daniel's hunched silhouette in the darkness. It spurred him on, desperation a more compelling motivation than belief.
Shoving thoughts of both the dead and dying out of his mind, Jack grasped the doorframe and endeavored to climb onto the seat. The fact that his right leg couldn't support his weight made the simple motion nearly impossible. He wound up collapsing onto the leather cushion in an ungainly sprawl that vibrated through the vehicle. A shower of gravel pattered down the incline and the truck creaked and shuddered. Jack clung to the dashboard, white knuckled, until it settled.
"That was...interesting."
He gingerly scooted across the seat until he came to the console. Kneeling on his good leg, he braced one hand on the seatback and groped for the controls with the other. Stretching his arm as far as possible, he still couldn't reach around the crumpled dashboard to press the right button. Despite the chill air, sweat dripped into his eyes and trickled between his shoulder blades.
After several minutes he gave up, slumping down onto the seat while working his way through an arsenal of profanity only years in the military could provide. Apparently, there were only two ways he could reach the damn button--either grow his left arm another three inches...
Or get his ass over the console and onto the driver's seat.
Not much of a decision there.
Putting his back to the driver's door, Jack braced an elbow on the seatback and leveraged himself over the divider. He allowed himself a moment to wipe the sweat from his eyes and wait for his leg to stop twanging. Then he reached around the crumpled steering wheel and thumbed the elusive button.
Two brilliant beams pierced the darkness. Jack blinked in the sudden wash of light, astonished. Daniel's breathless entreaty echoed in his head:
"He wants us...to turn on the lights. Says...trust him."
He'd crawled into this deathtrap for Daniel. Not because he was convinced his friend was communing with his dead son--though Daniel had put some serious dents in his disbelief--but because it was better than spending one more minute standing on the sidelines and watching Daniel slip away. Action, even if it was as crazy as turning on headlights in a car with a dead battery, helped him maintain the illusion that he could still exercise some control over their situation.
He'd never considered the lights might actually work.
Jack tamped down on the spark of hope that flared inside him. Sure, the lights were on. Even if, by some miracle, they could be seen from the road, it was still the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. Not exactly rush hour.
Heaving a sigh, he started back over the console, then remembered he hadn't turned on the high beams. As he reached for the switch, his knee bumped the dashboard. Agony tore through his leg from hip to ankle and his entire body jerked, slamming into the seatback.
Through the haze of pain, Jack felt the truck lurch beneath him. He clutched the seat and froze, stilling his breath. A harsh grinding sound, and something gave way with a sharp crack, dropping the truck abruptly downward. It ground to a stop, then commenced a slow slide. Jack shut his eyes, heart hammering. Two thoughts chased their way through his brain:
How many times have I risked my life going through the 'gate, and now I'm gonna wind up buying it in my own car.
Followed by:
Oh, God, Daniel. I'm so sorry.
And then something caught under the back wheels, jolting the SUV to a standstill. It took Jack a moment to realize he wasn't in pieces at the bottom of a cliff. Relief kicked in, dizzying in its intensity.
"Jack! Answer...all right?" Daniel's voice was strained.
Cautiously, he lifted his head. "I'm just peachy. How 'bout you?" Not bad. His voice didn't waver, though his stomach felt as if it were trying to leap out of his mouth.
Silence, then an even weaker reply. "Not...so good."
"Daniel? Talk to me. Daniel!"
Jack wriggled his way across the seat and out the door, tumbling onto the ground in his haste. Through eyes blurred by pain, he glimpsed Daniel lying in a crumpled heap halfway between the tree and the SUV. It took him several tries before he regained his feet and stumbled over to his friend.
"Damn it, I told you to stay put!" Jack looked to their makeshift camp under the tree, knowing there was no way in hell he could drag Daniel that far. "What did you think you were doing?"
Daniel's face shone ghostly pale. "Sa...saving your...ass."
"Yeah, well..." Jack sank to the ground with a breathy huff and wrestled Daniel into his lap. "You becoming a human speed bump isn't gonna help."
"'S gratitude...for you."
It was a brave front, but transparent. Daniel's pulse was racing. He struggled for each breath and held both arms curled tightly around his chest. Propping him up helped, but not enough.
"Talk to me, Daniel."
"Chest...pain...think maybe...made worse."
Jack nodded, hanging onto the thread of his composure. In the faint spill of illumination from the headlights, Daniel's lips looked unnaturally dark. He didn't want to consider what that meant. "Don't talk. Just try to relax. It'll pass."
He expected Daniel to call him on what he was sure they both realized was a blatant lie, but Daniel's gaze wandered over to the empty space by Jack's right shoulder.
"You...sure?"
"Daniel?" He knew he sounded angry; couldn't help his instinctive fear at the sight of his friend conversing with a ghost.
One corner of Daniel's mouth turned up in a weak smile. "Charlie says...you...did good."
"Glad to hear it. Now shut up and rest."
"Some...bedside manner."
"Learned it from Fraiser."
Daniel's chuckle turned into a prolonged bout of coughing. Jack hauled him upright, supporting him as he hunched over, panting and shivering. The spasms finally eased and he pulled Daniel back against his chest, horrified by the dark trickle at the corner of his friend's mouth.
"Can't...breathe," Daniel gasped through rapid shallow gulps for air.
"Easy." He thumbed away the blood. "Just...just rest. Everything's going to be all right." He managed to snag the blanket, which had fallen nearby.
Daniel clutched his arm. "You. Me...not so sure."
"Well I am. Hey, we got the lights on, right? Just like Ch-- Just like he said. Help is probably right around the corner." And if you believe that I've got some real estate I'd like to show you.
Daniel's head lolled on his shoulder and his gaze slipped out of focus. "Tired."
"Daniel." Jack patted his cheek, gently, then with more force. "Daniel, stay with me."
His only response was a weak cough and a fresh trickle of blood. Tightening his grip on his friend's limp body, Jack looked around them.
"If you're really..." His voice broke and he swallowed hard. "Charlie. Son. If you're really there, and there's anything you can do, please..." He closed his eyes and laughed raggedly. "Now I'm the one talking to myself."
"I'm right here."
Jack's eyes flew open. Charlie stood beside him--red ball cap, unruly blond hair, and a dusting of freckles across his nose.
"Wh...H-how--?"
Charlie stuck his lip out, just the way he always did when uncertain. "I've always been here, Dad. You just wouldn't see."
Something inside Jack twisted painfully. "I'm sorry."
Charlie sighed. "I know. That's the problem. You spend so much time being sorry about what happened to me that there's no time left for me."
Jack shook his head, unable to tear his gaze from Charlie's face. "I'm afraid you lost me, kiddo."
Charlie crouched down, close enough now that Jack could see the faint orange stain on the sleeve of the much-loved jersey. An image flashed into his mind: he and Charlie leaping to their feet in a shower of spilled popcorn and orange Crush, cheering wildly as the Twins batted home a winning run.
"Yeah. Like that."
Charlie's soft voice brought him back. The memory evaporated, leaving a bittersweet ache in his chest. "What?"
"We had fun, didn't we, Dad? Baseball games, playing catch at the park, riding bikes along the nature trail with Mom. Those were good times."
"Yeah. They were."
"Well...that's what I remember. All those cool things we used to do together. Not one stupid accident that wasn't really anybody's fault." He turned soulful brown eyes on Jack. "Can't you do that, Dad? Can't you be like me?"
For a moment his throat was too tight for speech. "Yeah," he finally managed, though the words sounded strangled. "I can try."
Daniel coughed, his respiration stuttering erratically before settling back into the rhythm of rapid, shallow puffs. His lips had a dusky cast to them, as did his fingernails. Cyanosis, Jack thought grimly. His medical knowledge might be limited, but he recognized oxygen deprivation when he saw it.
"Charlie, Daniel's--" He looked up at his son, suddenly at a loss for words. "Is he going to make it?"
"Help is coming." Charlie gazed at Daniel with a mixture of sorrow and affection. "You just have to make him hold on until it gets here."
"Me? Make him?" Jack huffed. "He doesn't listen to me on a good day."
"He said the same thing about you." Charlie scrunched up his face. "You two are funny."
"Funny?"
"Yeah. You pretend you never listen to each other. But the truth is, you're about the only two people you really do listen to."
Out of the mouths of babes. "Uh-huh. We're a real riot, all right."
"You promise to make sure he keeps fighting?"
Jack raised his hand. "I promise."
"Good." Charlie cocked his head as if listening, then stood. "I've gotta go now."
"Don't!" Jack felt his face heat when Charlie gave him a puzzled frown. "I mean...are you sure you can't hang out a while longer? You know, shoot the breeze, talk about those old times?"
Charlie's smile was like sunshine. "I've got stuff to do, but...I'll be around."
Daniel coughed, thrashing restlessly in Jack's arms. It took him several minutes to quiet his friend and tuck the blanket more securely around Daniel's shoulders.
When he looked up, Charlie was gone.
Concluded in Chapter 6