They had been walking for hours, but to Charlie it felt like weeks. He knew that wasn't possible; from the angle of light on the ground the sun hadn't even reached its zenith so they couldn't have been walking for more than four hours. Charlie followed Don down a slight slope and reached out to a tree for support on the way, but the tree wasn't where he thought it was and his hand swept past it and missed the needed support. Overbalancing, he couldn't stop himself from falling.
He hit the ground hard enough to take the wind out of him and rolled several times before coming to a stop face up in the underbrush. In an instant Don's face hovered above him; unfortunately, there was more than one of them and they blended and split in a disconcerting and nauseating way. Charlie had to close his eyes against the view.
"Charlie? Charlie, are you okay?"
Charlie knew Don wasn't yelling but his voice sounded so loud that it hurt. He couldn't remember ever feeling this sick; not even his one experiment with a hangover had left him feeling this bad. Charlie knew with absolute certainty that if he moved his body in the slightest, even to open his eyes, he would throw up.
"Charlie… Answer me!" Don really was yelling at him now and he could hear the fear in his brother's voice. Don shook his shoulders and that was all it took to push him over the edge. Charlie rolled himself onto his side and heaved violently. The convulsions kept coming long after Charlie had emptied his stomach. Through it all Don held his shoulder and, rubbing his back with a warm hand, spoke soft encouraging words to him. Charlie's focus was not on his brother so he missed the actual words said but he appreciated the comfort and support more than he could express. At last it was over and Don pulled him up into an embrace.
Charlie knew Don wanted them to keep moving, but, although he hated letting his brother down, he knew he just couldn't do it.
"I'm sorry, Don," he said, surprised at how weak his voice sounded.
"Hey, don't be. I'm sorry, Buddy, I was pushing too hard."
Charlie wanted to argue that Don hadn't done anything wrong but just couldn't; it took too much energy and he was far too comfortable in Don's arms to expend the effort. Usually close contact made Charlie feel vaguely uncomfortable but at the moment he wanted nothing more than to stay where he was for a while.
Don watched as his little brother slipped into unconsciousness. He'd seen Charlie trip and stumble a number of times, and for the last half hour had been planning to call a rest break but just hadn't done so. The thought of Simmons, the gun and his nearly defenceless brother had kept Don pushing them forward at as fast a pace as the injured man could manage. The moment he'd seen Charlie lose his balance and fall, Don knew it had been his fault. Charlie had followed him without complaint, trying his best to keep up even though the trek had been hard on him. Some part of Don's mind had rationalised that if Charlie wasn't complaining or asking to stop then he was all right. Obviously that wasn't the case.
A slight movement through the trees below them caught Don's eye, and he sank lower under the camouflaging underbrush, pulling Charlie with him. He hoped that whatever it was down there was something safe… like a bear. He caught another glimpse of movement and swore. It was Simmons. At least with a bear Don's gun would have been something of an advantage but Simmons was armed as well and a lot more mobile than the Eppes brothers.
Simmons looked up, scanning the hillside, and Don held his breath as the other looked their way. Apparently he didn't see anything and his gaze swept lower. He's looking for us, Don thought. It occurred to him that if Charlie hadn't collapsed when he did they would have been at the bottom of the hill and a lot closer to the gunman. Simmons began to move off and Don watched until he was out of view with no intention of moving even if he could. It was a game of cat and mouse. Unfortunately, he and Charlie were the mice.
Charlie slept for almost three hours. Don's left leg, where much of his brother's weight rested, had long since gone numb but he didn't want to move it and risk disturbing the other. Eventually the younger man began to show signs of waking and Don shifted his grip to allow his leg a little relief.
"Don?"
"Hey there, Buddy. How are you feeling?"
Charlie tried to push himself up into a sitting position but needed Don's help to manage the feat.
"Better. I'm sorry, Don."
"I told you it wasn't your fault, Charlie. You're injured. We… I should have been going slower. Do you think you can walk a little further? We need to find some shelter for the night."
Don decided he wouldn't mention his sighting of Simmons just yet. Charlie needed to focus on recovering and worrying about Simmons wouldn't help.
Charlie nodded and Don helped him to his feet. This time the older brother kept a supportive arm around the younger and helped him negotiate the slope. Once at the bottom Don turned them in the opposite direction from the one he'd last seen Simmons heading. Not even fifteen minutes later a heavily breathing Charlie begged for a rest. Don didn't really want to but was more loath to risk Charlie collapsing again and lowered him carefully to the ground. He stood guard until Charlie caught his breath.
"Don, do you hear that?" Charlie asked.
The question sent Don into a heightened alertness. He'd been listening hard for any sign that Simmons was close by but hadn't heard anything above the normal forest sounds. "No, what?"
"I think I hear water."
He was right, Don realised. Now that Charlie had mentioned it he could hear the distinctive sound of water, a lot of it, rushing over rocks in the distance somewhere below them.
"Thirsty?" Don asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes," Charlie said with feeling.
Again taking his brother's weight Don led them toward the sound of water, his eyes continuously scanning their surroundings looking for anything out of place.
The tree line abruptly ended, suddenly turning into a rocky bank taking Don a little by surprise. The water they heard turned out to be a wide, fast flowing river bordered by large and small roughly angled grey boulders. It was a wild and picturesque scene.
"This is wonderful," Charlie muttered, obviously enjoying the view as well.
Don thought through the logistics of how to get his unsteady and weak companion to the water without further injuring him and finally decided that he would have to have Charlie go first so that he could watch and support him. Slowly and working together they made it. Charlie all but threw himself into the water and drank deeply. Don drank more reservedly, acutely aware of their highly exposed position.
Once their thirst was sated, Don moved them back into the relative protection of a set of larger rocks. The formation created a sort of shallow cave with a large overhanging rock supported by smaller stones to each side. It wasn't large, barely offering Don enough headroom to sit upright but it was the best they were likely to find. Charlie sat with a relieved sigh and leaned back.
Being as gentle as he could, he unwound the makeshift bandage from Charlie's head. The lump of swelling under the gash looked to have gotten larger and that worried him. Taking the cloths down to the water Don rinsed them thoroughly then used the damp material to clean the wound. Charlie moaned and gasped a couple of times as he cleaned close to the cut but otherwise endured the ministrations in silence. After cleaning the bandages again Don reapplied them.
"Too tight?" Don asked once he'd finished.
"No, it's fine…. Don, I'm not getting better."
Don shifted uncomfortably. "Of course you are. You just need a little rest, that's all."
Charlie smiled. "You're a better liar than me, Don, but you're not that good. I feel a lot worse, my balance is way off and my vision is getting… strange."
"Strange in what way?"
Charlie shrugged tiredly. "I see flashes of colour and light that aren't there, everything's blurry and appearing in multiples. I can barely tell what's real any more."
Don swallowed hard. He sat in the space beside Charlie and let the other rest against him, Charlie's body was hot. Far warmer than the cool mountain air should have made it and an uncomfortably familiar feeling of dread stirred. The last time he'd felt like this was while watching his mother struggle for life. Don wasn't sure he could go through it again with Charlie. Not when he was only just beginning to get to really know the guy. They were a long way from help and one of the people he cared about most in the world was slowly slipping away.
"I always thought dying would be more painful," Charlie remarked. "But all I have is a headache, and that's not even bad any more."
The feverish flush under the bruises on his face and the obvious pain in his dark eyes belied his words. With a jolt of surprise Don realised his brother was trying to make him feel better. Putting his arm comfortably around the thin shoulders and tucking the overly warm head in against his shoulder Don smiled fondly.
"You're not going to die. Now, just shut up and get some rest. You'll be better tomorrow and we have a lot of walking to do."
Disturbingly quickly Charlie lapsed into unconsciousness again leaving Don alone. He watched the afternoon light slowly fade as yet another night in the wilderness closed in around them. At least the temperature was warmer and the rain of the previous evening showed no sign of returning, but Charlie still wasn't well and was growing steadily sicker.
Several times during the night Don made his way down to the water's edge and, dampening the remains of his shirt, made cold compresses to battle Charlie's growing fever. Through the worst of it Don could do little more than hold tight to the sweating, heaving and twisting body in his arms while quietly repeating assurances that everything was going to be all right. He didn't know if Charlie had heard his words or understood them but the other man had seemed to respond to his voice, becoming calmer and more settled every time he spoke so Don had continued a calm litany all through the night.
By the time the first light of dawn reached them the fever seemed to have stabilized and Charlie's anguished moans and mumbles of the night before had faded to silence. Don was exhausted in both mind and body and only the fact that Charlie had made it through to see another day kept him sane. In the soft light, his brother's face looked peaceful. Don rested his palm against his brother's forehead and judged that the fever really was easing.
Keeping his eyes on the sky looking for any sign of a search plane and the rest of his attention on their surroundings so Simmons would not surprise them, Don waited for Charlie to wake up. They would not be moving today. Charlie was too weak and sick to attempt it, and Don worried that another day like yesterday would kill the younger man. The near rhythmic sound of the river soothed him and he allowed his body to relax.
Don woke. He hadn't even realised that he'd allowed himself to fall asleep but from the full brightness of the day it was obvious he'd slept for several hours.
"Feel better?" Charlie asked.
Don looked over at him and smiled at seeing the fever seemed to be almost gone from his eyes, but he confirmed it with his palm anyway.
"Yeah, rough night. How do you feel?"
"I'm better than yesterday."
Don frowned at the non-answer. "…But not better, right?"
Charlie shrugged. "I'm fine, Don. We should probably stay close to the river. Which way do you want to go, upstream or down?"
Don shook his head. "Neither. We're not travelling today. We'll rest here and make an early start tomorrow."
"What about Simmons? I thought you said he would be looking for us and we had to keep moving," Charlie asked, confusion thick in his voice.
"I know what I said, but now I'm saying we stay and rest."
Charlie was quiet for a long minute. "It's because of me. You think I'll collapse again. I won't, Don, I can make it."
"Buddy, you just spent the night locked in a high fever. You may feel okay now but you're concussed and hurt. Your body can't take another day like yesterday."
"Then you should leave me here and go on yourself. You could bring back help."
"We're not splitting up."
"But, Don, you have, statistically, a much better…"
"I said no, Charlie."
"I could just…"
"Charlie! Will you just stop? I'm not leaving you here. Got that? It's just not happening."
Charlie opened his mouth as though to argue but Don's glare silenced whatever the unvoiced protest had been. The younger man looked away and hunched his shoulders almost seeming to fold into himself. He looked the picture of misery and Don sighed.
"I'll go down to the river and see if I can find us some food… You'll be all right here?"
Charlie nodded.
Don didn't really think he had a ghost of a chance of finding them anything to eat, but he needed a little time away from Charlie. He knew if it were to ignore emotion and common human decency then Charlie's suggestion made perfect sense, but it just wasn't possible for Don to do that. Charlie was his brother, and he should know better. It angered Don that the younger man thought Don capable of just abandoning him.
To Don's surprise he did manage to find food. Making his way slowly upriver Don was astonished to come across a patch of wild strawberries. He took off his now battered jacket, forming it into a crude carry pouch and quickly filled it with anything that looked edible. He looked at the river but even if there were fish in the fast flowing water there was no way he was going to catch them. He searched for a while longer but could find nothing else and turned back. His foraging mission had been a success on two fronts, he had actually found food, meagre though it was, and his temper had cooled.
He'd only been gone about an hour but he really wanted to get back to his brother. Although there had been no sign of Simmons, Don didn't think the man would give up so soon.
As Don made his way back, careful not to crush the strawberries, he didn't notice the well-concealed, shadowy figure that followed him at a distance.
--
At first Charlie appeared to be asleep. With his eyes closed the man lay balled-up and slumped slightly sideways, his body resting against what looked to be a relatively smooth section of rock; but the moment Don slipped into their makeshift camp the curly head rose from the cradle of his arms. There was surprise and what appeared to be moisture in the younger Eppes' eyes.
"Don… I thought you'd changed your mind," Charlie whispered and rubbed his forehead.
Don sighed, trying not to get angry again. It still irritated him that Charlie would think him able to simply desert him like that, but Don chose to ignore the inference and instead he held up his jacket and the prize it held.
"I found lunch."
Charlie smiled softly. "Just like you said you would."
Don felt a little uncomfortable at the sudden admiration in his brother's eyes. "It's not much, but you like strawberries, right?"
Charlie's smile widened into a grin. Don knew perfectly well that his brother adored strawberries; as a child it was the only flavour ice-cream he'd eat. Charlie rubbed at his head again and Don frowned.
"How's your head?"
Self-consciously Charlie dropped his hand away from his brow. "I'm fine."
Don nodded, not believing it for a second. "Sure you are. How about we go down to the river and take a look at it after we eat?"
It didn't take long to consume the fruit; there really weren't enough of them to be a real meal for one man, let alone two. If Don had had any doubt that Charlie's head was bothering him more than he was saying it was put to rest when using a simple sleight of hand he was able to slip his mathematical genius brother a far larger share without it being noticed.
Once they were finished Charlie showed every intention of curling back up for another rest.
"Come on, it's time to take a look at that head of yours," Don said climbing to his feet.
The injured man looked anything but thrilled by the idea but he knew Charlie would give in. Don would have liked to let him rest but first he really wanted to get a good look at the wound. They were probably several days away from help, so he knew it was important they try to keep it as clean as possible. With a resigned sigh Charlie allowed Don to help him to his feet, and together they made their way down to the water.
Don helped Charlie negotiate his way over the larger rocks and across the uneven ground until they reached the water's edge. Charlie sat on a handily high outcrop with a tired sigh. Being as careful as he could and wincing in sympathy to Charlie's hissed-breath as he peeled the bandage free of the drying blood, Don took the soiled bandage off. Parting the hair over the site he examined the wound with a critical eye. Even though the skin around the edges looked red and a little swollen the injury actually looked better than it had before. At least it wasn't bleeding any more. Don looked to see how Charlie was doing. His face was several shades too pale and looked slightly grey.
Don rested his hand against his brother's forehead. Despite looking unwell Charlie smiled at the act. "This is like the time I was twelve and came off my bike, remember?"
"Came off your bike, Charlie? As I remember it you were fooling around, got flipped and fell down a thirty foot embankment. I just about killed myself getting down there to check on you. I wasn't sure if I was going to help you, kill you myself or drag you home to let Dad do it, but then I saw your broken leg."
Charlie huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, but you still tried to drag me back up the hill by yourself."
"Hey, I managed to get you more than half way, before I had to leave to get help. I probably would have got you all the way to the top if you'd just left your book bag behind," Don protested.
"I was worried we wouldn't be able to go back for it. I had a borrowed book in that bag, all about unsolvable problems. That was where I first learned about P vs. NP," Charlie reminisced fondly.
"If I'd known that I would definitely have made you leave it."
"Don, I would have discovered P vs. NP somewhere else, or I would have found some other problem to immerse myself into."
It was as close as Charlie had ever come to admitting, at least to him, that P vs. NP was a way of running from his problems, and Don felt a rare moment of understanding and connection with his brother. Don knew he had his own, more direct, but just as destructive methods of running and hiding when he couldn't handle a problem.
"Besides," Charlie continued, "having my books gave me something to do while I waited for you to get back."
"It seemed to take forever to get back to you. I kept imagining terrible things like you falling again."
"Is that why you won't leave me now, Don? Because of what happened when we were kids? We're not kids any more."
"Not this again, Charlie! I told you I wasn't leaving and I meant it. That's probably your most annoying trait, you know? Once you've got something stuck in your head you never let it go."
"Not when I know I'm right. Don, it just doesn't make any sense for both of us to be stuck out here. If you left there'd be a far greater likelihood of our overall collective survival."
"Hey, back up a second, overall collective survival? That's the average of our individual probabilities, right? Are you trying to snow me? What about our actual, individual survival probabilities, Charlie? Don't tell me, let me guess. I live and you die, right?"
"Don, you're staying here means we both die. It doesn't make sense. You should go, while you still can."
"Too late. You should have listened to him, Don, you might have made it. Now, you're both dead."
The brothers turned toward the unexpected voice. Not far away Simmons stood, the gun in his good hand pointing at them. The other arm was in a rough sling and his face was covered in cuts and bruises.
Simmons gestured to Charlie. "Get up, slowly."
Charlie did as he was told, careful to keep his hands away from his sides.
"Both of you drop your weapons, one at a time," Simmons instructed them.
Charlie heard Don's quiet oath as he slowly un-holstered his weapon and tossed it only a very short distance away.
Simmons glared at Don in response to the half-hearted throw. "Cute. Now you," he said shifting his aim to Charlie.
"I… I don't have a gun," Charlie said, unable to draw his attention away from the barrel of the weapon pointed at him. Simmons raised his weapon, the threat clear and Charlie shook with fear. It was obvious Simmons didn't believe him and he could see the resolve to fire in the other man's eyes.
"Don't! He's telling you the truth. He's unarmed!" Don's interruption diverted the gunman's attention in those critical moments, neutralizing the situation.
Simmons gave Don an evaluating look and finally lowered his weapon a fraction.
"You I get," he said nodding toward Don. "You've got the stench of government all over you. No mistaking it, you're a fed to the bone, a trained, mindless machine in the shape of a man. You make me sick. I've spent my life trying to protect people from the likes of you and because of that I've been persecuted. I know what you are. But you…" Simmons waved his weapon toward Charlie. "Who and what are you?"
Charlie was mesmerised by the movement of the weapon. "I'm… I'm…" Charlie stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. He shook his head.
The discharge of the handgun was deafening at such a close range, and Charlie recoiled in automatic reaction, stumbling over the uneven footing and falling backward to the ground.
"Don!" Charlie cried out in terror. Even as he'd fallen he realised he hadn't been shot and was terrified that it meant his brother had.
"I'm all right, Charlie, are you hit?" Don asked tightly.
Don still stood where he was but there was new tension in his stance.
Charlie sighed in relief.
"Get up!" Simmons yelled.
Charlie got to his feet as quickly as he could and raised his shaking hands. Simmons stared at him. "You're either not an agent or a hell of a good actor. Who are you?"
"Charlie, Charlie Eppes. I'm a mathematician… I teach math at Cal Sci."
"Don't lie to me." Simmons steadied the gun at Charlie again and his finger tightened on the trigger. "If you lie to me again I'll make you beg for me to kill you."
Charlie shook his head, not knowing what was the safe thing to say or what would be the wrong thing to say and get him killed.
"Please, it's the truth."
Simmons' face turned red from his rage and Charlie looked toward Don, expecting to feel the impact of a bullet at any moment. Don caught his gaze and Charlie felt a measure of calm from the strength he saw there. Whatever happened he wasn't alone.
Don looked to Charlie, but addressed himself to Simmons. "He's not lying. He's about as civilian as you can get, and he can prove it. Charlie, do you still have your wallet on you?"
"Um, yeah, I think so." He remembered slipping the wallet into his pocket before the flight in what now seemed a lifetime ago.
"Take it out slowly, Charlie," Don instructed.
The mathematician did as he was told and, opening it, held it out to Simmons. The man approached warily and Charlie felt tremors run through him as the gun came closer. The hand holding out the wallet shook so hard Charlie wasn't sure Simmons would be able to read his Cal Sci faculty identification card.
"You okay, Charlie?" Don asked.
Charlie nodded.
Simmons stepped back a little and then looked up at the mathematician in surprise.
The weapon lowered slightly. "You're a teacher? What were you doing on a government plane with him?"
"He's my brother."
Simmons shook his head. "And because you have a shared childhood you think he gives a damn about you?"
"I know he does."
"You're wrong. He's a machine. Whatever was once human in him the government has sucked dry. I know! They tried to do it to me, but I fought them. He's not your brother any more. If they ordered him to kill you, he'd do it in a heartbeat."
"No. Don would never hurt me."
"You're a fool." The gun came back up.
"Let him go, Simmons," Don said, taking a step forward. "You claim to have made it your life's work to protect civilians. If you kill Charlie, everything you claim will be a lie."
Simmons considered Don's words for a long moment. "That may be true, but you I can kill."
The gun moved to aim at Don's chest and there was no doubt he was going to fire. Charlie shouted a panicked "No!" and launched himself at his brother.
Simmons fired.
Don felt Charlie's body slam into his only a moment before the sharp report of the shot. It was a harder hit than Don would have credited the smaller and injured man of making. They fell together in a tangle of limbs, Don desperately trying to take as much of the impact with the ground as he could.
They fell apart as they thumped to the rocky ground, Don rolling forward a little so Charlie would be behind him. His weapon was within easy reach and Don reached for it. In a single smooth motion he'd grabbed the weapon and rolled up, coming into a firing position, the safety off. Simmons fired again while Don moved and he felt the fiery kiss of heat as the bullet passed close by his cheek, and heard the sound of the slug ricocheting from the rocks. Then he fired.
Simmons crumpled, dead before his body hit the ground.
Don relaxed. He knew his aim had been true, but his training forced him check his target. Getting to his feet, he kept his weapon trained on Simmons' still form until he reached down to confirm the man really was dead. Only then did he reengage the safety and put his gun back into the holster where it belonged. Don recovered Simmons's weapon then turned to check on his brother.
Charlie lay on his side, eyes wide and frightened as they watched Don.
"It's okay now, Charlie, it's over. You can get up."
Charlie grimaced and shook his head slightly. "I don't think I can."
Something about the way Charlie lay and the weakness of his voice worried Don. "Charlie? You okay, buddy?"
"Not really."
Don ran back to him and checked him. Fresh blood soaked the back of Charlie's shirt, the sight of it almost stopping Don's heart. Trying not to jostle him Don moved Charlie so he could get a better look at the new wound. A messy but not too deep gash showing signs of burnt edges cut a path across part of his back and shoulder. But to Don's profound relief the bullet seemed not to have hit anything vital. The wound was obviously painful but not life threatening.
"It's all right, Charlie, it's just a graze. You'll be fine."
Charlie groaned. "This is what a graze feels like?"
Don sympathetically patted Charlie's good shoulder. "Well, it's a pretty decent graze."
"Oh man, I really want to go home, now."
--
Don wasn't really sure how it was that Charlie had ended up winning the argument about resting vs. moving on but as he helped the other man negotiate his way over yet another obstacle too hard for his injuries he decided it didn't really matter. As long as they stuck together Don had a sense that they would be all right. Charlie was tougher than he looked, and although they weren't moving fast, they were moving. They had stayed by the river which was presently a wide, flat, pebble-strewn, and gently flowing waterway.
Suddenly Charlie stopped. A moment later Don heard him laugh.
"What's funny?"
Charlie shook his head. "Not funny, fantastic. Look!" Charlie pointed to a nearby boulder. On it was a single yellow rectangle.
Don shook his head. It was obvious that at some point a human being had been there before them, one carrying a can of yellow paint, but Don couldn't see what had Charlie so excited.
"So someone painted a rock."
"Don, this is a trail blaze." Charlie pointed off into the trees bordering the river. "It's telling us there is a trail out of here that way."
Don frowned at the trees; they looked no more inviting where Charlie pointed than they did anywhere else. "You're sure?"
"Ten years hiking with Larry sure. Trust me, Don."
Don nodded. "I do."
With mild surprise Don realised that it was true. He did trust his brother, and not just when it came to mathematics. Charlie had been right they weren't kids any more. Those had been hard years for them both. He'd always been a little confused about his feelings for his brother back then, but things had changed. He still didn't fully understand what motivated Charlie but he had finally realised he didn't have to understand him to trust him.
Don smiled at his brother, feeling a deeper sense of kinship. "A trail, huh? What say, when we get out of this we plan a real camping trip… somewhere a little less remote?"
Charlie smiled. "I'll bring marshmallows."
Finita.