Chapter 4
Oscar had desperately wanted to accompany the rescue team, but he knew that someone in power had to be there in DC, in case anyone phoned with demands or a threat. He'd finally ascertained that the Secretary, too, had been duped and wasn't part of anything sinister, he didn't really trust him. Then again, he never really had. He respected him, yes, but trust? Not a chance. So now Oscar was stuck in his office, alone and feeling completely helpless, unable to save the woman he cared so deeply for. He prayed that Jaime was still alive and that Steve could find her in time. Any other outcome was absolutely unthinkable.
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Jaime's subconscious mind was working overtime while she was lying passed out and in shock on the rooftop. The kaleidoscope of images turned more vivid, almost surreal, as snippets of her past whizzed by too quickly, taking on frightening proportions.
"Her vital signs are going, Doctor..."
"She's got a massive cerebral hemorrhage..."
"Respiration down to two per minute..."
"Doctor, we're losing her...we're losing her...losing her..."
Jaime abruptly woke up to the sounds of a scuffle, of actual physical blows being struck. She made herself as small as possible, crouched behind the chimney, and cautiously peered out. A woman was literally being dragged by two men into a large open area near the fence. The new OSI receptionist! Had she been taken along with Steve? She hadn't been at the job long enough to know anything that could be useful to them. She was panicked and struggling for all she was worth, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the two other men who followed behind with guns drawn.
The young woman was shoved roughly to the ground. Jaime saw the guns being raised and had to look away. She couldn't escape the sounds, though. Multiple shots rang out, too many, too close together to count. Then - silence. Jaime closed her eyes, trying to force back tears of fright and panic. If she'd had anything in her stomach, she would've been physically ill. She wondered if Steve would be next, or if he might've already suffered the same fate...
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Steve moved to the airplane's hatch and opened it as the pilot's count reached 30 seconds. The sun had been down for several hours and it was just about 23 hours since Jaime had made the identical jump. Steve, too, landed near the back of the compound. Jaime had assumed she'd go in and be out again in a very short time, so she'd chosen to travel light, with only minimal supplies. Steve, though, was anticipating a longer haul, and had a large canteen of water and a decent cache of food in his pack, as well as a loaded gun and extra bullets.
He found Jaime's parachute, tightly rolled and hidden in some tall grass, and he knew he was on the right track. Steve was positive she'd jumped the fence; Jaime would never have come this far and not taken the next step. Steve had one advantage that Jaime did not: his eye picked up the infra-red motion sensors on the other side of the fence. He winced, knowing it was highly probable that Jaime had tripped those sensors and set off whatever alarms they triggered. Adrenaline surged through him as he realized she was most likely in serious trouble, or worse.
Steve leaped effortlessly over the fence, taking care to clear the sensors. He glanced at the ground and saw drops of blood. The pattern told him she was running, but she was injured. Moving along the backs of the buildings, he went in the opposite direction of where Jaime was perched, dazed and terrified, on the rooftop. He stopped just outside the open area where the receptionist had died. Her body had been removed, leaving only a large pool of blood littered with bullet casings. Steve's heart shattered; whoever had shed this much blood was obviously no longer living.
He leaned against a wall, overcome by grief, and suddenly caught sight of a trail of blood drops that started where he'd first spotted them and led in the other direction. His hope somewhat renewed, he set off to follow the trail.
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Jaime had been drifting in and out of consciousness since the receptionist was killed. She didn't know it, but she was now running a fever and her mind was starting to play tricks on her. Steve had followed the blood trail into the cabin, but Jaime didn't hear the soft foot-falls of the man she once again loved. Instead, she heard the hard cr-runch of the four pairs of boots belonging to the execution team. They were coming for her now! Thoroughly terrified, she jumped from the roof and took off running, just as Steve was leaving the cabin. He followed the trail again to the back of the building - something in his gut or his heart just knew it was Jaime's trail - saw the niche in the roof and jumped up to check it out, missing her by mere seconds.
He found three bloody towels, two of them completely saturated, and realized her wound was serious. He also saw tiny flecks of something - fireplace ash? - along with the blood and figured out the rest of the story. He knew she must've hidden in the fireplace or chimney after she was hurt, and was probably nursing the beginning of a raging infection. He wanted to call out to her, let her know he was here and not as a prisoner, but doing so would be a death sentence for them both.
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Oscar was now being fueled by pots of coffee, rather than food or sleep. He wondered if he should've forewarned Steve about the return of Jaime's memory. He'd chosen not to, reasoning that the news would be so much happier if delivered after they were both safe. Perhaps a small part of him wanted to hold onto his own unexpressed but not-too-well-hidden love for Jaime just a little bit longer before what he figured was her inevitable return to Steve's arms.
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