Mac couldn't stop himself from demanding that Giovanni explain or somehow justify his actions. Part of it was wanting to see if Gio was on enough of an emotional edge to be wrongfooted by a little pushing. Another part of him was just genuinely incredulous that the man was so stone cold and dedicated to his purpose that he'd kill another human being like a cowboy putting down a lame horse in the cheesy western movies his grandfather used to favor on Sunday afternoons.

Mac's expression of stark horror was replaced by one of careful disdain in a blink. "Well, my friends will have heard that shot …" Sound is like a neon sign out here, dumbass, was heavily implied.

Gio gestured with his gun, unmoved by either Mac's indignation or his seemingly veiled threat that people were coming for him. Gio had shot Sid. He wouldn't think twice about shooting anyone who followed them. "If you wanna keep them out of this, I suggest you pick up the pace."

Anton reinforced the boss's message by giving Mac a light kick behind his knee. His jaw clenched because his hands were free now and he really wanted to just pounce of the guy and start beating the hell out of him, but he knew it wouldn't be smart.

He just shook his head and started leading the way once again toward that distant, coveted X, going as slowly as he could get away with by playing up his injuries from the repeated beatings he'd received since early that morning.

After what felt like forever, Mac put up a hand to stop them. He actually needed a minute to catch his breath, and he wanted a calm eye to eye moment with Gio to point out the obvious and hopefully not get his ass handed to him again.

"How much further?" Gio demanded.

"About two miles, give or take." He didn't point out that it was going to be over some of the steepest roughest terrain yet. Nor did he point out that the temperature was dropping. He swallowed and then did point out his most pressing concern. "That's gonna be a one way trip if we don't stop and collect some water."

Gio blew him off. "When we get there."

Mac shook his head stubbornly. This dumbass really wasn't getting it. "If our muscles cramp from dehydration, you gonna shoot everybody?" he damanded, and wished almost immediately that he hadn't because the look Gio gave him said, 'You bet your ass I will.' Then his expression relaxed a little, like he was curious what Mac was going to do or say next. His curiosity didn't encourage him to lower his weapon though. Mac didn't even offer to go with the group down to the nearby stream, just asked for the stuff he needed to build a crude filtration system.

Gio assigned Emma to help Mac process the water and keep an eye on him. She kept throwing frowning little glances at the boss. Mac thought maybe, based on all the little tells in her posture, face, and voice, that she was ready to flip on Gio. Since they were getting close to their destination, his team hadn't caught up with them yet, and he had no illusions about what was going to happen to him the second they had their hands on their prize, Mac ventured an offhand sounding comment about Emma's place in Gio's plans, implying that she was at least as disposable, and probably more so, as Sid.

All it got him was threatened, smacked again, and a promise of punishment in his future. But at least a few things were clearer. For one thing, he could get away with a little and not get his head blown off. They still needed him too badly. And for another, Gio's crew was loyal to him, above anything else, even their own survival.

How useful that information was remained to be seen, but he filed it away liked any piece of potentially useful data. Then he got stiffly to his feet, and started leading the way on the last leg of the journey, hoping this wasn't going to be a one way trip.

0-0-0

Riley's voice shook just a bit when she called out, "Hey! I've got more blood over here."

Jack limped over looking pale and wan and … Riley didn't want to name what else she saw on his face, but her brain did it anyway. Afraid. Jack was afraid. And it made her cold all over in a way that days out in the wintery wet here couldn't even touch.

Bozer scrambled over the rocky ridge first, his aptitude for rock climbing becoming more apparent as they followed Mac's clues. "It's not him!" he all but shouted over his shoulder. "It's not Mac!"

Jack was struggling up the rocks, and Riley had slung an arm around him to offer support, so she felt him almost slump with relief. When they got to the top and looked over the ledge, Jack frowned. "That's one of the guys who jumped us."

Bozer swallowed hard. "If they're shooting their own … it's only a matter of time before …"

"That's not gonna happen," Jack interrupted sharply. He frowned. "We gotta slow down here a second and make a plan though. They took my gun and were are miles from real help, probably a day out from anything the way we came. I really wish you'd done your old disassembled phone trick, Riley, I'm not gonna lie," Jack sighed, running both hands over his head in a nervous, frustrated gesture.

"Me, too," she agreed. Then she leaned forward, squinting at the body below them. "Hey, that guy still has his radio on him."

Jack leaned forward to look, too. "Yeah. Yeah, he does."

"What good does that do us?" Bozer snapped. "We got a big fat fifty foot problem between us and that radio. Besides what're we gonna use some crook's radio for?"

"If we can get it, I think I can contact a park ranger."

"What good will that do? We're too far from the ranger station to do any good," Bozer protested. "We can't keep wasting time getting to Mac!"

Jack noticed Bozer looking a little wild around the eyes. Hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, worry about his best friend combined to keep Bozer from thinking clearly. "For starters Boze, they'll have a phone and can call Phoenix for us."

"Not to mention ATVs and all kinds of search and rescue stuff," Riley added.

"Good point," Bozer concedes sheepishly. "I'm just anxious to get to our boy before," he looked over the ledge at the broken body below. "Before that."

Jack patted him on the shoulder. "Me too, Boze." Then Jack sighed. This was going to suck. "Alright," he stripped off his backpack at coat. "One a you hold this stuff."

Riley knee what he was thinking, but her brain didn't quite want to believe it. "What for?" She asked, her eyes going wide.

Jack shrugged, wincing as the simple movement pulled across his midsection. "Gonna climb down and get us a radio, Ri."

"Jack, you can't do that. You're injured."

Bozer added, "And it's a straight drop!"

Jack looked over the edge again. "You both have good points, but we need that damned radio."

Riley chewed her lip. "You think there enough stuff around here to make a rope?"

Bozer's usual skeptical eyebrow went up. "You seriously think one of those sorry-ass Mac ropes is gonna hold a full size Jack Dalton? Those things used to barely hold action figures!"

Riley actually grinned. "I think there's maybe a difference between the stuff Mac made as a kid and what he showed us how to make as part of this course."

She was already moving around, gathering materials. Bozer's eyebrow hadn't lowered. "I guess but …"

"And we're not gonna use it for one of us."

Jack's face split into a grin. "We goin' fishin'?"

She grinned in return. "Just like the old days."

"Oh!" Boze said, finally grinning too in fresh realization. "You're making a line with a hook! That makes way more sense."

The whole team got to work on the finishing line, hoping that radio would be what they, a Mac, desperately needed.

A life line.