Chapter Three

John sat up and his whole bearing was completely different… almost feral.

Chet had been overwhelmed by their situation ten minutes before. Now he felt as if he had been hit by a tsunami. He had no idea what the seizure or the head injury was doing to Johnny, or how he could help his friend, but he had to try. He knew that sometimes head injuries could cause people to act out, and he didn't want John to hurt himself, so he decided to play along for now.

He took a deep breath, sat back on his heels, and said, "Look, I'm sorry. You kinda look like a guy I know. You mind if I ask your name? Don't wanna call you 'hey you,' right?"

The other man considered this for a moment. He seemed to be processing a whole body of previously untapped knowledge… perhaps hidden from his other Self? Chet didn't know whether to be fascinated or appalled. Finally he turned and looked Chet up and down… seemingly assessing him. He nodded slowly. "You may call me Shadow."

Chet nodded. "Okay, Shadow. Uh, things are kinda messed up right now. We should probably get some sleep—see how things play out in the morning."

Shadow stood with the stealthy grace of a natural athlete. He showed no signs of pain or injury, as if he had shelved it somewhere far away. He moved silently about the campsite, looking things over with the eye of an expert. A chill ran down Chet's spine. He had seen that exact expression on someone's face before. His field instructors when he was in the Army used to look exactly like that when they were on practice maneuvers. He suddenly felt as if all the preparations he had made in the clearing were being carefully assessed and graded. As if he himself were being weighed and measured. And maybe found wanting. Which was completely insane because this was not some badass secret agent he was looking at. This was just Johnny Gage, a guy he had known for years… The station goofball. His Pigeon. Okay, sort of a busted-up pigeon, but still…

He searched the area thoroughly, checking out the plane, the dead man's grave, the shelter and the supplies, everything.

Eventually, he came back to the sleeping bags and sat back down gracefully. His expression was unreadable at first. Finally, he nodded slightly. "You have done well. It is obviously not an optimal situation. I shall do my best tomorrow to contact one of the others."

Chet raised an eyebrow. "Others? What others? Who?"

Shadow stopped speaking and an expression of uncertainty filled his eyes. "Others? What others?" he echoed. He raised a hand to his head and grimaced in pain.

Chet looked at him, worried. "Maybe you better lay down. You can deal with it tomorrow."

Shadow nodded. "That might be for the best. I do not feel well at the moment.

Chet watched as he climbed stiffly into the sleeping bag after checking for unwanted visitors, and Chet himself did the same. He plucked a small tarantula out of his bag and tossed it off into the brush. "Sorry fella, I don't share my sleeping quarters. Go find a lady friend to snuggle up with."

He settled in and looked up at the stars. "God, it's me again. I got no clue what to even ask here, so just… help? Thanks. G'night. Oh and, uh, Amen."

And with that, Chet rolled over and went to sleep with no idea what awaited him the next morning.

Chet opened his eyes to bright sunlight, birdsong and aching muscles. And the smell of really good coffee. He blinked a few times to clear his head and looked over towards where Shadow had fallen asleep. The bag was neatly "made" and quite empty. Chet sat up, a little panicked.

"G'mornin' g'mornin' g'mornin'! How ya doin, Chester B.?"

Chet turned toward the cheerful voice, completely stunned. Johnny was stirring a batch of pancakes by the fire and grinning at him. Coffee was boiling in a pan on one side of the fire. Chet knew for sure he would never be able to keep up with all the confusing emotions flooding him. "John, are you sure you should be doing that? I mean, are you okay?"

Johnny looked at the lineman as if he had suddenly grown an extra head. "Sure! I'm fine. I've got a skull-banger of a headache, but why shouldn't I be okay? I got a pretty good knock on the skull, but you did a dandy job patching me up. Now, get over here. I don't plan on eating all these by myself, y'know."

Chet scowled and nodded. "Yeah, okay." He sighed and blew out his breath. He was glad on the one hand John seemed better, but last night had been just way too weird for him to just let it drop. He straightened out his bedroll and moved over by the fire, accepted a plate of food and a cup of coffee. Say what you wanted about the youngest man in the crew, Gage made fantastic coffee, Chet thought as he sipped the hot strong brew gratefully.

They were quiet as they sat next to the fire after they finished their meal. John automatically began rubbing the plates and cups with sand to clean them, and Chet watched, a bemused expression on his face. No matter what the head injury may have done to him, you could not take away the outdoorsman ingrained into him. Johnny was a survivor at heart. You could put him into just about any situation, give him a hunting knife and he would survive, and likely thrive. It was this quality that drew people to him... that fascinated Chet. Of course, Chet would never admit that fact to him. It would ruin their friendship. It would kill the vibe they had between them. The Phantom could never admit how much he really cared about his Pigeon. That would take all the fun out of the game!

Chet watched John out of the corner of his eye. He knew he was going to have to broach the subject of what had happened sooner or later. For one thing, he could tell that Johnny was still in pain, and he remembered that terrible seizure. There was no telling whether he would have another one, since it was likely that the head injury that had caused the first one. Chet wasn't sure if John's odd behavior had been caused by the seizure, or if had simply was acting out-he wasn't sure if what had John had told him was real or some strange fantasy. But he needed to know.

He took a deep breath and faced John, who now was whittling some sticks into arrows. Apparently, he had decided to do some hunting. "John, how much do you remember about what happened last night?"

Johnny's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Chet? What happened last night?"

Chet's eyes widened a little. "You don't remember anything unusual?"

"No, not particularly. Why, did something happen?"

"Do you remember having the seizure last night?"

Johnny looked at Chet blankly. "No, man, what are you talkin' about.? I don't remember anything except goin' to bed."

"Okay, do you remember the plane crash, how we got here?"

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sore. I got a headache to beat the band." He casually continued whittling the stick as they talked.

Chet floundered a little, as he wasn't sure what to say next. The things Gage had been saying were so off the wall, he was positive they were just delirious ravings. And yet, he had sounded so different, so confident... so very unlike his normal self, that Chet was sure there was something more to it. He was a little afraid to ask, but he was also curious. He knew he would never be able to let go of the questions that were flooding his brain, so he decided to go for broke.

"John, last night, you had a gran-mal seizure. I think it was the result of the head injury you got in the plane crash. You were pretty out of it for a while. Afterwards, you started talking and acting like somebody else. It was really weird."

Kelly couldn't help but notice when John went completely still. He suddenly seemed to even stop breathing. Chocolate eyes that darkened nearly to black bored into his own. Gage stood and moved closer to the lineman, before squatting down next to him. Those dark eyes were again drilling Chet, making him feel as if they could see right through him. When he spoke, John's voice was low and intense. "Chet, what exactly did I say last night?"

"Well, you were doing a lot of talking about how you were a guy named Shadow..."

John cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Stop!" He blew out his breath in a huff of frustration. "Damnit. No one was ever supposed to know!"

Chet furrowed his brow in confusion. "Know what, John? What are you? Some sort of super-spy or something? He chuckled uncomfortably when Johnny simply stared solemnly at him, never even coming close to cracking a smile. Chet shook his head. "You're kidding! You really are some sort of secret agent or something?"

Johnny shook his head. "No, Chet. Not exactly. Not like you think. But I can't explain it to you. There is way too much at stake. Too many people involved. If I tell you, I'd have to shoot you." The grin ghosting the corners of his mouth meant he was only half serious.

He sighed and stared off into the distance for a few minutes. "Well, in one way, this kind of makes our situation a little better. At least I can call for help now. I had been trying to figure out how to do this without telling you anything. Now, they'll just have to do a little damage control, and we can get home a little sooner."

Chet frowned. "What the hell are you talking about, Gage?"