Wow, thanks so much for the reviews guys!!! I am so glad you like the tale!!!...anyway, on we go...
Chapter Three
Sheppard knew he was slowing down; he had felt his legs weakening the further along the riverside he travelled and he was well aware that he was losing a lot of blood. The pain in his chest had resolved into an overwhelming deep agony and he knew his was in a lot of trouble; the staccato of his breathing pretty much confirmed that he had a punctured lung and the blood on his lips did nothing to allay his fears.
As he now stumbled along the wharf, he was also becoming more and more aware of a new and different source of pain. His back had started to ache abominably low down between his shoulder blades and he could feel the warm dribble of blood running down his spine to coalesce on the belt of his BDU's.
He couldn't understand at first how he could have injured his back, but then as his confused brain slowly started to remember the events back at the office, he suddenly realised. As great as the TAC vests were at repelling bullets, they were also pretty good at keeping them in; and as he was now fairly sure that the pain in his back was the exit wound of the bullet that had damaged his lung, he was also pretty sure that it had lodged in the material at the back of his vest and was now rubbing against the raw flesh on his back.
He could feel his attention wandering as he stumbled further on, the mist coming off the water was starting to twist in the strengthening breeze, creating shapes that twisted and swirled on the dockside, and Sheppard flinched as the shapes suddenly reminded him of Wraith mind games.
The sound of displaced gravel shook him out of his reverie and he turned to look behind him through the thickening mist. His attacker was now much closer than Sheppard had been aware, but then again, his reactions were slowing down and he was finding it progressively harder to cope with even the simplest tasks like walking and breathing. There was now barely two hundred metres between them as they both stopped and stood looking at each other through the gloom.
Sheppard looked around him where he stood, searching for anything that he could use as a weapon. The ground and surrounding area were strewn with discarded debris and his eyes stopped when the glint of metal caught his attention.
The metal pole was short, no more than half a metre in length, but as beggars couldn't be choosers, Sheppard lent precariously over to snag the pole off the ground. The smooth metal felt good under his grasp and he hefted the pole in his right hand as his nemesis moved towards him.
Sheppard stood his ground as the figure approached him. He pulled his left arm in hard against his damaged chest, trying to hold the field dressing in place and holding the short metal pole in his free right hand as he waited for the approaching figure. Whatever Sheppard did, he was very aware that running now wasn't now a option; he was in incredibly pain and his vision wavered drunkenly between fuzzy and completely non existent.
The figure walked hesitantly towards him, but as Sheppard watched, he could see that there was definitely something very wrong as the man lurched along the bank. Sheppard waited for the approaching figure, his arm shaking with the effort of maintaining a steady stance, but as the man staggered towards him, Sheppard slowly began to lower the metal pole from its defensive position in his hand as he began to realise that his attacker really was in a lot of trouble. As he watched in amazement, the man suddenly swerved to the side and fall, landing finally in crumpled heap on the filthy ground.
Sheppard walked slowly towards the fallen figure, keeping alert to the possibility that this was nothing but a ruse and that he would be attacked as he approached; but nothing happened and he reached the man's side without incident.
Kicking the fallen figure with his boot, Sheppard could see that the damage that he had inflicted with the wooden post had probably been pretty fatal.
The man's face was a bloody mess; his nose smashed to pieces and his lips split open, but Sheppard could only breath a sigh of relief at the gruesome sight. As much as he had been prepared to fight the man if necessary, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't have lasted too long in his present condition. Leaning over, Sheppard pressed a blood stained hand to the mans neck, but there was nothing there, he was dead.
As Sheppard turned away from the body, an unmistakable sound caused him to freeze in his tracks. The sound was originating from the fallen figures jacket and it sounded very much like a com device clicking for attention. Sheppard grunted with effort as he lent over once more, this time pulling the radio from the grubby jacket pocket where it had been hidden. It wasn't a com configuration that he recognised but there was definitely a send and receive button on the side and Sheppard pushed it.
"Stavin, are you there?" The voice sounded deeply harassed, the tone rough and filled with clearly unsuppressed anger.
"Stavin this is Dower, did you get him? Stavin!"
Sheppard clicked the radio off and pushed it clumsily into his own pocket, his fingers were now feeling stiff with cold and unresponsive. At least he knew now that his attacker hadn't been acting alone and he would have to remain as alert as he could. The night air was becoming much cooler as the sun finally disappeared and Sheppard was becoming ever more aware of his failing body. His head was throbbing with the effort of staying upright and he could feel the encroaching weakness taking up residence in his muscles and the tremors in his hands becoming more and more obvious.
With a final disgusted look at the dead figure on the ground, Sheppard turned away and started to head again towards the only place that he knew he could find help; the agreed meeting place. As his own com link didn't seem to be working and he had no other way of contacting his team, he had to try to reach them himself.
The lowering light levels and his own failing strength were not helping as Sheppard concentrated totally on just putting one foot in front of another as he struggled along the darkened riverside. His brain was having a hard time processing information, but one thing that kept coming back to nag at him was the thought that a 'Wraith' had issued a bounty on his head and possibly that of the rest of the team; and his concern for his friends started swirling around in his dulled thoughts. What if they had already been captured, what if they were already dead!
He was well aware that the Wraith really hated him, but he was finding it hard to imagine one of them taking it to this extreme and sending a paid killer after him or the team, but then again he really had pissed an awful lot of them off over the last few months, so anything was possible.
The dockside was strewn with abandoned grain sacks and unidentifiable debris and Sheppard had to concentrate hard on his footing as he pressed forward towards the nearing residential area of the town. The people who lived and worked around the docklands area had seemed hard working and friendly, but every place has its fair share of bad apples and obviously this place was no different; the right incentive or the right amount of money could encourage a lot of people to have a change of character very quickly. Sheppard thought back to the meeting that they had attended three nights previously, when the sector masters had put forward their individual requests with regard to trade. Sheppard tried to remember if there had been anyone there that had struck him as being out of place, but his mind wasn't functioning on all cylinders and he was finding it hard to even remember the faces that he knew were legitimate. Who had sold them out, and why?
His attention was starting to wander and he failed to notice the sudden swift movement in the shadows behind him, or the minute sound of gravel being crushed under foot. His focus was fixed firmly on the path in front of him as the lone figure moved silently through the shadows that ran parallel to his position and ducked into one of the darkened doorways.
Sheppard trudged wearily on towards his goal, single minded in his purpose; intent on hopefully reaching his team before any harm befell them. He didn't see the figure run from the warehouse on his right and it wasn't until the sound of the heavy footfalls penetrated his fuzzy brain that he reacted and turned around.
The fast moving figure hit him with enough force to knock him spinning to the ground, the breath knocked from his already battered chest. As Sheppard hit the ground, he struggled to draw a breath, but his lungs refused to cooperate with him and all he could do was cough violently. His mouth filled with the warm tang of blood and he gagged.
His assailant pressed forward with his advantage and Sheppard felt himself turned viciously onto his stomach and his arms pulled towards the middle of his back. He couldn't stop the cry from breaking through his lips as his eyes closed, the roar of blood in his ears blocking out any other sound. He could feel himself drifting down towards the black abyss, but a boot pressed into the centre of his back brought him stinging back from the edge of unconsciousness and he felt his arms pulled backwards and up as he was dragged up onto his feet.
His normally high threshold for pain had been bypassed a good while ago and he could feel himself going under. As he felt himself dropping down, his legs caving in under the intense agony, he was spun ferociously around to face his attacker.