Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's note: Ha, how's that for a quick update? I might just give BregoBeauty a run for her money here, haha. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, it will answer some of the most popular questions. Thanks as always for your kind reviews and encouragement.
Chapter 38
There must be a way out.
During the last few minutes, this had been the one sentence Lisa had clung to with feverish determination as the moldy smell of wood and earth started to fill her nostrils. The thick, green crowns of the trees filtered out the light to a point where it became difficult to see anything but shadows; if it weren't for the noise of crackling guns she was running away from, Lisa wouldn't have had a clue where she was actually going. She ploughed on recklessly, throat raw with exertion and fear.
She tripped over a root and before she could catch herself, she lay sprawled in the mud. Fighting the urge to just stay down, Lisa was rubbing her forehead when she suddenly heard the telltale sound of someone else forcing their way through the bushes. Apparently aware that she wasn't moving anymore, the other person stopped, as well. A few seconds passed. Shit! Do something! Lisa's eyes roamed the darkness for a clue on his whereabouts - to no avail. Mustering all her courage, she fired blindly, hoping to draw out her adversary. It worked. He sprinted towards her, taking cover behind a tree, and Lisa sprayed him with lead. Again, silence.
What was that?
Leaves rustled softly and for a terrifying moment, she got the distinct impression that there were two people closing in on her. That can't be. You would have heard. Lisa tensed up, prepared to end this melee by whatever force necessary. Her opponent inched away from the trunk and a shot rang out from right behind her. Lisa shrieked as she whirled around to face the attacker, but it was too late. He smashed her weapon aside as his body landed on top of hers, driving the air from her lungs. Lisa screamed into his chest, frantically trying to push him away, desperate to wrestle free. A familiar scent stopped her cold and she inhaled it deeply, searching for the answer to a question she didn't dare to ask out loud. Her fingers dug into his shirt, pulling him closer, and when Lisa finally whispered his name, she could feel Jackson's muscles relax until it was more like he was cradling her, rather than pressing her down.
"I knew you'd come."
Jackson's expression was strangely solemn, with just the smallest hint of a smile hiding in the slight quirk of his lips. He looked down on her. "I bet you did."
She couldn't resist. "What kept you so long?"
"I got shot at."
There was a secret message behind the mocking pout he was sporting as he helped her up; it took her a second to understand. "Oh my God, that was you in the car?"
"Yes." Jackson's voice grew irritated. "You see, here's me playing the knight in shining armor, I'm riding in on my bullet-ridden horse to save the distressed damsels and I'm telling Whitley to honk that damn horn, honk it and -" He was heckled by a loud SPHRTF! and frowned as he watched Lisa shake with stifled laughter while – very discreetly – trying to wipe off the piece of snot that had torpedoed out her nose.
Fist firmly pressed to the mouth, she asked, "You were telling Whitley to 'honk that damn horn, honk it'?" Lisa collapsed against him, laughing and crying at the same time. Just what fueled these tears, she couldn't say, yet with every salty drop some of the pressure and anxiety seemed to trickle out, as well.
Jackson didn't comfort her, but neither did he pelt her with one of his scathing remarks. Instead, he just stood there, arms around her shoulders in an attempt to keep her steady, until Lisa had calmed down. He gingerly lifted her chin, tracing her features with his gaze. "So, Giggles, how ready are you to get the hell out of here?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
When she shifted towards where they had come from, Jackson grabbed her by the sleeve. "Back there? Do you want to get caught in a firefight?" His fingers interlaced with hers. "No, no, we'll try to make it through the woods, over the wall." He started walking, still holding her by the hand. "On foot. Thanks for that, by the way."
Lisa flinched. "Will Cherry be okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, she will be. She and Whitley are probably chilling out pool-side at the nearest hotel by now, sipping Sea Breezes and going, 'Hey, ever wondered what happened to those idiots who ran away from safety, into the forest?'"
Judging by his tone, Jackson's mood was deteriorating, but Lisa needed it said. "Rescuing me … you do realize that's definitely a good deed, right?"
"Hah." He cut his eyes to her and even through the semi-darkness, she could see the spark in them. Jackson turned, quickening the pace. "You're not rescued yet. And I came back for Cherry, anyway." Lisa could have sworn he was grinning.
In a matter of moments she had worked out his rhythm and followed it with ease. They didn't speak; a tug, a squeeze, a halt in the step or the tensing of muscles was all they required to communicate. Every once in a while the reality of the situation, the memories of what had passed, made Lisa clasp him in a vise-like grip for a second or two and she was as surprised at herself as she was at Jackson, who would return her grip without fail. She wondered when exactly they had come to reach this strange understanding, when exactly they had morphed into this – two people gliding through the greenish twilight in perfect harmony.
The crack of a branch interrupted her musings.
Jackson dove down behind a pile of felled trees, yanking Lisa along. He raised his gun and put another one onto the ground next to him. A Beretta 92? Lisa shuddered when more noise reached her ears … how many men were actually out there? She pulled out her own pistol and squinted, willing them to come out of hiding so they could finally get this nightmare over with. A shadow approaching them from up ahead went down immediately as their combined bullets found him. The gloomy silence after the echo of his dying yell played Twister with her frazzled nerves.
"That was a waste of ammo, Leese," Jackson murmured. "Lay low, save yours. I'll handle this, understood?"
"I thought you were a lousy shot?"
"Too lousy to be a high-class sniper, more than good enough for the rest."
In spite of her worries, Lisa complied. More men attacked and Jackson took them out one by one, the muscles in his arms rippling from the effort while his face transformed into a mask of stony concentration, soon covered in a faint sheen of sweat. They were lucky that their current position actually worked to their advantage - Forbish's men could not get close without giving up the safety of the trees. Not that getting close was a requirement, Lisa pondered, as round after round whipped through the air around her. She pressed her chin into her chest, afraid the flying pieces of bark would rip her to shreds. After a few minutes, Jackson ran out of ammunition just as his current opponent tried to come near, but he had his other weapon up in the next second and Forbish's dog dead in the one after that.
Lisa let out a deep, shuddering breath, shaky with relief. Before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed his Beretta and exchanged the empty magazine with one of her own, putting it back where he had cast it down. "Gun ready, Jackson."
The twitch in his jaw acknowledged her words as he continued to lure the attackers to their demise, always aware of their moves, almost as if he anticipated them. Lisa had been well aware of Jackson's cunning nature, his intelligence, his ability to make quick decisions, yet never before had she seen him bring those traits into a firefight. It fascinated, appalled, excited and soothed her at the same time.
Then, suddenly, it was quiet.
Lisa physically bristled with the foreboding that tautened her muscles, registered a tight little ball of fright gain momentum in her mind. This isn't over yet. Apparently, Jackson disagreed; his joints cracked when he carefully hoisted himself up inch by inch. Don't. The air around them seemed to be charged with … something, licking at her skin, causing it to erupt in goose bumps that were so intense, they hurt. Jackson rose in slow-motion and the sound of the rustling fabric sent a white-hot current through her veins. Lisa swallowed, nearly coughing from the dry tickle in her throat. DON'T. Her fingers curled at the sight of him starting to straighten, twisting his neck very much like a deer trying to sniff out its hunter. Something wasn't right, her instincts screamed, and she let go of her reins on them with a scream of her own as she jumped up, shoving him hard. "JACKSON!"
Another round splintered the wood right where his head had been the split fraction of a second ago. Jackson hissed a stream of curses to accompany his leaden reply into the bushes while Lisa looked on, briefly confused at the odd angle until she realized she had fallen over backwards. The instant that thought pierced her consciousness, her brain released another valuable piece of information – discomfort. Dumbfounded, her attention shifted to her left shoulder which was oozing blood. Strangely enough, it actually felt kind of nice, the way the searing cold sensation gradually turned warm, and Lisa gave in, allowing herself to drift along, up into the sallow skies.
A few minutes - hours? – later, Jackson was crouching at her side; his fingers worked softly and swiftly, wiping blood, kneading skin, fashioning a bandage from his shirt sleeve. "We were lucky, the bullet only grazed you. The wound is fairly deep and no doubt painful, but you'll be okay." Jackson stood up and held out his hand.
"I can't." She was so tired of it all. Even before it had begun, Lisa could already hear the impending argument play out – 'Yes, you can.' – 'No, I can't.' – 'This isn't an issue of can't, Leese.' – 'You're wrong.' Was he, though? Oh to hell with it, she had fought and she had fought well … that ought to count for something, right?
Jackson bent down to her once more. "Leese, I am ruthless, I am selfish, I am strictly goal-oriented. As a matter of fact, I take pride in those qualities. And now that I have gone through all this extra trouble, you just quit on me?" He clicked his tongue, tugging at her shirt. "Is that the important life lesson you want me to learn?"
"I am not your own personal Yoda, Jackson!" Want a life lesson? Keep pushing my buttons. "You do like the rest of us and figure it out yourself."
"It's good to see you're not too hurt to give me attitude."
"Yeah, I've adjusted to your general pattern of behavior quite nicely, thanks." Anger quickened her heartbeat and Lisa wasn't entirely sure whether she welcomed the familiar simmering heat in the pit of her stomach. It drew her back into his world.
"Okay, okay. Here's the thing: I would carry you, I truly would, but -" Jackson's expression was so sincere, so austere … it made her ache for something – anything – from him that would give her a reason to get up, to persist. "But you have gained quite a few pounds since the flight, I really doubt I'd be capable of that."
Lisa rocketed to her feet. Her shoulder must have stopped bleeding instantly, because whatever blood she had left all rushed into her cheeks, setting them afire with furious indignation. "You … BASTARD!" She went after him, fiercely determined to pistol-whip the living daylights out of that thick skull of his as soon as she had managed to cross the distance Jackson so wisely kept between him and her.
A sudden dizziness buckled her knees. Before Lisa could crumple, however, Jackson had caught her, carefully avoiding any further damage to her injury. He pressed her flat against his chest which was reverberating with a deep, juicy belly laugh that eventually turned lighter, into a sound of pure amicable humor. His tight embrace simply smothered any resistance; breathing a little sigh of surrender, Lisa grew limp, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Yes, he had gotten to her yet again and yes, this time it was actually a good thing. After one last hearty chuckle and a few gulps of air, Jackson deliberately loosened his grasp and held her away at arm's length.
There definitely was a touch of teasing satisfaction in the twinkle of his eyes, but rather than calling her out, it seemed to seal a silent deal between conspirators. By all standards, Jackson Rippner might never be a kind man; still, he understood her and the quick, sly wink that topped off his knowing smile told her it was alright.
Finding it impossible not to smile in return, Lisa thanked him with a shy nod. "Let's move, Hansel."