Title: On Deadly Ground
Chapter 4 – Survival of the Fittest

Spike heads to the side of the gate and looks at the alarm light, calling out to Sam just as he jumps onto the fence to go over.

"Alarm's been tampered with," Spike's words stop Sam mid-stride and force him to jump back down and rejoin his team mate crouching low beside the small box. "That light should be on full. See how it falters?"

"Can you cut it? We gotta get in there?"

"Hold on," Spike states as he steps up and then lands a heavy boot on the top of the small device, forcing it to instantly crumple and the light to die.

"Subtle," Sam smirks. "Think the police will come?" He winks as he takes the heavy bolt cutters and heads back toward the main gate entrance and starts to cut the lock so that they could now enter without having to traverse the top of the barbed gate and possibly get cut in the process. Sam lets the lock drop to the ground and nods to Spike who readies his gun and both slowly enter the stillness before them.

"Its too quiet," Spike whispers as Sam once again calls out for the dog and getting no response. They hurry toward the darkened mini-van, Spike pulling out his flashlight and peering inside while Sam stands guard. "Keys, phones, wallets, watches…jackets…Sam…" Spike's voice trails off as he looks at his friend in dread, his breath making distorted shapes in the cool night air. "Why are their jackets here?"

"No way they'd leave them behind. I'm guessing they were taken," he groans as he looks into the van just as Ed's phone buzzes to life. "A text from…the forensic lab?"

"What?"

"We need to get into this van," Sam states in haste.

"On it," Spike utters as he hurries back to the waiting SRU SUV outside, having picked it up from the barn on the way to get Sam. As Spike retrieves the device that will get them into Wordy's van, Sam starts to slowly circle the van, looking for anything that might have been left behind as a clue to the whereabouts of their now missing friends. Just before he's about to head around to the other side, he spies something shiny sitting just under the front right wheel well and quickly bends to pick it up.

"What's that?" Spike asks as he comes up behind Sam, wanting to know what he's found. "Looks like…a token?"

"Like an arcade token?"

"No look at this side…looks like," Spike pauses with a frown.

"What?"

"A security token of sorts. But its broken."

"Okay we'll worry about this later, just get into the van and let's see what else we can find."

Spike pulls the front lock bolt on Wordy's mini-van, figuring he'd help pay for it if necessary as it was now very evident their friends were in trouble. He quickly reaches for Ed's phone and then opens the message. "Bullet in tire?"

"What the hell?" Sam gently curses as he reads the rest text. "Only speculation from the caliber of gun but he's got a list here and…oh no."

"What?"

"Andrew Akins is a known associate of Darren Lockhart."

"Do you think that…"

"Spike, I don't know what to think but I know that this is now a hot call," he utters in haste as he quickly dials Greg. He looks at Spike's expression change and calls him on it. "What?"

"Darren Lockhart…Sam I hope they're still alive."

XXXXXXXX

Ed sticks close to Wordy's side, his fingers quickly brushing away some frozen droplets around his eyes and his teeth biting back the painful throbbing from his wounded shoulder. The jacket was offering a bit of extra warmth on his back but he knows as soon as they reach the hunting shelter he'd give it to Wordy to use and warm up and any reserve of body heat that he had been gathering would instantly deplete.

"Can't see anything out of the ordinary but its dark and…" Wordy's voice pauses, making them both stop and listen.

"Behind us," Ed replies with a whisper as he looks to the right and frowns in the darkness. "I think. Let's go…lets just warm up a bit and then carry on."

"Copy," Wordy whispers as he takes another careful step toward the darkened hut. As soon as they had cleared the thick dark forest, each step would have to be taken carefully in case something indeed was waiting to surprise them. They near the darkened hut, Wordy gesturing to Ed to head to the right while he'd take the left.

With the rifle still fixed firmly in his cold hands, Ed slowly heads toward the right of the darkened shack, not really caring that it could be falling down on the other side or even housing unwelcomed rodents or other four legged animals. Those they could easily scare off, it was the two legged that fought back with unyielding force.

Wordy nears the left side of the hunting shelter, taking another step and instantly feeling something was wrong. But it was too late as the lightly frozen ground beneath his feet starts to crack from the weight put upon it, not giving him time to react fast enough and pulling him into dirty water up to his just above his bellybutton.

"Wordy!" Ed shouts in horror as he drops the rifle and hurries to his friend's side. "No…oh god no…" Ed states in horror as he rushes to Wordy's aid.

"Ed…careful," Wordy huffs as he tries to claw the now jagged edge of the hole he fell into.

Ed shrugs the jacket off his back, wanting to at least keep it dry for when Wordy would get out; which had to be fast. He drops to his knees, not caring about the pain in his leg or shoulder and grabs Wordy's arms. "Okay hold on…ahhhhh" he utters an angry gasp as the pain starts to pulse through his frame.

"Hurry Ed…its damn…cold," Wordy slightly shivers as he kicks his legs, Ed leaning back and pulling Wordy's half soaked frame onto him. Biting back a searing shot of pain in his upper right shoulder, Ed rolls onto his side, still grasping Wordy's arms and tries to pull him back out.

"Ed I'm slipping," Wordy gasps as the cold water starts to bite at the skin beneath his jeans and sweater.

"Damn it!" Ed curses as he tries to tighten his grip a bit more, his shoulder already feeling the pain and wanting to give in. But knowing that Wordy's health and life depend on him getting out of the frigid waters, he utters a painful gasp and gives Wordy's cold water laden frame a good yank toward him, pulling him up to his knees; Wordy's chest heaving for some warmer air.

"Ed…"

"Almost…there," Ed pants as he tries to move back further and drag Wordy with him. A few more painful seconds drag by as Wordy's shaking frame starts to slide back toward the hole, his fingers clawing onto Ed's now damp sweater as he tries to pull him out.

"Okay…just a bit more…" Ed strains as he digs the heels of his boots into the frozen ground around him and pulls once more. The ground however proves that its every man for himself and coupled with the freezing air, instantly freezes the water as it laps onto the frozen surface, impeding Ed's rescue attempts.

"I can't…get leverage," Wordy grunts.

"Climb up me…if you can," Ed lightly wheezes as his fingers grab onto the frozen ground and he finally stops sliding. Wordy's hands grip Ed's belt buckle and sides and pulls himself up out of the water until he was able to get his right leg onto the bank and then with Ed's help roll onto his back.

Both of them lay slumped on the cold ground, breathing hard and praying for some sort of break to be given to their beleaguered frames. But time wasn't on their side and help wasn't coming anytime soon; they had to find shelter and fast. They were on their own.

"Okay we gotta…keep moving," Ed groans as he sits back up, pulls himself back away from the hole, slowly stands back up hurries to help Wordy get away from the icy trap.

"Shelters…out," Wordy tries to catch his breath as he clings onto Ed's shaking hands as Ed pulls him away from the gaping wound in the unforgiving landscape. "Cold."

"Yeah…hold on buddy just hold on…" Ed mumbles as he heads back to the rifle and jacket, grabs the jacket and turns back to watch Wordy trying to get up and then stumble back down to his knees. Once again pushing past the searing in his shoulder, Ed reaches his friends side, drops to his knees and puts the woolen jacket on top of Wordy's shivering frame and rubs his back and chest, Wordy's icy hands shoved into his armpits for some relief.

"We need…to find sh-elter…" Ed's voice cracks as he tries to huddle closer with Wordy, taking the night goggles from around his neck and trying to find another direction for them to head in.

"Cold…" Wordy whispers in an anguished tone once more.

"Okay I got you…come on," Ed grunts as he stands up and tries to take Wordy with him. Wordy hears the small gasp of pain escaping Ed's lips and knows Ed's also contending with a raw injury.

"You-rr arm," Wordy's voice offers a broken chatter.

"Will hold," Ed insists as he starts for the gun, Wordy supported on his left. His right hand reaches for the rifle, picks up as both of them head back toward the edge of the thick forest. "I say we go…right and hope we find some place to hide and warm up," Ed rattles off in haste, reasoning that talking faster would keep his mouth from feeling the cold.

"Co-py," Wordy manages with a cold chatter as the two of them try to huddle together as they head away from the false shelter, the wind not giving them a break and starting to pick away at their damp shivering frames. Ed feels Wordy's frame starting to shiver harder next to him and knows they won't be making it much further in their current state.

"Ed…"

"Am not le-leaving you," Ed answers in haste, making Wordy slightly chuckle; the sound however, coming out more like a groan. "No…discussion. We need sh-shelter."

"We need…dr-yy clothes," Wordy adds as they near the forest once more and head in a new direction. "Think the t-teams…will f-find us?"

"You know they will."

They walk a bit longer before Ed's leg starts to feel the pressure from Wordy's weight and both of them slightly stumble, falling to the cold ground. But with the wind nipping at them, laughing at the power it possesses in sucking any bits of energy they might still have left, they both know they have to keep moving – time was running out.

"Wordy…"

"I k-know…" Wordy huffs as he offers his cold shaking hand to Ed.

"W-wrap the jacket around…your h-hands," Ed offers with a heavy sigh as he helps his best friend to get some warmth back into his hands before they start out once more; his own body starting to feel the icy winter chill more and more.

"Ed…my legs…c-can't feel them…" Wordy whispers as he finally stumbles and remains on the cold ground. Ed frantically looks around, cursing the unforgiving earth surrounding them and then turns back to Wordy. Without saying anything more, he lifts up his best friend as much as he can and literally drags him toward the base of a large tree, pushing Wordy into the medium sized alcove and then pressing his body up against his; praying that they'd be able to get some warmth and feeling back into Wordy's legs long enough for him to move once more and put some good distance between them and their meciless hunters.

"Don't g-get any ideas," Ed smirks as he starts to rub Wordy's damp jeans.

"N-not my type," Wordy tries to snicker, his face offering a heavy wince in the darkness. But just before either one of them can say another word, they hear what sounds to be a car horn in the distance and both instantly freeze; panic coursing through them once more.

"We…hafta move…" Ed manages. "Wordy…"

"Ed…I can't…ss-seriously I can't move."

Come on team…you hafta find us, Ed's mind offers a fervent prayer before he formulates his next move – find some real shelter and fast.

XXXXXXXX

"Okay so Jules put both families in a safe place," Greg informs Sam and Spike as he walks up to the in the auto wrecking yard. "Any sign of the owner? I called his home but there was no answer."

"Haven't checked yet," Sam answers in truth as he looks at Spike. "Anything on the Lockhart accomplice."

"Place of residence is a hotel that um…rents rooms by the hour," Spike replies with a frown.

"Shelly said Wordy thought that there might be another insider in his team but that's all he said," Greg mentions. "If we have to, we'll call in team two but let's play this on the down low right now. Spike get on the traffic cameras and see what activity you can find around here. Given the time of day and area, consider any traffic suspicious. Sam, do a quick sweep for the owner of this place and then you and Spike head to the hotel to see what you can find. Raf and I will head to the bait shop and see what the store owner there can tell us," Greg concludes. "And guys…lets be on extra alert. If Lockhart did kidnap them, he's playing a deadly game but he's playing for keeps and time is of the essence."

Time isn't wasted as all three of them quickly disperse; a few uniformed RCMP officers now stationed outside to keep the area safe. With his gun ready Sam heads a bit further into the darkened auto wrecking lot, his eyes darting around the area at every whispered sound as he heads toward the yard office; Spike already in the truck running his search. Sam nears the dark office and frowns, his senses already picking up something wasn't right.

"Police!" Sam calls out loudly as he nears the office; still hearing a few dog whimpers in the distance. "Police!" Sam calls out again as he pulls the office door open and squints inside, his right hand feeling the wall for the light, which he finally finds and flips on, uttering a heavy sigh as he stares at a body slumped forward on the desk, a single gunshot to the forehead and a small smattering of blood on the white papers below.

Just to be sure, Sam checks the pulse and then curses softly. "Found the owner," Sam tells the team over the headset. "He's dead. And the security camera in here has been turned off," Sam states heavily.

"Copy Sam," Greg's voice is heard. "Rejoin Spike and then head for the hotel and let us know what you find. We're heading for the bait shop and Jules is staying with the families for now."

Sam makes a slight detour toward the area he hears the dog whimpers and stops short outside the large cage, peering through the thick wire at the dog lying nearly limp on the ground a few feet away. "Damn it," Sam curses as he jiggles the lock only to find it solid and unmoving.

"Sam?" Spike asks in haste as he hears the shot and jumps out of the truck ready for action.

"It's okay but I think they poisoned the dog," Sam growls as he pulls his phone and calls for some animal help. "I'm on my way back. Did you get anything?"

"Yeah a dark van a few blocks from here…time stamped a few hours ago," Spike frowns. "Sam a few hours…."

"They're gonna be okay," Sam states firmly as he reaches the truck and gets into the driver's seat, glancing over at Spike with his laptop set up.

"Okay hold on…got a plate…running the plate…" Spike mumbles to himself as he looks up at Sam with a frown. "They're gonna be okay," he repeats what Sam had said earlier. "Am glad Shelly called when she did."

"Yeah me too," Sam replies as the computer beeps to life. "What?"

"Another name. Leon Matthews. Got an address."

"Boss we have another name. Spike was able to get some plates off a van in the area and the name came up with another Lockhart associate. He's still tracking the van but we're heading to the hotel to check out Andrew Atkins. We'll let you know what we find."

"Copy," Greg's heavy sigh is heard before he once again utters some words they all want to believe. "They'll be okay."

XXXXXXXX

"Wordy…you with me?"

"Rest…a bit…l-longer," Wordy manages in a low tone as Ed croons his neck out a bit more, listening to the stillness around them.

"I heard a horn ea-rlier…and I think that…Wordy we gotta chance it…we're both…f-freezing," Ed tries as he slowly extends, biting back another painful gasp and then bending down to help his best friend up.

"Ed…"

"We…gotta go…n-now," Ed insists with a small yelp as his shoulder extends oddly. Not putting up much of a fuss, Wordy feels Ed's left arm around his waist and commands himself to bite back the pain as he pushes his legs up and forces himself as upright as he can. Ed slings the rifle over Wordy's neck and shoulder, takes the night goggles and presses on toward the location he thinks he heard the shot.

They walk about twenty minutes more before both of them literally collapse on the cold ground in a heap of arms and legs, breathing hard and trying to calm their rapidly beating hearts and maintain whatever body head they could.

"S-serriously Ed…" Wordy chatters and then pauses. "What is…"

"Wood smoke…Wordy…it's w-wood smoke," Ed tells them as he leaves Wordy on the ground and then slightly jogs a few more meters up a small hill and then stops, his warm breath spreading out thinly into the cool night air before him. He spies the small house with a lone light on in the distance.

He quickly turns back to Wordy and tries to help him back up. "There's a…a house in the d-distance."

"Can't…t-trust," Wordy manages.

"We'll…hafta…ch-ance it," Ed insists as he slowly drags Wordy up the hill, both of them having to steady their footsteps as they head down for fear of falling again. They reach the bottom of the hill and Ed takes a deep breath and offers up a small prayer that the person on the other side of the door was friend and not foe. Maybe that's why they didn't come this way? Ed's mind ponders as they near the edge of the small house.

Ed takes off the goggles as they near the back gate; his steps slowing just as his hand lands on the latch. "Give me the gun," Ed manages in one complete sentence, his body creating a bit more adrenaline to get through the next few minutes.

"Ed…"

"We have no…choice," Ed replies as he slowly pulls open the gate and then helps Wordy into the small back yard, carefully dumping him into a nearby chair and then heading for the back wooden stairs; the feeling of warmth coming from the house, instantly drawing him forward.

His hands start to slightly shake a bit more from the cold and nerves as he nears the door and then offers a firm knock, his cold knuckles pulling back in haste and recurling around the readied rifle. Ed hears a barking dog and then a sharp command and steps back a foot with the rifle in the air. He watches the door start to slowly open and then takes a deep breath, looking at the face before him in surprise.

"Whoa there young fella…" the older man puts up his hands but then quickly drops them as he pulls back his dog. "I have no money."

"My f-friend and were um…hunting and he fell in the water…" Ed slightly nods behind him to where Wordy was in the chair slowly pushing himself upright to join his friend. "We just need a few m-minutes to warm up and…preferably without the d-dog."

The old man looks at the anguished expression on Ed's face, hears the torment in his broken tone but holds his ground.

"We're police officers."

"Got some ID?"

"Not uh…not on us. Look I'll um…stay outside…my friend…"

"Ed…no," Wordy begs in torment.

"We don't…want to hurt you…" Ed's tone drops as he slowly lowers the gun and looks at the older man with a pleading face. "Please? We just need some help. Just want to warm up…for a few minutes. Please?"

"Hold on," the older man tells them in truth as he closes the door; Ed watching as he takes the dog toward a nearby leash and tethers him and then heads back for the door to let them in.

"Come in."

Wordy comes up behind Ed, he too being drawn by the warm drafts of air coming from the kitchen; beckoning the shivering officers to come and warm up a little. Ed slings the rifle over his shoulder and then heads inside with Wordy on his left hip.

As soon as they enter, Ed's eyes are darting around anxiously looking for any signs of Lockhart's men or a waiting trap. They were cold, injured and had only an unproven rifle as their last line of defense; they were in effect easy prey.

"Just here is go…" Ed starts as his body tries to ease Wordy down onto a nearby chair, just being in the warm kitchen was making a big difference.

"Nonsense, there's a small bed in this room…he can take off the wet clothes and I can dry them and he can have some privacy."

Ed looks at Wordy's place face and feels his heart instantly giving in; turning back to the old man and nodding in agreement. Ed helps Wordy into the small bedroom and ease down onto the single cot before turning his back and offering his friend some privacy as Wordy tries to take off his wet boots and then jeans with shaking hands; cursing the cold for his current impairment and slumping back in defeat.

"Ed," Wordy finally requests, prompting his best friend to turn back and notice Wordy struggling with the boots and quickly bends to help him pull them off, his hands just as shaky from cold tremors. He finally does and then stands back up, turning to see where the old man had gotten to. "What else?"

"Watch…him," Wordy mentions as he finally starts on his jeans. "I'm gonna…be okay."

"Okay," Ed replies softly as he hands Wordy the rifle and then leaves the room, closing the door behind him; taking the wet jeans and socks with him. "Do you have a dryer?" Ed asks as he offers the wet cold clothes.

"Anything you wanna dry?"

For a brief second Ed ponders the comforting thought about having some dry jeans on himself, but undressing before the old man wasn't in his future plans and he knows that since they can't really trust him, going into another room on his own wasn't an option either. He'd have to suffer a bit longer until Wordy could take over watch.

"I'm fine…but maybe this also," Ed hands the old man the thick woolen shirt and his damp sweater.

"You boys don't look like hunters," the old man comments.

"Lost our gear," Ed answers with a heavy wince.

"What'd you hurt?" The old man asks in concern.

"Sir…"

"Call me Milton."

"Milton, I…we really appreciate the help but if you could just dry those and let me know where a phone is, I promise we won't overstay our welcome."

"No trouble. Wife's at her sisters for the weekend. She's not doing too well. 73 and got pneumonia..." the old man's voice trails off as Ed follows him a bit further into the modestly decorated house; glancing at the picture on a nearby dresser before continuing. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, certainly nothing to give the chase-weary SRU officer pause to think anything out of the ordinary. The old man tosses the damp clothing into the dryer and then turns back to Ed in wonder.

"Want some coffee?" Milton asks in wonder.

"Sure," Ed answers almost weakly, the warm environment now starting to force the bullet wound in his shoulder to throb a bit harder. "Do you have a first aid kit? I cut my hands on the ice trying to pull my friend out," Ed offers another small lie, as they near the kitchen once more, the dog standing up and instantly barking, forcing Ed to take a step back.

"Got one right here," Milton carefully bends down and retrieves the rather modest sized item and hands it to Ed. "Down Cujo."

"Cujo?" Ed arches his brows in reference to the classic horror film about the rabid dog.

"Sounds scary," Milton quips. "But when you get to know him...he's a big baby that one. Blame my wife mostly."

"Okay. Do you have a phone?"

"Over there," Milton nods to a cordless phone sitting on the counter. "But this far out here and with the cold you might not get good reception."

"I'll take my…chances," Ed's voice slightly falters as the heat finally starts to make his head swim with a few dizzy spells, forcing his hand to shoot out and clutch the top of nearby chair.

"Why don't you sit down and just rest a few minutes. Heat's comin' back into you now."

"Right," Ed merely nods as he slowly eases himself into the chair, his entire frame nearly collapsing from physical fatigue. "Just a few…minutes," he lightly groans as he looks at the nearby clock. It was well into the wee hours of the morning, so by now their absence would have been noticed and team one notified.

XXXXXXXX

"Raf call it in," Greg huffs as he and Raf loom over the dead store owner. "Sam what'd you guys find?"

"Man, nothin' but bodies in this guys wake," Raf sighs as he calls for the coroner and a forensic team.

"The hotel was a dead end," Sam replies with a heavy sigh. "Nothing there that we could use to get an idea of where they took Ed and Wordy much less that he's involved. What was with the tire?"

"Phil said Ed brought the tire in yesterday morning and asked him to put a rush on a bullet embedded in it. He mention anything to you guys?" Greg asks, getting a collective 'no' in return. "Okay we keep looking. Short of going to ask Lockhart himself, we need to find our guys before they are the next crime scene."

"Copy," Sam replies as he looks over at spike. "Spike and I are heading to Leon Matthews place. We'll report back when we're there."

"Okay. I'll call Jules and update the families," Greg's voice dies off the headset with an extra heavy sigh before he looks up at Raf with a heavy frown. "They'll be okay."

"From what I know about this Lockhart, he's one bad dude and I mean on the evil side. He's twisted, sadistic and takes pleasure in other people's pain," Raf states gravely. "Especially police officers trying to put him outta business."

"Yeah well I'm not a man to suffer lightly either," Greg retorts before he pulls his phone to call Jules. Eddie…Wordy…damn I hope you two are alive and okay.

XXXXXXXX

Ed's fingers and certain limbs start to tingle and his cheeks enflame a bit further and he knows it's because his body is finally starting to warm up from the cruel onset of hypothermia; his mind praying that Wordy was warming up just as fast. He looks at the dog who had settled down and then up at the old man with his back to him, a frown starting to grow as he glances over toward the phone.

Before he can make a move to stand up, the older man turns and looks at him with a skeptical glance. "How'd you hurt your shoulder?"

"My…shoulder is fine," Ed lies in haste.

"Among a few things I have done in my lifetime, I was a field medic in Nam," Milton answers, referring to the Vietnam war. "You can't fool me young man. What'd you do?"

"Wrenched it um…pulling my friend out of the water. Can I use the phone?"

Milton nods to Ed, causing him to stand up and the dog instantly bark; the animal now ill-content with the SRU officer up and moving around, having preferred him stationary.

"Thanks," Ed replies softly as he reaches for the small cordless piece with shaky hands, his clumsy actions drawing attention from the older man.

"Need some help?" Milton asks. "Just tell me the number to dial."

But just before he can attempt to dial or even answer in return, Ed hears a noise to his right and turns in haste to see the end of a rifle emerge in his face with Wordy on the other end.

"What the hell?" Ed asks in haste as he looks at his best friend in shock.

"Hold it right there."

"Wordy!"

"Hands where I can see em!" Wordy demands as he points the gun right at Ed.

A/N: *whoa* what just happened? Any guesses? Hehe (evil laugh) yeah the danger and tension isn't going away just yet and I hope you all liked how this chapter progressed. Hope the other involvement of team one is plausible. Would love your thoughts on this update before you go please do review (and remember the new review system-which now lets you leave your name again if you don't have an account yay – but please log in if you can) and thanks so much in advance!