Title: On Deadly Ground
Chapter 6 – Checkmate!
"The Chapeau Game Reserve? That place is almost three thousand square miles. Where'd we even start to look?" Sam interrupts Spike.
"And do we know for sure?" Raf interjects.
"We have the facts," Greg replies with a small sigh. "Problem is who do we call? If they did take them there and given the size of Chapleau itself it could mean that someone there…possibly on the small police force is on Lockhart's payroll. We tip our hand…"
"And it's game over," Sam huffs. "We can't drive there in time."
"Fly?"
"Police chopper?" Raf suggests.
"Boss, time is running out," Spike insists.
"We don't even know if they're there. Let me make a call," Greg states as he looks over at Shelly and Sophie.
"Who can you call? You just said…"
"Okay I have an idea. I have a friend, hang tight. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up on a whim but I can't ignore this either."
"And this friend?" Sam inquires.
"Hold on."
Greg pulls his phone and quickly calls in a personal favor – praying it was the place and they would get there in time. Hold on Eddie…Wordy…damn I hope you guys are both okay.
XXXXXXXX
"Okay ready?"
"Yeah."
Ed notices the small amount of hesitation from Wordy and frowns. "What?"
"Nothing. Just we hafta make sure this works the first time."
"It will," Ed assures him with a firm nod. A few minutes later they hear a branch break in the distance behind them and know it's time to act. So with a plan firmly set in motion, Ed and Wordy start out across the open plain, at whatever top speed they could both manage, heading for the next protective covering of the thick wooded area before them.
"Ahhhhh!" Wordy calls out as he fakes his stumble, his call a bit louder than normal and then silence as he falls to the ground, pretending to clutch his leg as he lays on his back on the cold ground. Ed crouches down to look at his friend, but moves his eyes upward to scan the surrounding area.
"Think they heard?"
"I do. We each have one shot left. Let's make it count."
"You take one and I'll take the other and then…"
"Then we make for the road and don't look back...copy that," Ed nods firmly before he slightly stands up and pretends to be looking around for help; Wordy pretending to be writhing on the ground with a broken leg.
"My leg…ahhhhh!" Wordy embellishes a bit more as Ed stands all the way up and then tries to help Wordy up, Wordy's lips uttering another false cry as he begs to be put back down. Ed gestures that he's going to go into the woods to find something he can use as a walking brace.
"Let's hope this works," Ed mutters as he heads for the treed area.
The plan was to draw the two men out after them, both of them stopping to get Wordy, and then one going after Ed. Once one of them was away from Wordy, Ed would take him out, leaving the other for Wordy and putting them ahead of the hunters with no one left to chase them – that was in theory the plan.
Still nervous about leaving Wordy in the clearing all alone and trying to push past the nagging doubt that something might go very wrong, Ed hurries for the forest, his heart begging him to stop or at least slow his pace to give his body a well deserved rest or at least a chance to catch up - neither would be forthcoming right now. He nears the entrance to the thick forest once again and slows, his eyes picking up something in his peripheral vision. Sure enough, he watches two men, this time cleverly disguised in camo and neutrals heading toward them. Wishing he could at least signal Wordy to tell them they were coming, he stops just as he enters the forest and rests up against a tree.
He twists his head just in time to see the men nearing Wordy, his heart rate instantly picking up, and his hands quickly reaching for the rifle. Ed pushes himself up against the thick tree, praying for the pounding in his head to stop long enough for him to focus and take the clean shot – only one bullet – it had to hit its mark the first time around; there was no room for error and no second chances.
"Come on you bastard…stand up and let me take you out," Ed growls as he lines up the closest Lockhart hunter in his sights. His finger eases back on the trigger, the target in his sights…the shot about to be taken.
Wordy hears footsteps crunching on the cold, hard ground as the two hunters approach. He had found a small pocket knife at Milton's, the handle of which was tucked into his palm and ready for action.
"Look what we got here Ralph," one of them sneers down at Wordy, who merely looks up with a snarl.
"Where's your friend?"
"He went for help."
"Left you all alone did he? Well we know he didn't get too far ahead."
"Dan…go find him."
"Ed!" Wordy shouts before the one named Ralph leans in, meaning to attack him. Dan hurries toward the treed area, the exact distraction Ed was hoping for. Ed lines up in his sights the man heading toward him and halts his breath, slowly easing back on the trigger and sending the bullet from its chamber.
*bang*
The perfect sniper shot embeds itself into Dan's forehead, sending his body sailing backward onto the cold hard ground as Ed stands back with the now empty rifle still in his grasp. Knowing he could use the empty gun as at least a battering weapon, Ed slings the rifle over his injured shoulder and prepares to head out and help Wordy. However, just before he can take a step from his hiding place, something stops him. A soft whisper out of place, making him turn around and instantly wish he hadn't.
"Hello Constable Lane," a deep voice greets him behind the long end of a high powered rifle.
"Dan!" Ralph shouts as he watches his hunter partner's body slam into the ground and not get up. Wordy wastes no time in twisting onto his side, grabbing Ralph's leg and giving it a good tug, making the last man standing finally fall to the ground; allowing Wordy to pounce.
He lands a hard blow to his side; his mind hearing sickening laughter from Darren Lockhart and anguished cries from his wife and daughters; both mental sounds driving on his need to get the upper hand, turn the odds in their favor and end this damn chase while they were both still alive.
Dan punches Wordy in the jaw, sending his head snapping back but Wordy manages to knee him in the groin, twist himself around, wrap his arms around Dan's neck and head and hold on; the few moments it takes for Dan to go limp in his arms, has Wordy wondering what was taking Ed so long to get back to his side. Dan's body finally collapses out of his last breath onto Wordy's chest, Wordy pushing him off and laying still a few seconds to catch his breath before pushing himself onto his knees.
But as he does he notices very wrong. Ed wasn't to be seen. What the hell? Wordy groans as he quickly drops to his stomach and grabs the rifle with the lone shot remaining. You have one shot…make it count, he recalls Ed's stern command about their only means of real defense.
With the neutral jacket over his shoulders for extra cover, slowly shuffling on his stomach toward the thick forest was a painfully arduous task but one that was necessary as he knows Ed would show himself if everything was okay. Was Ed being watched? Or worse was he now prisoner? Would one shot free him or would it add to their current miserable predicament?
He hears a gruff voice a few meters ahead and quickly stops; knowing the voice isn't that of his best friend and cursing the fact that they had left themselves exposed and badly underestimated Darren Lockhart. But as he listens, he hears only one voice. Two against one. Two? That would depend on the condition Ed was in. Damn it Ed…let me hear your voice.
The voice and actions that followed happened so fast that Ed, in his weakened condition, was unable to react fast enough to gain control; lack of sleep, depleted adrenaline, cold, fatigue, injuries; all ensuring he wasn't on his top fighting game. For a few split seconds he locked eyes with the angry dark gaze before him, his arms unable to come up fast enough to protect himself from being struck in the head with the butt end of the high powered rifle of the hidden sniper who had been watching them all along.
The attacker takes quickly advantage of Ed's dazed condition, to hit him again in the stomach, forcing the empty rifle from his cold hands, and making his body double forward. Ed pushes himself forward, trying to take his attacker off balance and to keep himself from becoming a prisoner, but his attacker sends a hard blow to his injured shoulder, forcing the faint scabbing to break, warm blood to instantly seep under the sweater and Ed's lips utter an anguished cry. Seeing that he has hit a soft spot, his attacker does it again, ensuring Ed was only seconds away from becoming his prisoner.
"Down you go," his attacker snickers as he instantly pounces, pulling out a zip tie and capturing Ed's wrists behind his back, Ed trying desperately to pull himself free; his entire body shaking with fresh pains as his injured shoulder screams at him for relief. But it was to no avail. To add insult to injury, before he can call out his attacker shoves a cloth into his mouth to keep him from warning Wordy and then pulls the black toque down over his eyes, rendering him captive and blind.
"Ah now I got my bait. See we both can play the bait and wait game. Time to lure in your partner."
Damn it! Ed curses as he offers an angry mumble as he struggles in vain.
"Up you go," the man roughly pulls Ed to his feet; the commotion with Wordy still going on behind them. Seeming not to care, the man turns Ed around, facing into the forest and with a firm grip on his arm forces him ahead. "You stall and I'll kill you right here and not even bury you in a shallow grave."
Better a quick death then what Lockhart has in mind if we're taken to him, Ed's mind grumbles as he tries to yank himself free. But another firm tap to his injured shoulder from the butt end of the gun, sends a painful stinging reminder that he better comply – or else.
With his heart about to beat out of his chest, Wordy finally reaches the edge of the forest and rests a few more seconds. But as he hears a grunt followed by another angry command he knows he has to rescue Ed and even the odds – hopefully for good this time.
"Yeah Lockhart has something special in mind for you. And don't worry I know your partner will be following," he hisses in Ed's ear with smooth confidence. "I'll string him along a bit further."
Wordy…don't fall for the trap! Ed's mind laments as he's shoved forward once more.
"You boys were coming close to actually getting out of this god forsaken place – we couldn't allow that to happen."
The more the man talks, the more Ed comes to recognize the voice – it was the first male voice that had greeted them the day before – offering them their ill-fated welcome, starting the hunt and sending them on their way into the bleak frozen hell they were still stuck in.
"I don't much like the cold but you boys gave us a real run for out money this time," he pauses with a small snicker before he stops altogether. He pulls Ed's captive frame back a bit as he turns to look for Wordy who he was sure was following. Upon not seeing him, Ed's captor frowns but waits in place.
Praying the large pine would keep him hidden, Wordy holds his breath and waits; having seen Ed and knowing what he now was up against. He had also gotten a glimpse of the weapon in the hands of the man holding Ed hostage and then looks down at the rifle in his own grasp; the weapon was feeble, almost crude in comparison. He'd need all the luck he could manage and a clean shot if there was to be any hope of getting Ed out of his clutches alive.
"He'll tire of the game soon…and when he does I'll be waiting," the man snickers as he pushes Ed forward a few more steps. "After all, he wants what I have and that is you."
Bastard! Ed grumbles in anger, earning himself a hard shove in the back to keep moving and quit stalling.
Wordy carefully pokes his head out from behind the tree and then starts to carefully pick his way forward, glancing down every few seconds to make sure he wouldn't step on something that would crack and give his location away; as it was he was sure his footsteps on the hard ground were already telling Ed's captor that he was following. But not fooling himself into thinking that Ed's captor was oblivious to his location, he keeps the rifle ready, cursing the fact that their skilled hunters knew to keep all weapons on low ammunition just in case. But who's the man that has Ed? Lockhart himself? Is that possible? Would he actually put himself out here like that? He needs a good look to know for sure.
Wordy watches the man starting to slow thanks to Ed's faking a stumble, darts behind a large tree once more, crouching low and once again holding his breath.
"Shall I call him out and end this right now?" The man snaps at Ed as he grabs the back of his jacket and tries to haul him upright once more. With his hands restrained behind his back and unable to properly see through the black toque over his eyes, Ed curses the fact that he can't render Wordy much aid in his escape and knowing his best friend only has one bullet left in the gun it would have be a dead shot.
Wordy hears the man talking and tells himself once they are on the trail, line him up and take the shot; and pray it's a kill shot or would wound him enough to allow Ed to get free and him to get there to take him out for good. But as soon as he breaks cover from the tree, the rifle in his hands is instantly raised as he is forced into a situation he didn't want; an armed standoff with the odds seemingly stacked in favor of the man holding his helpless best friend in his cruel grasp, a sharp buck knife pressed firmly to his throat, and Ed unable to do anything but await his fate.
"Office Wordsworth," the man states slowly. "Be so kind as to drop your weapon. If not, your partner here is dead by a slit to his throat. I will only ask once."
XXXXXXXX
"Okay thanks Tony…I do appreciate that," Greg replies as he hangs up and then looks at his team with a heavy frown.
"Can he get there in time?"
"About half hour," Greg states with a heavy sigh.
"That's counting on the fact they are there. I mean it's almost three thousand square miles to search. Where does he start?"
"At least his chopper has special infrared they use to search that place. Picking up heat signatures should be easy out there in the cold."
"And you can trust this guy?" Jules inquires directly. "What if he…"
"Guys we don't have a choice here," Greg starts, thankful that both Shelly and Sophie were in the other room tending to their families. "At least if Tony tells us they're there…"
"If they're still alive," Spike ponders with a heavy frown before he looks up at Sam and then Greg. "Just sayin'."
"Lockhart is known for these sick games. I hope your friend Tony isn't going alone," Raf informs them.
"He's got a few with him that he can trust and we are just gonna hafta to do the same. If he finds any evidence they were even there, I have another chopper on standby for all of us."
"In the meantime?" Jules wonders.
"Get some rest. I know you have all been up all night and…"
"Boss, we'll rest when we know they're safe," Sam interjects. "Or when you do."
"I really wish Ed's hadn't taught you all to be this stubborn," Greg softly smirks.
"He didn't," Jules looks at him with a knowing glance.
"'sides it's too early in the day to sleep now," Raf comments. "We're just gettin' our second groove on."
"Right well...I just need to make sure that if we do get the call to go and help we are all in top fighting shape."
"We won't let you down boss," Spike nods as he speaks for the team.
"Okay I'll see about getting us all some fresh coffee," Jules remarks.
Greg watches Jules leave and then turns and slowly heads for the window, gazing outside into the wintry day and frowning; Sam coming up on his right, Spike and Raf hanging behind.
"You survived stuff like this Sam…what are their chances?"
"No jackets…no guns…no way to call for help…" Sam's lips muse softly, prompting Greg to look over in wonder. "Would depend on the condition they were left in. No injuries, they'd have a better chance. At least they have each other and a strong bond – that will count for something. But…boss that landscape is cold and harsh and I doubt Lockhart gave them survival kits or much of a fighting chance."
"Grim huh?"
"Never say never though right?" Sam counters as he looks up to see the three women watching him expectantly. "They're gonna be okay," he tries to tell them with a reassuring tone as he looks back at Greg with a frown. "I'm sure they have a plan right now and are okay," Sam concludes fatefully.
XXXXXXXX
Teetering on his heels due to the position his captor had placed him in; his throat unable to swallow due to the knife pressed firmly against this throat, Ed grumbles as his tongue works in vain to push the thick cloth out of his mouth.
"Stop struggling," his captor hisses in his ear.
Wordy…Ed's mind calls out in frustration. He pictures the scene…Wordy facing them – gun drawn but only one bullet to use. His captor shielded by his own body and any attempt to remove himself from before him to give Wordy a clean target forces his captor to counter until he finally feels a small droplet of blood slowly sliding down his neck and halts in place.
"Want to know why Constable Lane here finally stopped his ever useless struggles?"
"Drop that knife or I drop you," Wordy demands; a bit relieved that at least the high powered rifle wasn't the weapon he was forced to face off against.
"It's because he can feel the slow trickle of death sliding down his neck; the color of it be crimson," the man holding Ed hostage sneers at Wordy.
"I said…"
"I am the one holding all the cards here," the man replies matter-of-factly. "I can see you are shaking…would it be from the cold or something else?" The man mocks, forcing Ed's teeth to bit down hard on the gag and his mind to curse. But in that moment he recalls Wordy's words from when he had just told the team about his Parkinson's and that he'd be quitting Team One. In fact it was the main reason that he gave for quitting Team One. In that second Ed's mind recoils.
'I'm not perfect and you guys need me to be…because one day my hands are gonna catch a tremor and your lives are gonna be in em…it's not worth the risk.'
Wordy's face utters an angry wince upon hearing the taunt as he takes a step closer, the man before him pivoting, taking Ed with him another step backward. But in doing so he sees the small stain of blood on Ed's neck and knows the man before him isn't bluffing, he is slowly cutting Ed's throat. However, he also knows that if he does surrender they are both dead anyways – either way it was a lose lose situation if a solution isn't presented and fast.
Eddie…Wordy's mind laments as he feels his hands starting to shake again. His mind too in that moment remembers his ill-fated statement and curses. This wasn't just any life in his hands; it was the precious life of his best friend for well over twenty years. The slightest tremor in the wrong direction and Ed would be dead by his own hands. How could he live with that? He knows he can't. Damn you Lockhart!
However, as he had forgotten to put his gloves back on from the scuffle he reasons that the tremors could also be from the cold. But…as he had also gone nearly twenty four hours since his last dose of medication – it could be the dark entity inside him coming to the fore. Either way he has one shot…one chance to keep Ed alive and kill the bastard about to kill him. That was it, time was running out and there would be no second chances at a redo if he missed. One bullet – one shot.
Feeling his heart rate starting to slow, but the pounding in his ears starting to gain strength, Wordy's fingers relax for a few seconds and then quickly recurl back to original position; ready for action. He starts to gauge the distance between the man's forehead and the side of Ed's head; it was a narrow margin and no room for error.
The space around him hushes into dead silence, as if the great trees in the forest themselves were now all standing at rapt, silent attention; waiting to see if one man's brave quest to save his friend would end with the right people left standing. Or would this be their silent and final witness to two soldiers who bravely fought an uphill battle only to near the finish line and never get to cross it?
Wordy waits as Ed tries to pull his head a bit more to the left; his captor's lips offering low mocking laughter into Ed's ears as he counters, filling the frigid space around them and his very his soul with nervous anxiety as he watches Ed waiting for his death sentence to be commuted.
Wordy…buddy, I know you can do this…I know you can. Take the shot…just take the damn shot. Kill this guy and en…
*bang*
Wordy doesn't wait for another verbal threat, taunt or invitation to act; Ed's head had moved just enough to the left, opening up a target of smooth flesh a few inches wide; beckoning the bullet to nestle there. The rifle in that moment seemed to steady, as if an unseen grip was finally there to lend a hand, wanting to give them a fighting chance and even the odds – at least for the moment. With the rifle steady, and without thinking twice, he eases back on the trigger and prays that Ed and his captor exactly in place a few more seconds.
They both do. It was over.
Ed's ears explodes with the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber and his body instantly jerks in response to not knowing where it had finally came to rest. He feels something soft and warm splatter on the exposed part of his cheek and nearly loses his footing as his captor's dead body starts to fall to the ground, the knife leaving his grasp and slamming to the ground after bouncing off the toe of his boot.
"Ed…hold on!" Wordy shouts as Ed struggles to remain upright from his former position. He feels himself starting to fall backward but once again his savior's hand reaches out, grabs the bottom of his jacket and tugs him forward into his waiting grasp.
"I got you…" Wordy whispers almost out of breath as he yanks the cloth from Ed's lips and then pulls the toque off his head. "I got you."
Ed takes a few deep breaths and nods…his mouth too dry to even thank his best friend for just saving his life.
"Wordy…" Ed gasps for air.
"Okay hold on…" Wordy instructs as he picks up the knife and starts to saw away at the tight plastic keeping Ed restrained; this time his hands sure and steady, determined not to cut any more flesh and get them both on their way once again.
Once he's free, Ed grabs the cloth that used to be his gag and dabs his neck and then wipes his captor's blood from his face before showing Wordy his neck.
"Just a small scratch. Okay lets…" Wordy starts only to have Ed's hand grab his arm and stop his actions.
"Wordy…"
"You're welcome," Wordy replies with a small smirk. "What is it?"
"You lied…"
"What? When?"
"A few months back…you said one day our lives...would be in your hands…remember?"
"Yeah Ed, I remember…what's your point?"
"Today my life was in your hands. Wordy you took that shot…you took the shot, you saved the hostage. There was no hesitation. I'm just sayin'."
"You couldn't see me."
"You saved the hostage."
"I can't come back...you know that," Wordy looks at Ed with a tight jaw; Ed holding his gaze a few seconds longer. "Let's get going."
Not wanting to push the tension further, Ed replaces the black toque on his head, tosses the bloody cloth and heads after Wordy, the empty rifle still slung across his shoulder; mostly for effect if they were to run into any of the baddies, neither of them having any weapon with ammunition left in it. About ten minutes into their run they both stop to once again catch their breath, Ed turning and looking behind them and then back at Wordy with a frown.
"What did you hear?"
"I uh…"
"Ed?"
"I thought I heard a chopper…maybe it was nothing…I don't know," Ed shakes his head as he turns back to Wordy with a grim expression. "Maybe it was nothing."
"Or maybe it was Lockhart getting desperate. We gotta find that main road. We get there…we get a car and drive to the nearest pay phone and call the team."
"Not the locals?"
"Lockhart probably has the Sherriff and all his boys on payroll," Wordy comments. "I don't know anyone out here we can trust."
"Right…let's keep moving."
Ed follows after Wordy, but his mind storing away the brief but distinct sound. Was it a chopper? And was it help? Or just our hunter use another means at his disposal? Either way, they weren't going to wait around to find out.
XXXXXXXX
"What did you find Tony?" Greg asks as he looks up at his team in wonder, the five of them huddled around the small speaker phone of the RCMP police safe house.
"We're scanning an area now on the south east corner of the reserve. We're sticking to the areas with what look like vehicle tracks and very little in the way of wildlife on the infrared sensor. We found an area that has a lot of trampled grass and some fresh tracks in; both vehicle and what appears to be human. We're following them now. Gotta tell ya Greg…this area is very desolate and unforgiving and if your men are as ill equipped as they are…"
"Just keep searching Tony," Greg implores in a soft tone as Shelly appears in the doorway. "Call back when you can."
"Anything?"
"Maybe," Greg replies with a heavy frown. "No one is getting hopes up or letting them fall…we're just…"
"Waiting," Shelly concludes.
"And we all know how much we love that," Spike pipes up. "Right?"
"Right," Sam agrees with a soft grumble as he looks at Jules and frowns. "They're gonna make it."
XXXXXXXX
Ed and Wordy run for about another twenty minutes before the trees start to slightly thin and the landscape change; the horizon starting to lighten – they were nearing an end of the park.
"Hold...up," Ed lightly pants as he stops, desperately trying to get his heart rate under control and his head to stop pounding. The wound on his shoulder must have scabbed over again as he could no longer feel warm blood seeping down his shoulder. But it didn't matter how much of a mess he arrived home in, he just wanted to get home in one whole piece – and alive.
Wordy looks at Ed's face and frowns as he leans in closer and gently flicks away a small piece of wooden debris still attached to the sticky blood from the head wound the last hunter had inflicted.
"Thanks," Ed states softly as he quickly grabs Wordy's hand before he can completely turn away. "I'm sorry for pushing you back there."
"No you're not," Wordy smirks. "But it's okay…taking that kill shot…and of course saving you…it felt good."
"I know…"
"But…" Wordy holds up his hand to stop Ed, mid-sentence. "But it coulda gone horribly the other way and you'd be dead…we'd both be dead because you know I'd never live with myself if I…it was pure dumb luck."
"I'd still take you back…in a heartbeat," Ed confesses with a serious tone, making Wordy smile and then nod before he offers Ed a warm pat on the back. "I know…let's keep moving. And you seriously wanted to fish in this weather."
"Minus the blood thirsty bad guys? Yeah…and we are still going…next weekend," Wordy retorts firmly.
"Both of us?" Ed counters with a small chuckle. They run for about ten more minutes before both stop short and stare a few meters ahead in disbelief. A road had finally presented itself to them. Salvation? Or another path to doom? They near the edge very carefully, Ed readying the empty in case they needed to flag anyone down; they wanted the gun to at least look like a viable weapon.
They reach the edge, carefully keeping themselves among the trees, praying for a car to come along so they could get away from the park, call the team and get back home; formulating a plan to go after Darren Lockhart next.
"Which way do we keep going?" Ed inquires with a small frown as he looks up and down the desolate road.
"I have no idea. Keep going to the right and see what happens…hope for the best."
Ed gives Wordy a firm nod as they continue on foot, their minds pushing beyond the limits of mental fatigue and physical exhaustion. But knowing that to slow could mean certain doom, they keep pushing forward, desperate to find something…anything they can use to send a message of help. About five minutes later they around a small bend and both stop and look ahead in wonder.
"Monitoring station?"
"Yeah could be, but they might have a phone," Ed comments as they pick up their pace to a swift sprint, nearly the small station; the helicopter now by Milton's place.
"Greg," Tony starts on his phone. "We just left a house owned by Milton Rogers. Found evidence that your two men had possibly been there. Truck was taken and we found it shot up and smashed into a tree not far from the house and then footprints. They could still be alive as the truck was warm. We found blood and..."
Ed and Wordy slow their pace as they near the small building, each praying for a miracle and deliverance. Wordy gestures for Ed to go around to the right; unlike them approaching the hunting shelter in the darkness, they could see what was in front of them.
Just before they reach the door, both of them hear a noise behind them and turn to see a young man looking at them in wonder; his hands instantly raising as Ed raises his gun.
"Don't shoot," he states in haste. "What um…what's going on?"
"We're police officers and we need a phone."
"Uh sure my dad is working out back and you can use the one in the office," the young man gestures to the small building.
"Anyone else around here?"
"No, just me and my dad."
Ed nods to Wordy who heads for the door and slowly pulls it open and peers inside.
"Hello!" Wordy calls out before he enters.
"What are you doing out here?"
"My dad is an engineer and he um…he fixes the electric fences and such. Where did you guys come from?"
"Car broke down a ways back. Wordy!" Ed calls out as he twists his head slightly and then looks back at the boy who shrugs. But upon hearing only silence, his agitation at his silent friend surges. "Wordy!" Ed slowly heads for the opening to the building as another figure appears beside the teen.
"He's not available. Can I help you?" A somewhat familiar voice inquires.
Ed's brain quickly registers the voice and his heart rate automatically explodes as he slowly turns away from the building to come face to face with an evil smile.
"What did I tell you about being out in the cold? You'll catch your death," he winks. "You really should drop your empty weapon Constable Lane," he calmly requests. "You are outnumbered."
And just as the rescue helicopter crests the top of the first forest clearing, Ed slowly turns back to toward the building to see four men with loaded automatic rifles pointed right at him; Wordy's unmoving frame on the ground a few feet behind.
"Game over," an evil whisper taunts as the four men cock their triggers, and Ed's world comes to a dead stop.
A/N: *ducks for cover* any guesses as to who the last man to aide in their capture is? (hint you've met him before hehe) Or will Tony's group get there in time? Will team one be able to assist in the rescue? Or has Ed and Wordy's luck run out for good and it really is game over for them both? Please do review before you go as it fuels us to write faster and thanks so much!
PS: Today is my one year anniversary writing flashpoint fanfiction. I ventured into the fandom a year ago today and have no plans to leave anytime soon :) so more stories on the way and hope that's okay!