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Chapter Thirteen

"The Cabin"

Kermit recognized Peter even sitting all bundled up out on the front porch in the evening chill. Kermit had borrowed a friend's Suburban to transport their group to the yet-to-be disclosed safe house.

Kermit parked and got out of the vehicle. He barked at Peter. "What? Do you have a death wish, Caine? What are you doing sitting out here in the freezing cold?"

"Just thinking. I thought you'd be along soon anyway," Peter said in a strangely distant tone, which caused Kermit to pause with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't they have lights out here?" Kermit asked quietly.

"I guess so...Didn't feel like having them on."

"So, what are you hiding from?"

"Hiding, huh?" Peter responded as he shook his head gently, but didn't volunteer any more information.

"And what's with the hat? Never saw you wear one like that before." Kermit was zeroing in on the source of his suspicions.

"You said yourself it was freezing cold out here."

"I don't like to repeat myself and I don't like interrogating people I generally consider to be my friends. Most of all, I don't like standing out in the cold. So just tell me what the hell is going on, so I can go inside and get warm."

Without saying a word, Peter reached up and pulled off the rolled up ski cap from his head. Even in the dim light shining in from the lit windows inside, Kermit could see Peter had a black eye and extensive bruising. It spread down and across his face, though the worst of it had to be hidden by the swathing of bandages.

"Blaisdell didn't say anything about you being hurt."

Peter scratched his cheek in a distracted way and muttered, "Well, it could be because I didn't say anything to him about it."

"Well, you sure as hell better start talking to me and I mean talking to me about everything. But we are going inside to do it, if you don't mind."

Kermit stormed over to the door and threw it open, waiting as Peter slowly stood, but didn't move from his chair. "We aren't going inside just yet. That's the very reason why I waited for you out here and not inside. I didn't want you to scare the shit of those poor folk with your menacing ways."

Peter held a fist against his side when his knees buckled and Kermit caught him before he toppled over. "Whoa," Peter whispered.

Kermit settled him back into his chair and knelt before him, giving him close examination.

"Feeling better?" the ex-merc asked finally.

"Yeah, sorry about that. And about having to talk out here, but there's a little boy in there who's already been through hell and back. He doesn't need to hear-"

"Okay, I get the picture." Kermit sighed as he got up and went to close the front door before returning to Peter. "I'll behave myself on his account, but know this...You have a lot of explaining to do, and if I don't like what I'm hearing, we may need to have another visit out to the front porch? Got that?"

Peter ran through the details of the last twenty-four hours while Kermit tossed in an occasional question. Finally, Peter stopped, taking a deep breath before he continued, "The whole thing was screwed from the beginning, Kermit. No working radio in the car. Then when we were in trouble, I couldn't use the damned car phone to call for help, and the mountains were screwing my cell phone reception."

"Do you think you were followed after the Explorers collided?"

"No way. And the road we took to get here wasn't really a road, but a trail crossing a hill and a huge field, and then we drove for another hour to reach this place. The Whitehorses, the people who own this place, hid my car, and closed down the store for the time we've been here. We've just been bidding our time until you could get here."

"And the safe house we are going to?" Kermit asked.

"Sounds like something from that movie, Rambo. It belongs to Celeste's uncle who lives like a hermit on one of those huge mountains. She says he's got it rigged with booby-traps six ways from Sunday."

"Lovely," Kermit said, sitting back as he stretched his neck.

"Yeah, well, I'm about as excited about being up there for three weeks as you are."

"No hotdogging on this trip, kid. You're already battered. You're going to get strong, and then help me and this Ansel do regular daily patrols. We are dealing with top-notch hit teams here and I don't want any screwups. Got it?"

"Yeah, I've got it," Peter grumbled as he entered the first floor, and then added, "And the bears up on that mountain there got it too."

"Don't push me, kid," Kermit warned.

oOoOoOoOo

They started loading up the rear of the four wheel drive Suburban with the groceries, belongings, and gifts that Celeste had brought for Tommy. Peter couldn't help but notice Kermit's duffle bag. He touched it and it wasn't filled with just clothes, rather it felt like it held enough weapons to hold off Attila, the Hun and his invading forces.

For some reason, the presence of Kermit and his mysterious possessions reassured Peter, taking most of the weight off of Peter's shoulders. Judy came out with a huge medical kit and began rattling off instructions to Celeste and Peter on wound care.

"Watch that bullet wound closely, and for worsening signs of his concussion. Call if you need to. I'll stay close to the phone. And I'll be praying for all of you. The whole family will be. You'll get through this, Celly. God, I love you!"

She hugged Celeste, and then Peter, just as Joey brought out a still sleeping Tommy, wrapped in two quilts. He put him on one of the back seats and fastened the safety belt without the child awakening.

Kermit slipped up behind Peter. "Bullet wound?"

Peter scrunched his face in disdain. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about that one."

"When we get up there, you will tell me everything twice, just so you won't forget any other minor details like being shot," Kermit whispered to Peter's back as he headed for the van.

"Thanks for everything," Celeste said as Joey helped her into the front passenger seat.

Peter crawled in beside Tommy and Judy slipped a pillow under his neck and tossed a quilt over him. "Thanks, Judy, you're the best nurse I've ever had. And your father-in-law was the best...medicine man I've ever seen. Actually, he's the only one I've ever seen. And Joey, well, Joey is the biggest damned thing I've ever known that was alive and moving. Sure glad he's on our side."

Judy kissed him on the cheek. "Just come back to us, safe and sound. I'll make a very special celebration dinner when you show up after Celeste does her thing in court."

"It's a deal."

Kermit had the engine idling and once everyone had said their goodbyes, he headed out in the direction Celeste had indicated. Peter glanced back and saw the couple holding tightly to one another. He didn't need to see their faces to know they were still very worried about the survival of their friends.

oOoOoOoOo

Kermit was glad he'd managed to borrow the Suburban because they needed every inch of space to get everyone and everything packed into it. He glanced back in his rear view mirror and saw Peter was already sleeping.

He was worried about the pale, listless demeanor of his friend and coworker. He wasn't sure how to take Celeste Crowfoot. She seemed to be wound tighter than his grandmother's ancient cuckoo clock, but given the grim nature of their situation, he couldn't fault her.

Kermit felt like a glorified chauffeur/armed escort, traveling on a road that was barely a road without streetlights and very few road signs. At least there was a full moon out to provide some additional illumination.

With Peter and Tommy sleeping, Celeste was completely nonverbal unless there was some road direction she had to give to him, leaving Kermit alone with his thoughts. Sometimes, that was a very scary place to be. His mercenary instincts told him there would be more trouble before everything was said and done. Too many 'mishaps' had happened so far on Peter's journey.

He knew from experience, mishaps often became organized events when one could look back and actually see the progression from beginning to end. Kermit was walking into the middle of this escapade and suspected the mishaps would only continue to occur until someone stopped them. Someone like him.

The poor schmucks, whoever they were, would be in a world of pain if they ever tried to launch an assault on the mountain cabin where they were heading. Paul had begun the process of finding the person who had leaked vital information to the hit teams. God save them if Paul was the one to confront them with solid evidence.

oOoOoOoOo

Celeste navigated Kermit through the most complicated series of booby-traps that Kermit had seen in several years. Ansel Crowfoot definitely had issues regarding personal safety and privacy.

And the old man was waiting outside for them when they arrived in the dead of night. He had some spotlights on in front of the cabin and pointed to an area where Kermit could park. He went immediately to Celeste, easing her body from sitting on the front seat to standing on the ground, making sure she had her cane in hand before he gave her a bear hug.

"Dammit, Little Raven, I warned you something like this would happen. Just wait until I get my hands on that damned police detective!"

Celeste stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "Ansel, if he hadn't done the amazing things he did, we'd already be dead."

Kermit walked around the front of the vehicle and offered his hand. "Hello, I'm Kermit, and a very good friend of the man who was shot and injured while saving the lives of your family, so let's keep the threats against him to a minimum or I might have to get irritated. Most people don't like to see me irritated, especially those who caused the irritation."

Ansel gave Kermit a closer inspection, peering through his coke-bottom glasses. "Where did you serve?"

Kermit straightened. "More hell holes than I'd like to mention, let alone remember, but right now, I'm a cop whose only duty is to keep your family members alive and well."

"Honored to meet you, Kermit," Ansel said, holding out a hand.

When Celeste made an expression of surprise, Kermit asked what was wrong.

"Most first meetings with Uncle Ansel don't go quite that smoothly," she said with surprise still lilting in her voice.

Then she moved stiffly toward the back door to check on Tommy.

Kermit looked to Ansel who shrugged his shoulders innocently and grunted. "Sometimes, I get a bad rep, I guess."

Kermit patted him on the back. "We've got the rear end of this bus filled with supplies and gear to unload and I'd like to catch a little shuteye before daylight hits."

"Okay, let's stop gabbing and get to it."

Celeste struggled as she carried Tommy, and Kermit took him from her. "Where to?"

"The rear of the house. It used to be his grandfather's bedroom when he was a child."

"To the rear of the house it is then."

"Thank you, Kermit," Celeste offered, but Kermit could hear the deep fatigue in her voice, along with the echo of physical pain. He didn't say a word about it, only put Tommy on the bed and let Celeste finish up with him.

As he headed outside, he figured it would take at least a half hour to move everything into the cabin. But first, he needed to check on Peter, since he hadn't awakened on his own. Kermit opened the door to Peter's side of the back seat and shook his arm gently. Peter didn't move.

"Come on, kid. We're at the cabin. Time to get inside. There's a roaring fire in the fireplace and a bottle of whiskey waiting for you."

Still, Peter didn't move. Kermit put a hand to Peter's face and found it hot with fever.

"Damn!" Kermit exclaimed.

Ansel peeked around the back of the Suburban with a questioning look. "I can't get him to wake up and he's got a hell of a fever."

"Well, let's get him inside and let Celeste take care of him until we get the supplies stored. I don't like the idea of having so many lights on this late at night."

"I know, I've been thinking the same thing myself. I'll take him by the shoulders if you can get his feet."

The old man grunted. "Got 'em, but hurry up, I don't know how long I'll be able to carry him."

Kermit nodded as they headed toward the house. Things had just jumped from dangerous to possibly deadly, if they couldn't rouse Peter or get his temperature down.

'Paul warned me to look out for trouble, but I didn't think it would mean the party had already started without me,' he thought as he slowed to begin the upward climb up the steps leading to the front porch, and then into the house.

oOoOoOoOo

Peter struggled to awaken from the delirious fever that held him in its clutches. He was in a strange place, an unworldly place set in his dream world. Yet, it wasn't completely foreign to him, parts of reality mixed with equal parts of legend.

In the background, he could hear many drums softly beating in rhythm, the aroma of sage and pine and leather and smoke, along with other odors Peter couldn't identify. He heard deep voices that seemed to echo for miles around him.

At first, he couldn't understand them, for they spoke in a foreign tongue. He forced his eyes open to see who it was talking and as he opened them, he understood their words.

"He must live. If he does not, the Crowfoot line will end. They have honored us with respect time after time. This white man must live, so the others will live on and multiply."

Peter craned his head around to catch a glimpse of the beings talking about him, but he felt so tiny compared to their voices.

"Wolf spirit, what do you say?" asked the deepest voice, sounding as if he was in authority.

"I say remember the legends, 'The great trees took pity on the people as they struggled against the harsh winters and hot summers, offering themselves to give them fuel for heating in the cold times and shade in the hot times.

'Then the Beaver spirit told the forest one morning that man needed a defender or they would not survive. After a long talk, each of the mighty trees gave up a part of their life force and created the 'spirit of the forest' to help protect the people. In return, the people would be grateful for their great gift.' That is all I have to say"

There was a long silence and Peter cursed the mists limiting his vision of the great ones. Finally, the deepest voice spoke again, "Forest spirit, what do you say?"

There was a breeze that moved part of the mists away and Peter could make out huge, looming tree tops overhead. They began to sway and Peter forced himself to listen to the whispers of the forest spirit.

"I agree with Wolf. If we do not act, the forests will be overrun with evil. It must be ended before it begins."

"We will talk more of this later, and then decide on the fate of this stranger."

Peter swallowed, wondering if they were really trying to decide if he was going to live or die. The beating drums became louder and the mists hid everything from him. Finally, his eyelids became too heavy to keep open, so he fell back into his feverish state.

oOoOoOoOo