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Chapter Twenty-Three

"The Quiet Gives Way to Sound"

Peter grabbed Tommy's arm when he woke suddenly, seeing that they were alone. "Where's George?"

Tommy gestured as if picking up wood.

Peter sighed. Every movement seemed to be such an effort for Peter. "Tommy, promise me you will get away if you get a chance. George is sick and I don't...I don't want him hurting you. Got it?"

Even that small speech taxed Peter's meager resources, but at least his hearing was steadily returning. Tommy resisted Peter's instructions. Peter squeezed the boy's arm more tightly. "This isn't a request. It's an order, sport."

Sighing deeply with a hint of tears in his eyes, Tommy nodded in agreement.

"Good job...you're a...good kid."

Peter faded away again with those last words.

Tommy bit his lip and brushed his hand over Peter's forehead, wishing there was something he could do to help the man who had risked his life to save his. The only thing he could do was pray.

He opened his book and repeated the prayer for the Forest spirit again. This time, he saw mists had started to form outside the cave and he was encouraged. He shook Peter's arm, bringing him back from oblivion, and pointed. Bleary-eyed, Peter saw the mists and understood their significance. "Okay, let's give this a try. Give me Ansel's cane."

Somehow, he got on his feet and they were just outside the cave's entrance when George appeared. Peter shoved Tommy forward. "Tommy, run for the canoe. Run, and don't come back!"

Peter turned to place himself between George and Tommy, bracing himself a fight he knew he would lose, but he was going for it any way. Every second counted in giving Tommy enough time to get away.

George nearly roared with rage, and like a bear, simply swatted Peter aside with one paw, causing Peter to hit a rock wall. He crumpled to the ground as George turned his attention to Tommy.

Peter shook his head to push away the beckoning call of unconsciousness and aimed Ansel's cane at the big man.

The only problem was his hands were shaking badly and he was seeing double and triple images, so he closed one eye and prayed his only shot would hit George and incapacitate him.

Peter wiped the sweat from his eyes and fired. George grabbed at his shoulder, but kept after Tommy.

"Dammit," Peter muttered. He'd been aiming for a head shot.

Looking to George's steady pace in following Tommy, he tried to distract the big man.

"GEORGE!" Peter shouted, "Get your crazy ass back over here right now!"

Either George didn't hear him or didn't bother to acknowledge Peter's taunt. Instead, he kept heading toward the creek and Tommy. Hitting the rock wall felt like Peter had broken something inside of him, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was Tommy. He forced himself to his feet and made a few wobbling steps before he fell face first into the snow.

As his consciousness faded away, he watched a huge black raven and an even larger eagle swoop down attacking George. The attack was continued by a diving crow. A deer came barreling into the water from the woods with its antlers stopping George in his tracks, just as a scurrying badger and a raccoon tripped up George's feet and the big man went down hard, but kept moving. There was the lonesome howls of a pack of wolves on the move and George looked very nervous, especially when it was followed by a fearsome growl of a bear.

Then George disappeared into the mists, just as Tommy had done. Tommy was on his own now and there was nothing Peter could do about it as the two vanished into the haze of snow and misty fog.

Peter stretched out a hand, trying to get up, but all he did was collapse back to the ground, unconscious once again.

oOoOoOoOo

Strenlich brought Paul up to date as the police captain joined their search. "See, Captain, there's just one canoe missing. Peter and Tommy must have used it to escape. All of the teams are canvassing both sides of the creek, along with fly-bys with the copter."

Paul looked down and found another one of the wooden carvings. This one had a tiger on it. He held the token as if it was very precious. And to him, it was. Because it had to be from Peter, leaving them a sign that they had left by water. He nodded to Strenlich to continue ahead.

oOoOoOoOo

Inside Ansel's cabin, Kermit watched one sheriff's deputy with wary trepidation. It was because of the undue interest the man seemed to be showing in Celeste. The deputy didn't like it one bit that Kermit had his Desert Eagle sitting on his lap as Kermit rested in a recliner with his leg elevated.

"How long have you served with the Sheriff's office," Kermit asked, appearing to be making small talk.

The man shrugged. "Not long. I just transferred here from another district."

"Oh, where was that? I know most of this country like the back of my hand," Kermit lied with an innocent smile.

For the briefest of instances, the deputy's gaze narrowed, and it wasn't out of kindness toward Kermit.

"Canyon County," he replied briskly as he began to pace.

"Canyon County. That's pretty country, but then so is this area."

Kermit eyed the man's name tag. "LeVoy? Is that how you pronounce that name?"

Again, there was the briefest flash of hostility that crossed over the man's eyes before he answered. "Yes, that's right."

The average soul probably would have never seen the subtle telling signs from the deputy's body language, but Kermit had. "That's a bit unusual. Is it French?"

The man sighed and nodded again. Kermit smiled to himself. He was getting to him and that was exactly what he wanted to do. To push the man to the edge of his control, forcing him to make a wrong move. And Kermit would be ready for him when he did.

"What kind of name is Kermit?" the deputy asked snidely.

"It's a family name. Hey, I didn't choose it. Mom and Dad did. Stuck me with this thing..."

He stared at the man's constant shifting gaze from Celeste to the cellar door. "You look a bit antsy, LeVoy. How about a cup of coffee? I'll take over the watch if you want to take a break." Kermit sounded sincerely concerned about the deputy, just as he had planned.

"Yeah, yeah, maybe I will take a break."

Kermit glanced out the windows and saw the mists moving in again. "Maybe a stroll outside would do you a world of good."

"Okay, I won't be more than five minutes."

"Sure, sure, take your time."

Ansel held onto Celeste when the deputy's screams filled the air a few moments later. Kermit limped to the front door, but couldn't see a thing, but there was something he was sure of. The assassin in a deputy's uniform was now dead like most of his comrades, and probably the missing deputy he'd been impersonating.

Kermit sighed and returned to his recliner. Now he could really relax.

oOoOoOoOo

When Paul and the others arrived, they found Peter face down in the snow barely moving.

Paul turned him over and Peter groaned loudly. Paul bit his lip as he saw how badly hurt Peter was. His face was a mess of bruises and swellings, along with a gash along his left temple that appeared to have reopened and his body had a significant tremor.

He pulled off a glove and put his hand to Peter's face, and was shocked by the fire radiating from Peter's skin. No wonder he was in a semiconscious state. Peter kept murmuring, "Run, Tommy, run!"

There were other indecipherable words mixed in telling Paul that Peter wasn't talking to the people around him, but to the images in his feverish mind.

Paul patted Peter on the cheek. "Peter, Peter, it's Paul. Can you hear me?"

When Peter didn't respond, he patted his cheek harder and repeated his words. Peter's eyes flashed open, startling Paul, but Peter's gaze was wild and unfocused. Paul kept his hand to Peter's heated skin and continued talking to him. "Peter, it's Paul. We are with you at the creek. Where is Tommy?"

Peter blinked a few times, trying to focus on Paul's face, but gave up closing his eyes again. "Tommy..." he rasped.

Paul moved closer, raising Peter so that he could hold him in his arms. "Yes, Peter, Tommy...where is he?"

Peter's expression became tortured with pain and guilt. "George went after him...I tried to follow but couldn't...I-I don't know where Tommy is...We were supposed to stay together...supposed to stay together," he whispered between gasps for air.

Tears fell from tightly squeezed eyes as he curled up against Paul. His body was shaking so badly that Paul tightened his grip on Peter. "Hang in there, Peter. We will find Tommy. Strenlich is here and Kermit is with Ansel and Celeste at the cabin."

Peter breathed a sigh of relief that quickly disappeared. Peter put a shaky hand to Paul's chest. "Find him. Find him before George hurts him. They were headed downstream."

Paul leaned closer and asked, "George? Who is George?"

Peter became unresponsive again. Paul thought he'd passed out when Peter whispered, "Big Foot."

Then Peter's body went limp in Paul's hold. Paul looked up to Strenlich, knowing his expression conveyed his worry and fears for Peter and Tommy.

"Find that George and bring Tommy back to me."

"Yes, sir," Strenlich said as he began to move.

"Frank?"

The Chief of Detectives turned back to Paul. "Yes, sir?"

"Find them quickly."

Frank nodded and ordered his teams downstream. Glancing around, he sniffed the air and headed toward the opening of a cave. "Paul, this must be where George lives."

Paul watched as Strenlich pulled his gun and cautiously entered the cave. A few moments later, he exited from the opening. "Why don't we bring Peter inside? At least it's warm and dry. Water and food, too."

Paul exhaled with gratitude. Together, the two men carried Peter's unconscious body into the cave, setting him down by the burning fire. Then Strenlich left to be with his search teams.

Blaisdell put another log on the fire and quickly stripped off Peter's soggy clothing, leaving him in his underwear, and then heaped animal skins over him, tucking him in as best as possible. He found a rag and some water, dampening the rag before placing it over Peter's fiery forehead.

Rubbing the back of his fingers along Peter's jaw line, he said, "Peter, you just hang in there. You are going to survive this. You aren't allowed to die, you hear me? You are going to make it through all of this."

Seeing fresh and dried blood on Peter's face and other wounds, Paul took another rag and wiped away as much blood as he could from the various cuts, especially from his nose and ears. They were obvious symptoms of a concussion. A bad one from the looks of things.

"What did you suffer in trying to save Tommy Hills," he asked softly before settling in place beside his son.

He took Peter's limp hand in his, feeling to need to keep a constant contact with Peter. The moments dragged on with no word from Frank and no sign of consciousness from Peter. It seemed like time had just stopped, leaving him alone and helpless to assist his very ill son.

oOoOoOoOo