Chapter 8

Edgerton awoke just before dawn, rousing to an internal clock. According to old habit, he lay silently, not moving for a moment, taking in his surroundings before he made his presence known. He could see Don's silhouette over by the log; he was now standing, leaning against a tree with his head back. The moon had retired, and it was darker now than it had been, but Edgerton could smell the dawn, and he slipped quietly from his sleeping bag.

Unlike Don, Edgerton had little emotional attachment to Charlie; he liked him well enough, to be sure, and had come to admire his phenomenal mind, but he was distant enough that emotion would not cloud his judgment. Emotional attachments were dangerous and unnecessary baggage to Edgerton, and he had made it a practice to avoid them. His focus was always his mission; which was in this case to eliminate a killer before he could cause more harm. He turned his mind to the mechanics of preparing for the search as he stepped forward to stoke the fire.

Don looked at Edgerton, uncomprehending for a moment that it was close to daybreak; then realizing that it must be, looked at his watch, illuminating the dial. He had spent the night in a haze of despair, and suddenly, realizing that the sun would be up and they could begin searching, the despair was replaced by a horrible anxiety – anxiety to get moving, anxiety at what they might find when they did. He stepped over to the fire to help, trying to make things move faster, trying to hide his shaking hands.

Upon hearing the sounds at the fire, the rest of them rose from their bags silently, looking like ghosts in the grayness. Colby, his military training showing, efficiently packed his things. Megan stood for a moment, watching Don, then realized that Colby was doing the thing that would help Don the most; getting ready to move, and she joined him. The grayness was turning from near black to a moderate dimness, and by the time they were done, the sky had lightened enough that they could see each others' faces.

That was small comfort. 'We all look like zombies,' thought David. He could see tension warring with despair in Don's face, and he wished mightily that he could somehow shoulder some of that burden, and was saddened by the fact that he couldn't. No one spoke, or at least very little; they grabbed a quick cup of coffee, with the exception of Don, who paced instead. Finally, it was light enough to see the trail, and gathering their packs, they moved out of the campsite into the thinning grayness like a funeral procession.

Edgerton studied the ground intently. The trail was a bit colder; overturned bits of earth had started to dry, making it harder to pick up sign. He moved carefully, following the trail over a hill, and down into yet another small vale. The trail led through a grassy area, skirting a ridge. This was quicker going; the grass was knee deep and it was easy to see where Mansour had beaten it down. He was moving so quickly through this section, and Don was so close on his heels that when he suddenly stopped, Don almost ran into the back of him. Edgerton stood staring intently at the ground with his hand up, warning them to stay back.

"What?" asked Don impatiently, unbearable tension rising in his chest.

Edgerton frowned and pointed. "Blood." He looked side to side, head swiveling, eyes burning as he took in the sign. "Another trail crosses the one we're following. You can see blood there, to our right, and here in front of us. There's a large indentation in the grass; someone sat or lay down here." He looked to his left up the ridge. "The trail goes up that ridge."

He knelt and touched the red stains on the grass. "It's fresh." He stepped to his right, following the trail backward, hoping for softer ground, and was rewarded with a fuzzy outline of a boot in the grass– too distorted to determine the size, but definitely a human footprint. "There's a footprint here," he said, "This was made by a person."

He stood and faced Don. "We have a choice to make. We need to choose which of these to follow."

Don stared back at him, looking as though Edgerton had asked him to stand on his hands. He shook his head in confusion. "Which one brings us to Charlie?"

"I can't tell you that. The trail that we were on is Mansour and Charlie, we know that for sure. We don't know who left this new trail, but it is much fresher. If it's connected to Mansour, we may find Charlie faster by following the new one."

Don looked ahead at the trail they had been following, and then up the ridge. He closed his eyes, and rubbed at them, indecision plain on his face. 'I can't think,' he agonized. He knew that the original trail was certainly Charlie's, but he felt beyond all reason that they should follow the other one. He opened his eyes. "Can we come back here if we need to?" Edgerton nodded. Don took a deep breath. "Then I say up the hill."

Edgerton led the way forward without a word. That would have been his choice also, but he needed to allow Eppes to make the decision. His brother's life was at stake, and at the moment, Don's call was the only one that mattered. They climbed the hill in single file, gathering in a group at the top, finding themselves on a part of the hiking trail. It was more wooded than the field they had just come from, and the light was dimmer. Edgerton peered at the ground, looking for blood, but jerked his head up at Colby's sudden exclamation.

"Look – by that tree – there's someone there – holy crap, that looks like Charlie!"

Don started forward; then froze. In the dimness, and with the way Charlie was laying against the tree, he couldn't tell if he was still whole. His heart stopped as the others surged forward, knowing that he couldn't bear the sight of it. In spite of what his mind was telling him, his legs began somehow moving of their own accord, and as he approached the group, and heard, "He's alive!" relief flooded him. His knees buckled as he reached his brother, and he landed on them hard at Charlie's side.

He moaned softly as he took in his brother's appearance. Charlie was pale, covered in blood; his hands purple, his lips blue. He heard Edgerton say "Hypothermia" and he was jolted to consciousness, as Colby barked orders to the others, his military training kicking in.

"We need to get these wet clothes off him and get him in a sleeping bag," said Colby. "Get him some dry clothes, but not too many – just a T-shirt and some boxers." Don turned, galvanized, and tore into Charlie's pack, pulling out clothes. Colby stripped Charlie's T-shirt from his limp body, and they all paused, staring horrified at the slash marks on his chest. Colby turned to Megan, who stood rooted to the spot. "Megan," he said quietly.

Megan looked at him in confusion, then in understanding. "Oh, right," she said, turning away, as Don began to unbutton Charlie's pants.

Edgerton looked down the trail at a clearing. "I'll start a fire. Megan, help me gather some wood." They took off at a trot, grabbing wood and kindling on the way.

Colby and David each took a leg, pulling off boots, socks and pants with one movement, and for a moment none of them moved, stricken by the sight of the ligature marks around Charlie's legs, the cuts around his ankles and toes. Tears started in Don's eyes, and he grabbed his brother's lifeless body and pulled him to him instinctively. Charlie's skin was ice cold, and he leaned his brother's body against his chest and wrapped his arms around him.

"That's good," said Colby. "Try to keep him warm." He and David finished changing him; putting Charlie in dry boxers and helping Don slide a dry T shirt over his head. Colby looked at them. "Who has the biggest sleeping bag?"

"Probably Charlie," whispered Don. He cleared his throat, trying to choke out the words. "He's claustrophobic – he can't stand to be confined – his bag is bigger than mine."

"Okay," said Colby, and he pulled at the straps on Charlie's pack, releasing the sleeping bag on top of it. He rolled it open, and the three of them gently pulled it up around Charlie's limp body. "Let's get him over to the fire." Don put his hands under Charlie's shoulders, making sure to capture the sleeping bag, and supporting his brother's head against his body, he rose, as Colby grabbed Charlie's feet. They sidled awkwardly to the fire, trying not to jostle their cargo, and laid Charlie gently down next to it. Don squatted down next to him, hovering anxiously. Charlie's face was lifeless, so pale the skin looked almost translucent, making the bruise on his cheek and his purple lips stand out in bold contrast.

Edgerton eyed him. "He needs body heat."

Colby nodded, and looked at Don. "He'll warm up faster with someone in there with him."

Don looked up at them. "Right," he said, and pulled off his boots and his jacket.

Colby squatted down, helping him with the bag. "Turn him on his side, facing the fire," he said, "and get in behind him." Don squeezed in the bag as instructed, and wrapped his arms around Charlie. His body felt cool, and his limbs were like ice.

Don shivered involuntarily at the contact, and felt a sudden panic. Was he still alive? He reached for Charlie's neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, but felt unusually slow.

Colby saw Don put his hand on Charlie's neck and looked at his watch. "Let's get a BPM," he said. "Count." Don counted, as Colby's watch ticked off 10 seconds. "Stop."

"Five," said Don. Colby frowned and looked at Edgerton. "Thirty."

Don's own heart skipped a beat. Even to him, that sounded dangerously low. "What's normal?"

"Roughly, 60 to 100," said Edgerton quietly. "It'll speed up. Give it time."

'Is he talking about my heart or Charlie's?' wondered Don miserably, as he felt his pulse quicken in anxiety. He wrapped his arms more securely around Charlie, as if to keep him from leaving. He could feel his brother's light breathing, also too slow, and the stickiness of blood on his arm. "Come on, Charlie," he whispered.

They stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity. Edgerton kept stoking the fire, which grew hotter, and the sun made its appearance over the ridge. The air temperature started to warm up, but Charlie remained inert. Don was nearly panicking, when he suddenly felt Charlie stir slightly. "Charlie?"

The others' heads whipped up from the fire, staring at Charlie intently. He stirred again, moaning softly; eyes still closed, and began shuddering uncontrollably. "What's happening?" asked Don, looking at them wildly. He held his brother more tightly, as if that would stop the shaking.

"That's a good sign," said Edgerton. "His body temperature has come up to a point where he's starting to shiver again."

Charlie's eyes fluttered open; then closed again. He caught a glimpse of the fire, and felt the arms wrapped tightly around him. Visions floated through his mind, foremost among them Mansour's leering face. Mansour had him again, he realized in panic as he felt the arms around his body. He was pushing him into the fire.

Don felt Charlie twist and begin flailing, and he tried to hold him steady. He was completely unprepared for the ragged scream that tore from his brother's mouth. Charlie began thrashing wildly in the sleeping bag, and Colby, David and Megan rushed forward.

"Charlie!" cried Don, desperately trying to hold his brother. "Charlie, it's okay!"

"Nooo," moaned Charlie, eyes opened but unfocused. "Please -," Other faces swam in his vision, familiar ones, and his thrashing weakened as he stared, trying to comprehend where he was. He felt the arms release, and felt his body turn slightly as the presence behind him moved, and his back gently met the ground. He was still shaking, but his vision cleared a bit more, and he looked up into the eyes of his brother. He stared a moment, not comprehending how he came to be there, but the realization that he was actually staring at his brother slowly dawned on him. "D- Don?" he whispered haltingly.

"Yeah, Buddy, it's okay now," said Don, his eyes filling with tears of relief. "It's gonna be okay."

"'kay," repeated Charlie, his eyes riveted on his brother. He stared heavy-lidded at Don as the shivering slowed, trying vainly to keep his eyes open. Exhaustion finally won the battle, and his eyes closed slowly as he drifted into a deep sleep.

---------------------------End Chapter 8-------------------------------------------------