Chapter 10

The trek was beginning to tell on all of them. They had split up the contents of Charlie's pack, and Colby had strapped Charlie's empty pack to his. David had rolled Charlie's sleeping bag and strapped it to his pack. The miles of travel and the extra weight were wearing on them all, and even though they were now traveling downhill most of the time, everyone was feeling the fatigue, the heaviness, the stress on their bodies.

That afternoon they had crossed the most difficult stretch, including the portion of the trail where they had to climb. Charlie was exhausted, and they had to lower him down on ropes; they couldn't trust him to make it down without falling otherwise. Don had no idea how Charlie was generating the strength to keep going. Each step seemed to be a huge effort, and his brother was pale; and breathing heavily. Still he managed to keep on until evening, driven by something other than the physical limits of his body.

The sky was gray, and dusk came early. As the light waned, Edgerton stopped at a section of trail overhung by cliffs. "It's going to rain tonight," he said quietly. "These cliffs will shelter us a bit." As if on cue, a few fat drops splattered down, and they hurried to build a fire and set up their lean-tos. Charlie sat on a log near the fire, hollow-eyed and spent, shivering, his shirt stuck to his chest, damp with blood. He could feel an almost unbearable anxiety rising as the light died, and another night in the forest approached.

He managed to get dinner down, another freeze-dried mystery meal that held no appeal, only because he knew he needed the energy for the next day. The rain had held off for the moment, and they sat by the fire, resting aching feet. Charlie shivered again, and Don rose and dug in his pack, trading his jacket for a sweatshirt, and draped his jacket over Charlie's shoulders. Charlie flashed him a grateful look, and Don sat wearily next to him.

Edgerton studied Charlie for a moment. "What do you remember when you woke up?" he asked, without warning.

Charlie's head jerked up, fear in his eyes. Megan frowned. "I'm not so sure he's ready to talk about this," she murmured.

Edgerton's eyes held Charlie's. "No time is ever a good time," he said; his voice expressionless. Don frowned at him and glanced at his brother.

Charlie was staring back at Ian as if mesmerized. He pulled his gaze away with an effort, and spoke to his feet. "I was in some kind of a canyon," he said, his face tense. "There were trees, but there were high rock walls all around it."

"It was Mansour?" Edgerton pressed gently.

Charlie blanched at the name and closed his eyes. "Yes," he whispered. He cleared his throat and looked at his feet again. "He wasn't there when I woke up, but he was close by."

He swallowed, and the next words came out so low they could hardly hear them. "There was a body." He closed his eyes, remembering. Mansour leapt into his vision, and he started to shake. Panicked, he opened his eyes to clear the image, his face contorted by terror. "I can't – I can't do this -," Don moved closer to him, concern in his face, and put an arm around his shoulders.

"We need information, Charlie," said Edgerton softly, insistently.

Don looked up at him, eyes blazing. "That's enough for now, Ian. We don't need it tonight." Edgerton fell silent, his face inscrutable. Don glared at him, and then looked back at Charlie. "You should probably get some sleep." Charlie nodded numbly, still trying to control the fear, and rose stumbling for the lean-to. Don stood, a residue of anger still on his face, and said shortly, "I'm going too. We'll see you in the morning."

It was a miserable night. The rain moved in after midnight with a vengeance, accompanied by gusting wind, thunder and lightening. The lean-tos were designed to keep off the dew and light rain, and were a poor match for the storm. Don put Charlie at the back of the lean -to, and tried to shelter him from the open side. The cliffs did help some, but even so, by the early hours of the morning, their sleeping bags were taking on moisture. Charlie was shivering uncontrollably, and Don, his own teeth chattering, threw an arm over him, pulling him close, trying to keep him as warm as possible.

They were up before dawn, too cold and too wet to sleep. Edgerton himself had gotten none; he had stationed himself under the cliffs and kept watch. They didn't bother with a fire; Edgerton was capable of conjuring one up out of wet wood, but no one wanted to wait. They each grabbed a protein bar from their dwindling cache of rations, and hit the trail before the sun was up, treading sodden ground.

Don glanced at Charlie with concern as they set out; he was pale and shivering, and looked even more exhausted than he had last night. He had tried to get Charlie to let him check his wounds before bed the night before, with no luck, and his brother's sleep had been interrupted by nightmares, and then by rain. He knew Charlie was on his last legs, both physically and emotionally, and he was anxious to get him back to civilization and help.

They stopped for lunch a little before noon, sinking wearily onto the ground under some trees. Lunch was protein bars again, and David looked at his with distaste.

"If I never see another one of these again, it'll be too soon," he said grimacing.

Charlie managed to choke his down under Don's watchful eye, and stretched his legs carefully. The cuts on his chest were throbbing and oozing, and his feet weren't much better. He was so exhausted he couldn't think straight, and he wanted to rest, but even more than that, he wanted to be out of the woods, away from what lurked in the trees.

He fought the urge to glance over his shoulder, and caught Edgerton watching him. He looked down quickly, hoping Ian would not use the moment of eye contact to start a conversation. He hadn't been able to assimilate the horror of what he had gone through; it was taking all of his efforts to keep from disintegrating into a panic attack or worse, and he didn't trust himself to talk about it – not yet, not here. Edgerton spoke, and Charlie's gut clenched, but all Ian said was, "We'd better get moving."

Afternoon found them two hours from the trailhead. They had hit a long straight section of trail. Perhaps it was because of that, and the ease of maintaining visual contact, but whatever the reason, they found themselves spread out. Megan and Edgerton were several yards up ahead, Edgerton trying the radio again. Don and Charlie were together in the center, and Colby and David lagged a few yards behind them.

They had been traveling downhill most of the way, but this section of the trail climbed slightly, winding along the side of a steep slope. It was becoming apparent to Don that Charlie didn't have much left – even that slight grade was exhausting him, and he staggered, breathing heavily, as they reached an overhang next to the trail. Don caught his arm and Charlie bent over, hands on his knees, panting.

"Whoa, take it easy," Don said softly. "Just take a breather. Do you need to sit?" Charlie shook his head, but remained bent over, trying to catch his breath. Don looked up ahead; Megan and Edgerton were disappearing around a bend in the trail. Glancing back, he saw Colby and David almost out of sight behind them; David was sitting, removing one of his boots, shaking a rock out of it. Don decided to stay put until they caught up; it would give Charlie a chance to rest. Edgerton and Megan would just have to wait for them. He looked back at Charlie, just as a scream split the air, coming from the overhang above them.

Don whirled toward the sound, catching a brief glimpse of someone, something launching itself toward him. A boot caught his head; he saw a bright explosion of lights and went down, knocking Charlie sprawling. Don's vision dimmed as his back hit the ground hard, and he fought for consciousness, crying out as a second boot came down on his leg with a sickening snap. The last thing he remembered was a madman's face over his own, screaming. As the dimness closed in, he saw the knife rise above him.

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