a/n: Mandamirra and rice, thanks for your encouraging messages and reviews! And everyone else, what happened? I'm starving here. :o) Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter ready!

Chapter Thirteen: Bad to Worse

Apparently, when a government opposes a foreign influence, it's not uncommon for things to escalate. Foreign citizens leave the country before they're targeted. And then the government starts targeting whatever is left—homes, businesses, anything that represents the foreign 'evils' they're against.

So Yakubu was now burning abandoned American businesses. This was bad. I just didn't know how bad.

Lake held my hand tightly as we weaved through the streets. We could hear fires burning in different parts of the city, and cheering too. The cheering freaked me out. It sounded like one of those rabid baseball games where the fans go primal.

Lake stumbled frequently, but played it off with a quick change of course, darting behind something like he meant to. I was too afraid to question him—he was getting us to safety.

Or we thought.

Creeping down an alley that was full of trash, a dead body, and three rusted cars, Lake and I stopped in our tracks. I was out of breath anyway, but I nearly hyperventilated at what was in front of us. The embassy—the US embassy—was on fire.

I think my jaw dropped open. I felt Lake's grip on my hand go slack. Rebel soldiers stood watching the burning embassy. A few fired bullets into the air.

Colonel Sadick stood observing it all. I could see him clearly, maybe 20 yards away. I stepped back, fearing we'd be seen. As if sensing us, Sadick looked our way. Lake leaned back by me. I held my breath, watching Sadick.

His eyes searched. I thought he could see right through me. He took a step towards our alley.

"Get ready to run," Lake whispered in my ear. I heard a twinge of pain in his tone, but my attention was locked on Sadick. The colonel took another step towards the alley.

Something exploded on embassy property. Judging by the metallic debris flying around, I'd guess it was a vehicle. Sadick instinctively reacted by turning towards it; Lake instinctively grabbed my hand and led me back down the alley.

We weaved around the back of some bakery and a sewing shop. Odd combination, but it was there. I could hear the flames eating the embassy. Random gunfire and shouts still added to the noise. My mind flew with bits and pieces of new worries. Wasn't setting the embassy on fire an act of war? Embassies were foreign soil. I think I'd seen an episode of 24 about that—at least one episode.

Suddenly Lake collapsed.

He hissed as he went down. He tried to catch himself from falling, grabbing at a shopping cart that cluttered the road. I reached for him, catching him just enough to ease his fall as we both hit the ground.

Lake groaned.

"Sorry," he muttered. I got to my knees and looked him over. His skin was covered in a light mist of sweat. His face was paling again, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Lake, what is it?" I knew he was hurting. He was pushing himself too hard, and you could only do that for so long. It'd been long enough.

"Just weak," he said.

"And?" I glanced at his stomach. The bruised area didn't look any different. There was a twitch at Lake's mouth—not sure if it was amusement or agony.

"We should hide," Lake said. "Till we figure out what to do." Someone down the street was talking loudly. We were in plain sight. I grabbed Lake carefully by his arm and we got moving.

That's when my leg started cramping up. As if the bullet wound hadn't done enough damage . . . My eyes watered at the sudden flare of pain, but I hopped along with Lake.

The buildings around us looked nicer. I wasn't sure what part of town this was, but it also was getting busier. Even with a coup and an attack on an embassy, people were coming out. We couldn't risk being seen.

We hurried down the entrance of an underground parking area. Above the parking was a nice four-story building. I wasn't sure what it was for. There were several cars in the garage though. We picked the closest one to hide behind.

Lake leaned against the wall and just slid down. It was better than falling, but he barely had the strength to stay upright anymore.

"Lake?"

His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. "Should have gotten there sooner," he muttered.

"Where?"

"Embassy," he said. "Shouldn't have stopped."

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see. "We're both injured. Even if we hadn't stopped, no way could we beat the soldiers to the embassy."

"Maybe. Maybe not," he said.

"No," and at that he opened his eyes wearily. I looked directly at him, not wavering for once. "We probably would have been caught before going in. Or we'd be burning in what's left of the embassy."

Lake shook his head. His mohawk drew my attention whenever he did that.

"We should . . ." He tightened his grip on my hand. I could tell he was blaming himself. I sat next to him, never letting go of his hand. His grip was weaker, but there was still a comfort, a security, in the gesture.

Lake looked down at our intertwined hands. I found myself looking at him instead of our hands. His face betrayed how hopeless he felt. He looked lost, but unwilling to look at me or admit it. And I knew he didn't know what to do anymore.

For three seconds, I stopped breathing. For three seconds, I felt that capture, torture and death were inevitable. For three seconds, I imagined what Lake was feeling. For three seconds, I saw Sadick chasing us with a full platoon of soldiers.

On the four second, I tried to think about Lake and how we would survive this, given our new and continually deteriorating situation. I saw how tired he was. I don't know what he did before we met, but for the past few days, he was hiking through the jungle, leading his team and refugees around danger, constantly on alert. I don't know if he ever got rest, except when he was injured and unconscious.

I imagine adapting is a big deal in SEAL training, or any military background. Lake had adapted every time. He'd protected us—me especially—and got us out of Sadick's control. Now it was my turn.

As that resolve came, I felt a little daunted. Could I get us past the latest dangers? I had no idea how.

And then Lake started to slump over. I lunged for him, pulling him towards me. His grip tightened painfully around my hand. I think it was a reaction to the agony he was in.

"What's wrong?"

He grunted. I pulled him towards me more, shifting so I could lay him down. He rested on the dirty parking garage floor, his head in my lap. He was shaking a little.

"Lake, how do you feel?" My eyes darted over his body again. "Tell me, please."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Just cold." I eyed the sweat glistening on his chest. He felt cold, but was hot enough to sweat. Fever? Maybe he was fighting an infection. Crap, how was I going to help him?

My resolve was breaking, mainly because of the fear pounding away at it. Stop it, Jane! As tempting as it was, I couldn't just sit there and cry.

Think!

Random ideas started to flood my mind:

Call for help. That was thrown out the window. There wasn't a 911 I could dial without bringing Sadick or angry rebel sympathizers straight to us.

Find someone human enough to help us. Too risky.

Contact the US Army somehow. Short of 1-800-GO-ARMY, I didn't know who to call. Besides, calling the army would only put more soldiers in danger. I wasn't above that—Lake and I needed the help—but something told me this country was a hot zone for danger of all kinds. I was afraid even if we could call for help, none would come, or we'd be denied because of some potential diplomatic fallout.

I glanced down at Lake. He was asleep. Wow, he was too tired to even argue with me about not needing rest.

Jane! Think! My scolding worked.

I couldn't believe Sadick had burned the embassy. If I was right and that was an act of war, Sadick was giving the US a reason to invade—probably wouldn't go that far, but it was stupid. It showed how desperate Yakubu and Sadick were to get Arthur Azuka back, or to get us back—all to eventually control the whole country.

I hoped no one was at the embassy. I hoped even the soldiers Lake thought might be there were evacuated.

And then the light bulb came on. The US embassy wasn't the only embassy in Nigeria. Right? Sure, we're a super power, but not the only one. Was there another embassy we could go to? Claim asylum? Protection from psycho Sadick and Yakubu?

I looked to Lake again. He was still shivering.

"Lake?"

His eyes cracked open.

"Stay here," I said, although we both knew he wouldn't be running around on his own for awhile. "Rest up. I'm going to see what I can find." I was going to do a little more than that, but I knew he'd try to talk me out of it.

"Don't go far," he said. His eyes shut again. I took a look at the angry scar on his torso, the bound bullet wounds on his arms, and the bruises on his face from where Sadick had hit him. Please, please, hang in there. I leaned over him and kissed him on the forehead.

"I'll be back soon," I whispered.

The hardest thing I did next was walking away from him. What if someone found him while I was gone? What if Sadick captured him? What if Lake got worse, and had no one to help him?

I reasoned that if I didn't do something to get us home, Lake wouldn't recover.

I left the garage, peeked around the building's corner, and hobbled down the street.