Author's Note: Cross-posted on AO3
Xxxxxxx
Nowhere Fast
Chapter 4
The shock of being in the middle of nowhere, with little cover against enemies or exposure to the elements rocked him badly.
He had hoped for a car he could steal and get back home with, but there was nothing aside of this hut in the middle of nowhere.
Callen hobbled back into the hut, knowing he needed to get away, but also knowing he needed to be smart about this. Even in his compromised state he recognized that if he just started walking, he would not survive this bid for freedom. He hadn't come this far only to stupidly wander into the desert without some sort of plan and get himself killed there.
His eyes strayed to the three dead bodies on the floor, and he felt fury surge. He barely held in the desire to kick the nearest body, knowing it wouldn't help him in any way, would only drain his energy further. He clung to the fury though; it would empower him, and he needed to cultivate that boost to give himself an edge that might help him survive.
If he couldn't steal a car, maybe he could see about getting himself some backup. Callen checked the bodies one after the other, a small shout of triumph escaping him when he found a cell phone on the last guard.
Trying to straighten back up, he cried out when pain stole his breath, making him crash back down to his knees. Panting, he let his head hang down for a moment, his fingers curled around the cell phone in his hand.
Again, fury surged, and he struggled to get back to his feet, ignoring the pain as best as he could. He stumbled backwards and into the sturdy table, using it to stabilize himself and lean against.
Thumbing past the phone's screen saver, he entered the number to Ops and pressed the call button.
His hopes were dashed, cruelly brought down only a heartbeat later when the cell phone announced that there was no service.
Of course not. It was never easy, now was it?
Callen's fingers tightened painfully around the phone. So damn close and yet it wasn't meant to be.
He shoved the frustration down and put the phone into his pocket, starting to slowly move around the room. He needed to get an idea where he was and how to get back to where he needed to go.
Xxxxxxx
His search of the hut hadn't revealed any information on where he was, but he had found some essentials - food, bottled water, an old backpack and a first aid kit. The first aid kit was small - Sam would scoff at the pathetically limited equipment - but it was still useful. Callen bandaged his mangled wrist and the knife wound in his leg as well as some smaller wounds, knowing he needed to take care of himself as much as he could with the limited supplies he had. He had also swallowed some of the over-the-counter painkillers, knowing they wouldn't be enough to make him pain free, but hoping they would at least take the edge off.
He then gave himself a few minutes to rest, eat and drink something, knowing he needed every ounce of strength.
He couldn't linger for too long though. He needed to get going or he either wouldn't be able to get up anymore or would be surprised by hostile newcomers.
Callen took a few more sips of the water he had found. Knowing better than to guzzle the fluid down despite his thirst, he paced his sips before determinedly screwing the cap back on.
Cramming the rest of his findings into the backpack he had found, he stood up. Callen carefully swung the bag up and over his shoulder, ignoring the way it chafed at wounds his captors had left. He slowly made his way back over to the door. Before opening it, Callen blew out a breath, steeling himself for the sight that awaited him. Dragging up any scrap of resilience, defiance and confidence he could find within himself, he slipped out of the hut.
The time display on the phone had told him it was mid-afternoon. Callen glanced up at the sun, knowing it was the easiest way to orient himself. Turning, he let his eyes roam over the landscape. In the north and east he could see some ridges rising up. They didn't look too high or even steep from where he was, but he worried they would be more than he could handle in his current state.
Glancing south, he followed a dirt track with his eyes. There were some telephone poles and the dirt track looked reasonably well tended. It made for the most desirable option as he had markers to orient himself with the telephone poles. Also, the mostly even ground and the dirt road that would potentially lead to civilization, but it was also the direction he would most likely encounter any unfriendly party approaching to check up on the state of things in the hut. As far as he could see, there was also absolutely no cover by bushes or boulders or anything else that way so he would be a sitting duck on full display.
Callen regretfully shook his head.
The western direction looked to be sloping down which would make it somewhat easier for him. The downside was that it also looked even bleaker than the other three directions.
Callen turned in a circle again, his eyes following the line of the horizon while his exhausted mind tried to make an educated decision - one that would either lead to survival or death.
Neither direction seemed good, but he couldn't stay here, couldn't wait for Ossam and more guards to arrive. He needed to go somewhere.
Sighing softly, Callen turned west.
Xxxxxxx
His body felt as if it was on fire. He had been walking, or shuffling, for three hours.
At least the sun was finally sloping down. It had been beating down unmercifully, only adding to the complete and utter exhaustion that encompassed his whole being. Still, even though it was on its way down, the heat would be intense for at least another hour or two, he reckoned.
The wounds were clamoring for attention, slowing his progress even further. He couldn't stop though; it was imperative to put as much distance as he could between himself and the hut before a pursuit could start.
The first bottle of water was gone by now as well as some of the food he had taken along. Callen wasn't perfectly sure if he had made the right decision to start walking into the desert… or try to walk out of it, depending on how you looked at it.
On the other hand, his options had been limited - staying at the hut until more of Ossam's men appeared had been out of the question as well.
Stumbling, Callen lost his footing and tumbled to the ground, rolling to absorb the impact. Moaning softly, he lay on the ground, winded and hurting, and glanced up at the sky. Bright blue, not a single cloud.
The distant cry of an eagle reached him.
Giving himself a few moments to try and get his breath back, he sat up slowly, his eyes roaming the area. He needed to keep going. Walking through the desert at night wasn't exactly a thing to do - even less than walking through a desert in the first place. He needed to use every single minute of daylight he still had. At least the darkness would bring relief from the heat of the day.
After resting for several moments, he slowly pushed up and with a soft sigh started walking again. It took all of his dwindling strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Xxxxxxx
The extreme heat of the day had faded and now the desert was cooling down which made the walking a little easier.
He pushed as hard as he could for as long as he could, fueled by the small remains of the adrenaline rush and the elation of escape. Fatigue, heat and the terrain were taking their toll though, his steps faltering and disorientation trying to slow him down further. With the sundown, it got harder to ascertain he was walking in the 'right' direction.
He initially pushed on despite the falling darkness, but eventually, Callen had to admit defeat.
The terrain had gotten tougher to cross during the last hour of fading daylight. The relatively flat ground was dotted with rock formations and sand dunes. If he broke his ankle because he couldn't see where he put his foot, it would be game over. He was in bad enough shape as it was already.
Sighing, Callen sank down on the hard earth, listening to his heavy breathing above the sound of the dry wind as it swiveled around him and started cooling the sweat that clung to his skin and clothes.
His skin felt abraded and raw from the dry heat and the unmerciful sun that had beaten down on him ever since his escape from the hut. Callen scrubbed a hand through his sweat soaked hair and carefully slid the backpack from his shoulders, rummaging inside for some water. He took a small sip of water and rolled it around in his mouth before swallowing it. His mouth and throat were dry. Running his tongue over his lips, he tried moistening them but winced at the dry cracks he felt.
With the darkness, the heat evaporated and gradually the temperature fell. A night wind slowly picked up and started blowing over the wide-open space, cooling it. Callen withdrew the jacket he had stuffed into the backpack and painfully slid into it, hissing when his ribs objected the movement.
Glancing up, he found himself lost in the sight of the cloudless night sky. The sky was never that bright in LA and he knew the open space of the desert and the absence of smog made everything cleaner and sharper. It also brought into sharp relief just how alone he was and how precarious his situation really was.
He was on his own, directionless in a desert with few tools at hand to turn the tide in his favor. He could only hope that he had picked the right direction and that he would be able to stay ahead of Ossam's men, wild animals, heat exhaustion and death. At the same time, he made himself acknowledge that his luck might be about to run out.
He hadn't expected to live as long as he had given his upbringing in the system and his chosen profession. On the other hand, he also hadn't expected to die in the middle of a desert. His expectation had been more to go out in a hail of bullets during one or another gun fight.
Shaking his head, Callen shoved the morbid thought away. He wasn't dead yet and despite his current physical state, he wasn't about to admit defeat and lie down to wait for death to claim him.
Growling at himself, he rummaged through the backpack again and found one of the protein bars.
He would hopefully have time to feel sorry for himself later.
Xxxxxxx
While the heat of the day had been unbearable, the night brought a fierce cold with it that settled in his bones. Even if he could have found some dry wood, he wouldn't have dared to light a fire, knowing it would be visible from miles away and not wanting Ossam to find him and drag him back into the hut or any other place the man may have up his sleeve.
Callen tried to keep himself warm by huddling into the jacket and lying down to give the wind less of a target. He also tried walking a little further with the help of the phone's flashlight before the device ran out of power. The pieces of the phone lay scattered on the ground somewhere behind him where he had hurtled it in a fit of impotent rage.
Finally - after hours of miserable cold that followed the impossible heat of the day - dark blues, fiery oranges and creamy yellows streaked across the gradually lightening sky. Callen uncurled himself, sighing softly in relief. Even though the night had brought relief from the high temperatures and the scorching sun - and he knew he would be back to cursing the heat again in a little while - he preferred the oncoming daylight as it meant that he could take his fate into his own hands once more.
Pushing up, Callen swayed slightly on one leg until he was able to put weight on his other one. The knife wound luckily hadn't reopened, but his leg still felt tender. It was time to start walking again; if he left now, he had a chance to put a few more klicks behind himself before the intense heat of the sun slowed him down again.
Callen carefully studied the horizon: desert, sand and rocks.
Sighing, glancing up at the sky to orient himself, Callen put his head down and concentrated on the ground in front of him, trying to ignore anything else.
Xxxxxxx
"Just put one foot in front of the other." The sentence had become a mantra in his head as Callen walked. He'd been staggering for a while, the straight line not so straight as his balance got worse, making his steps unsteady.
The mantra helped him in ignoring the incessant heat from the blazing sun and the relentless wind that hadn't settled down yet. The breeze didn't bring relief, instead it seemed to suck any remaining moisture out of the air and blow hot air around, making an oppressing feeling of being stifled settle on his shoulders.
The heat was almost unbearable, and Callen had to stop for a moment to catch his breath.
It was past midday now and the sun was beating down on him mercilessly again. Glancing up and squinting, Callen covered his eyes with his hand. Nothing but blue sky as far as the eye could see. There wasn't even a single cloud overhead to provide a brief moment of respite.
Closing his eyes, he wiped the sweat off his face, shearing off some layers of skin when the fine sand grains that coated his body dragged over his skin, rubbing it raw.
Knowing he couldn't rest for long or he wouldn't find the strength to keep going, he pushed his weight forward, staggering on. He was lightheaded from dehydration, sweating out whatever moisture he managed to take in, but he stubbornly continued on. He was on the last bottle of water, and he knew that wasn't a good outlook.
Putting his head down, Callen concentrated back on putting one foot in front of the other, continuing to stumble through the desert.
Completely sunken into his own mind and the task of walking on, Callen was unprepared when he ran into an obstacle, bouncing back from it and losing his footing. Stumbling, he ended up on the ground, staring uncomprehendingly at the fence in front of him.
He blinked several times before carefully reaching out, fearing it was a trick of the eye, the desert heat making him see things now.
He reached out and curled his fingers around the chain links.
Definitely there.
The contact revived him, and Callen felt energy return to his exhausted body as he glanced up and beyond the fence line. A fence usually meant civilization. And civilization would lead him to safety.
There was a small building behind the fence a short distance away. It looked like some kind of industrial property instead of a residential place. Still, it signified civilization and Callen used the fence to drag himself back up on his feet again. He leaned heavily against it, briefly closing his eyes before he followed the fence line to wherever a gate might be located. His hands felt the way, fingers curling into the chain links as he pulled himself forward with the fence's help. As much as the appearance of the fence had revived his spirits and rekindled the hope of making it out of this alive, his body was trembling in exhaustion now that the magnitude of what this property stood for sank in.
Glancing up when he finally reached the front of the property, he stared at the building. An off-road rental place. The gate was closed but opened easily under his hand. Even a locked gate would not have kept him out right now though. He was too close to safety to let a lock stand in his way. Pushing forward and onto the property, Callen stumbled into the building's shadow, sighing in relief when the shade instantly took the oppressive heat from his battered body and the dry wind died down.
The building was deserted, not a soul around, but he hoped he would still find a way to escape his current situation once he made it inside. Trying the handle of the entrance door, he found this one locked. Glancing around, Callen's eyes fell onto several rocks lying a short distance away.
Moving over, he grunted when the full impact of the sun and the heat reached for him again as soon as he left the building's shadow. Snatching up the rock, he returned to the building and - uncaring about anything else but getting inside - broke the window.