Chapter 2

The rain was forgotten for the moment as Ducky and Jimmy leaned over Tim, trying to understand his garbled words. He was clearly delirious.

"Hurry...away...get back..."

"McGee," Jimmy whispered. "What is he doing here?"

"Who knows?" Ducky said. "Timothy, can you hear me?"

Tim might be able to hear, but he certainly wasn't comprehending anything. He tried to get up again and run...but no matter how far he'd run up to now, he'd clearly reached his breaking point.

"Mr. Palmer, let's get him to the car. It's not ideal, but it's at least dry."

"Yes, Doctor."

Tim was weakly trying to move as they lifted him to his feet, but he couldn't even stand on his own. He leaned heavily on Jimmy and Ducky, still mumbling distractedly.

"...said I would...and I can't...must go back..."

"Timothy, just relax, lad. We'll help you."

They got him back to the car and laid him across the backseat. Jimmy grabbed a utility tool he kept in the glove compartment and cut the plastic ties around Tim's wrists. Tim's eyes opened again, wild and unseeing, and he began flailing at Ducky.

"Get away! Get away!" he screamed.

"Timothy, it is all right! It's Ducky!"

The energy vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Tim subsided, his eyes closing, and he stopped moving.

"Dr. Mallard..." Jimmy whispered, almost horrified. "...he's not even wearing any shoes!"

Ducky looked at Tim's feet. They were scratched and bloody.

"We can't just leave him here," Jimmy said. "He needs...more than the back seat!"

"You're right, of course," Ducky said.

"I could see if there's any place nearby. Maybe there's a house."

"Even an empty one would be a boon to us right now." Ducky considered. It was true that Tim was in need of care...and care would be difficult to give in such a situation. The rain still fell, and Tim's condition wasn't likely to improve. "Don't run too far. Remember that whatever you find, we will have to walk or carry Timothy there."

Jimmy nodded. "I'll run both ways. We might have missed somewhere behind us, too."

"Go, lad."

Jimmy took off up the road, the way they'd come. Ducky turned his attention back to Tim. As things were now, it was difficult even to give him basic aid. Water, though. Dehydration could be as much a cause of delirium as anything, although he figured that Tim had more problems.

He reached for the water bottles they'd both bought when they stopped for gas. Carefully, he lifted Tim up and put the bottle to his lips.

"Come, lad. Take a drink."

The water dribbled down Tim's chin for a few seconds and then he coughed as the water made it into his mouth. Ducky got him to drink a little and then set the bottle down and felt Tim's forehead. Definite fever. After a few seconds, Tim's eyes fluttered open. They were relatively clear.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

One of Tim's hands reached out and weakly tugged at Ducky's sleeve.

"Gotta get back," he whispered.

"Where, Timothy? Where do you need to go?"

Tim shuddered violently and then his eyes closed.

"Dr. Mallard!"

Ducky looked up. Jimmy was running back to him, panting. He was soaked to the skin but looked triumphant.

"I've found a place, Doctor! It's empty, but I could get inside. I'm sure they won't mind...whoever they are."

"A house?"

"A...shed more like...maybe it would qualify as a cabin."

"Where?"

"About...100 yards down the road."

"One hundred yards?" Ducky asked, looking down at Tim.

"It's the only thing I could find," Jimmy said, looking a bit deflated.

"If it is, it is," Ducky said quickly. "Let's get ourselves organized and move out. We will need the first aid kit, my doctor's bag, flashlight...and some extra clothes for you, for Timothy and for myself. I'm sure we will all be very wet by the time we get there. Any foodstuffs and the water we have left."

"You know...I thought it was silly that you were taking your doctor's bag with you."

Ducky smiled. "I didn't anticipate putting it to any actual use on this trip. Some of my friends enjoy comparing our bags. One of our quirks. I'm glad of it now."

"Me, too."

They gathered the necessary items and then carefully pulled Tim out of the car again. He didn't awaken.

"We're going to have to carry him the whole way," Jimmy groaned.

"Yes, it would seem so. Let us load ourselves up and then...how's your skill with the two-man carry?"

"I remember how to do it," Jimmy said. "But can we do that and carry everything? Maybe we should take two trips."

"I think we should vacate the area all at once."

Jimmy nodded solemnly. "You think whoever did this to him will be coming after him?"

"I think it's a distinct possibility and we don't want to risk being caught out in the open, nor with a non-functioning vehicle."

"Okay, McGee," Jimmy said bracingly. "Let's go!"

Together, they lifted Tim up. He groaned but didn't awaken. His head flopped against Jimmy's shoulder.

"You ready, Doctor?"

"Ready, Mr. Palmer. Lead on."

The pouring rain didn't make the trip any easier. Ducky didn't complain, but he was tired about halfway to the shed or whatever it was that Jimmy had found. Tim started mumbling again, mostly unintelligibly. Whatever injury he had clearly was paining him.

"Almost there, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky asked, trying not to sound too winded.

"Yes," Jimmy said. "It's right over here."

Ducky was relieved when Jimmy turned them off the road, into the trees. About fifty feet into the forest, Ducky caught sight of their final destination. It was a rather sad-looking building, but it would hopefully be dry.

Jimmy kicked open the door and they went inside.

It wasn't a shed, per se. There was a wood floor, some windows...but it was one semi-large room and, thankfully, it was dry.

"Very well done, Jimmy. This will do us and should keep us out of sight, hopefully, out of mind."

"Where should we lay him down?"

"On the floor wherever there is enough room to work around him."

Carefully, they lay Tim on the floor. Tim's eyes fluttered open again and he started trying to get up again.

"Get back...back...to..."

"Stay down, McGee," Jimmy said. "Just relax."

"Have to keep going," Tim mumbled, but he was losing the battle with consciousness yet again.

"You've gone far enough, Timothy," Ducky said soothingly. "Sleep."

"Too much...can't..."

"Sleep, Timothy."

It was, again, questionable whether Tim was hearing Ducky or not, but he did sleep. As soon as Tim stopped struggling, Ducky began to carefully remove Tim's clothes.

"Uh...Dr. Mallard...doesn't this feel weird?" Jimmy asked.

Ducky looked up with a smile. "Working on someone you know?"

"Yeah."

"Alas...this is almost the only type of medicine I have practiced in the last...twenty years or more. Believe me, Mr. Palmer, Timothy will appreciate your help and if you don't refer to it, he won't even think about whatever state of undress you find him in. Right now, what is most important that we treat his injuries, whatever they may be, as well as we can. ...and we will have to be investigators. It is unlikely that Timothy will be able to tell us anything worthwhile at this point."

"Like a body?" Jimmy asked...and then winced. "Sorry."

"I understand, Mr. Palmer. Shall we?"

Jimmy nodded and knelt down to help Ducky remove Tim's rather ragged jacket. As they rolled him over, Jimmy saw the first real sign of injury.

"Dr. Mallard...here."

Ducky craned his neck and then moved around by Jimmy to examine.

"Ah, yes. I believe we are honing in on the main cause of Timothy's delirium. Carefully, now. Any pressure near this wound will cause pain, I believe."

Jimmy nodded.

"Wait. I have scissors in the first aid kit."

"Ah, good thought, lad. Go ahead."

Jimmy searched in the kit and pulled out the scissors. He cut away Tim's shirt.

"Oh, man. That's bad, Dr. Mallard."

"It is indeed, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said.

On Tim's lower back was a large jagged wound. The skin around it was inflamed. The wound itself was weeping and almost white.

"This is old...a few days, I'd guess, although depending on his situation, the infection could have been...helped along."

"This is a bad infection, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said. "It needs debridement. Just an antiseptic isn't going to help."

"It won't help enough, Mr. Palmer, but it will help...perhaps sufficiently to help Timothy survive a bit longer than he would otherwise."

"Do you think it's that bad?" Jimmy asked.

"I think it's enough that it could be. We will need to cleanse the wound, bind it as best we can. Now, quickly before we do so. What does this wound tell you?"

"It's not a bullet...or a knife," Jimmy said. "Some kind of puncture wound? ...but not any regular material. That means there could be debris in the wound...and that could make the infection worse."

"Yes. I agree. The weapon is definitely uncertain for the moment, though. All right. Let us do our duty here." Ducky kept his voice calm, even didactic, but in reality, he was very worried about what he was seeing. Tim's injury was severe, and he may be in genuine danger of death or serious debility. He hoped that Jimmy couldn't see his worry, but for all Jimmy's usual awkwardness, he was generally pretty observant...disconcertingly so at times.

Ducky opened the first aid kit, found the typical iodine.

"This will have to do. Mr. Palmer, if you would hold Timothy still. I don't know whether he will feel this and awaken or not."

Jimmy nodded silently and did as Ducky asked. Tim stiffened for a moment when Ducky first started cleaning the infected wound, but he stopped after only a few seconds. Probably unconscious again.

"I see another injury, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said softly.

"What is it?" Ducky asked as he continued to clean the wound.

"Looks like Tim got a good smack on the head."

"That would be a contributing factor to his delirium, no doubt," Ducky said with a nod. He bound up the wound as best he could, although he knew it couldn't be enough. "You may let him go, Mr. Palmer."

Jimmy lay Tim back on the floor with exaggerated care. Then, he gently turned Tim's head so that the injury could be seen in the glow of the flashlight.

"Also an old injury," Ducky said.

"Yeah. Looks a lot like the other one...only not a puncture wound this time. Someone hit him."

Ducky nodded. Again, he cleaned and bandaged the wound. Tim didn't move. Then, they continued to remove Tim's soaked clothing. Other than deep abrasions on his wrists and his cut-up feet, they found no other injuries. They did their best and then put some of Jimmy's clothes on Tim.

"They don't really fit, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky chuckled. "They're dry and they will help keep him warm. Fashion doesn't particularly matter at this point."

"Yeah, I know. Can I change now? My pants are chafing."

"Yes, Mr. Palmer. Go ahead. I think we can trust each other not to look."

Jimmy blushed, but Ducky just grabbed his own change of clothing and turned around. Jimmy turned as well. They both changed quickly and then returned to Tim's unmoving form.

"We should probably eat something, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said. "All we have is what's leftover from stopping for gas, but it'll be enough until tomorrow...and Tim isn't likely going to be awake to eat anyway."

"Good idea, Mr. Palmer. I think we should save something, just in case, and Timothy will be needing water whenever we can get him to drink."

"Maybe we could use some rainwater. There are chlorine dioxide tablets in the kit."

"Perhaps...if we have a large basin of some kind to catch the water."

"I'll look around."

"Don't get yourself soaked anew in your search," Ducky called.

Jimmy just waved back and opened the back door and walked out into the rain, although he did grab a poncho and pulled it on as he closed the door behind him.

"You'll catch your death," Ducky murmured, but he smiled tolerantly. "Ah, he's a good lad, Timothy. Well-meaning, if a bit thoughtless at times. Still, I count myself fortunate that Mr. Palmer is my assistant, and when that time comes, if he's interested, I will be confident in handing the reins to him." He sighed a little. "Now, what brought you to this state? Serious injury, alone, in the middle of nowhere. We shall have to be investigators, indeed, teasing out what details we may until such time as you are able to tell us. Hopefully, once this storm is over, we'll be able to make contact and get out of here and tell the authorities. I don't mind telling you, Timothy, that the idea of having to repel any attackers worries me. Neither Jimmy nor myself are fighters by any means."

The thought of having to fight off someone who had managed to bring Tim into this condition...it was not a happy one.