Part 3
Twisting around to return to Tony, stabbing agony ambushed him and darkness closed in. He blinked to find himself on the ground, folded double, arms wrapped around his body. Someone called to him, a frantic edge to his voice. Tony. Unnerved with the similarity to waking up after the crash, McGee sat up slowly. He took a breath and found his voice. "I'm coming, Tony. Hold on!" Gathering his strength, prepared to face pain when he moved, McGee grit his teeth together and stood. He swayed for an instant, hands braced on his knees, riding out the cramping pain in his gut. He didn't have time for this. Straightening, he walked on wobbly knees back to Tony.
"Well?" Tony stood leaning against a tree, hope on his face. "Did they stop?"
McGee shook his head. Breathless, he sagged against another tree. "No, they didn't. It was the men from the café, Tony. You called them backwoodsmen, remember? Everyone dressed in flannel and denim, heavy beards, looking as if they chewed on bear for dessert?"
Tony let out a breath and slumped against the tree. "They ran us off the road, didn't they?"
"No, they didn't run us off. We had a blowout. But judging from their expressions with our questioning, they either had something to do with Petty Officer Jefferson's murder, or they know who did. I think they're looking for us, and it's only a matter of time before they find the car. So -"
"We need to put as much distance between it and us as possible. Let's go, Probie. We need to get out of here."
They didn't discuss their options, or talk about how very little they had between them. Tony knew there were no phones, or they would have tried them by now. He knew about the absence of weapons, too. No need to discuss the obvious. The very real knowledge that those men were out to do them harm created an urgency to escape, and despite their various aches and pains, they began to make real progress as they ventured deeper into the woods. Thunder rumbled closer and the wind began to pick up.
Splattering drops of rain hit them about ten minutes later. It was oddly refreshing; after their brief hike through the woods, sweat had beaded and was beginning to run down the side of Tim's face. When thunder cracked so close that static electricity raised the hairs on his arm, Tim ducked instinctively but continued walking.
"Don't they tell you not to stand under a tree in a lightning storm?" Huffing, one arm thrown across Tim's shoulders, Tony kept up a limping but steady pace.
Too winded to comment, Tim merely nodded and answered, "Yeah."
"So, what do you do when you can't help but stand under a tree?"
McGee shrugged. He stopped, released Tony, and caught himself against a tree. Holding his arm tight across his stomach, he fought to catch his breath.
"Why are you breathing like that?"
Tim cut his eyes at Tony, an incredulous expression lifting his eyebrows. "Like what?" Unnoticed, he began to rub his hand across his abdomen.
"All heavy and loud, like you've been running a marathon."
Looking as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, McGee pushed away from the tree. "You're breathing hard, too." He pulled Tony's arm back over his shoulders and they continued walking.
"No I'm not. Not like you are."
Any retort McGee might have made was drowned out by a sudden downpour. Within moments, they were both drenched. Flashes of lightning had them both ducking their heads. McGee was about to suggest they find some type of shelter, when he heard what sounded like a man's voice. Immediately, he pushed Tony against a tree and drew close.
"I hear someone. Listen."
Seconds passed with only the sound of pounding rain and rumbling thunder. Then, in the distance, they both heard a man shout. Tim squinted, trying to see through the gray sheet of water pouring endlessly down on them. He caught the briefest glimpse of color, but it was enough to send warning signals through his brain. A quick visual search revealed a huge fallen tree just a few feet away. Pushing Tony toward it, praying he wouldn't ask questions, McGee gasped, keeping his voice low, "Go, go, go! Get under the tree!"
Tony must have sensed his urgency. Rather than questioning, he immediately followed McGee's instructions and dove for the shelter. Tim dropped to the ground and rolled in after Tony. A slight depression had developed beneath the fallen tree. That and tall, overgrown grasses and bushes helped shield them from view.
Tony gripped his shoulder and pulled him in deeper. "What did you see?" His voice whispered almost too soft to hear. Before he could answer, two men came into view, walking toward them. They were two of the three men Tim had seen watching them with unfriendly expressions at the café. Fearing they'd been discovered, Tim shrank back against Tony. The grip around his shoulder tightened. A cramp twisted his insides. Tim curled in tight, fighting the cry that swelled his lungs. He turned his face toward the ground, hoping the earth would muffle any noises he might make. The pain finally released him, and he melted weak and sick against the ground.
They held still there until water began to puddle beneath them. Tim lay frozen, afraid of reawakening his pain; afraid it would grow into an agony he could not control. When Tony leaned over his shoulder to whisper into his ear, he flinched in surprise, so focused on keeping still.
"I think they're gone."
Nodding silently, Tim began slowly to work his way out. When he'd made it far enough out of the way, Tony pushed past him and stood up. He reached out a hand and helped McGee the rest of the way up. Tim wasn't ready to straighten up; he braced his hands on his knees. Rain spattered on the back of his head.
"What's wrong with you?" Worry tightened a voice already raw with stress.
Surprised and troubled with the guilty feeling that he'd put that stress there, Tim slowly straightened. "Nothing."
Tony reached for his arm. "Tim -"
McGee backed away, unsure how well he could mask his pain. "I'm just sore, Tony. I was thrown from a car today, you know." He pretended not to notice when Tony withdrew his hand, but couldn't ignore the sharp stab of regret that shot through him. It wasn't often Tony was this transparent with his friendship. Tim regretted not being able to take advantage of the moment.
"Well, good, then." A quirky half smile lifted one corner of Tony's mouth as he tried unsuccessfully to wipe rain out of his eyes. "Because with this bum leg, I'm depending on you to get me out of here." He pointed with his head toward the two men who'd walked past them. "We know which way they're headed. Let's turn around and head back for the road and find some help."
But McGee shook his head. "There were only two of them. I bet the third one's still with the vehicle, and he's probably armed. When they don't find us, they may radio back to him to join them. Then we'd be caught in the middle."
Tony looked back over his shoulder, then back at McGee. "You may be right. So, which way do we go?"
He pointed east. "Deeper. If I'm remembering the map I saw of this area correctly, there were some houses in a small community farther east. If we're where I think we are, we should come across another road, too."
"Let's get going." Tony reached for McGee.
Sighing, Tim grabbed Tony's arm, slung it over his shoulders, and lead the way farther into the trees. The rain had not slacked off. Dark thunderclouds gathered overhead, roiling and building on top of one another. Lightning cracked far and then near, playing with the storm.
