"Okay, I think that's got it," said Wilson. "Help him up, Kinch."
Receiving no reply, he sat back on his heels, and looked around. "Kinch?"
"Here." Kinch came back along the path. "Just checking. I told Davis not to get too far ahead of us, but I guess he doesn't know we had to stop. Is Staller ready to go on?"
"Yeah, but take it steady. Maybe we should have kept him for a couple of weeks."
Kinch didn't answer. He stooped to lift Staller to his feet, and set off, as quickly as the major was able to go.
"It's not a race, Kinch," said Wilson, after a couple of minutes.
"Yeah, I know," replied Kinch, but he didn't slow down. They had lost too much time already. Twilight had started to fall, and as this stretch of woods was particularly dense, it got dark quickly. But there was still enough light, as the path curved around, to make out the crumpled body lying across the path.
"Oh, Jesus," muttered Wilson, and started forward.
"Wilson!" hissed Kinch, but the medic paid no attention. He reached Davis' side in a few steps, and quickly checked his pulse.
"He's alive," he said.
"Yeah, and if the guy that left him like this had still been around, you could have gotten yourself shot," Kinch snapped back.
Wilson gave an irritable grunt. "He's got one hell of a lump on the back of his head, but I can't see any other injuries. Knocked out from behind, I guess."
Kinch lowered Staller to the ground. "Don't move from there," he said curtly. Then, pistol in hand, he moved slowly down the trail, keeping close to one side, alert to any sign of trouble. A low exclamation broke from him, as he spotted a second figure lying close to the trees. He dropped to one knee beside the man for a few seconds, then got up and went back to Wilson.
"Well, Dieter wasn't so lucky," he murmured. Then as Wilson started up, he added, "Don't bother. There's nothing you can do for him. Strangled, from the look of it. Damn it, how the hell did this happen?"
"Maybe Davis can tell us, when he comes to." Wilson had turned his attention back to his patient. "What about Weber?"
"No sign of him. He's long gone." Kinch surveyed the woods on either side. "He might have gone off the trail, but he wouldn't get far. The woods are knee deep in bog since the spring thaw, it's heavy going once you're off the path, and he's not in the best condition for it. He didn't come back this way, we'd have seen him, or heard him. My guess is, he'll try to reach the road, and go for help. What gets me is how he got loose in the first place."
"You think he had help?"
"Nobody outside camp knew we'd be here," replied Kinch. "But he sure couldn't have done it on his own."
"So that leaves - easy, Davis." Wilson's attention was diverted, as Davis gave a soft groan. "Just keep still for a minute, don't try to lift your head. Yeah, I know, it hurts. Can you open your eyes for me?"
Davis groaned again. "What happened?" he mumbled after a moment.
"You took a knock to the head, it sent you out for a minute. Do you remember how it happened?"
"I...uh..." Davis paused, blinking. His eyes went past the medic to focus on Kinch, and he tried to sit up, very unsteadily.
Wilson caught him before he fell over, and lowered him to the ground again. "Just take it easy for a couple of minutes. He's gonna fit right in with the rest of you," he added in a growled aside to Kinch. "Couldn't follow instructions if his life depended on it. Davis, look at me. Do you know where you are?"
Kinch left him to it, and moved away, scanning the forest again. "He can't have more than ten minutes on us," he murmured, half to himself.
"Guess you fouled up, right, sergeant?" remarked Staller.
"We'll get him back," said Kinch. He turned back to Wilson. "How bad is he?"
"Could be worse. He knows who he is, anyway," replied Wilson dourly.
"Sarge, I'm real sorry," said Davis unsteadily, trying to get up again. "I don't know what hit me."
"What do you remember?" asked Kinch.
"Uh...I couldn't hear you guys, so I said we should wait till you caught up." Davis closed his eyes, trying to think. "I was looking to see if you were coming...Dieter was behind me, he wanted to keep going... I don't know what happened next." He winced slightly, as if the effort of trying to remember was painful.
Kinch's jaw tightened, as he assessed the information. "Did you hear anything? Any kind of warning before you were hit?"
"Nothing. Whoever it was must have been real quiet."
"Or it was someone you already knew was there, and had no reason to be on your guard against," said Kinch grimly. "Anyone sneaking up on you would have had to take Dieter down first, and you'd have heard them. Unless it was Dieter who knocked you out."
Davis' eyes widened. "Dieter? But...but he's on our side."
"Maybe not as much as we thought." Kinch glanced at the dead man. "But it had to be him. Wilson, you better stay here with Davis. If you can, start back to camp with him. I'll go on, see if I can catch up with Weber before he makes the main road."
"You sure that's a good idea?" said Wilson. "What if he's left the trail after all?"
"Then I report to the colonel, and let him know what's going on," replied Kinch grimly. "It's got to be done, Wilson, and it can't wait till Davis is back on his feet. I'm not happy about splitting up, but I don't think there's any other option."
"I guess you're right. I can't think of any way round it, either. What about him?" Wilson jerked his head at Staller.
"He better stay as well," said Kinch. "You think you can handle him?"
"Sure. Just because I'm a medic, doesn't mean I won't shoot him if I have to," replied Wilson. He paused, then added quietly, "This isn't your fault, Kinch."
"Maybe. But it's still my responsibility," said Kinch.
He headed off, moving just off the trail into the cover of the trees, skirting the edge of the bog. Before he was even out of sight, Wilson had turned back to his patient. Staller watched through half-closed eyes, then turned his head a little, gazing in the direction taken by Kinch, and presumably Weber before him. Finally he looked back towards Wilson, indistinct in the half-light, apparently completely occupied. But at the first move, the medic spoke: "Settle down, Major."
Davis lifted his head again. "Let me up," he mumbled thickly. "I feel a bit..." He made another attempt to push himself up, in spite of Wilson's restraining hand. The movement made him light-headed, then sick, and for the next few minutes Wilson forgot everything except that he was a medic, with a potentially serious casualty on his hands. Only when Davis' sickness eased off, and he had been made as comfortable as the circumstances allowed, did Wilson spare a thought for his other charge.
"Well, Major, looks like...oh, nuts." He stared at the place where Staller had been, five minutes earlier. Then he stood up, and started down the path, but before he'd gone ten yards, he stopped, looking back at Davis, trying to reconcile two irreconcilable duties. Finally, he went back, and stooped over the injured man. "Davis, I'm going to have to leave you for a couple of minutes," he said softly. "We've lost Staller."
"You want I should come along?" murmured Davis, opening his eyes.
"You can't even stand up. You stay right there." Wilson hesitated for a moment longer before he set off in pursuit.
It didn't take him long to overtake Staller, who was still too weak to move fast. Within five minutes Wilson spotted him stumbling along at the edge of the trees. "Hold it right there," he called, quickening his own pace.
Staller came to a halt, and stood without saying a word, while Wilson caught up. "Nice try," he said irritably. "Now, turn around, and start walking."
"No." Staller rubbed his forehead, and swayed a little. "I'm going on. I'm to blame for...maybe I can help, somehow."
"Yeah, sure. You'll be real handy in a fight," Wilson growled. "Anyway, you think anyone's going to want your help, after you nearly killed Carter? Not a chance, pal."
Staller sighed. "I'm going on," he repeated stubbornly. "You can shoot me if you want, but I owe it to Carter." He started forward again, unsteady but determined.
"Oh, for crying out loud," muttered Wilson, grabbing his arm. "Sorry - look, even if I thought you were on the level, you're in no condition to be anything but a hindrance. We've got enough trouble with Weber out there on the loose." Staller shook him off, and set off again, without speaking.
Wilson raised his gun, hesitated, then lowered it again. He couldn't do it, after all. "Fine. I'll take you to the rendezvous point. After that you're Hogan's responsibility."
With no particular gentleness, he got Staller's uninjured arm over his shoulder. "Okay, Major," he said. "You want to go on. Well, let's go."