Retribution

by Kristine Williams

  Blair stirred again, but didn't wake up, so Jim pulled the almost white-hot poker from the fire and picked a link. The one he had been pounding on with the rock would have been a logical place to start, but he couldn't tell which one it had been. He found one in the relative middle and pressed the hot metal onto it, holding it in place until the chain began to glow. Then he removed the poker and examined the chain. It was red hot, which meant it wasn't titanium, which meant he could do some damage. If he had something to hit the metal with while it was red-hot. There were no rocks in the cabin that he could see. No other fire-place tools, and any cast iron pans were most likely in the cupboards he couldn't reach. Waking Blair just to walk back out into the cold, rainy woods in search of a rock was not something Jim was willing to do. His only option was to use the shackle on his own wrist. Stuffing the poker back into the fire to re-heat, he tore a large chunk of blanket off and wrapped his hand, leaving the metal band exposed. After five minutes, he took the poker out and set it back on the still hot link, letting it get as hot as it was going to. Once he was satisfied, he put the poker back in the fire, gritted his teeth, and slammed his right wrist down on the steaming chain.

  "Ow!...damn." He kept his teeth clamped tightly so as not to wake Blair, and did it again, trying to hit just the metal against the hot chain this time. Three more hits and he stopped to examine the chain. There was a definite dent, so he reapplied the poker, and tried not to look at his burning right hand. There would be plenty of time to take care of that, once he and Blair were freed. He had to reapply the poker three more times, and singed all of the hairs off of his right hand before the link finally gave way. He pulled the two halves apart, making sure the still steaming pieces fell away, then placed Blair's arm under the blankets and checked his temperature. He had been sleeping more soundly for the last ten minutes, and Jim was sure his forehead felt less hot than before. Satisfied that his friend was better, he stepped outside, letting the rain cool his burning hand. There were a few blisters at the base of the wrist, and some blackened marks farther down, but the rain cooled the throbbing nicely.

  Once back inside Jim was able to inspect the cupboards and found not only several cans of soup, a cast iron pot, bowls, mugs, spoons, but also the one thing he had been craving for the past three days, coffee. There was an old pot behind the soup cans and he pulled it out, then took it outside to wash out what looked like three years worth of grounds, then he set it on a rock to fill with rainwater and went back inside. Blair was still asleep, and the rain was slowing down, so Jim sat on the bunk to wait. He intended to check on the coffee pot in five minutes, but sitting soon became lying down, listening to his partner's steady breathing. He closed his eyes for just a moment, but when he did open them again, it was pitch dark outside, and the fire was going out.

  Jim sat up quickly, straining to hear for Brackett. His little nap had lasted longer than he wanted. He listened, trying to filter out the rain that was still coming down, and thought he detected that same 'blind' spot behind them. Brackett hadn't moved, if that was where he was, and was probably settled in against the rain like they were. He added more wood to the fire from the bundle under his bunk, then checked on Blair. The fever was nearly all gone, and he was still sleeping quietly. He had a chance now to go after Brackett, a chance to turn the hunter into the hunted. But he didn't want to leave Blair here, unable to call for back up, or to back him up. He was trusting Blair more and more with the unenviable task of watching his back. And his partner had proven himself time and again to be dependable and quick. No matter what Simon said. 'He's not a cop, Jim. He's just an anthropologist.' 'He's not just an anthropologist, any more than I'm just a cop. I need him, Simon.'

  It was then Jim remembered the pot, collecting rain outside. He retrieved it and set about making coffee strong enough to keep him from falling asleep again. His internal clock told him daylight was still several hours away, but his little nap had been enough. With Blair asleep, and Brackett behind them, he didn't want to doze off again. While the coffee boiled on the stove Jim found a small dirty mirror on the far wall and a small first aid kit, so he began to unwrap the bandage on his head. He discarded the bits of plant that Blair had placed there and dipped some fresh bandages in water, cleaning away the dried blood gingerly. He could tell even in the old mirror that the gash was deep, but the bleeding had stopped, and the edges even closed up tightly. It was too tender to the touch for much probing, so Jim just wrapped a clean bandage around the wound and worked on his blistered wrist. After getting his hand as clean as he could around the metal band he wrapped a thin layer of cotton bandaging around the wrist and eased the shackle back over it. The smell of coffee induced his stomach to growl, so he decided to open one of the cans of chicken soup he had found in the cabin's tiny kitchen.

  The coffee was awful. It was God knew how old, and came from a can, which was never very good even when fresh, but it helped push out the last of the headache from Jim's unfortunate thunder reception. By the second cup, he even felt more awake and alert. Maybe the drug was finally wearing off. The soup was warming next to the pot while he set about examining Blair's left wrist. The metal was irritating enough, but his friend had been trying so hard to slip his hand out that he had rubbed the skin raw, and bleeding in spots. Jim used rain water and bandaging from the first aid kit to clean the hand, trying not to wake Blair as he did so.

  Sitting there, wrapping Blair's wrist, he could hear with such detail the noises and shuffling in the woods outside their cabin. And behind them, just how far he wasn't sure, but definitely behind them, he could sense a bubble of quiet. He was trying to guess how far away Brackett was when he heard Blair stir.

  Part 6

  * * *

  "Hey Chief." he set Blair's arm down gently. "How you feeling?"

  Blair looked around the cabin for a moment, then up at Jim. "Man, it was real? I wasn't sure." he set his head back down into the pillow and closed his eyes.

  "You were pretty sick. You had a fever for a while, but I think it's gone now." Jim placed a hand on Blair's shoulder to get him to open his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting sick?"

  "There was nothing to do about it." Blair shrugged. "I think being hunted by some rogue CIA madman takes precedence over a cold."

  "That's not the point Chief, you tell me next time something's wrong, got that?"

  Blair raised his left hand then, to push the hair off his face and noticed the chain. "Hey, how'd you do that?"

  "A little welding. I wanted to get the cuffs off, but it's too dangerous."

  Blair noticed his hand then and tried to sit up. "God, Jim, what did you do?"

  "It's alright. Just a little singed, don't worry about it." He was helping Blair sit up and placed a blanket behind his back to lean on. "Want some soup?"

  "What? You found food? I don't suppose you found a phone, or radio or something?"

  Jim laughed, pouring some soup into a mug. "No such luck, Chief. But I think I found Brackett."

  "Jim, are you sure? Where?" Blair took the steaming cup Jim was offering and leaned back into the pillow.

  "Right where we left him. He's behind us, I can't tell how far though." He shook his head, still amazed at his ability to sense the 'blind spot'. "It's incredible, I did what you said, and sort of, felt around.......and there it was."

  "What's it like?" Blair was perking up, listening to Jim's description.

  "Kinda hard to describe. It's like, I can sense a bubble. I can hear all around this one area, but not into it or through it. I can't tell how far away it is, I just know I can hear farther in any other direction but that. What ever Brackett used on us, I think it's worn off." He shook his head again, trying to judge the distance, without thinking about it too much.

  "Jim, this is incredible. When we get back, we need to do some tests, find out just what your range is. That's something we haven't tried yet."

  "No, I don't...I don't think that's such a good idea."

  "Why? Ji
m, it makes perfect sense. We've been testing other aspects, this is just another, possibly more important aspect of your senses. I don't know why I haven't thought about this before."

  "Just drink your soup, okay?" Jim stood and walked around the small cabin, glancing out the windows into the rainy night. He was uncomfortable with the subject, but how much longer could he avoid it? If he knew how to judge distance, then he would know exactly how far away Brackett was. The panther, it, or he, had told him that to go further would require his soul. Was that what was holding him back now? And what exactly had he meant? Would Blair understand his fear?

  "Jim, what's wrong? What aren't you telling me?" Blair was still holding the soup, watching Jim pace the small cabin.

  Jim paused, looking at his friend. He had no one else to tell. No one else he would tell. Blair would understand, but could he help? He sighed and walked back to the bunk opposite Blair and sat down. "Something happened in Peru, something I haven't told you about." He paused, looking at Blair.

  "What is it Jim? What's wrong?"

  "My senses, since then...they've been magnified. I don't know by how much, but....it's strange."

  Blair was nodding, as if this was no surprise. "How strange, Jim?" His voice was so calm, quiet.

  Jim looked around, trying to find the words. "I dunno. Just, bigger. I was just getting used to them as they were...and now, I'm not sure how far they go. And it's got me a little..."

  "A little, scared?"

  "Yeah. Sort of?"

  "Well, Jim, it's obvious. I mean, it would scare me. It just makes sense." Blair set his untouched soup on the barrel and leaned forward. "Look, it's perfectly natural. Just like when your senses first appeared to you, it freaked you out. Until you got control, got to understand and use them. It's the same now, Jim. We just have to find out how much they've increase, find the limits, then you'll feel better about them. Fear is based on a lack of understanding, that's all."

  Jim shook his head in wonder. His friend had an uncanny knack for taking the simplest thing and making it the most monumental discovery. Then he could take something that had Jim confused and upset, and turn it into nothing. His innocent, fresh outlook did much to cheer him then. "Drink your soup."

  Blair picked the mug back up and tasted it, then sat back and looked out the window for a moment at the darkness. "You know, I've been thinking, about Brackett."

  "Yeah? So have I."

  "Back at the loft, when he was waiting for you, he kept saying how this was going to be the ultimate test. He never mentioned breaking out of prison, or anything like that. He just kept talking about you as a Sentinel, and how he was curious as to just how good you were."

  "We know he knows about my abilities, remember?" Jim sat back on the bunk, pulling his legs up and leaning against the wall.

  "I know, I know." Blair tried to set the cup back down and Jim pushed it back. "But Jim, who else knows? What if...what if the CIA knows? What if Brackett didn't get out, but was let out, and he's here to test you. Test your abilities, for them?"

  Jim thought about that for a moment. He had to admit, the thought had crossed his mind once. But, did he really believe it? If it were true, what would they do about him? He knew the CIA, knew what the military could do if it wanted. But, how could they prove anything? How could they study anything? He had been to the doctor, when he first noticed his senses changing, and they had found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. There was no medical proof to back up his claim. It would just be his word against Brackett's.

  "I don't know Chief, that sounds like a long shot. I can't see them believing Brackett about something like this anyway."

  "Maybe. But it's all I can come up with." Blair reluctantly drank more soup when Jim glared at the cup growing cold in his hands. "What now?"

  "We stay here for the night. I can keep an ear out for him, he's holed up for the night just like we are."

  "And then?"

  "And then, we turn the hunter, into the hunted." Jim stretched his arms up and placed them behind his head, grateful now that he could do that without eliciting a nasty look from his partner. "We've got some control now, having broken the chain. Now that we've take away his ability to keep us together, we can take away more." He had to glare at Blair to get him to finish the soup. "But, until this rain clears up, we may as well take it easy."

  Blair set the now empty cup down and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, wincing a little with the movement of his left hand. "So, we wait?"

  "We wait."

  He nodded, settling into the blanket padding the wall he was leaning on. "So, Jim. What really happened with Wendy?"

  "You should rest, you were pretty sick for awhile."

  "No, thanks Jim, I'm feeling much better. What happened with Wendy?"

  "Chief, you had a fever. Your hand is hurting, get some rest."

  "You got knocked out and burned your arm. What happened on the date?"

  Jim sighed, shaking his head. "If I tell you, will you shut up for a while?"

  Blair smiled, "Maybe."

  He rolled his eyes, resigned. "Okay. It was nothing, really. We were having dinner, chatting about her new network job, then she started asking about that robbery case we just busted."

  "Yeah?"

  "After a few minutes, it wasn't a date anymore, it was an interview."

  Blair laughed a little, shaking his head. "Man, I warned you about that."

  "Yeah yeah, I know. Date at eight, news at eleven." Jim rolled his eyes.

  "Hey, I'm sorry." Blair was still smiling.

  "Ah, she wasn't that great anyway." Jim said. He sighed, thinking about that night, how they argued and she walked out in the middle of dessert. There was a little more to it than that, but Blair was enjoying this too much already. He was about to change the subject when he heard it.

  "Jim, what is it?"

  Jim held up a hand, listening. "Brackett. That bubble is still there, but now there's another one."

  "What?! Another one? Where?" Blair sat up, trying to see out into the dark forest beyond the cabin.

  "He's still behind us, but now there's another spot, off to the left."

  "God Jim, do you think there's someone else with him? If Brackett moved, the generator would have moved with him."

  "Unless there's more than one generator." He stood and walked to the front of the cabin, turning his head to listen in each direction. "He could be trying to herd us, or just confuse us."

  Blair pushed the blanket off and swung his legs off the bunk. "But, that would mean he knows you can find him. Or, he's getting ready to make a move, and there's just one way he wants us to go."

  Jim nodded. There were two 'bubbles' now. "I think it's time we made a move. If he was behind us, and then to the left, he could be working his way around, blocking off one more direction. I think we throw him a curve ball, and head right through one."

  Blair stood, "What if he's not alone?"

  "No, he's alone. People like Lee Brackett work alone. You ready?"

  "No. Jim, you stand a better chance without me. I haven't been much help yet."

  Jim shook his head, "No, no way partner. You stick with me, and stay close."

  "Jim..."

  "No argument. Let's go."

  Jim paused once outside the cabin, focusing in the direction of the new sound blackout. "Okay Chief, stay close." He led the way toward what he hoped was a second white noise generator, planted somewhere while Brackett was circling around. He kept his pace a little slow, so Blair could keep up without aggravating his illness. His own head was still pounding, and his right hand hurt, but he had already turned down the pain dial as far as he could without dulling his senses. They traveled for thirty minutes before Jim realized the buzzing in his head was no longer the headache. It was increasing in pitch, almost deafening.

  "Hang on," he put out a hand to stop Blair. "It's here."

  Blair glanced around in the growing light. "Where?"

  "I don't know, bu
t I hear the static, and it's getting louder." He looked into the trees, trying to focus around the area.

  "Jim, over there." Blair pointed to the right and moved towards a clump of undergrowth. He stopped and looked down. "It's here."

  "Don't touch it." Jim hurried over. "It could be booby trapped." He saw what Blair was pointing to. Hidden in a clump of ferns was a small black box. The static was so loud, Jim could barely focus on it as he scanned for any sign of a bomb. "Looks clear." He reached down and picked up the box, flipping the switch on the front of the unit as he did. Immediately the static stopped.

  "Good work. I wondered what it would take to tip your hand."

  Part 7

  * * *

  Blair spun around, facing Brackett. Where he had come from, he didn't know. But now he stood, two feet away, pointing a gun right at Blair's head.

  "How'd you get past the noise?" Brackett was looking at Jim, but kept the gun pointed at Blair.

  "Simple." Jim replied, looking from Brackett to Blair. "Your little toys aren't as fool proof as you might think."

  Brackett nodded, moving closer to Blair. "I should have guessed you'd figure it out sooner or later."