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SOMEWHERE IN NEBRASKA
TOO MANY MILES AWAY FROM MAC
Jack sets down the phone, not really wanting to look at the picture anymore. “Do you at least feel better now that you know who it is?” Matty asks.
“Not really.” But the twisting ache in Jack’s stomach has nothing to do with the photo on his phone. Not really. It’s been there since yesterday; the feeling he usually knows not to ignore. But he didn’t want to upset Matty further. She asked me to come, to be moral support. And how could I say no? Matty’s been through shock after shock this year. And she needs someone to be there for her. Telling her about the picture was easier than telling her about...this. Because they could do something about the picture while they were on the road. They can’t do anything about the fact that Mac is in trouble and Jack isn’t with him.
“Maybe you are right where you need to be, Matty. But I’m not.” Jack can’t do this anymore. Can’t pretend he’s okay with the way they’ve been splitting up him and his kid. With the fact that he’s been letting it happen. “I’m supposed to be with Mac.”
“Jack, you’re just exhausted and stressed. Things will be fine.” Matty takes the phone away. “Leave this until we get home.”
Jack can’t. He can’t just ignore the problem. “This whole time, Matty, it wasn’t really about that message. It was about knowing I’m too far away to help if that idiot genius gets himself and those other kids in trouble up there.”
“Mac is a trained, qualified agent.”
“Yeah, and every other time he’s done wilderness training, I’ve been right there with him.” Jack might have a bad feeling about a piece of his past coming back to bite him, but he has an even worse one about what Mac might be up to right now.
“Jack, I’m sure he’s fine.”
“And I’m sure he’s not.” Jack’s gotten this pit-in-the-stomach, buzzing-in-the-head feeling all too many times. And every one of them has meant Mac is hurt. Badly. Cairo. Como. Mexico. Kansas. And others Jack doesn’t even want to begin to think about.
He looks at Matty again, and he sees that the message has gotten through. She knows what it is to have that sixth sense about your partner. It’s saved him a few times. “He’s in Washington. It’ll take us at least a day to get there.”
“Get to Rapid City and the jet will meet us there.” Matty’s already pulling out her phone. “We’re going to get him back, Jack.” Jack only nods. He has no idea what’s happened to his kid. Only that whatever it is, it’s bad.
THE WASHINGTON BACKWOODS
MILES FROM THE CLOSEST CIVILIZATION...AND POSSIBLY GETTING FARTHER
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
“Bozer, that’s the tenth time you’ve asked. And no, I’m not.” Riley grunts, panting with the exertion of dragging the sled with Mac on it. Think you could have found some lighter branches, maybe? And yes, it was being built to haul four hundred pounds of money, but the way it looks, Mac was never intending it to actually serve that purpose. “Mac, as much as Jack jokes about you being a ‘skinny kid’, you are not light.”
Mac chuckles weakly, and Riley relaxes a little. She’s trying to keep him talking, keep him awake. The pressure is slowing the blood loss, but Mac is also dehydrated and exhausted from the trip. She doesn’t want him to pass out. Even though he might prefer it. Every time they hit a rough spot or a small rock, Mac groans and gasps. Once, they really jostled the sled when Riley almost fell, and he screamed. She’s never heard Mac in this much pain and she never wants to hear it again. She feels badly enough that she was responsible for even a little of it when she helped patch him up.
Riley’s own leg aches, and there’s a burning pain where the wrap chafes it, but it was bleeding pretty freely before, so she doesn’t think she has to worry too much about infection.
Mac said they didn’t want to get lost out here. But Riley doesn’t know where they are in the least. She tried to follow their trail as long as she could, but when they got to the bluffs they had to go around. There was no way to drag or lower Mac down safely.
Still, she thinks they should have made it back to their trail with the route they took. But the whole woods looks the same. And when the sun sets and shadows, and an icy chill, spread across the ground, Riley concedes defeat.
“We should be there by now.” She sets down her end of the sled, and Bozer does the same. “We can’t keep going at night.”
“We can’t get any more lost than we are,” Bozer mutters.
“No, but we can slip, fall, break a bone, get hypothermia. We can’t get Mac out if we get hurt too.” They have to make camp, wait out the night with a fire, and some cattails, and try again in the morning.
It doesn’t take too long for Riley to start a fire, and bozer comes back with a handful of cattails and a canteen of water that he purified the way Mac explained to him. Riley’s glad Mac’s still coherent enough to be giving them explanations in sciency jargon. But when she lifts his head to try and give him a drink of water, his hair is sweaty and his skin feels hot. She’s shivering in the night air, and she’s been walking and sitting next to a fire. Mac shouldn’t be so warm. Bozer notices her worried look and drops the cattails to join her.
“Mac?” Riley asks, and he turns his head slightly toward her, but it looks like it takes an effort. “How long have you had a fever?”
“Couple hours maybe…” he waves a hand weakly. “Can’t really tell time. Just knew the sun was setting and I wasn’t getting cold.”
“Is it your leg?” Riley didn’t want to think about that, but she knows that in a non-sterile environment like this woods, a wound like that is not safe.
Mac blinks, and his eyes look glassy. “It’s definitely infected. The bullet isn’t the only thing in my leg, it took a piece of my pant leg with it. And they’re not any too clean.” He’s right, the legs of his cargo pants are covered with dirt.
“What can we do?”
“Out here? Not much.”
Riley leans down beside the sled and grips his undamaged hand tightly, his left is burnt pretty nastily, but it’s nowhere near as serious as his leg. “Mac. You said everything we needed to survive was in our heads or out there. There has to be something we can use.” She thinks for a moment. “Should we cauterize it?” Mac’s repeatedly told her a lot of survival techniques aren’t the way they’re shown in the movies, case in point not removing the bullet from his leg right away. But she doesn’t know which things are incorrect.
“N-not unless you want to t-trap the infection on th-the inside of my l-leg. Right now it c-can drain. Cauterize it and i-it’ll just s-spread inside my body.” Eew. Riley removes the bandages carefully, trying not to start the bleeding again, and nearly gags at the sight. That happened fast. There must have been something really nasty on Mac’s pant leg. But that can’t be helped now.
“Do we need more yarrow?”
“It-won’t do much g-good alone at this p-point. But if you c-can get some charcoal fr-from the fire, g-grind it up, and p-put it in one of the clean s-socks, you can make a d-decent poultice to draw out s-some of the infection. It w-won’t cure it but it might h-help. You need to m-mix the charcoal with s-some of the yarrow if you can find any more, it’ll keep it more solid.”
Riley and Bozer follow Mac’s directions. Riley smashes more yarrow while Bozer makes charcoal and grinds it. When they mix the two, adding just a little of their precious supply of clean water, it makes a slimy black paste that stains their fingers and turns the sock black when they stuff it in.
“Are you sure you want us to put this on your leg?” Riley asks.
“You n-n-need to heat it on a rock by the f-fire first. H-heat draws out the infection b-better.” Mac’s looking worse. There’s a visible layer of sweat on his face in the firelight, and let alone the fact that it means his fever is getting worse, it also means he’s losing water he can’t afford to.
Once the sock seems hot enough, Riley presses it to Mac’s leg and cringes at the raw scream that the action drags out of him. “Mac, is this okay?”
“Y-yeah,” he pants softly. ‘J-just leave it t-there for a while.” His head falls back, he looks absolutely exhausted. Riley and Bozer sit down next to the fire to eat, even though they have absolutely no appetite after seeing what’s happening to Mac. Riley takes a couple bites of the cattail out of sheer duty. If Mac can handle having us mash ground up weeds in his leg, I can eat enough that I’ll be able to drag him out of here tomorrow. She finds herself drifting, half-awake, and is startled to alertness when Mac gasps and cries out softly in pain.
“Jack. J-jack?” Mac is pleading, fingers reaching for a hand that isn’t there. Riley’s pretty sure his fever’s only gotten worse.
She feels like breaking down and sobbing. “Mac, it’s gonna be okay.”
“Where’s Jack?”
“He’s not here.”
“W-where is he? I h-have to find him, he’s out there s-somewhere, we can’t just l-leave him!” He tries to get up, then gasps and bites off a scream as the movement jostles his leg. Riley puts a steadying hand on Mac’s chest. “P-please, don’t l-leave Jack.”
SOMEWHERE IN THE WASHINGTON FOREST
EARLY MORNING
Bozer insisted on taking first watch, insisting that Riley’s minor injury had earned her the right to sleep. She wasn’t really in the mood to argue. After his panic over Jack, Mac had calmed down and seemed to be sleeping, if no peacefully, at least without too many signs of pain.
She’s out the second her head hits the ground. And what wakes her isn’t Bozer shaking her, but the tickle of a bug walking up her cheek. Riley leaps upright, panicking and swiping at the offending thing. Ick! She hates bugs. Especially after Panama…
She stops cringing and swiping at her face and arms, and glances sideways, hoping she didn’t scare the living daylights out of poor Bozer with her shriek. And then she realizes he’s blinking awake too.
She glances at the sled, wondering if Mac’s better...or worse...than he was when she fell asleep.
Mac’s not there.
“Bozer!” Her shout startles him all the way awake. “Mac’s gone!”
“Oh no oh no.” Bozer scrambles to his feet, staring at the empty sled. “I’m sorry, I was so tired…” Riley wants to blame Bozer but she can’t. Not really. Because the fact is, she’s feeling the same way. She’s dehydrated and hungry and exhausted, and falling asleep isn’t really his fault.
“He can’t have gone far, not in the shape he was in. We just have to find him.”
Those rocks are too slippery to climb. But the leader, Gio, won’t take no for an answer. And if Mac continues to refuse to help, they’ll shoot Riley...Bozer...they’ll shoot Jack. Jack is right there, right next to him, with a massive bruise on his cheek where one of the criminals hit him for cracking wise every five minutes.
Mac tears up the tents, gathering the zippers and tying them into makeshift climbing spikes. He hands everyone a pair. Jack looks like he’s about to say something smart again, but Mac just glares at him. He doesn’t want this guy to decide Mac is more useful alone. They only brought Jack to use as leverage against him. If they get tired of Jack causing trouble…
Mac starts up the slope, testing the grip the zippers give his boots. It’s enough. “Okay, come up one at a time. Follow exactly in my footholds.”
Of course, they don’t listen. One man starts going up another way and slides back, his leg catching in a tree. He falls, and Mac slides back down to see what’s wrong. It’s a sprained ankle. They need to rest it.
He tries to explain, and they send him off with one of their own to gather the supplies he needs for a splint. And then he hears a gunshot, and when he comes back the man is dead.
Except it’s not the man with the twisted ankle. It’s Jack, lying on his back in the leaves, shot through the heart. And Mac is holding the gun.
Gio slaps him on the shoulder. “Good work. You just bought yourself a share of the money. Guess you’re just like the rest of us after all.”
Mac drops the gun, shaking all over. He just killed Jack. And he doesn’t even know why. And then Jack stands up again, and there’s blood all over his shirt but he’s not dead, somehow. And his eyes are wild and angry, a look Mac hasn’t seen directed at him since they first met in the Sandbox. “You did this. You brought us out here. You shot me. You shot them.”
Mac turns, and he sees Gio’s three partners sprawled on the ground. “You killed them, Mac. How could you?”
And then Mac sees Gio, standing next to the crate of money. Whatever happened, it’s that man’s fault, it has to be. Mac didn’t want to kill anyone. He rushes for Gio, but the man raises a gun and shoots him. His leg burns, but he can’t stop. He grabs a handful of coals from the fire, and flings them at the man’s face. Gio yells, and Mac snatches up a rock and swings it.
He feels the swing connect but it isn’t Gio he hits. Jack falls to the ground, blood seeping into his mohawk, eyes open but unseeing. Mac stumbles and falls to his knees, feeling Jack’s blood, too much blood, oh God it’s everywhere, it’s soaking his pants and it’s getting deeper and he’s going to drown in it...he screams.
Bozer is holding a makeshift torch, searching for the particular scuff and drag of Mac’s footprints, when he hears the scream. He’s heard that sound too much in the past twenty-four hours. “That’s him!” He and Riley run toward the sound, it’s coming from a small valley with a creek flowing in the bottom of it.
Mac is huddled half in and half out of the water, crying. “He’s d-dead. He’s dead.”
Bozer rushes down and grabs Mac’s shoulders, pulling him out of the water. He’s soaked from his chest to his boots, and he’s shivering so hard Bozer thinks he might not be able to hold onto him. “Who’s dead, Mac?”
“J-Jack. I saw him die.” He sniffles. “I w-wouldn’t do what th-they wanted and they sh-shot him.”
“Mac, Jack wasn’t even with us.”
“I s-saw the b-blood. He’s d-dead.” Mac gasps, and a kenning wail slips past his clenched teeth. “I killed him, I k-killed him.”
“No, no, Mac, it’s okay.” Riley’s slid down beside them. “Jack’s not dead. He’s not even here. You didn’t kill him.” Jack told them both what happened in the bunker on their vacation. That they faked Jack’s death...and that Mac had to pretend to shoot him. And with Mac being half-delirious, he’s probably confusing that incident with what happened with these criminals, since apparently the leader shot every one of his partners.
Mac gasps and shudders. His leg isn’t bandaged anymore, and the wound looks awful. He’s sweating and crying and shivering, and Bozer feels absolutely helpless.
“We have to get him back to camp.” They can’t leave Mac sitting here in filthy water with an open wound. Both of them get an arm around Mac’s waist and take one of his arms across their shoulders. It’s slow going, but Riley was right, he didn’t get too far from the campsite.
Riley starts building up the fire the second they’re able to set Mac down. “We have to get him warm. Now.”
“But he has a fever, isn’t cooling him off a good thing?” Bozer thought they put people with high fevers in ice baths.
“No. it’s only going to make everything worse. Remember what Mac said about how we had to eat a lot to make sure we replaced the calories we burned walking? Well, a fever does the same thing. And Mac can’t keep anything down. Hypothermia is going to make his body work even harder to stay warm, and he’ll get weaker.”
They have the sleeping bags they grabbed off the bodies, that they were using to cushion the sled to make it a little easier on Mac. Riley starts arranging them into a semi-comfortable bed, leaving Bozer to change Mac out of his wet clothes; probably to spare him some embarrassment later.
Bozer can see their breath in the air, and Mac’s insistence on wearing fleece and wool instead of cotton isn’t doing much good when he spent who knows how long sitting in that creek. He’s shivering so hard he’s practically vibrating.
Mac makes a strangled scream when Bozer tries to pull his pants off over the leg wound and accidentally jars it. He curls up, still shivering, hands clutching at the raw, seeping wound, and Bozer feels hot tears running down his wind chilled cheeks. “Mac, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” This is all my fault. If I’d done what I was supposed to and been watching out for you this wouldn’t have happened.
He and Riley carefully settle Mac into the sleeping bags, as close to the fire as they dare to get him. Bozer stares into the flames and wonders how everything went to hell so fast.
Jack knows he’s close. He saw the campfire smoke a little while ago, and while it’s mostly disappeared now, he’s sure of its location.
He wants to yell out, to call for Mac, but he doesn’t. Because he could be walking into anything. If he has to ambush a bunch of guys to get his kids out of this mess, he’d rather not announce his presence just yet.
He stops, checking the angle of the sun to make sure he’s still heading in the right direction, and then he hears it. Footsteps. And the heavy swishing of something being dragged through the leaves.
God, don’t let it be a body. Don’t let it be Mac. Jack worries about Riley and Bozer too, but both of them have some level of street smarts and sense of self-preservation. Mac would turn himself into the target of anyone’s ire. Which is why Jack tries to do that when they’re together. If he can beat Mac to “make the bad guys think I’m the annoying one” he can keep the kid safe. Or he can try.
Jack ducks behind a tree and holds his gun lightly. He’s ready to either fire or holster it, depending on who this is. If it’s bad guys, I’m ready. If it’s some random campers, I won’t scare them. And if it’s Mac and Riley and Bozer...Jack thinks he might just start crying.
“Careful! Don’t hit that rock!” Riley’s voice. She sounds tired and worried and a little angry, but alive.
“I know, I know!” Bozer. Frustrated, exhausted, probably hangry. That’s his ‘I haven’t eaten in more than four hours’ voice.
He waits for Mac to chime in with some sciency quip about what kind of rock that is, or that it isn’t a rock at all. But there’s a disturbing silence. And then a clunk and a soft, whimpering moan that drives straight into Jack’s heart because he’s heard it too many times.
“Bozer! I told you to avoid that rock, not slam us into a tree!” Jack rounds the last little outcropping to see Riley and Bozer each dragging a side of what looks like some sort of makeshift sled. And on it…
“Jack!” Riley practically screams, letting go of the sled with one hand to wave him over. “Mac’s hurt! It’s really bad!”
Jack feels his stomach drop into his boots when he walks around the sled. Mac’s face is beyond white, he’s sweating and shivering at the same time, and it looks like his clothes are gone, he’s just bundled up in a couple of ragged sleeping bags.
“Man am I glad to see you,” Bozer says, his breathing ragged. “He’s got a fever and he doesn’t know what’s happening. He thought he killed you.”
Jack’s heart flips over and shatters. I knew that trick we pulled in the bunker was gonna come back to bite us. He just didn’t think it would be this way. He drops to his knees beside the sled and reaches into the tangle of sleeping bags to find Mac’s hand. “Hey kid, it’s me, it’s Jack. I’m here.”
Mac stirs slightly and mumbles something unintelligible. And then his fingers wrap around Jack’s calloused ones and his eyes flicker open, just for a moment. “J-jack?”
“Yeah buddy, I’m here. Really here. No dreams this time.” Jack pulls Mac’s hand a little further out of the covering, but no so much as to get the kid’s arm too far in the chilly air, and presses Mac’s hand to the side of his neck. “See, still alive. I’m fine. You’re the one who went and got a bullet in you, kid.” Mac makes a weak chuckle that turns into a half-sob, and Jack can’t tell whether the kid’s crying in relief or pain.
Riley and Bozer look absolutely spent, and it isn’t much farther to Fred’s gas station where Matty’s waiting with a full medevac. Jack’s going to be eternally grateful she backed him on bringing a team up here. He knew if everything was fine he’d never hear the end of it from Mac, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.
He loosens the ropes Riley and Bozer used to tie Mac to the sled and picks him up carefully, sleeping bags and all. Mac’s heavy, but not that heavy, and Jack asks Riley to settle his arms around his neck and keep Mac covered the best she can with the blankets. The kid’s body is unnaturally warm, but the air is chilly.
Feeling Mac’s breath against his cheek makes that knot in Jack’s stomach finally start to dissolve. He’s got his kid back, it’s going to be okay. He and Riley and Bozer slowly make their way back to civilization.
Just as they’re coming out of the treeline, Mac stirs softly. He whines and rubs his head into Jack’s shoulder, then blinks, glancing up at Jack with confused, tear-filled eyes. “B-But you’re dead. Am I d-dead? I th-thought it would h-hurt less.”
“No, no kid. It’s okay. You’re not dead and I’m not dead. We’re all okay. And Riley and Bozer are fine. Everyone’s safe.” He can feel tears pricking his own eyes, Mac is so far gone he doesn’t know the difference between his dreams and reality.
“Ok.” Mac curls into Jack a little more, starting to shiver harder. “I th-thought you w-were there.”
“No, No, I wasn’t. But I should have been.” Jack can’t stop the what-ifs running through his mind. If I’d been here, could I have stopped him from being hurt? “Listen kid, I’m not leaving you alone again.” I’ve done that too much lately. Told myself you needed space, that you wanted it. When it was just that I didn’t want to admit to how hurt I was when you left. That I need you and I’m scared you might not need me. But now he knows how foolish a thought that was. They’re a matching set, the missing piece the other one needs. Always have been, always will be. “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.” Mac hums softly, and nestles a little further into Jack’s arms. Jack smiles softly at this kid, his kid , and then looks up to see Matty and a Phoenix team rushing toward them. It’s going to be just fine. Because now, I am right where I need to be.