Unfounded Fears

Part 29

"I know how difficult that was for you, my friend," the elderly man's whispered words drifted into the cabin from the open front door.

Caine turned his attention to freeing Claudia from her restraints, never looking back at Lo Si.

The surprised woman stared dumbfounded at the new arrival. "Where. . .? How. . .?" she stumbled, shocked.

Caine ignored the woman's halted words. Her bindings fell to the ground, freeing her wrists. The Shaolin turned back to the old man. "You said that in time I would understand."

"Yes. And now you do?"

Caine nodded and then shrugged. "However it does not make this any easier." He helped Claudia to her feet.

"What? What are you talking about?" the woman interjected as she stretched her sore muscles.

Caine silently turned away from the woman, busying himself with checking on the welfare of the man Paul had subdued. He could not answer her question. How could he explain to her something that he was not certain he understood himself? He only knew that to help his son and Paul he now had to be willing to risk their lives.

Peter couldn’t help the sudden surprised intake of air as the rifle's bullet impacted with a nearby tree trunk. Wood fragments sprayed into his face. Quick reflexes allowed him to turn, shielding his eyes from damage. Risking a glance behind him, he could see his pursuer’s form in the brush, over a hundred yards away, placing him well within the rifle's range.

The laceration in his side was painfully reminding him that it didn’t appreciate the rough treatment. With each breath, the healing ribs and shoulder were joining in the complaint. Just how long his body could hold out was now the real question. Eventually sheer will alone would not suffice.

As Peter ran through the forest at breakneck speed, he began looking for places where he could hide and possibly get the upper hand over his opponent. He still had Paul's gun. All he needed was an opportunity to use it. Then he could return to the cabin and help his father, Paul and Claudia.

Fear propelled Paul through the dense forest growth. Strong legs pushed him through the tangle of vines and leaves. His days of fighting in the overgrown jungles of Central America had more than prepared him for this task.

Jake, who had been within visual range just a few moments before, was now gone, meaning two things to the ex-mercenary. First, his enemy knew the immediate terrain better than he and second, the man was gaining on Peter.

At the realization that he was alone, Paul stopped running. He now had no choice but to rely on his instincts to track Peter and his pursuer. Although his stomach knotted with apprehension, he pushed away thoughts of what might happen to the injured man if he didn’t arrive to help in time.

His experienced eyes finally saw what he needed. . .a sign. It was just the slightest of movements, but a branch of a nearby tree quivered back and forth, its motion clearly the result of physical contact. His target had brushed against the limb. Grimly smiling to himself, Paul now had his lead.

Peter’s lungs were burning. His fatigued limbs screamed at him to stop running. However, common sense told him that stopping would mean immediate death. He could hear the echo of footfalls and knew that the armed man was getting closer and there was no place to hide.

If the survival instinct alone wasn't sufficient motivation to keep running, Peter's mind flashed upon what he had witnessed when he had looked through the window of the cabin. He had seen his father's face. He had felt his father's discomfort. His eyes had understood the flash of pain in his father’s eyes. His goal was clear. He had to help his injured parent. He tamped down his own discomfort and pushed himself harder.

Paul tightened his grip on the rifle as he halted his pursuit. A sudden sense of foreboding washed over him. It was the same sinking feeling he had felt a hundred times before, both in war and in 'less-sanctioned' battles. He was being watched. . .stalked.

Using a tree for cover, he slid behind it and took a deep breath, calming his rapid breathing. He opened his ears to the forest around him, attempting to detect any unnatural sound. Upon hearing nothing, he began a slow trek forward, avoiding the main path, using the greenery as a shield. Despite his overwhelming concern for Peter, his experiences had taught him that his caution would pay off in the end. Carelessness at this juncture would only open him up to an ambush. And an ambush would bring death not only to him, but to Peter as well.

Peter wasn't sure at what point it dawned on him that he no longer heard the sound of the footsteps behind him. He had been so intent on pushing himself forward until he could find cover that he was certain he had run quite a distance before realizing he was now alone. Relief flooded him. He had escaped capture. . .probably death. But the relief was short-lived. Understanding of the situation suddenly struck him. If he was no longer being threatened by the armed man then that meant that his pursuer's attention had been drawn to something. . .or someone else.

Paul sensed rather than saw the movement. Turning, he began to raise the rifle in defense. He wasn't fast enough. The butt of a gun sprang out of the foliage and connected with his unprotected temple. The explosion of shock and pain did immediate, debilitating damage. Without a sound, Paul's body bonelessly collapsed to the ground.

A shadow fell over the captain's still form. An evil grin crossed Jake's face as he kneeled down. Rough hands turned Paul over onto his back. Jake rubbed a callused finger over the ex-mercenary's injured temple, tracking blood down the side of the older man's face. His hand roughly grabbed the captain's chin and squeezed it hard.

Content that Paul was properly subdued, Jake undid the helpless man's belt buckle, slid the leather from the belt loops and then flipped him onto his stomach. Once the man's arms were secured behind him, Jake reached into his back pocket. He examined the ID and then tossed the billfold to the ground. He then harshly slapped the man's face. The closed eyelids fluttered as consciousness began to return. "I could have just shot you," Jake growled. "You're lucky I need you alive right now."

Peter had moved a few feet off of his previous path of escape and was now paralleling it back towards the cabin. His gut instinct told him that the man who had been chasing him was returning to the cabin to threaten his loved ones. He tightened his grip on Paul's gun, knowing that he had to go back to the cabin and help.

He crept through the woods in silence for only a few moments when he heard a sound which struck fear in his soul. A rifle report rumbled through the woods. Instinctively he ducked, but he knew that the bullet was not aimed towards him.

"Do I have your attention now, Cop?" the voice echoed. It belonged to the man who had been chasing him only moments before, to the same man who had attacked him earlier in the day.

Peter's breath caught in his throat, but he didn't answer. There was no reason to reveal his position to the enemy. He dropped to one knee and waited in silence.

"I know you're out there, Cop. You might as well answer."

Peter said nothing.

"I think I have something here you might want," the words continued.

Peter frowned, the knot in his stomach growing larger. He listened intently.

"I have Blaisdell here. He's not lookin' too good right now."

Peter had to fight the urge to scream. He started to rush forward, panicked by what the evil man could do to Paul. Then he stopped. It could be a lie. A trick to draw Peter out into the open. Nothing more. Peter leaned back on his haunches, debating his next course of action.

"Apparently you don't care much about this guy, do ya Cop?"

Peter's mind answered the question, mentally shouting the answer that could not be spoken out loud. He wanted to scream a denial to the harsh taunt. He didn't just care for Paul. . .he loved him and would do anything to protect his foster father from harm.

Peter closed his eyes, took a deep breath and began to creep forward. Jake continued, "Guess you don't care if I plant the next bullet in this guy's head, do ya?"

Peter bit his tongue and pushed onward.

"Oh, I get it," Jake laughed. "You don't think I have the old guy, right? Well, that's too bad. Guess I'm going to have to figure out a way to prove it to you."

A scream of pain suddenly reverberated through the woods. Peter cringed as he recognized the agonized cry as Paul's, its sound sparking uncontrolled anger and fear. Peter sprang to his feet, ignoring the aches which assaulted his body. The agony in his heart at knowing that he had been the cause of the injury to his foster father blinded him to his own personal discomforts. Throwing caution to the wind, he rushed forward.

End Part 29

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