UNDER THE EARTH

by Wintersrose

PART ONE

The beautiful, bright, brilliant sunlight shone down from overhead, breaking apart clouds that, just moments before, sent streams of water plummeting to the earth in torrents that Blair Sandburg thought might cause another of those infamous ‘great floods’ and totally drown out the camping trip. 

Blair sighed with contentment, heart filling with happiness as he looked about the rain-soaked but sturdy camp set up by himself and Jim two days before.  Yesterday, literally one big washout, sent them both into their large camping tent, huddling together for warmth and eating from their meager stores of dried food.  Today promised great fishing from a nearby stream that, now, nearly overran its banks.

"You’re a sun bunny, Sandburg," Blair grinned over at his roommate as Jim spoke.  James Ellison was going through the supplies they’d had to keep outside the tent and Blair relaxed back as Jim returned the smile. 

"I’m warm!" Blair returned as he went over to one of the two ice chests to go through it.  They hoped the fact they were closed and sealed kept them safe from all that Mother Nature wanted to do to them; however, he could tell without opening one of them that things were not well in the land of ice chests.  “This ice chest is a complete wash though.  You know that huge bolt of lightning we thought was right on top of us last night?”

"Yeah?" Jim asked.

"Well," Blair motioned to the ice chest.  "This is what it hit.  Another five feet to the right and we’d be char-baked instead of it.  Everything is wasted.  The milk burst all over the place and everything else we had in it is useless."

Jim sighed and knelt beside the ice chest.  Everything within, from the quart of milk, to the cheese, to the small supply of veggies was ruined, some burnt or fried to a crisp.  Even the loaf of bread was ruined and still smoking, despite the benefit of rain the night before.

“Looks like the beer’s safe,” Jim opened the other ice chest.  “Your packets of tea are all right and the coffee grounds are okay.  We can have stuff to drink at least.”

"I can go into town," Blair offered.  "Replace everything I can get my hands on with some new stores.  How does that sound?  We should get some more veggies, I definitely want more milk and maybe get some fixings for the fish we’re going to catch."

Jim nodded.  "If you don't mind, that would be great, Chief.  I'd like to get a heads-up on our fishing for the day.  We might have grilled trout before tonight.  What do you say?"

"I say that's the best idea you've had yet," Blair beamed.  "Awesome idea.  Gimme the keys, I'll be back in about two hours, maybe three depending on how that trip down that road goes." 

"All right, Chief," Jim fished into his pocket and pulled out his keys, tossing them toward his partner.  Blair deftly caught them in one hand and rummaged into his suitcase for his badge and wallet.

"No dents, Chief," Jim warned his partner.  "I'll be looking."

"Sure," Blair said cheerily.  "No dents.  No dings.  No bangs.  No scratches on the paint job.  Got it."

Jim grinned and fondly tousled his roommate's curls before Blair strode toward the old blue and white Ford pickup sitting nearby.  Blair removed their lawn chairs from the front seat, along with the extra blanket, leaving one for 'just in case' and he got into the driver's seat.

The drive was a pleasant one and Blair kept the window of the truck rolled down to allow the sun to more fully bake him.  Last night he thought he would never get warm; if Jim hadn't been willing to share body heat, Blair was sure he would have frozen.  Now he was pleasantly warm and listening to tunes on an oldies radio station – one of the few the old pick-up truck got this far out in the mountains.

Blair drove to the nearby town – the only town within decent driving distance that boasted any sort of grocery store – and he entered the store, first seeking out and finding a new replacement for the burnt out ice chest, then idly shopping around until he found replacement items.  Milk, cheese, more bottled water, another loaf of bread, and a few oranges and bananas from the produce department, along with tomatoes, celery, carrots, a big red onion and lettuce.  They would keep a few days inside the new cooler, Blair figured, even if it got really warm again.  The ice would last a bit.

He happily loaded everything into the back of the truck, taking his last purchase – a huge bag of ice – and spreading it out all through the new ice chest.  He put the produce on the bottom so it was near the cold, buried in the cheese and milk, then set some of the beer and water along the top.  He put the last bit of ice on the top of that and settled his remaining purchases on the front seat of the old truck.

Blair whistled along with the song "Yesterday" by the Beatles as he journeyed back to the camping ground and his roommate.  Jim would surely be happy with the purchases, all things that would go well with the fish when it was caught, and Blair knew they'd be having a great dinner if he had anything to say about it.  He knew some awesome recipes for fish, including a particularly good one he learned in Argentina .  His mouth was salivating as he thought of it. 

The last turn toward the camp ground was on a small dirt road heading off from the main highway, through a old-growth trees untouched by even the owners of the campground and into the valley where the small, secluded, camp ground sat.  The same types of tall, old trees that lined the roadway grew up around the camping spaces and Blair sighed with satisfaction as he watched them…

…then went wide-eyed when suddenly the earth seemed to shift from side-to-side and Blair grabbed tight to the wheel of the truck.  He felt the earth shift again and heard what sounded like a thousand freight trains about to run him over.  His eyes went wider when he realized – earthquake!

No, no, no, he thought mindlessly.  Nope, not happening.  This is not happening.  Nope.

He couldn't remember, in his panic, if he should stop or keep moving when they were having an earthquake.  His only thought was get to Jim, get to Jim.  He continued driving, holding the wheel tight to keep it on the road, which seemed to shift and move around him.

Without meaning to, Blair let out a scream when the road shifted underneath him again.  This time a huge crevice opened up right in front of the truck, and Blair slammed on the brakes as hard as he could, causing the vehicle to fishtail slightly before settling just shy of the crevice.

Blair let out a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, when the road buckled again and this time, he didn't even have a chance to scream as the earth swallowed up the truck – and Blair along with it.  His head hit hard on the steering wheel he'd clung to and, just as things went dusky around him, a much more intense darkness took over and Blair slumped forward, unconscious.

PART TWO

This is living, James Ellison thought with a satisfied sigh while casting out into the middle of the stream with his fishing line and setting his feet more firmly in the water in which he stood.  Nothing like being out in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a stream, just me and the fish.  Yup, this is living.

Jim grinned as he felt a small tug on his fishing line and watched the end of his pole tip toward the water.  The tug, heightened by his natural enhanced sense of touch, told just him just when the fish firmly took hold of the hook and started to dance downstream to get away.  Jim tugged at the right moment, pulling back, hard, on his fishing pole, and sending it back over his shoulder while winding on the reel as fast as he could.  He laughed with delight as the fish pulled forward again in a struggle to get free of the hook that held it captive, and Jim yanked back hard again, bringing the fish closer to himself, ready to be netted and put into the pouch he carried for such occasions.

Must be about four, five pounds, Ellison grinned happily as he pulled the fish up and reached behind him for the net.  He pulled it out and swept forward, drawing the large trout toward him.  Make that six pounds, he amended as he eyed the monster in his grasp.  Just right for a good-sized meal that night for himself and his friend.  Sandburg will enjoy our meal tonight!  Put just the right amount of corn meal, some salt and pepper, maybe a hint of bacon and some lemon flavoring mixed in before cooking.  I’m getting hungry already!

Ellison put the trout into the bag floating in the water nearby, filled with his other two catches of the day.  All good-sized trout, he and Sandburg would eat well tonight and tomorrow and, if tomorrow was as lucky as today, they’d have some to bring home as well.

Ellison took a moment to check his watch before he gathered the bag of fish up, wrapped up his fishing line and headed back out of the water.  He whistled as he walked toward the camp, carefully stepping over a path strewn with low-hanging branches, overgrown shrubs and various plants that didn’t know they shouldn’t grow on a path.  Jim chuckled as he thought of Blair and his silly Cree-fishing pole.  Like the kid stood a chance with the thing.  That was one reason Jim sent the kid to get the grub, rather than going himself.  Jim could fish in peace, free of his talkative partner – and the fishing spear too.

He stepped over another log and stopped, or rather, fell, when the earth underneath him shifted.  Jim looked up, surprised, then held onto the log he fell on when the earth shifted again, this time roaring out its displeasure.  He tightened his grip as disorientation swept over him, threatening to totally overwhelm him.  His vision cut in and out as the world swayed and bucked.  Trees crashed around him in the tumult, and he shifted his grip to cover his head while he ducked down, holding the log tight with his legs.

When it ended, Jim didn’t move.  He lay amid the fallen debris of the forest, holding the log, both hands clasped over his ears, blinking blankly at the now unmoving scenery.  He blinked several times, unseeing, before he coughed, his mouth filled with grime and dust, and he finally moved.

“Ouch,” he muttered as he looked down at his right leg.  A splinter the size of his hand stuck out of his thigh. Jim reached down and touched it, wincing in pain when he jarred the piece of wood but the Sentinel relentlessly assessed the injury. 

The wound wasn’t bleeding, probably because the splinter was still in it.  He frowned in pain, blue eyes glancing up at the sky overhead.  He looked back at his watch again, checking the time. 

Just great, he thought.  I must’ve broken it during the quake.  No telling how much time has passed.

Jim slowly turned on the log so he was sitting atop it, both legs in front of it, instead of straddling it.  The Sentinel rotated from side-to-side, slowly checking his back for injuries and exhaled slowly.  Nothing broken, no pulled muscles, maybe just a few scrapes.  Good.  Now I just gotta get back to camp and see… damn!

Jim shot to his feet, all thoughts of his own injury abated.  Sandburg.  He would probably have been on his way back from town when this thing hit.  Damn!

Moving as fast as his injured leg allowed, Ellison worked his way past fallen trees, small gaping holes in the ground caused by soft sand and the earthquake, more treacherous terrain than even in Peru , until he got back to their makeshift camp in the middle of the small camping ground.  He sighed with disappointment when he saw his truck missing.  His worst fears were founded.

Sandburg was on the road when this thing struck!

Jim slumped for a moment, defeated.  His leg hurt, his body ached and the sheer damage of the area around him daunted him.  The defeat lasted for about ten seconds; then he stood again, determined.  He went into the partially standing tent and dug around, finding their first aid kit.  He sat down and used the scissors in the kit to cut open his pants so he could see the damaged leg more easily.  Frowning at the damage done there, he relentlessly reached out and took hold of the large splinter, then yanked, pulling it free.

As he suspected, as soon as the fragment was pulled out of his leg, it started to bleed.  Reaching into the kit and finding the small bottle of rubbing alcohol,  Jim  let out a yell as he dumped it in the wound.  Damn that hurt! he thought.  Ouch, hell, shit!

More invectives colored his thoughts as he waited for the sting to die down a little before he applied the antiseptic.  He took care to save some supplies – just in case the worst happened and Sandburg happened to need them.  He grimaced when the antiseptic caused the stinging to spring to life anew and he inhaled and exhaled sharply, dialing down the pain dial to a dull, tolerable ache. 

Jim finished his patch-up job  by applying a wad of gauze and taping up his leg.  He got up, testing it.  The gauze would slow the bleeding – he hoped – and hopefully help the blood to clot while he was on the move.  He wouldn’t be able to sit much longer; he had to go find out what happened to his partner. 

Maybe he was still in town, Jim thought hopefully.  Maybe he’s safe.  Highly unlikely, though.  This is the trouble magnet we’re talking about.  He’s a great partner but he attracts trouble like nobody’s business.  He’s out here somewhere and I have to find him.  Besides, if he’s out here and he’s wandering around, no doubt he’s lost.

Absolutely no sense of direction for Detective Blair Sandburg.  Lovable, talkative, bouncy, ebullient but no sense of direction. 

Quit stalling, Ellison, Jim stood and took hold of a long fallen branch that would do as a walking stick.  He tied a piece of rope around the first aid kit so he could carry it on his back, then took the water bottles from inside the tent and attached them to his belt. 

PART THREE

At first he remembered nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing.

There was only peace.  A silence so deep he thought he heard his own heart beating.

He was unaware of anything.  No thoughts forming in his mind.  No senses registering.  No basic urges.

It began small. An itching. It took him several minutes to actually figure out what the itching was, where the itching came from and realize it was his nose.  He frowned and tried to figure out why his nose itched and what he should do about it.  Did he even care that it itched? Nothing else mattered at the moment, why should an itching nose.

Finally, he moved his fingers, surprised to remember he had fingers.  Oh, yeah!

He moved his fingers again and felt something cold shift around them.  Something cold and… clingy.  Whatever it was wanted to stay on his hand.  He thought about that for a moment.   Ok. Dirt? Mud? Something else?

Dirt.

“Oh, God.”

Blair groaned as he came fully to, reaching for and grabbing hold of his aching head, coughing to rid his lungs of what felt like a mountain of dust, inhaling only to find he breathed in more dirt than air.  Blair shivered as he tried to move and found that, rather than being able to move, he was rather solidly held down in his seat.

“What?” he muttered as he finally forced his eyes to open and had to wipe them with his hands, being careful not to get more dirt in them.  Even doing that he couldn’t see.  It was pitch dark inside the cab of the truck.  Blair reached out with his hands and felt dirt all around him.  The cab of the truck was closer than it should be as well and he felt all smooshed.

“Oh, God,” he murmured again as he tried to move his legs and feet.  He regretted it instantly and cried out in pain; his right leg felt worse than when he got shot the year before.  He grimaced and decided to stay still until he could figure out what was going on and why.

What happened? he wondered as he continued to cautiously feel around him.  Touching the dirt too much caused it to shift.  Other things, bits of something harder, like rock or… was that pavement?... sifted through his fingers.  Blair shivered when he realized, remembering.  Earthquake.  He was in an earthquake.  He had been driving back to the campground from town and then was in an earthquake and… oh, God! Am I under the ground?  That’s ridiculous, it couldn’t have swallowed the whole truck.  No way, no way, no way.

Sandburg shivered so, he wrapped his arms around himself and wondered if he was going into shock.  The former anthropologist blinked his eyes a few more times, willing them to adjust to the darkness, just so he could see something, anything.  Could a person see in absolute darkness if he was in it long enough, or did he always see nothing?  Sandburg was pretty sure if there was no way for some sunlight to shine in from overhead that he wouldn’t be able to see.  That meant he would have to try to dig his way out, somehow – or at least dig a long enough hole overhead that he could get some sunlight down here. 

Flashlight!

Blair tried to remember if the flashlight was handy.  He suspected, even if it was in the glove box like he thought, he wouldn’t be able to get to it.  He needed to move his legs to get to the glove box, even with the dash pushed closer like it was, and he couldn’t move his legs. 

Think, Sandburg!

Thinking wasn’t so easy, though.  He felt muzzy-headed, dim and slow.  Blair closed his eyes again and concentrated on breathing.  Each breath felt heavy and dusty.

“Damn,” he murmured.  “Oh, man.”

Was he getting air in here?  Or did he only have what was left in the cab – just a tenuous amount that would, eventually, go away?

I don’t want to suffocate again, he despaired.  Please, God…

PART FOUR

“Come on, Chief, give me a sign,” Jim begged as he continued to walk, climbing atop a large fallen, tree in his path.  The road that had once led into the camping ground was gone, now, completely trashed by poor infrastructure underneath and by the earthquake itself that had broken the pavement up into a million little pieces.  There were trees, branches, limbs, rocks, uprooted plants and jagged edges all over the road, all of which Jim had to negotiate past.

He turned his hearing up as high as he dared in the uncertain terrain, using his enhanced eyesight to watch several steps ahead of his current location, sniffing occasionally for some sign of his truck – like gasoline.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find a sign that his partner was out here or not.  If he didn’t – it could mean that Blair was back in town – or that Blair was…was dead.

Ellison refused to consider that possibility.  The sentinel continued to scour the area with his senses, stopping occasionally when he thought he caught a familiar scent, then shaking his head and moving onward.  He shoved through several bushes, ignoring how they tore at his clothing, and using his walking stick to bat some small rocks out of the way. 

“Oh, God…”

Jim felt ill when he saw it.  When he saw what he didn’t want to see.  Just ahead of him, sticking up out of the broken earth, was the tail end of his blue and white pickup truck.  Jim stood rooted to the earth for a moment, shocked at the sight then, suddenly, he sprang forward, throwing his walking stick to one side and racing to his truck.

“Sandburg!  SANDBURG!  Blair!  Can you hear me?” he yelled out as he scrambled to the side of his truck.  The whole cab of his truck had disappeared and part of the bed to the wheel well.  “SANDBURG!”

Ellison took a deep breath and inhaled sharply, closing his eyes as he listened and centered himself carefully.  He grabbed hold of a sharp rock to ground his other senses, then reached out with his hearing. 

Come on, Chief, give me a sign here.  Tell me you’re alive.  Come on, buddy, don’t let me down.

“SANDBURG!” he yelled again.  “Chief, it’s Jim!  Answer me, damnit!”

Quiet.  Jim didn’t even hear any birds chirping, any animals.  It wasn’t even windy right now, as if it was a dead, still, calm.

Then… th-thump.  Th-thump.  Th-thump.

“…im…” muffled, coming from so very far away; the voice was precious, so very precious.  “Hear… you… Jim…”

“I’m getting you out, Chief!” Ellison yelled back to his partner.  The sentinel looked, then, and felt hopeless despair fill him.  The truck was totally buried.  He didn’t have a shovel.  He didn’t even have a knife on him at…

…wait a minute, that was wrong.  He still had his knife from fishing.  It was a start.

“Just hold on, Blair!” Jim yelled back.  “I’ll get you out, just hold on!  Don’t give up.”

“Not much… air left… Jim…” Blair said next.  “Running out, man.”

Jim cursed mentally but kept it to himself.  “Don’t talk anymore.  I’ll see if I can take care of that right now.  You just stay put and don’t move.  Don’t try to get yourself out.  I’m going to get you out.”

Jim started by moving rocks.  There were several, smaller ones.  He shifted them as fast as he could, with a speed born of desperation.  He tossed them willy-nilly, left and right, not caring where they landed so long as it wasn’t back on the truck.

It seemed as though there was a whole mountain full of dirt lying on top of the truck, though, enough that Jim worried he wouldn’t be able to actually dig Blair out.  He couldn’t see the cab of the truck yet but he kept digging, using his hands, using some of the rocks he found that looked capable of doing spade duty, using his knife when he had to be more forceful.

And yet he wasn’t sure he was getting any closer to Sandburg.  Jim growled his frustration as he picked up his pace, ignoring the biting pain in his leg as he concentrated on the task at hand.  Get to Blair.  Nothing else mattered.  He wasn’t going to give up on his partner.

“Jim…” Blair’s voice was weak from inside.  Jim frowned.

“Blair… don’t talk, you’re wasting your air.”

“Jim… hurts…”

Jim looked heavenward, groaning.  No.  This absolutely is not happening, he thought.  This is not happening.  I am bloody well going to get him out of the damned truck and he’s going to be alive and he’s not going to die on me!

“Sandburg, just stay quiet.  Don’t talk, don’t move, just sit still.  I know that’s hard for the Energizer Bunny in you, but do it anyway, all right?  Promise me, Blair.  Let me hear the words, Chief.  I promise to sit still and do nothing… say it!”

“Promise… nothing…” was all Jim heard.  He frowned, wondering if his hearing was cutting in and out or, even worse, if Blair was unable to say more. 

Jim trusted his partner and he went back to work.  Digging.

Digging.

The detective dug by rote for a while, not thinking, not connected at all to anything other than the task at hand.  He moved more dirt off the back of the truck, moved more off of his partner, moved closer – he hoped, to getting his partner to safety.

The sentinel found more rocks he needed to move and he hefted them out of the way, grunting with the effort.  Jim gave a satisfied smile when the rocks were out of the way and he looked below him.

“Blair?” he said.  “Can you hear me?”

“Jim…” the voice was weak.  Blair groaned, a sound Jim heard vividly.  “Where…?”

“Almost there, I can see you, sort of.  You should be getting more air now.  Don’t move, though, the back window is broken in and I can see glass on you.  Just hold still, okay, Chief?”

“Not going… anywhere…” Blair murmured.  The younger detective’s voice was weak, too weak for Jim’s peace-of-mind. 

“How bad are you hurt?” Jim asked.  “Can you feel your legs?”

“Leg’s hurt bad, man,” Blair said.  “Right leg.  Left… think it’s ok.  Just can’t get it out.  Cab’s… crushed in… on me…”

“Just stay still.  I’ll get you out, one way or another,” Jim promised.

He groaned, though.  It was too, too much.  He didn’t have a “Jaws-of-Life” handy to pry the cab off of his partner’s legs.  He would have see if there was anything he could do – or if he’d have to risk trying to go for help.

Not a likely prospect, not before Sandburg died.

Jim took a deep breath and finished clearing the dirt and debris from off of his partner’s back, freeing as much of the glass he could.  Jim had to wrap his hands with parts of his own shirt so he could keep from cutting them to shreds.  Reaching in, the sentinel brushed Blair’s back off and felt Blair flinch slightly, then relax.

“Hey, Chief,” Jim quipped.  “Come here often?”

“Only once a year or so, man,” Blair managed.  “But the décor has gone way down.”

“I see that,” Jim said.  “Let me get some more of this junk out of the way and see what I can do about getting you free.”

More digging, this time removing as much stuff from the passenger seat as possible.  Jim needed room to maneuver, it looked like that would be his best bet for getting inside of the cab.  He couldn’t, after all, pull the truck free of the ground. 

“I’m coming in,” he said, later, when he had his next task accomplished.  “Look out below.”

Jim slid in face forward and curled up until he was inside of the truck beside his partner.  He looked over at Blair and pulled his arm forward, taking the younger man’s pulse. 

“Stay with me, Chief,” Jim said, again.  “I don’t like your pulse at all.  I want you to concentrate on breathing.  That’s all.  Think about those breaths you take when you meditate and do that.  Does your chest hurt?  Do you have any broken ribs?”

“Everything hurts.”  Miserably, Blair looked up at his partner.  “Everything, man.”

Jim nodded and started studying the problem at hand.  The cab hadn’t actually crushed in as much as he’d originally feared.  Instead, the steering wheel column had collapsed, aided and abetted by a tree branch. 

“I think I can get you free,” Jim said.  “But I might hurt you.  I’ll try not to, Chief, but…”

“Just do it,” Blair whispered.  “I want out of here, man.”

Jim nodded and reached out first for the limb that was holding the steering column in place.  He ignored the whimpers from his partner as he yanked, pulled and yanked, desperate to free the young man from the cab.  The branch wasn’t going to give easily; Jim was half afraid it might still be attached to a big tree somewhere.

He finally took out his knife, again, and started shearing off smaller limbs and twigs hanging off the branch.  He pulled pieces free as they came loose, tossing them out of the open back window.  Jim watched Blair often, trying not to be dismayed as Blair grew more and more quiet and paler.  The younger man quit whimpering but Jim knew Blair was still awake.

“Stay with me, Sandburg,” Jim warned him again.  “Stay awake.”

“Not… going any… where…” Blair said, weakly. 

The branch came free almost without warning, knocking Jim back against the passenger-side door in the truck when it did.  Jim lay still for a moment, blinking back stars, hammered by a sudden burst of sensory input that came with the jarring.  He fought for control, pushing his senses back to normal as he sat up again, rubbing the back of his head.

“OK…?” Sandburg had turned toward him without Jim being aware of it.  The sentinel nodded and grabbed the branch, chucking it out through the back of the cab as hard as he could throw. 

“I’m fine, Darwin ,” Jim said.  “I should have you free pretty soon now.”

Just as he thought, the steering column had been knocked loose – fortunately in these old trucks it wasn’t quite as big a pain to deal with as the new cars were.  He yanked the steering wheel to one side while carefully moving Blair’s legs out of the way.

“All right, Chief,” Jim said.  “I’m going to climb out the back again, then I’m going to reach in and pull you out.  Use your good leg to help me a little but, otherwise, don’t do anything else to help me.  Do not use your bad leg.  I may jar it again but I promise to keep it down as much as I can.”

“’K…” Blair whispered.  “Be OK.  Do it, man.”

Jim backed out and situated himself until he was in a position where he could reach through the window to grab Blair and still have enough room to maneuver around to pull Blair free. 

I hate this angle, he thought.  But beggars can’t be choosers.

Jim got down onto his stomach and grabbed onto his partner, being careful to take Blair under his arms.  He pulled backward, dragging Blair up toward where he currently lay and scooted backward, giving Blair more room to sit once he got up here.

“Oh, man,” Blair groaned.  “Oh, God… that hurts… Damn…”

Jim ignored it – he had to or he would never get Blair out of here.  Once he had Blair situated at level two, Jim scampered off the bed of the truck and reached down.

“See if you can stand on your other leg, Chief.  I’ve got you, I just need you to hop a little and get over here to me, then I’ll see to your leg and we’ll try to get out of here.”

Blair nodded, shaking as he clambered up to his good leg.  Jim reached over and grabbed him, then pulled Blair over and out, setting him down again on a nearby log.

“Sit here,” Jim ordered.

He retrieved the first aid kit he’d brought with him and went back over to Blair.  The younger man’s leg was obviously broken – Jim winced when he saw the piece of bone sticking through the skin and knew this repair was going to be well beyond his skills.

“I’m going to have to clean it and wrap it,” Jim said.  “It’s about 3/4ths of a mile to the road from here.  Think you can make it?”

“Think we’ll find any help if we do make it?” Blair countered.  He got up, though, balancing on his good leg and reaching out for Jim’s shoulder with an arm.  “I’m game if you are.”

Jim nodded but handed his partner one of the water bottles he carried and ordered him to take a drink.  Blair took it and gratefully washed some of the water down his throat, letting it ease the thirst he felt and strengthen him, a little. 

“Let’s go,” he handed the bottle back to Jim.  “I want to go home, man.”

PART FIVE

“Jim… stop…”

Jim heard the plaintive cry of his partner and he stopped immediately, and then gently lowered his roommate to the ground.  Blair, shaking and feverish, leaned heavily back against his partner as he tried to get his bearings, and Jim carefully stroked the younger man’s hair out of his face.

The going had been excruciatingly slow, halted more than occasionally by fallen trees, uprooted bushes, openings in the earth where they needed to walk, and the occasional huge boulder or new cliff side created by the earthquake.  Jim watched the sun overhead as it crested in the sky and began to dip lower.

So far it had taken nearly three hours to get this far and Blair was getting worse.

“What’s wrong, Chief?” Jim asked.  He hated to ask it but he needed Blair to voice his problem.

“It hurts, Jim,” Blair’s voice was husky and low.  “I c-can’t… k-keep going.  L-leg is throbbing and I’m fr-freezing, man.”

Jim hated what he was hearing; he hated that Blair hurt, he hated that Blair was cold, and he really hated that he was stammering so badly.

“We have about a quarter of a mile left, Chief,” Jim said.  “I can’t get you to help until we get that far.  I’m going to start trying to get through on my cell phone but until then, I need you to hold on, buddy.  Can you do that?”

“D-don’t h-have a ch-choice,” Blair stammered, gritting his teeth against the pain.  “L-let’s g-go.”

Jim reached down and hefted his partner up before they started forward again.  He took most of Blair’s weight for him, helping the younger man walk.  It was slow going, though, slower than Jim liked.  The time seemed to fly by without them getting any closer to the highway – and the lack of highway noise, that he should be able to hear with his heightened hearing, didn’t inspire Jim with confidence.  Jim took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on merely moving, taking the next step, walking…

And ignoring the pulling in his own leg, in his shoulders and in his arms.  If his leg wanted to hurt, Jim would let it.  Blair’s injury was far worse and Jim didn’t like the jagged edge of bone sticking out of it.  He hoped he was just imagining that it was worse than it had been hours before, when he first checked it.

Quit thinking on that, Ellison, and keep going, Jim ordered himself, mentally.  Move it.

“Give me a minute, Jim,” Blair’s voice was steadier.  Jim studied his partner for a moment and nodded, settling the younger man down on the ground again.  Jim handed Blair one of the remaining bottles of water he carried on his belt and helped Blair open and drink from it. 

“How much farther?” Blair asked after he swished some of the water around in his mouth and spit it out before taking another drink and swallowing.  “I’ve gone from freezing to roasting.”

“That’s the fever, Chief, which is too high for my comfort,” Jim touched Blair’s forehead with the back of his hand.  “Too hot, my friend, very too hot.”

Jim didn’t want to tell Blair how worried he was for his friend.  Time was working against them and he needed to get Blair back to civilization soon or else his friend might succumb to shock.  Jim checked the bandage on Blair’s leg and changed it out with the remaining gauze and tape, then held out a hand to Blair.

“Let’s get going again,” Jim said.  “Not much farther now.”

Provided, when we get to the highway, there’s anyone going by that we can get a ride from.

** ** ** ** **

They arrived at the highway almost an hour later and Blair held on tightly to Jim as his friend lowered him to the ground and settled him against a tree to get comfortable.  Blair watched Jim for several moments as the sentinel stood and looked around, listening intently for any passing traffic.  Blair closed his eyes for a few minutes to rest them and jerked up when Jim barked his name.

“Wha…?” Blair asked, feeling stupid and slow.

“Stay awake, Sandburg,” Jim ordered.  “I don’t want you to go to sleep yet.”

“Sleepy, Jim,” Blair protested as he shifted and leaned back against his tree again.  “Just wanna short nap.”

“No, Blair,” Blair felt Jim’s hand on his face, slapping him lightly.  “You have to stay awake, Blair.  You’re getting shocky and I really don’t want you going into a coma or something worse on me.  Stay awake just a while longer, all right?”

“Can’t,” Blair complained.  “Wanna sleep now, Chim…”

The name slurred and Blair complained when Jim shook him again.  “Stop, man.  Don’t like when you shake me, man.  Gotta sleep for just a few minas.”

“Minas?” Jim frowned.  “No, not even a few ‘minas’, Chief.  Wake up.”

Blair opened his eyes and looked up at his partner.  Jim really looked worried.  That was weird.  Why was Jim all worried anyway?  Cause, like, Blair was fine, just tired.

“I’m fine, Chim,” Blair murmured.  “You gotta mother hen thing goin’ on, man.  I just wanna sleep a little an’ you don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Jim sighed and shook his head.  Blair saw him turn away and race toward the road, waving his hands dramatically.

A car squealed to a stop near them and Blair saw Jim going around to the driver’s side, then motioning toward where Blair lay, then gesticulating wildly as he pointed down the road.  Finally, Jim came over to where Blair lay, a huge smile on his face.

“Come on, Chief, we’re getting out of here,” Jim said, sighing with relief.  “Let’s go, buddy.”

Blair stood with Jim’s help and limped along to the car waiting for them on the road.  Jim slid Blair into the backseat of the car and took the front side passenger seat. 

“Thanks for your help,” Jim said to the driver of the car.  “Are the roads bad between here and Cascade?”

“We’ll have to take the scenic route,” the driver admitted.  “But I’ll get you there.  Hang on.”

PART SIX

Hang on had been right.

Jim leaned back on the bed he lay on, staring up at the ceiling as he thought about the hair-raising trip into Cascade with the demon-possessed-driver-from-hell who had gotten him and Blair to Cascade but only because the man was obviously the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the planet.  Intense demands to slow down and threats to arrest him for reckless driving had done little to deter their would-be rescuer on the drive, and Jim still felt queasy when he thought about the trip.

Fortunately for the driver, though, they got to Cascade in one piece, and to the hospital.  Though the emergency room was doing a volume business because of the earthquake, the severity of Blair’s wounds had gotten him treated right away, and his partner now snoozed on the bed next to Jim’s, his broken leg still wrapped in cotton as the younger man awaited a trip to the operating room to get the fracture fixed. 

Blair snored contentedly, half turned on his bed, one arm flung over his face, the other lying to one side, attached to an IV filled with antibiotics and a glucose drip. 

Jim smiled at the younger man as he watched Blair sleep.

“Hey, Jim,” the sentinel looked up to see his boss standing at the end of the bed.  Captain Simon Banks towered over the hospital beds, and rubbed tiredly at his eyes behind the glasses he wore.  “You two going to be okay?”

Jim nodded.  “We will.  He’s going to have to have surgery on his leg and we’re going to be on desk duty for a couple of months but we’ll both recover.  What about the station, was anyone hurt?”

Simon shook his head.  “No one besides you two.  We were lucky, to be honest.”

“Don’t feel lucky,” Blair murmured from his bed.  “Feel squashed.”

“You were squashed,” Jim laughed.  “But you look pretty dopey right now.”

“Feel dopey too,” Blair agreed and snuffled.  “Going to sleep now.  Keep it down, ‘k?”

“Sure.”

Blair drifted off to sleep again and Simon and Jim exchanged amused glances. 

“I’m going to let you get some sleep too, Jim,” Simon told his detective.  “I don’t want to see either of you down at the station for two weeks, and then I want a doctor’s notice that you can be on desk duty.  Keep in touch.”

“Sure, Simon,” Jim agreed.  “See you.”

Jim drifted off to sleep after Simon left and woke later, when Blair called his name.  Jim got up and shuffled over to his friend’s bedside, sitting on the edge of the bed as he studied his guide’s slightly battered face.

“You need something, Chief?” Jim asked.

“Just wanted to see if you were here.  Had a strange dream.  I got squashed in the truck.”

There was that word again.  Squashed.

“Chief, do you remember how you were hurt?” Jim asked, gently.

Blair’s face screwed up as he tried to remember.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.  No dream.”

“Yeah,” Blair sighed.  “Hoped it was, though.  Is the truck OK?”

Jim laughed and shook his head.  “Chief, the truck is bashed, hammered and folded.  I could probably sell it and have someone turn it into an interesting lawn sculpture.  Don’t worry about it, though, we can replace it.  I couldn’t, however, replace you.”

Blair studied him for a moment before settling back into his pillow again and closing his eyes.  They popped open again a moment later.

“Do you mean that?” Blair asked, softly.

Jim stroked his friend’s face in a gentle motion, massaging gently and reminding Blair of their bond – friendship, sentinel and guide, partners.

“I mean it, Blair,” Jim stressed, softly.  “Trucks come and go, pal but friends – that’s forever.”

Blair smiled then, his face lighting up even as sleep grabbed hold of him again.

“Friends forever,” he agreed.

He fell asleep again to the soft stroking on his cheek and the feeling of love and friendship in his heart.

Friends forever.

THE END

Disclaimer:  The Sentinel is the property of Pet Fly Production and UPN.  We've only borrowed the characters for a few frolics in the sun.  
We promise to return them where we found them when we're done.