"Damn!"

They took off running, splitting up. Mike headed to the right, making for the small storehouse that squatted on the land at the head of the pier. Ham went left, towards the hulk of a rusted barge moored on the other side. The skyfighter slid past, bolts raising fireworks without - for the moment - hitting anything important.

"A set-up!" Mike yelled bitterly.

"Tell me about it." Ham replied, falling into a combat crouch, pulling his weapon and making full use of the cover he had. "And he seemed like such a trustworthy lizard, too!"

Mike chose to ignore the dig. "You full?" "Yeah. Go!"

Mike sprinted for the next cover, an outcropping of rock left from the blasting years ago that had created the jetty. It sat at the end of a cut worked through the cliff on the river by long-past engineers, to provide some other transport access when the town was young. It made a wonderful trap, long and narrow, and the only place to park the jeep had been up the slope. It was an ideal shooting gallery.

Ham waited until the first bolt from Mike's laser clipped the air, then ran just past, sheltering behind another rock. With the ease of practise, they worked their way to the mouth of the cut where the jeep sat. The skyfighter danced above, strafing and retreating, keeping them away from the vehicle. A second's worth of lull was all they could expect when the fighter turned to start another run.

It was Mike who made the dash from the cover closest to the jeep. He yanked the door open and fell in, a bolt striking the hard roof as he pulled his legs inside, but the surface repelled almost all the energy in a splendid set of pyrotechnics. The engine rolled on the first try. Mike glanced through the window, across the passenger side. Ham wasn't where Mike expected - he was running hard, aiming, for a second, directly at Mike - he spun. A squad of foot soldiers was approaching from the other side.

Mike snagged the laser and hung out the door, holding the wheel with one hand and firing with the other. Several went down, and the others dove for cover. The skyfighter screamed by overhead again, lasers blasting. He slammed the door, scanning the area. He missed Ham the first time around. He'd been looking for someone running hell-for-leather towards the jeep, not someone half-prone on the ground, struggling unsuccessfully to rise.

"Oh, shit." He glanced up. The fighter sounded like it was coming around, again, and the foot squad was still undercover to avoid the friendly fire. And Ham was almost to one knee, gun arm held to his side, gun held loosely in fingers losing strength.

Mike floored it towards him, hammering the brakes and yanking the wheel at the last moment so the jeep was between Ham and the oncoming skyfighter. Then he slid over, popped the door and grabbed Ham's collar, yanking him up by main force and settling him on the passenger seat. Door swinging, he set the tires squealing down the road, making for the forest.

The viewscreen showed a panting officer.

"They made it to the car, Commander. They're heading into the trees. We're calling up the ground support from the marshalling area, and we're establishing a perimeter." He flinched automatically as Diana leaned forward. Her voice was coldly furious.

"You must not lose them, Scott. Together, they represent the entire L.A. resistance. Without those two, there is no way Parrish could defy me. Get them!"

Scott nodded once. "There is good news, though." He held up one hand. His fingers were covered with blood. "Human." he noted, licking one.

"One of them is wounded? Excellent. That should make your job much easier. I'm coming down to supervise personally, Scott. Meet me." She hesitated. "Oh, Scott? Don't wash up just yet."

The trees arched over the road almost solidly, providing shelter from the skyfighter. Looking back, Mike saw no immediate signs of pursuit, but it was going to come. On the road, they were vulnerable. And there was another consideration... He started looking for places to leave the road and head the surefooted jeep overland. A few moments to stop and plan were necessary.

As if in answer to his thought, a stretch of rock appeared to his right. It offered access to the forest, with little chance of the tracks being seen. Mike swung off the road, stopping a moment to close the door, reaching over a dazed Ham who slumped in the passenger seat. Mike pulled out the seatbelt and secured him, then did the same for himself and set off into the trees, driving carefully and trying to avoid gopherholes.

A few minutes careful weaving found them in a dense area where branches clustered and undergrowth was abundant, obscuring any reflection and the square shape of the car. Mike turned off the engine and stepped out, listening. The whine of the fighter was far off and going farther, and they were well out of sight of the road. A few minutes to pause was safe, then. He opened the back and grabbed the first aid kit, then went to check on Ham.

He was concious, if groggy, twisted to the left to keep his right side from touching the seat. It was hard to see much on the black clothing he usually wore, but the leather jacket was slick and Mike's fingers came away bloody. He worked the sleeve off, noting the shock must have numbed the wound and absently grateful for the fact. Scissors from the kit took care of the shirt, and he had his first clear look at the injury. He made a deliberate effort to keep his face blank, but something must have showed, or Ham knew him better than he thought.

"How bad." His voice was flat, and a bit breathless. Mike didn't answer directly, sidestepping with a pat "You'll be fine" as he dug into the kit. A bloody hand grabbed his arm, and he looked into a glare that Julie once said would stop a charging rhino.

"You are a shitty liar, Gooder." The words were stilted.

"Okay." Mike conceded. "You'll be fine if we can get to a hospital." He pulled out several rolls of gauze and some 4x4's.

"Right." Ham said. His hand moved up to Mike's shoulder. "You patch it up. Get this thing on the road, and then you head for the hills. It'll be a while before I pass out, I can decoy them."

Mike was spared having to make an immediate answer by virtue of the roll of tape he was holding in his teeth. He placed the pads over the torn flesh, covering the glint of bone. The bolt had ripped him from the back, cauterizing some of the tissue, but leaving most raw and bleeding. He braced his butt against the door frame and pulled Ham forward, working the roll of gauze around him until he ran out. He tore the tape from the roll and secured the ends. The bandage was already spotting through when he eased Tyler back and he laid more pads on top, taping them down.

"That's one option." he agreed finally. He helped Ham pull the jacket on again. It was warm, and the pressure of the snug leather would be helpful. "But I don't think I'll use it."

Ham hissed at the awakening pain in his side. "Don't be stupid." he snapped. "Lakefield's miles away. I can't travel far like this. Turn the damn car around for me and get yourself out of here."

Mike used another roll of gauze to wrap Ham's gun arm loosely to his side to keep movement to a minimum, hoping to keep the wound from pulling open any farther, then stuffed his jacket behind Ham and pushed him gently to sit back. Ham watched him put the remains of the first aid kit away.

"You aren't going to do it, are you?" he said disbelievingly.

Mike tucked the last bit of cloth into the kit, snapped it shut, then looked Ham in the eye.

"Nope. I'm not."

"Damn. You're even stupider than I thought. If we both get fragged, how long do you think Julie's gonna last?" He half-reached to Mike but stopped and fell back, face twisted. The shock was wearing off. Mike knew it would be hurting like a bastard before long, but he made no move to help. The "Fixer" would not have appreciated it.

"How long would I last if I went back and told her I'd left you to die?" He took refuge in words. "At the moment, I'm safer here. For some odd reason, she likes you." He turned away, shutting the door, and missed the momentary softening of expression that crossed Ham's face. Mike stowed the first aid kit in the "trouble bag" in the back, and climbed into the drivers' side.

"Let's see how this baby handles in the country." he said, and shifted gears.

[Prev] Return, by L. Gay Palmero

[Next] "V" Part Two, by Mary

Back to the "V" Fan Fiction Page