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You don’t actually feel much of anything in those first few seconds after being hit by a bullet. I don’t know if it’s the shock to the system, or just your mind trying to deny the horrid fact that you now have a hole in you that definitely shouldn’t be there.

Either way, the numb sensation doesn’t last that long.

I felt myself thrown backwards with the impact of the slug and my legs giving way beneath me.

Mainly my right leg, as the intense sting that suddenly came from my thigh told me that’s where I’d been hit.

I heard the doc threaten Pete, telling him not to follow or he’d get much the same, but my brain wasn’t really focusing on anything other than trying to shake itself back to reality.

I let my hand slide to the sticky patch on my jeans and dared to feel around.

Two sticky patches, then.

That at least meant I didn’t still have a bullet in me.

I groaned and rolled over and up into a sitting position just in time to see Allcott diving out the now open rear door.

The storm still raged outside, and she had very little with her, save the gun.

Would she even make it off the mountain?

A shadow fell over me and I looked up in time to see Pete grabbing for a towel to press against my leg.

It needed pressure to stop the bleeding, but that didn’t stop me grinding my teeth when he pushed down hard against the entry and exit wounds.

Getting shot might look all heroic and cool on a movie or TV screen, but after numerous encounters with bullets, I can tell you its nothing but agony pure and simple.

“How bad?” Pete’s eyes showed his concern, and in moments like these I couldn’t help but see the father figure come out in him.

“I think that’s me off the ice for awhile,” I tried to sound more jovial than I was feeling but it didn’t quite work. “I’ll live,” I answered with slightly more honesty.

The first aid kit still lay on the top where Allcott had left it, I nodded towards it. “Grab a bandage, Pete and wrap it tight. We don’t have time to worry about this now. The doc’s buddies can’t be too far off.”

Pete nodded and worked quickly. He’s pretty good under pressure like that.

In about a minute my leg was dealt with to the best of our abilities, and I was trying to stand on it.

The movement made fresh blood seep through the dressing, but I could just about manage to hop around the cabin.

No way was I going far, though.

“Now what?” I could hear the frustration in Pete’s voice. “If I only had my gun…”

I had to admit it was strange he wasn’t packing a weapon. It was in his nature after his DXS days. I raised a brow. “You came up here without one? Am I finally rubbing off on you?” I smirked, knowing that not to be the case, but I couldn’t resist the tease.

Pete scowled and his abruptly guilty eyes shot to my injured leg.

“Aww, Pete, tell me she didn’t shoot me with your gun?”

He grimaced. “Well I could, but it would be a lie,” he admitted. “I don’t even know how she got it. Just that when I reached into my pocket it was gone, and two seconds later she was pointing the thing at us.”

I patted him on the back as I hobbled around to the fire, watching as the flames and smoke were drawn up the stone chimney. “It’s okay, Pete, I forgive you. Maybe.”

“Yeah well you can beat me up about it just as soon as we get out of here in one piece.” He looked at me with uncertainty. “We are going to make it out of here, right?”

I exhaled. “I sure hope so, ‘cause I have tickets to the next game back in Minnesotta, and I don’t plan on being AWOL for that one too.” I looked at the fire again as I spoke, knowing how I was going to use it, but needing to figure out exactly how I was going to make it happen with only one good leg. “C’mon, Pete, we have work to do outside…”

* * * *


The power supply for the cabin came in the form of a generator that burbled away in a small shed out back. It was the first thing that needed disabling to kill the lights.

I was pretty sure it was too late to hide our position, but I wanted the ZaliPharm goons in the dark, literally, when they arrived.

Pete watched as I switched off the little unit and made a few “adjustments” that meant it wouldn’t easily restart. I had to be careful, because if I simply trashed the thing, it might come back to bite me later.

You never know what you’re gonna need again, so always think before you act.

“So we took out the power, but that alone won’t stop them,” Pete pointed out the obvious.

“We need to find nails, tacks, anything like that, and something we can use for a hammer.” My eyes were already scouring the shed as I spoke.

Luckily, in her haste, Allcott hadn’t taken her flashlight from the lodge, and I was now panning it over the small structure’s contents.

“Not exactly a good time for house repairs,” Pete prodded, eager to know my plan.

“First, we nail up the shutters on the windows, and then we board up the back door,” I explained. “Then we hide out until they show up and go inside, and we trap them in the cabin.”

You make it sound so easy.” Pete scowled. “But what’s to stop them just shooting their way back out?”

I grinned. “Good old fashioned smoke, Pete. And lots of it.”

“Smoke?”

I hobbled outside and pointed my light to the chimney. “We block that and inside the cabin will fill up pretty quickly. It won’t take long for them to be dazed enough to overpower.”

“So how do we block the chimney?”

I pulled a face. “Someone has to climb up there – and with my right leg out of commission...”

Pete nodded, getting my point. “It has to be me. I guess I kind of deserve it considering it was my gun that put you out of action.”

He looked up at the cabin roof through the snow and I could tell he was scared. At that moment I’d have given anything to be able to do it instead, but that wasn’t about to happen.

As Pete found a frozen water butt to use as a step up, I got back to grips with the windows and rear door, and every now and then shot a glance into the trees around us.

We could, of course, be being watched, in which case my little plan might already be out the window, but we were out of choices and pretty much out of luck.

To make things worse, I hadn’t found anything resembling nails or tacks in the lean-to. What I had found was a large selection of dowels that had been used in the traditional construction of the cabin.

I found the smallest and stuffed them into my pockets, then stumbled my way out to the front of the lodge. Thankfully, there were only two small windows to fix. Using the punch on my knife I reamed out several small holes as best I could and then whacked the dowels into place with the back end of the axe Allcott had used to chop logs.

Not exactly the greatest piece of woodwork I’ve ever done, and the holes weren’t technically large enough for the dowels, but somehow it worked and the shutters were now secure.

Next for the rear door.

I doubted my impromptu wood nails would hold it if the goons took a dive at it, so something a little more inventive was required.

I returned to the shed and quickly used the axe to slice off a small section of wood, then using the saw blade from my knife, I shaped sections into wedges to knock between the door and the ground, and in the gap around the frame.

Wincing as the pain in my leg grew, I somehow managed to drag myself back to the door and whack in my wedges, again using the back of the axe as a hammer.

When I’d finished, I felt my body slide to the ground in exhaustion.

Working with a busted leg was taking its toll.

I sat there in the snow for a few seconds, catching my breath and wondering how Pete was doing on the roof.

It wasn’t too high, but as his time at “MacGyverland” had shown, Pete wasn’t as lithe as he used to be. That didn’t mean he would ever give in until the task was complete, though.

I exhaled, blinked snow from my eyes, and then somehow dragged myself back up into a somewhat hunkered standing position. Shielding my face from some of the storm’s onslaught with my hand, I tried to check on Pete’s progress.

He was clinging onto the stonework for dear life, already waiting to block the chimney at the first sign of our thugs.

Pete Thornton, you’re somethin’ else…

I waved to let him know I was almost ready too, then dragged my weary body and leg back into the cabin. I placed my light down on the kitchen counter, but left it switched on, hoping it would be enough of a lure to get the goons to come inside looking for us.

Once they were in, we had to keep them there until they became disorientated, and that was going to be the real problem. I had a few more wedges, but that might not be enough.

I slithered my throbbing leg back outside and dropped down into the snow in front of the porch, sliding myself underneath the steps into the darkness below. Getting out of my hideaway at speed to close the door and jam it was going to be the real test.

I swallowed, my throat dry and my heart thrumming in my chest.

I wanted the goons to arrive and it to be over, for good, or for bad.

C’mon already…

My eyes narrowed and I skimmed over the white flurries around me, willing for some sign of life – some sign of the bad guys.

Seconds passed into minutes and I wondered just how cold Pete must be in his exposed position.

Then I saw it.

The glare from not one, but two powerful flashlights.

From the distance, I figured they were about five minutes trudge from the cabin.

After two minutes, the beams vanished, and I knew Zalister’s men had switched off the flashlights to avoid detection.

Still, as far as they knew we were with the doctor and oblivious to their approach.

Unless, of course, they’d met up with Allcott as she’d made good her escape.

Sheesh, will you stop being so negative, Mac!

My leg twinged as if to chide me, and I looked down to see it had bled some more.

Allcott had really known how to disable a guy.

The sound of boots crunching in the thick snow brought me back to reality, and I squinted to see the goons pause in their tracks.

Please don’t look up…

If they did, then Pete would be discovered and all hell would break loose.

They exchanged a few words, then moved again, this time more slowly towards the cabin door. I’d left it slightly ajar, so they could see the light, but not what lay within.

They moved slowly up the porch steps, drawing their weapons and moving one each side the door ready to dive in.

They paused again, the right hand man eventually nodding to the other to signal the start of their assault.

As they kicked open the door and leaped into darkness, I made my own move.

I was slow and unsteady, as I dragged myself out and up the steps, but somehow I made it to the door in time to slam it closed and hammer in two wedges before they realized something was amiss.

I heard voices from inside, and pressure on the door as they hammered against it.

I kept my back pressed to the wood, feeling the wedges slowly giving under the onslaught.

Then, the thing I had feared became a reality.

Bullets tore through the wood inches from my body as they fired indiscriminately, hoping to hit me and make good their escape.

I had to move, or almost certainly die.

And without my weight against it, the door would give way and they’d be out in seconds.

I sank to the floor and out of harm’s way – for a few seconds at least.

Then, something above me made a sound like nails down a blackboard, and as I looked up, I saw Pete Thornton’s round form come sliding down the roof at speed.

His body sailed off the porch section and he landed with a grunt in a deep drift of snow.

How he didn’t break something was beyond me, and I simply sat there incredulous as more bullets zinged past me from inside.

As I watched, Pete picked himself up and lunged for the porch where I now lay. Without saying a word, he ran past me to the heavy water butt he’d used as a step, and began pushing it in front of the now bulging, hole-ridden door.

“Hey, I could really do with a hand here!” He puffed, still working to move the impromptu barrier.

I was speechless, but somehow managed to drag my bum leg up and give him a hand, collapsing back down again into the snow once the butt was in position.

“That was some move, Pete,” I wearily blurted. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Pete smiled back, his face a masque of both fatigue and relief. “Hey, I didn’t know I had it in me, either!”

Behind us, the shooting finally stopped and was replaced by manic shouting.

The smoke had begun to build and the goons had realized they could easily succumb to it if not released.

This was the tricky part.

We couldn’t risk them actually inhaling enough smoke to kill them, but if we let them out too soon, they’d be strong enough to still win the fight. Pete was no match for the killer I’d met back at the lab, and I was no match for anyone in my current state.

“How long do we leave them in there?” Pete read my mind.

“Until their coughing instead of shouting, I guess…”

We waited, listening carefully.

Having to hear people suffering, even if they are the enemy is never a pleasurable thing, and I was glad when the sounds from inside became more muted, their pleading voices interspersed with hacking.

Now it was time for Pete and me to push away the butt and take a stance either side the door ready to pounce.

I think the goons heard us moving the thing, as no sooner had we stepped to the side than they barreled out the door, easily forcing out the wedges I’d installed.

Of course, in their haste, they’d failed to see the length of fishing line I’d spread across the door frame. I may not have found nails earlier, but I had found a few other handy items that I’d stashed in my pockets and were now becoming useful.

The first guy toppled forwards enough to roll down the porch steps and land in the snow in a rather unsightly heap. I winced for him.

Pete sped after him, punching him out with a right before he had time to get up.

That left me with goon number two, who had virtually fallen at my feet.

I grimaced. “You gotta be kidding me…”

It was the rather lithe dude from the lab, and he looked more than a little angry. I guess I was just lucky he’d dropped his automatic in the snow as he gone down, or I’d have had a few more holes to match the one in my thigh.

Before I had chance to land a punch on him, he sprang to his feet and was taking a swing.

I tried to duck, but my leg was almost useless now and I failed to move quickly enough. The goon’s fist landed firmly on my jaw, knocking me back into the side of the cabin.

He came at me again before I had chance to recover, and this time he’d found a weapon – a short piece of timber that had been torn from the door as they’d escaped.

It wasn’t very long, but I didn’t like the idea of finding it in my face anytime soon.

I took the only option I could and dived head first at his midsection, trying to tackle him down to the floor. In the slushy snow that we’d churned up on the porch, my crazy move actually worked, and we both slid down onto the wooden boards in a tangle of limbs.

The goon dropped the wood, and this time it was my chance to land a right to his jaw.

He didn’t even flinch.

C’mon Pete, where are you?

The bad guy ignored any further jabs I attempted and laid a punch where he knew it would hurt most – right to the wound in my leg. He’d found my weak point, and he was going to exploit it like any good killer would.

I tried to bite back a cry of pain, but the grinding sensation I felt in my thigh was just too much and I felt my whole body sag. Right then, I just wanted to curl into a ball, but I knew that would be the end of me.

Instead, I used the pain to spur me on, to give me energy where there was none.

I’d spotted the axe I’d used as a hammer within crawling distance, and above us both, a very loose section of the porch roof.

Now, if I could combine the two, I might just have a chance.

The idea gave me one last spurt of adrenalin that I needed, and I lashed out at my assailant, landing my fist in his face dead center. I felt something give way to the blow, fresh blood covering my knuckles from his broken nose.

And in that instant, I actually felt guilty.

I put my regrets aside. This guy was going to kill me and Pete, and he would have no such feelings of remorse.

I don’t know how I pushed away then and dragged myself to the axe, because my leg had gone numb, like it had taken enough and had just shut down. In fact, I suspected my whole body wasn’t far behind.

My vision blurred as I reached out for the axe, but I couldn’t give in. I grabbed it and using the head began to pound at the wood above.

The goon sprang up, ignoring the blood all over his face and lunged at me – two seconds too late.

The loose and rotten wood panels above him gave way to my blows and showered down onto his head. They weren’t heavy enough to do real damage, but they knocked him off his feet just long enough for the cavalry to finally arrive.

The bad guy pushed free from the debris like a phoenix rising and was instantly sent right back down again by a right hook from Pete.

I sighed, and then slithered down onto the porch in almost as big a heap as Zalister’s thug.

“You okay?” Pete asked.

“Nope…” I figured I at least owed him an honest reply.


* * * *

After tying up both of Zalister’s men and securing them in the wood shed, Pete had managed to unblock the chimney, get me back inside out of the cold, and onto the only bed in the cabin.

I don’t remember much after that, because I’d slipped away under a nice soft blanket, drifting in some peaceful sleep where I was on a warm beach with lots of pretty girls around me, and no extra hole in my leg.

That image stayed with me until morning, when I’d woken with an abrupt start to find the beach gone and the hole still very much a reality.

I was up now, propped on a chair with more of Pete’s cocoa and a fresh dressing on my particularly sore thigh.

It was still early, but the snowstorm had at least blown over leaving the mountain a carpet of pure white. As I sipped my drink, I worked on a branch Pete had searched out for me that was the right size to use as a crutch.

Using the different tools on my knife, I was crudely fashioning the end into something a little more comfortable to sit under my arm. The final touch would be wrapping this part in strips of cloth to give it some padding.

As I began tearing a table cloth for the task, Pete entered, letting in a cold draft of air that swept in snow from the porch with it.

“Those boys comfortable in their new home?” I asked, meaning were our “guests” still trussed up and safe in the lean-to.

Pete nodded. “They should be okay in there until we can find the sheriff. Now the storm’s passed, he should be up here real soon.” He looked down at my leg. “Maybe I should go look for him on my own?”

Maybe I looked worse than I felt, or maybe he was still feeling guilty it was his gun that had done the damage. Either way, I wasn’t going to just sit and hope the sheriff found us.

“I’m okay, Pete. If we take it steady, I can make it down the mountain.” To be honest, I wasn’t really sure I could, but being negative wasn’t in my nature.

I pushed up from my perch and tried out my new crutch to prove my point.

“And what if we run into Allcott? She still has the gun, Mac.”

I shrugged. “Then we deal with it when it happens.” I hobbled to the door and onto the porch, testing my weight on my bad leg, and just how efficient my crutch was.

It still hurt like mad, but I was mobile – just.

“C’mon, last one down the mountain buys the milkshakes,” I teased.

Pete groaned.

* * * *

The depth of the snow after the storm made my trip and arduous and painful one. My legs sank into the thick drifts, but only my left had the strength to drag itself back out again.

Every couple of minutes, I found myself stopping to catch my breath and hoping that the local sheriff would arrive “cavalry style” and get me lifted off the mountain.

He didn’t appear, and the snow didn’t get any easier to traverse.

I figured we’d just traveled maybe a quarter of a mile when I paused again – this time, not because of my thigh, but because of something I’d spotted.

We were trudging along the edge of a steep and somewhat rocky incline, which was like the maw of some vast white alien creature.

And at the bottom of that incline sprawled out in the snow, but strangely not covered by it, was a body.

I gestured with my free arm. “Pete, take a look below.”

To his credit, he ventured way closer to the brink of the slope than I would have, both because of my injury, and my dislike of heights.

“It’s Allcott, isn’t it?” He asked after a long pause, his eyes filling with sadness despite what she’d done. “Do you think the storm got her?”

I looked at the body and the way it was laying.

The whiteout the night before would be the most obvious cause of her demise, and her current position certainly looked like it could have come from an unexpected fall.

And yet, there was something off.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, shuffling into a better position to view the hollow where she had died. “Could be storm, or maybe there are more ZaliPharm goons up here.”

Pete raised a brow.

If that was the case, and they’d killed Allcott, we could be next.

Heck, they could have us in their sights right now, and we wouldn’t be any the wiser.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, not taking his eyes from Allcott.

“I’m thinking we need to get down there and check out that body…”


TBC...