Follow the Tiger

by Cindy Combs

  "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

  A hand grasped his shoulder. A voice shouted above the sounds of the storm and the river. "Come on, Chief."

  Blair spun around, his eyes full of panic. "No, Sam's--"

  "I know." Jim pulled his partner back to his feet. "We can't follow, it's too steep."

  "But Jim," Blair's voice cracked with grief. "He might... He can't be..."

  "He's not," Jim countered forcefully. He guided Blair back to the trail. "We'll find him. But now we've got to reach Mac."

  His mind frozen, Blair allowed his sentinel to lead him away.

  Further down the river

  Cory gritted his teeth as he gingerly walked down the deer trail to the river. His knee, which had been aching before, was beginning to throb now. "Doctor told me to rest it. Craig told me to rest it. Toby and Dave told me to rest it. So what am I doing?" The tiger turned to look at him. "Yeah, I know, I'm still coming."

  Long minutes later, Cory broke through the brush along the river's edge. Swollen with rain, the water roared past him. "Now what, tiger? We certainly can't cross that. At least, I can't cross it." Cory followed the tiger with his eyes as it padded over the rocks upstream. Then it faded out of sight, revealing what looked like a pile of feathers tangled in a debris pile in the river. Cory blinked the rain out of his eyes. He was looking at a white hand lying limp over a branch. "Oh, God."

  Cory limped as fast as he could to the pile of debris. The hand was attached to a scratched up arm, which in turn was attached to a body still half in the water. Cory thought he saw the head move once, but it might have been due to the swift current.

  Arriving at the pile, he reached over to lay two fingers along the man's neck. The skin was icy, but he welcomed the feel of a slow but strong pulse. "Hey, can you hear me?" A soft moan was his only answer. "Come on, buddy, we've got to get you out of here and I'm going to need your help." Carefully, Cory worked to unwind the lanky frame from the branches, mindful that one false move could send the victim back into the river. Another moan was accompanied by a slight cough and the head moving. "Easy, buddy, I've almost got you out." Cory slipped his arm under the man's shoulder, then bent back the main branch holding him in place. With a gasp as his knee protested, he yanked the guy out and dragged him over to the wet grass.

  On his hands and good knee as he breathed through the pain, Cory looked up to see brown eyes blinking at him. "Hey, there." When the man tried to sit up, he fell back to the ground, holding his head and coughing. Cory grabbed his arm and held him steady until the coughing had passed. "How do you feel?"

  "C-C-Cold. Head hurts."

  Cory brushed back the wet hair to examine the bruised forehead, causing his patient to hiss. "Not too surprising. What's your name?" Cory started checking for broken bones or other injuries.

  "S-S-Sam."

  "Got a last name?" Cory was met with a blank look. "Do you remember the year?"

  "Ah... two-two thousand and-and one?"

  Cory nodded as he gently examined the man's swelling wrist. "Do you remember how you got in the river?"

  Sam stared at the river, his face puzzled. "No-o." He slowly moved his head to look at his rescuer. "D-D-Do I kno-ow you?"

  "Not yet. I'm Cory Buchanan." Seeing Sam shiver, Cory finished his examination. "Looks like your legs made it through without major damage. Let's get you up to the cabin and into some dry clothes."

  "O-k-kay."

  Easing back on his feet, Cory again gritted his teeth as he shifted weight onto his knee. This wasn't going to be fun. He draped Sam's arm over his shoulders and started the long climb back up to Bill's place.

  Trail to Outlaw Rock

  When I was in school, there was this bully named Benny Rodgers. He was half a head taller than anyone else in his class, and I swear twice as wide. He picked on the smaller kids, threatening to beat them up if they didn't give him their money and toys. For the longest time, all he had to do was speak and kids would hand over their stuff. I managed to avoid him, mostly because I didn't have anything he wanted. Then one day he was picking on my friend, Laura. She was a sweet girl who wore pigtails and dresses. He wanted her lunch, and Laura was so scared she was crying. Benny didn't know it, but that pushed my buttons. I hated seeing Laura cry. Next thing I knew, I had intercepted the lunch box. A teacher stopped us before it could get ugly. But things changed after that incident. Benny started actively searching for me, and he was out for blood.

  Now, Murdoc is the bully in my adult life, and he knows that threats to my family and friends are the quickest way to push my buttons. But other than Pete and Jack, with whom he also has a beef, he's always held back from actually hurting them. I realized later that he really did like Penny in his insane way, and in Colorado he only wanted to abduct Sam and Blair, not actually hurt them.

  However, my boys aren't pliable pawns. They fought back and outsmarted the egoistical assassin. They proved themselves to be worthy adversaries like their old man, and not wide-eyed innocents like Penny. Murdoc's not going to be so gentle with them this time. And Murdoc's note was worded just right to let me know that.

  And just like he planned, I'm coming in after them. Probably stupid on my part, but I just can't do anything else.

  A noise made MacGyver pause on the trail, Nighthawk just barely stopping in time to keep from running into the older man. Two figures, barely discernable in the rain, were limping towards them. Recognizing them, Mac felt his gut contract. "BLAIR?"

  The pair stopped and looked at him. "Dad?" The shorter figure raced ahead to meet Mac halfway, throwing his arms around him. "Oh, God, I couldn't reach him, Dad. I couldn't reach him!"

  A shard of pain stabbed MacGyver in the heart as he tightened his hold on his son. Fearful of the answer, he forced himself to ask, "What happened?"

  "Murdoc." Mac could hear the shock in his son's voice, muffled as it was with Blair's face buried in his jacket. "He's been chasing us down the mountain all afternoon, blowing things up and throwing spears at Jim. Then he, he..."

  "He blew up a bridge." Jim ran a hand over his face. "Sam and I were still on it."

  "Damn," Toby said softly, realizing which bridge it had to be.

  "Jim was hanging on my side of the gorge," Blair continued. He withdrew from the comforting embrace to look at his father. "I could pull him up. But Sam... Sam was still on the other side. I didn't know what to do. Then the board he was holding broke. He... he fell into the river." Blair swiped at his tears. "I couldn't see him, Dad. And the cliffs were too steep there to follow the river and search for... for him."

  Mac wrapped a hand around Blair's neck and leaned his forehead against his son's, fighting a wave of grief. "I understand."

  "I, I just can't believe, that he's... he's..."

  "He's alive, Chief." Jim straightened to his full height. "Now we just have to make sure the girls and Rick are safe, and then we can search for him."

  "They're already heading for Fortuity." Seeing Jim's look, Mac explained, "Murdoc left me a note."

  "Damn," Jim replied, exhaustion heavy in his voice.

  "Jim, we should have never..." Blair stopped, still fighting his emotions.

  "Sam's alive. The tiger rescued the hawk, remember? We just have to find them before Murdoc does."

  "Jim, we don't know who the tiger is, or what he'll do to Sam."

  "The tiger's a good guy."

  "We don't know that!"

  "You boys have something to tell me?"

  Jim and Blair paused. Blair had never heard his father's voice so cold before. "Ah..."

  "I'm waiting."

  "I had a vision," Jim confessed. Behind them, Toby nearly dropped the radio he was about to use.

  "When?"

  Jim lowered his head in contrition. "In Cascade the night before we left."

  MacGyver voice grew silkier. "And when were you going to tell me?"

  "Ah, Dad, it was just a vision. We weren't sure what it meant."

  "And neith
er of you thought to TELL ME about it? I could have helped."

  Blair looked surprised. "I didn't know you believed in visions."

  Mac growled, "I've had and interpreted a vision before. And I didn't do too bad at it. SO NEXT TIME TELL ME." Jim and Blair both nodded emphatically. "SO?"

  Jim quickly explained, "I saw fragments of the scene at the bridge. Then I saw a hawk float down the river, to be picked up by a tiger."

  Mac frowned, holding tight to his emotions. "I take it you think Sam's the hawk?"

  Blair nodded. "Marston identified Sam as a 'bird of prey'. And the only animals Jim has seen before have represented me and other sentinels. And Jim's jag, of course."

  "So you think the tiger's a sentinel?"

  Jim nodded. "A GOOD sentinel."

  "We don't know that, Jim."

  "He rescued Sam; I'm willing to give him the benefit of a doubt."

  "We don't know that either, Jim."

  MacGyver ignored the sentinel discussion -- his main concern was Sam. "Do you have any idea if Sam's hurt and if so, how badly?" MacGyver suddenly noticed the scrapes on Jim's face.

  Jim reluctantly shook his head. "Just that the tiger picks the hawk up out of the river."

  Toby, eyes wide, cautiously inserted, "Shouldn't we start searching? After all, we've still got an assassin out there."

  Jim and Blair turned. Recognizing the deputy, Jim smiled uneasily. "Hi, Nighthawk. About what we just said..."

  "I'm putting it into the same category as when the tribal elders start telling their tales," Toby assured him.

  "Then let's go."

  Bill Nighthawk's cabin

  Cory hissed as he limped out of the back room. The trip up the trail to the cabin had been excruciating, between the wet slope and the stumbling victim. It had definitely taking a toll on Cory's still-healing body. Old aches had returned and his knee was swelling painfully again, which couldn't be a good sign. He had barely been able to slide his leg into his dry jeans. However, as much as he wanted to fall into bed and sleep, he had someone else's problems to deal with first.

  The guy he had rescued was dozing in front of the stove. Cory had managed to get Sam out of his wet clothes and into some of Bill's old sweats. He still wasn't very coherent. Cory wasn't sure if it was due to mild hypothermia or the huge bruise forming on his forehead. Other than the name Sam, the guy hadn't been able to tell him much. Cory couldn't help but wonder who he was and where he was from. He knew most of the locals through the Nighthawks and this man wasn't familiar. Maybe he was a vacationer who had slipped hiking or climbing. The storm outside could have been the cause of an accident. No matter what, someone was probably looking for the guy. It would help if Cory had more details to give the sheriff than white, brown hair, brown eyes, late twenties to early thirties, just under 6 foot and goes by Sam.

  He was going to have to call them, since he didn't relish the idea of driving with his bad knee. He would if he had to, though -- it all depended on how fast he needed to get Sam to a doctor.

  The teakettle's whistle drew him to the kitchen. Perhaps after something hot to drink, Sam would make more sense.

  He clung desperately to the wet wood. Beneath his feet were only rocks and water, and both could kill him. He thought he could hear someone yelling, but it was so far away. He looked up at the rock face. Something told him there was danger up there, but it couldn't be any worse than the danger below him. He had to try to climb to the top.

  His feet slid around on the rock, trying to find a foothold. Finally, his right boot found just a enough leverage to allow him to reach upward. Only desperation gave him the strength to latch onto the next plank. The wood was slick. It took a long moment to get a good enough grip to pull himself up. Again, he tried to find more leverage with his feet until his left found a precarious perch. He took another deep breath and reached for the next plank. His hand wrapped around it and pulled up.

  It was a mistake. As a loud crack rang in his ears, he felt the wood give way. His hands briefly scrambled to find something to hold onto, but gravity drew his body downward. Just before he hit the water, he heard a voice scream above the roar of the river. It was...

  "BLAIR!"

  Sam shot up coughing, only to be caught by strong hands. Disoriented, he found himself staring at another man. Worried dark eyes in a pale face stared back at him, a lock of black hair falling over the man's forehead. Blinking, Sam asked, "Do I know you?"

  A grin broke out across the tired face. "Not really. I'm Cory Buchanan. We met when I pulled you out of the river an hour ago." He turned around. "You're still pretty cold. This should help." He wrapped Sam's hand around a warm mug.

  That was when Sam realized his other hand was resting on a pillow set on the nearby end table, the wrist splinted and wrapped. Trying to ignore the pain, Sam sniffed the mug. He smiled as he identified the delicious scent. "Hot chocolate."

  "You're not allergic, are you?" Cory asked.

  "No." Sam carefully sipped the hot liquid, feeling the warmth slide down his throat. "Thanks."

  Cory ducked down to peer into his eyes. "How's your head?"

  "Hurts."

  "Who's Blair?"

  "My brother." Sam glanced around. "He here?"

  "No," Cory explained patiently. "You called out his name."

  "Oh, man." Sam closed his eyes as his hand tightened around the mug. The sound of Blair's scream echoed in his mind. "He was yelling."

  "Why was he yelling?"

  "I don't know." Sam shivered. Was Blair okay? "I think I fell."

  "Where did you fall from?"

  Images of rocks and water filled his mind as his hands remembered the feel of wood. "I was hanging off a bridge."

  Opening his eyes, he saw his host frown. "A bridge? Why were you hanging off a bridge?"

  A cough hit Sam hard. He then took another sip of hot chocolate as he tried to remember. "I think it blew up."

  "WHAT?" Cory exclaimed.

  Sam closed his eyes. The image of an explosion just ahead of his feet teased his mind. "Yeah, it blew up."

  Cory continued to look at him worriedly. It was obvious from his face he wasn't sure how to take this new information. "Was your brother on the bridge?"

  After some silent thinking, Sam slowly shook his head. "I think Blair made it to the other side. Oh man, Jim!"

  "Jim?"

  "Blair's roommate." Sam opened his eyes to look worriedly at the other guy. "Kinda like a big brother. He was just ahead of me. Is he here? Is he okay?"

  His rescuer slowly shook his head. "I only saw you." Sam felt his scrutiny as he coughed again. "Do you know how the bridge blew up?"

  Sam's frown deepened. A memory of running down a trail floated by. "We were running. Being chased."

  "By what?"

  "I don't know." Sam coughed harder this time.

  Cory took a deep breath, obviously thinking a change in questions was in order. "What's your last name?"

  "Malloy," Sam responded without thinking.

  "What brings you here?"

  The vague image of tents arose in his mind. "Camping?" Another coughing fit hit Sam.

  "Easy. You probably breathed in some river water." Cory studied his face a moment. "Do you hurt anywhere else?"

  "Mostly the head and wrist. Ribs and shoulder hurt some. Everything else just aches."

  "Yeah, it looks like you're going to have a nasty bruise on your shoulder. I'll give the sheriff a call and let him know you're here. He can let your brother know you're safe, and help me get you to a doctor."

  As Cory rose, he gave a soft groan as his face paled further. "Are you okay?" Sam asked. "You didn't get hurt rescuing me, did you?"

  Cory shook his head. "Nah, I hurt my knee weeks ago. Just pushed it too hard." He limped to the desk in the corner.

  Fortuity, WY

  "I appreciate you picking me up." Craig Bannister peered through the windshield at the rain as he brushed back his damp, dark hair. "Especially in this storm."
/>   "You're lucky you landed when you did," Dave Nighthawk replied. "You missed the first big storm, and now we've got another kicking up."

  "How is Cory?" Craig asked.

  "He had a pretty bad headache when my mother and I were there a couple of days ago. I think he's lost weight, too."

  "Damn. I was hoping he'd do better out here."

  Dave shrugged. "From what Bill said, it's going to take some time for him to heal. Still think they should have operated on that knee in DC."

  "I think they wanted him to get a little stronger before opening him up again."

  Dave nodded, thinking hard. "If Cory's knee doesn't get up to full speed again, what are his options?"

  Craig gave the younger man a reassuring smile. "Cory's strength is his mind and computer skills, so he has plenty of options. If he doesn't want to return to the DXS, there are a few federal agencies who would love to have him. I also have some friends at a private think tank who could use his skills and don't have the strict physical requirements. I just want to make sure he wants to leave the DXS."

  "I'm not sure Cory knows what he wants right now." Dave made a right hand turn. "Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to stop by the sheriff's office. I want to check on the conditions up to the cabin, and see if there's any problems on my side of the range."

  Craig nodded. As a director himself, he was rarely out of touch with his office. "Mind if I join you?"

  "Suit yourself." Dave parked in front of a squat, brick building. "I'm sure they've got some coffee going, but I won't guarantee it tastes any different from liquid tar."

  Together they dashed up the wet sidewalk into the office. Activity was bustling behind the desk, officers working behind computers, radios, and tables. A group stood up and moved en masse out the back door. Use to busy city precincts, Craig didn't think much about it until Dave tapped a burly woman on the shoulder. "Tess, what's up?"

  "Besides normal storm problems, we've got some wacko assassin running around Paxton Peaks. One of his victims fell into the Big Carson, and apparently he's still after lots of people up there."