Follow the Tiger Page 9
Carefully rolling over, he spotted his rescuer. Cory, wrapped in an army blanket, was slouched against a rock with his head resting on a bunched up jacket. Sam vaguely remembered Cory leading him into a rocky enclave. He had pulled out a sleeping bag from a metal locker and then had Sam crawl into it. Glancing around, Sam couldn't help but be impressed. The cliff above kept the rain out while the surrounding rocks prevented the wind from entering. The rocks also helped to retain the heat from the small fire, the dying embers still glowing. Towards the back, Sam spotted the locker Cory had opened last night. It looked like it had been there a while, the top covered in dust and a bit of rust showing in the corner. Apparently, this place had been used before.
Sam returned his gaze to Cory. The other man couldn't possibly be comfortable, but had obviously fallen asleep due to exhaustion. The gun lying in his lap near his hand hinted that Cory had been keeping watch. Sam frowned. Now that his head was clear, he could see the pale skin, the taunt features, and the gauntness in Cory's long frame. He looked kinda ill. Then Sam remembered Cory saying he had hurt his knee weeks ago. Had Cory been hurt in an accident or something and still recovering? Only to be dragged out into a cold, rainy night while being chased by the MacGyver family's nightmare. At the very least, Sam should see if there was any food in that locker and try to make his rescuer more comfortable.
He struggled to sit up, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He closed his eyes to ride out the worst of it as he held his wrist tight against his stomach. Pain assaulted him from various directions. Not too surprising after running down a mountainside and getting banged around in a river. There was no way he was in any shape to deal with Murdoc and he doubted his rescuer was doing any better. Hopefully, Jim and Blair would find him soon. Sam had faith that as long as they were alive and mobile, his brother and his sentinel would be searching for him.
Then Sam's eyes shot open. He remembered Cory hearing Murdoc approach the cabin, then curling up in pain when Murdoc fired the automatic. He remembered Cory's eyes glazing over as he stared at the clock, just like Jim's did when he zoned. Then he remembered Jim and Blair's argument on the trail, about Jim seeing a tiger and whether it was a good guy or a bad guy.
Was it a good or bad sentinel?
Cory had to be the tiger, the other sentinel Jim had been sensing in the area. Sam stared at the other man as questions flew through his mind. Did Cory know he was a sentinel? Had he always used his senses, or were they new to him? Was his injury being aggravated by the senses? Did he have a guide? Was he a good guy or a bad guy?
Suddenly, Sam realized he really didn't know much about Cory. Yet he seemed friendly with the sheriff, which could be a good sign. Then again, the last sheriff aided in his brother and father's abductions. Was the new sheriff any different? However, Cory also had gone out of his way to help Sam, even though he wasn't 100% himself. Sam was going to side with Jim for now.
Taking a deep breath, Sam pulled back the top of the sleeping bag. A moan from Cory drew back his attention. The dark head shifted, the mouth frowning. Before Sam could move, Cory jerked awake. Eyes wild, he glanced around until his eyes hit Sam. Then he relaxed, running a hand over his face. "How are you doing this morning?"
"Alive," Sam replied with a slight smile. "How about you?"
"The same." Blinking, Cory looked around again as his hand wrapped around his gun. "I didn't want to fall asleep."
"Last night was pretty rough on both of us," Sam pointed out. "I certainly wasn't in any shape to take a watch."
"We're just lucky the psycho didn't find us." Cory stretched a shoulder, trying to hide a wince. He started to get up. "Let's check you ou..." With a yelp, Cory was back on the ground, curled up around his injured knee.
"Cory?" Sam exclaimed. When Cory didn't respond, Sam forced his stiff and aching body to move the two feet to Cory's side. "Your knee?" Cory's head nodded slightly. He had to really be in a lot of pain. Then it hit Sam. A sentinel with a heightened sense of touch would feel pain more than others. He'd seen Jim have problems. What did Blair do?
Sam gently laid his good hand on Cory's shoulder. "Can you imagine a dial that represents your pain?" After a moment, Cory's head nodded again. "Okay, where's it set at?"
"Thirty."
Sam's heart twisted at the agonized whisper. "Okay, let's slowly move it down. Turn it to 29... 28... 27..." Slowly, Sam worked it down to a five. He could feel the muscles in Cory's shoulder loosen. "Better?"
"Much." Cory lifted his head to look at Sam. "Thank you."
Sam gave him a weak smile. "Least I can do for dragging you around in the middle of a storm last night."
Cory returned the smile. "How did you come up with the dials?"
Sam shrugged, trying to ignore the sense of destiny sweeping through him. "My brother uses that trick with his partner."
"Partner?" Cory accepted Sam's help in sitting back against the rock, frowning when Sam hissed.
"Jim and my brother are police detectives in Cascade, Washington."
Cory accepted the information with a nod. "How are you doing? Can I help you with the dials?"
"Stiff and hurting, but I can't work the dials for myself." Sam tried to contain his own cry of pain when he accidentally leaned his sore shoulder on the rock facing Cory's.
"How come?"
Still distracted by the pain, Sam replied, "I'm not a sentinel."
"A what?"
Sam's eyes popped open and stared at Cory. Realizing he was already in pretty deep, he decided to dive in the rest of the way. "A sentinel is a person whose senses are genetically enhanced beyond a normal person's."
Cory's frown grew. "You mean like genetic experimentation?"
"No, it's natural. Blair, my brother, has found stories of sentinels going back to the Celts and even primitive man. It was what he was working on during grad school." Sam paused a moment, seeing the thoughts flashing across the other's face. "You have heightened senses, don't you?"
Cory's face hardened. "What makes you say that?"
Sam gave him a reassuring smile. "After all the time I've spent with Blair and Jim, I know the signs."
"What signs?"
"You heard Murdoc approaching the cabin last night. I certainly couldn't hear anything above the rain. But because you were concentrating on that soft sound, the sound of Murdoc's gun overwhelmed you, right?"
Cory sighed, looking at the rock to the right of Sam's shoulder instead of Sam. "It felt like it was drilling into my head."
Sam nodded. "Then earlier, you zoned on the clock."
Cory's head snapped forward to stare into Sam's face. "What did you call it?"
"A zone. Blair says that sometimes when a sentinel concentrates on one of his senses, he loses himself in that sense. You lost yourself in your sight."
Cory swallowed hard. "So me losing time is connected to seeing and hearing stuff?" He paused a moment, thinking hard. "Does it go away? The losing time and hearing stuff?"
All Sam could do was shrug. "I think Blair says it can be repressed, but it's pretty much a part of a person."
"So I could have these episodes or zones or whatever you call it for the rest of my life?" Cory exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch with each word.
It was easy to see the growing panic in Cory's face. Sam held up his hand. "Whoa. Yes, zones are a danger, but they can be dealt with."
"Yeah, right." Cory rubbed his face again. "You're not the one losing time or getting huge headaches afterwards."
"Headaches?" That wasn't something Sam remembered Blair mentioning.
"I've been having megaton headaches lately. On and off mostly, but I always get one after I've lost time. I thought it was due to the head injury I had a few weeks ago, but if it's this zone stuff, I'm screwed."
Sam continued to frown. "Every time?"
"Yeah..." Then Cory paused in thought. "But not last night." He looked at Sam. "How long was I gone?"
"You were zoned about thirty seconds, a minute tops."
Cory had zoned for hours? The very thought sent a chill down Sam's spine. He shook it off, silently vowing never to let it happen again. "Could be. Blair usually pulls Jim out of a zone as soon as it occurs. That's probably why Jim usually doesn't have a headache afterwards."
"Blair pulls him out?" Cory asked. "How?"
"Usually by touching his arm and talking. Blair says he has to reach Jim through his other senses."
"So this friend of yours has this problem, too?" Seeing Sam nod, Cory continued, "For how long?"
"Jim's had them off and on since he was a kid. He had repressed them most of his life, but they came back twice on him. Once when he was MIA in Peru, and then five years ago when he was in Cascade. That's when he met my brother, and Blair's been working with him ever since."
"So Jim's able to do okay with them?"
"Yep. In fact, he and Blair are considered two of the top police detectives in the city. Just that most people don't know he's a walking crime lab."
"What about the zone stuff?"
"Blair watches out for him. According to his research, all the old sentinels had partners to watch out for them. Blair calls them guides. Jim says that just Blair's presence helps to keep him grounded."
Cory sighed as he looked at his hands. "Man, that sounds nice. But what do I do?"
Sam leaned over to meet Cory's eyes. "We'll help you. When did you first notice yours?"
"When I was in the hospital about six weeks ago. I had an assignment go bad."
"Assignment?"
Cory shot him a look. "My boss is Craig Bannister."
"Bannister? My Dad's friend in the DXS?"
"Yep. In fact, I've heard stories about your dad from Craig."
Sam chuckled. "You're going to have to tell me some time. Dad tends to be pretty quiet about his DXS work." He gave Cory an encouraging smile. "So you work for the DXS?"
"Yeah. I'm a computer and security expert, and sometimes I do field work."
"What happened?"
"That's the 50,000 dollar question. I remember going down to Colombia with my partner, then the next thing I remember is waking up in a D.C. hospital and being told my partner was dead."
Sam winced. "That doesn't sound good."
"No. Then I started hearing people on the floors above me. My father and the doctors thought I was going nuts. It didn't help that I was having trouble with the medication and that I could see things out the window I shouldn't have been able to. Hell, even the food tasted funny."
"So you've got taste, sight, hearing and touch heightened. What about smell?"
"Yeah."
Sam nodded. "Definitely a sentinel. Where were you in Colombia?"
Cory shrugged. "Started near Cali. Craig and Bill said they found me in the jungle. I guess I was in pretty bad shape at the time."
"You know, Jim's senses heightened after he was in the jungle," Sam pointed out thoughtfully. "Perhaps it has something to do with the jungle or the isolation. Maybe Blair can figure out a connection."
Both young men fell quiet, thinking. Then Sam asked, "You don't happened to have any coffee stashed around here, do you? And maybe an aspirin?"
"Yeah, there should be both in the pack I grabbed, and there should be some jugs of water over there near the locker." Cory started to get up.
He was halted by Sam's hand. "You bum leg, me bum wrist, remember?" Sam lifted his hand up to show the splint. "I'll go get the stuff, and while you fix it I'll see if I can answer more of your questions. Deal?"
The newly discovered sentinel leaned back against the rock. "Deal."
Jim could feel the exertion and stress of the past 24 hours deep in his muscles. While the two- hour nap had helped, it hadn't helped enough to make hiking again seem like a picnic. It was times like this that reminded him of his advancing years.
Of course, it had to be worse for MacGyver. The man was both older and at least as tired. Jim suspected Mac had stayed awake all night worrying about Sam. Yet he was hiking along with every indication that he could do this all day if he had to. Jim could only pray he was in as good of shape when he reached Mac's age.
Not that the trail would have been easy in any situation. The rocky path was barely more than a deer trail, steeply winding its way up the mountainside. It would have taken all of Jim's abilities to follow it if Toby hadn't been leading them. He could see why the deputy didn't want to hike it last night. It was worrisome in several ways. With the sharp turns, fallen trees, and patches of tall grass, it would be easy for someone like Murdoc to set a trap. Jim's back tightened at the very thought of another spear hurdling at them. Nor was it a good path for evacuating injured. He didn't know enough about Sam's condition to judge his mobility, but if Toby's friend had re- injured his knee, there was no way the kid could handle this trail. Hopefully, Craig and the sheriff's department will have cleared out the other end of the trail by the time they found them.
Glancing at his partner, Jim gauged that Blair was running on sheer determination. He wouldn't stop worrying about Sam until he saw him. Though it was probably in Nighthawk's favor that Blair was tired -- Jim could only imagine the number of questions running through his partner's head. He had already asked as many questions as he could last night. The strong presence of the elder Nighthawk was also a deterrent. Toby had indicated that Cory hadn't told anyone else about the problems with his senses, so Blair had reluctantly agreed to stay quiet.
Jim took a deep breath, searching for any hint of Murdoc. It was strange how natural such actions were now. He had Blair to thank for that. However, Cory was only beginning his journey. It was easy for Jim to imagine the confusion and fear running through the younger man, since it wasn't all that long ago Jim had faced similar situations. He felt a lot of empathy for him. Soon Cory would have the support he needed. Between Sam, Mac, Blair and himself, the young man would not be forced to repress everything like Jim had after Peru. That is, if the poor kid didn't run screaming from Blair's interrogation. Jim just prayed they could keep everyone alive until then.
Cory concentrated on the familiar action of pumping out the air in the backpack stove. It had been hard to find a comfortable position to work on the small unit without straining his knee. Sam had even volunteered to do it, but Cory doubted the task could be done one-handed.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam struggle to keep his eyes open. Cory could still feel the tug of sleep, so it was easy to guess just how exhausted and hurting the other man was. At least Sam seemed a lot more coherent this morning, which hopefully meant the darkening bruise on his forehead looked worse than it was. Still, Sam should be checked out by medical personnel and get that wrist X-rayed. The problems were that neither of them were in any shape for hiking and the Harley was on empty. There was also the possibility of being caught out in the open by the madman trying to harm them. There was no choice but to stay put and wait for rescue. Cory knew the spot was almost impossible to find unless someone knew where to look. Only Toby and Bill knew where it was, and Cory had faith that Toby would arrive eventually.
Which left him time to think about his other problem. Was the sentinel stuff true, or the product of Sam's head hitting too many rocks in the river?
The voice of his father whispered that it was total nonsense. Logically, there was no such thing as someone with heightened senses. Non-existent cats didn't hang out in his orderly world of computer chips and electronic wiring. Was he just grabbing onto any strand of hope to avoid admitting he was cracking up?
However, he had seen too much in his life to believe the answers were only found in the physical world. Grandmother and Bill's stories of the Arapaho Way had filled his childhood. Many of his martial arts Masters believed that the spirit was as important as the mind and body. A part of Cory had come to rely on his spirit to make it through the rigors of modern life.
Of course, the general never liked his martial arts 'mumbo jumbo'.
Which is why Cory had always trusted Grandmother Nighthawk's judgment on such issues. She said he was fine. In fact, she was the one who told him to follow the tiger. And just like his dream, the tiger had led him to a hawk that turned out to be Sam. Was she right? Would Sam lead him to his future?
Another part of Cory balked at the notion. He rarely depended on anyone else. Usually, others were coming to him. Besides, Sam was just a guy. Cory's current problems were a terrible load to pile onto someone. He had no right to do so, and Sam had every right to tell him he was nuts and walk away.
But Sam hadn't told him he was nuts. In fact, he had given Cory a name for his problem: Sentinel. It would have been one thing if that was all there was, a name for having heightened senses. But Sam had already suggested a practical method to deal with them that worked. Sam also knew about his lost time and gave that a name as well. Cory had always been taught that if you could name your enemy, the battle was half won. But Sam had also said it was genetic. If it was, why was it only showing up now?
Was being a sentinel really his problem? Or was he so desperate that he would grab onto any lifeline tossed to him? He knew what his father would say. He knew what Grandmother would say. The question was, what did he think? Should he continue to follow the tiger?
"You know, I don't think that's going to pump any more."
Cory blinked, realizing that the metal plunger had become almost too hard to press down. "Thanks." With a push and twist, he set it in place and picked up the matches. He struck one against a rock, then turned the gas lever. Once the stove was lit, he shook out the match then adjusted the flame.
Sam was still watching him worriedly. "Are you okay?"
Cory turned towards the pot of water Sam had filled earlier. "I'm in better shape than you are."