Six
Tim awoke with a jolt, forgetting for a moment his present predicament. Despite his urgency to get back on the hunt for Sara, his body had finally given in to it's need for sleep.
“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” Mutt said sarcastically from the front seat. “You snore like a buzz saw.”
Tim just glared at him blearily. He didn't feel much better for the sleep he'd gotten, and a glance at the dash clock told him it had been an hour and a half nap. Jeff was missing from the driver's seat and Tim belatedly realized the car was motionless. Looking around, he saw that they were pulled up to a gas pump, Jeff right outside the car pumping the gas.
“Where are we?” Tim asked.
“None of your business,” Mutt returned immediately.
“I need a bathroom,” Tim tried.
“Too bad.”
“Why? There's a bathroom right there.” He gestured with tied hands to the convenience store. He could see Jeff through the glass door, paying for his gas at the counter.
“You think I'm stupid or something? I ain't about to let you outta my sight.”
“Would you rather have a mess to clean up back here?” Tim asked impatiently. He was sick of being in the car, sick of their company and wanted desperately to get back on Sara's trail. And he really did need a bathroom.
“Go ahead,” Mutt laughed. “This is our boss's car. You mess it up, he'll take your head. Now shut up. If you're a good boy, I'll give you something to eat.” Mutt nodded his head at Jeff, who was heading back to the car with a tall paper bag.
“What's so funny,” Jeff asked the still-smiling Mutt when he got back into the driver's seat and shut the door.
“Nothing. Little Timmy has to make a pee pee. What'd you get?”
Tim glared at the back of the man's head, but said nothing to the disparaging remark.
Jeff handed the sack over and Mutt rummaged through it, pulling out various packaged snacks and bottled drinks. Tim waited expectantly, but nothing was handed back to him.
Tim fought the urge, but two days without food proved too much and he swallowed his pride. “You said you'd give me something to eat,” he reminded Mutt, his face heating up in the humiliation.
“What can I say. I lied,” Mutt laughed loudly, spitting small pieces of the beef jerky he was chomping.
“Fine, whatever,” Tim blew it off angrily, “I still need.....gotta take a leak.” He'd almost used the more polite 'need the bathroom', as he'd phrased it earlier, but his instincts told him to appeal to these men on their own cruder standards.
“God, you're a whiny thing, aren't you?” Mutt complained. Tim was really beginning to hate that guy.
Jeff seemed a tad more understanding. “Fine,” he told Tim, “but not here. Too visible.”
“Here ya go,” Mutt said with a smirk as he tossed a cold bottle of water into Tim's lap. “Bon apetite.”
Tim couldn't help himself. He twisted the cap off and chugged half the bottle before he took another breath, the bottle held awkwardly in his restrained hands. Mutt laughed at his desperation, but Tim ignored him.
“So who's your boss?” Tim asked, directing his question to Mutt.
“Like I'm gonna tell you. Anyway, you'll find out soon enough.”
“Well, what does he want with me?”
“You'll find that out, too,” Jeff said as he pulled onto the highway. “Now shut up.”
“Well, you can at least tell me where we're going,” Tim insisted.
“I said shut your mouth. Unless you want me to shut it for you.”
Tim took the threat at face value and quieted. He hadn't really believed they'd talk, but it had been worth a try.
About two miles down the road, Jeff pulled the vehicle over. Tim thought the worst for a moment, until Jeff stated that if Tim had to 'take a leak', now was the time.
Mutt got out and opened Tim's door from the outside, unbuckled him, and pulled Tim roughly from the back seat. Tim stumbled a little on the rocks and sticks littering the ground, but Mutt jerked him back upright.
“Well?” Mutt asked impatiently as Tim waited. “Do it!”
“Here?” Tim looked around pointedly, then nodded his head at an approaching car. “Right out here in the open?”
Mutt muttered incoherently as he grabbed Tim's arm and pulled him several feet into the trees. Tim noted that Jeff stayed in the car, apparently confident in Mutt's ability to strong-arm Tim. Finally coming to a halt, Mutt released Tim.
“Now do it,” he demanded. “We ain't got all day.”
“What about my hands?” Tim held them up for Mutt's view.
“Forget it. I ain't about to untie you. Figure that part on your own. Now do it, or we're going back to the car.”
“I don't think I can, with you right here.”
“You're such a baby,” Mutt criticized. He pulled Tim about four feet away and behind a sparse, waist-high bush. It offered very little in the way of privacy, but Tim decided it would have to do. Mutt returned to his former spot, but stared pointedly and expectantly at Tim.
Tim sighed in resignation and somehow managed to loosen his belt buckle, button and zipper. He really did have to relieve himself, but he planned on the necessary bodily function covering his real goal.
It was the oldest trick in the book, and Tim had very little expectations of it working, but he had to try. No kidnapper in their right mind would fall for the 'I have to go to the bathroom' escape ploy. He just hoped his two captors were as dumb as he thought they were.
Tim finished his necessary actions, but paused before fixing his pants or belt. This was the moment. He zipped his britches, left his belt buckle dangling, then leaned forward and brushed at his shoes, subtly watching his impatient observer.
“What're you doing? Let's go!”
“You want me tracking urine soaked mud into your boss's car?” Tim answered smartly. “Hold on.”
Tim's other hand slid quickly into his pant leg and gripped his knife. He had a scary moment when he almost dropped it, the plastic tie restricting his hand movements, but he quickly regained a firm hold.
He was trying to hurry and be sneaky at the same time, knowing he didn't have time but not wanting Mutt to see what he was doing. He knew the first thing had to be freeing his hands.
But he should have been a little more observant of his surroundings.
“You're supposed to be watching him, you idiot,” called a booming voice from directly above Tim's crouched position. Tim jumped, startled, then stood quickly and, without thinking, plunged the knife into Jeff's upper arm, high up near his right shoulder.
Jeff screamed and reached for the knife protruding from his muscled flesh, and Tim stood still, stunned for a moment at his own quick action. But when Jeff pulled the knife free, cursing a blue streak, Tim knew he was wasting precious time. It hadn't been either a killing or maiming thrust, and Tim felt as if he'd simply angered a raging dangerous beast. He didn't bother to gauge Mutt's position or reaction.
Tim took off, not toward the road, but into the woods, leaves churning under his feet. He heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot and piece of bark from a tree he was passing nicked the side of his face as the bullet impacted it.
That put wings to his feet, his still-restrained hands not holding him back much at all.
They had guns. He hadn't known they'd had guns. They'd never shown a gun once in the five days of their encounters with him.
Of course they have guns, Tim berated himself as he forced himself to move faster through the trees. Why wouldn't they have guns? Everybody has guns these days.
Especially if they really were employed by a mob-like organization, as they'd hinted.
Tim heard shouts behind him, but he didn't bother to take the time to listen. It could be both of them or just one, but he didn't care, and he didn't care what they were saying, either. He just concentrated on forward motion, because he had no intention of letting them catch him again.
He knew they wouldn't be very forgiving if they did.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tony's phone rang again, and he had to resist the urge to snatch it up. Instead, he trained his eyes on the road, trying to ignore the insistent tone. It would probably have been easier if he'd just shut the thing off, but he wasn't quite that brave. After the requisite four rings ended, Tony took a deep breath of relief, knowing the caller probably wouldn't leave a message in the voice mail that missed calls were diverted to. If there were messages, Tony didn't want to hear them. It would just make it harder for him to keep his resolve.
Seconds later, his companion's phone began to trill, just as they'd both expected.
“Be strong, Ziva,” Tony advised, looking over at her.
“Perhaps we should just answer, Tony.”
“We can't. You know that.”
“He is not going to be happy.”
“You knew the risks when you agreed to come. Suck it up and prepare yourself.”
“I have no problem.....sucking it up,” Ziva stressed the unfamiliar term, “but I worked hard to gain Gibbs' respect. I also worked hard to learn Gibbs' rules, and even harder to know why they should be obeyed. 'Never be unreachable' is one of the biggest. He's going to blow a basket.”
“That's gasket, and yes, he is.”
“Then why do we not just answer and explain?”
“Have you ever tried to explain to Gibbs, Zee-vah? It doesn't work. Abby said he knows something is up, so we can't talk to him yet.”
“But I still don't understand why we-”
“Because, Ziva..... if we talk to him and he knows we're coming, he can order us to turn around and go back. We'll either have to do it, or not, and if we don't, then we'll be officially disobeying, and I can assure you, you don't want to go there. But if we get there before having to talk to him, he won't send us back, and he can't say we disobeyed an order. You see?”
“But are we not officially disregarding his original order to stay in DC and run the investigation from there?”
“Semantics,” Tony waved it off. “And anyway, we're about about three quarters there. When I talked to Abby a few minutes ago, she said he was still at that same Shell station. And it'll be a good thing when we get there, too. She's about to have a nervous breakdown. She doesn't do well at deceiving Gibbs. I think I've reached my quota of favors from Abby for quite a while.”
“She did seem rather agitated,” Ziva remembered. She'd heard Abby's over-excited yelling at Tony over his phone all the way from her own seat. “How long before we reach his location?”
“Right now the ETA is about four more hours, but when he gets back on the road, Abby will have to point the way again.”
“I could get us there quicker,” Ziva offered.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Tony said quickly, and not at all politely.
“Why? Did I not squeeze off a few hours from the first half of the trip?”
“It's shave off, and yes, you did. You also shaved off about ten years of my life.”
“Fine,” Ziva huffed. “I need a nap anyway.” She put actions to words and settled comfortably in her seat and closed her eyes.
Tony's phone began to ring again. He sighed as he looked at the caller ID. It was getting harder each time, and it was going to be a long four hours.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tim stumbled, then fell, but regained his feet immediately and pushed himself further. He had no idea how long he'd been running, but it seemed like forever and he was really getting nowhere. Except away.
And 'away' was fine at first. He'd instinctively chosen between the 'fight or flight' response, and he had been in no condition to fight those goons, once again, for his freedom. It had been an instinctive choice, fueled by adrenaline, but they were still on his trail. They had their guns, his knife, and their anger. In contrast, Tim had tied wrists, no weapons, and flagging strength.
It was time to turn the tables. For the hunted to become the hunter, so to speak, though it would be more subtle than outright hunting them. In Tim's increasing exhaustion, his body, and subsequently, the few fighting skills Gibbs, Kate, Ziva and Tony had beaten into him in years past would soon be useless. He'd have to take his chance where he could. Again.
Tim forced himself further and a little faster, hoping to put some distance between himself and the noisy pursuit behind him. When he thought he'd collapse, Tim slowed, looking for a suitable unseen position and trying to slow his breathing. He was so tired he was beginning to tremble.
Tim looked up into the trees wistfully. Ideally, he'd climb one of the trees and drop down onto the unsuspecting muscle men when he was ready, like in one of Tony's favorite action movies. Realistically, though, Tim knew his flagging energy wouldn't even allow him to climb the tree halfway, never mind jumping from it's branches and initiating an attack on Mutt and Jeff. A terrifying image flashed through Tim's headachy brain of him trying to drop from a tree only to do something stupid, like land wrong and break a leg or sprain an ankle, thereby putting himself at the men's mercies once again. That would be his luck. Tim shook the image from his head, but it had made the final decision for him. He wasn't leaving the ground.
Which really left only one other choice in his current surroundings, which was trees, trees trees.
Tim kicked around in the piles of fallen leaves until he found a sturdy branch suitable for what he intended. Several yard away, Tim spotted a tree that had a trunk splitting off into three directions, almost making it look like three separate trees growing from the same roots. It's configuration made it wide enough to conceal him, though he'd have to be mindful of the gaps between the twisted, separated trunk.
Again hearing the faint noises of his searchers getting closer, Tim jumped behind the tree and peered through one of the gaps. But then he wondered which direction they'd actually head, so he decided to make sure they were drawn to where he wanted them.
He put his fingers in one of the many holes now adorning his shirt and gave a firm yank, removing a decent-sized scrap from the tail of his filthy, once- white shirt that he'd obviously never wear to work again.
Bolting from his hidden spot, Tim hung the scrap from a bush that flanked a nearby tree, letting it flutter in the breeze in an obvious manner.
Now to make sure they were drawn in the right direction.
Tim held the end of his makeshift club firmly, took a wide stance, and gave a few sharp whacks to one of the trees. The sound echoed through the woods, and Tim's trackers became suddenly and conspicuously silent, no doubt pausing to determine the source and direction of the noise. Tim returned to his hiding spot quickly, the thick branch still held tightly.
It took several minutes for Mutt and Jeff to appear through the trees, and they were obviously being cautious. Both held a gun and Jeff's stab wound was bleeding heavily. It was an edgy ten minutes as Tim watched them tread slowly, looking around carefully, coming closer and closer.
He held his breath a he watched them. They were together, which was fortunate, because he wanted to deal with both of them instead of having to worry about another one of them wandering unseen in the woods, but he'd have to be quick and careful since he was outnumbered.
Tim thought for a moment that they would pass his position and continue on, but he had a stroke of luck; Jeff called to Mutt triumphantly as Tim's waving scrap was spotted on the bush.
Jeff pulled the scrap from the bush and examined it, less than five feet from Tim's position. Tim silently urged Mutt join his partner, but the large blonde man simply stood where he was, watching Jeff's examination intently and awaiting comment. Tim continued waiting impatiently, but he knew he couldn't wait; he might lose his chance. He'd simply have to try taking Jeff out as quickly as possible in hopes of dealing with Mutt one on one.
Tim took a deep, quiet breath of preparation and focused on Jeff. His ears became deaf to the outside sounds of the woods and the other men's words and his vision tunneled; he was familiar with this phenomenon. He experienced it every time he prepared himself for a raid, or during a standoff, or when busting into an unfamiliar building to bust a dangerous baddie. He was focused solely on his intended target and what he must do.
He gripped his branch tighter, sliding his hands around the rough bark, stepped around the tree with a crackling of leaves, heaved the heavy branch over his shoulder like a baseball bat, and swung it down with all his force.
Jeff dropped like a bag of bricks, clutching his stomach. He was obviously unable to speak, but his eyes were angry as they trained on Tim. Brought to his knees, the man no longer towered over Tim, and Tim reveled in the power he felt at bringing the large man closer to his own level.
Seconds after his knees hit the ground, Jeff raised his gun, but Tim was ready and quickly sent it into a bush with a kick, then followed up almost simultaneously with another much harder kick to the other man's jaw. Jeff flew back and lay strewn in the leaves. He seemed to be barely conscious.
Thank you, Kate, Tim sent to the heavens. She'd taught him that particular move not long before.....that day..... and he never failed to thank her when he had cause to use it.
The time had slowed for Tim, but the encounter had only lasted several seconds, and as Jeff hit the dust, time speeded up to normal. Tim spun quickly to face a stunned Mutt, standing motionless ten feet away and who seemed to have just grasped the situation.
Tim tensed as Mutt raised his gun, raising his own restrained hands in a weak attempt at defense.
Mutt cocked the gun, and to Tim's ears the sound seemed to reverberate through the woods.
Tim had to fight the urge to close his eyes. Instead, he stared at Mutt, meeting the other man's eyes angrily.
If Tim was going to die in a small patch of woods in GodKnowsWhere, Virginia, then his murderer was at least going to have to see his dying eyes.
One corner of Mutt's mouth lifted in a satisfied smirk.
TBC
Back Chapters Page Next
“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” Mutt said sarcastically from the front seat. “You snore like a buzz saw.”
Tim just glared at him blearily. He didn't feel much better for the sleep he'd gotten, and a glance at the dash clock told him it had been an hour and a half nap. Jeff was missing from the driver's seat and Tim belatedly realized the car was motionless. Looking around, he saw that they were pulled up to a gas pump, Jeff right outside the car pumping the gas.
“Where are we?” Tim asked.
“None of your business,” Mutt returned immediately.
“I need a bathroom,” Tim tried.
“Too bad.”
“Why? There's a bathroom right there.” He gestured with tied hands to the convenience store. He could see Jeff through the glass door, paying for his gas at the counter.
“You think I'm stupid or something? I ain't about to let you outta my sight.”
“Would you rather have a mess to clean up back here?” Tim asked impatiently. He was sick of being in the car, sick of their company and wanted desperately to get back on Sara's trail. And he really did need a bathroom.
“Go ahead,” Mutt laughed. “This is our boss's car. You mess it up, he'll take your head. Now shut up. If you're a good boy, I'll give you something to eat.” Mutt nodded his head at Jeff, who was heading back to the car with a tall paper bag.
“What's so funny,” Jeff asked the still-smiling Mutt when he got back into the driver's seat and shut the door.
“Nothing. Little Timmy has to make a pee pee. What'd you get?”
Tim glared at the back of the man's head, but said nothing to the disparaging remark.
Jeff handed the sack over and Mutt rummaged through it, pulling out various packaged snacks and bottled drinks. Tim waited expectantly, but nothing was handed back to him.
Tim fought the urge, but two days without food proved too much and he swallowed his pride. “You said you'd give me something to eat,” he reminded Mutt, his face heating up in the humiliation.
“What can I say. I lied,” Mutt laughed loudly, spitting small pieces of the beef jerky he was chomping.
“Fine, whatever,” Tim blew it off angrily, “I still need.....gotta take a leak.” He'd almost used the more polite 'need the bathroom', as he'd phrased it earlier, but his instincts told him to appeal to these men on their own cruder standards.
“God, you're a whiny thing, aren't you?” Mutt complained. Tim was really beginning to hate that guy.
Jeff seemed a tad more understanding. “Fine,” he told Tim, “but not here. Too visible.”
“Here ya go,” Mutt said with a smirk as he tossed a cold bottle of water into Tim's lap. “Bon apetite.”
Tim couldn't help himself. He twisted the cap off and chugged half the bottle before he took another breath, the bottle held awkwardly in his restrained hands. Mutt laughed at his desperation, but Tim ignored him.
“So who's your boss?” Tim asked, directing his question to Mutt.
“Like I'm gonna tell you. Anyway, you'll find out soon enough.”
“Well, what does he want with me?”
“You'll find that out, too,” Jeff said as he pulled onto the highway. “Now shut up.”
“Well, you can at least tell me where we're going,” Tim insisted.
“I said shut your mouth. Unless you want me to shut it for you.”
Tim took the threat at face value and quieted. He hadn't really believed they'd talk, but it had been worth a try.
About two miles down the road, Jeff pulled the vehicle over. Tim thought the worst for a moment, until Jeff stated that if Tim had to 'take a leak', now was the time.
Mutt got out and opened Tim's door from the outside, unbuckled him, and pulled Tim roughly from the back seat. Tim stumbled a little on the rocks and sticks littering the ground, but Mutt jerked him back upright.
“Well?” Mutt asked impatiently as Tim waited. “Do it!”
“Here?” Tim looked around pointedly, then nodded his head at an approaching car. “Right out here in the open?”
Mutt muttered incoherently as he grabbed Tim's arm and pulled him several feet into the trees. Tim noted that Jeff stayed in the car, apparently confident in Mutt's ability to strong-arm Tim. Finally coming to a halt, Mutt released Tim.
“Now do it,” he demanded. “We ain't got all day.”
“What about my hands?” Tim held them up for Mutt's view.
“Forget it. I ain't about to untie you. Figure that part on your own. Now do it, or we're going back to the car.”
“I don't think I can, with you right here.”
“You're such a baby,” Mutt criticized. He pulled Tim about four feet away and behind a sparse, waist-high bush. It offered very little in the way of privacy, but Tim decided it would have to do. Mutt returned to his former spot, but stared pointedly and expectantly at Tim.
Tim sighed in resignation and somehow managed to loosen his belt buckle, button and zipper. He really did have to relieve himself, but he planned on the necessary bodily function covering his real goal.
It was the oldest trick in the book, and Tim had very little expectations of it working, but he had to try. No kidnapper in their right mind would fall for the 'I have to go to the bathroom' escape ploy. He just hoped his two captors were as dumb as he thought they were.
Tim finished his necessary actions, but paused before fixing his pants or belt. This was the moment. He zipped his britches, left his belt buckle dangling, then leaned forward and brushed at his shoes, subtly watching his impatient observer.
“What're you doing? Let's go!”
“You want me tracking urine soaked mud into your boss's car?” Tim answered smartly. “Hold on.”
Tim's other hand slid quickly into his pant leg and gripped his knife. He had a scary moment when he almost dropped it, the plastic tie restricting his hand movements, but he quickly regained a firm hold.
He was trying to hurry and be sneaky at the same time, knowing he didn't have time but not wanting Mutt to see what he was doing. He knew the first thing had to be freeing his hands.
But he should have been a little more observant of his surroundings.
“You're supposed to be watching him, you idiot,” called a booming voice from directly above Tim's crouched position. Tim jumped, startled, then stood quickly and, without thinking, plunged the knife into Jeff's upper arm, high up near his right shoulder.
Jeff screamed and reached for the knife protruding from his muscled flesh, and Tim stood still, stunned for a moment at his own quick action. But when Jeff pulled the knife free, cursing a blue streak, Tim knew he was wasting precious time. It hadn't been either a killing or maiming thrust, and Tim felt as if he'd simply angered a raging dangerous beast. He didn't bother to gauge Mutt's position or reaction.
Tim took off, not toward the road, but into the woods, leaves churning under his feet. He heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot and piece of bark from a tree he was passing nicked the side of his face as the bullet impacted it.
That put wings to his feet, his still-restrained hands not holding him back much at all.
They had guns. He hadn't known they'd had guns. They'd never shown a gun once in the five days of their encounters with him.
Of course they have guns, Tim berated himself as he forced himself to move faster through the trees. Why wouldn't they have guns? Everybody has guns these days.
Especially if they really were employed by a mob-like organization, as they'd hinted.
Tim heard shouts behind him, but he didn't bother to take the time to listen. It could be both of them or just one, but he didn't care, and he didn't care what they were saying, either. He just concentrated on forward motion, because he had no intention of letting them catch him again.
He knew they wouldn't be very forgiving if they did.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tony's phone rang again, and he had to resist the urge to snatch it up. Instead, he trained his eyes on the road, trying to ignore the insistent tone. It would probably have been easier if he'd just shut the thing off, but he wasn't quite that brave. After the requisite four rings ended, Tony took a deep breath of relief, knowing the caller probably wouldn't leave a message in the voice mail that missed calls were diverted to. If there were messages, Tony didn't want to hear them. It would just make it harder for him to keep his resolve.
Seconds later, his companion's phone began to trill, just as they'd both expected.
“Be strong, Ziva,” Tony advised, looking over at her.
“Perhaps we should just answer, Tony.”
“We can't. You know that.”
“He is not going to be happy.”
“You knew the risks when you agreed to come. Suck it up and prepare yourself.”
“I have no problem.....sucking it up,” Ziva stressed the unfamiliar term, “but I worked hard to gain Gibbs' respect. I also worked hard to learn Gibbs' rules, and even harder to know why they should be obeyed. 'Never be unreachable' is one of the biggest. He's going to blow a basket.”
“That's gasket, and yes, he is.”
“Then why do we not just answer and explain?”
“Have you ever tried to explain to Gibbs, Zee-vah? It doesn't work. Abby said he knows something is up, so we can't talk to him yet.”
“But I still don't understand why we-”
“Because, Ziva..... if we talk to him and he knows we're coming, he can order us to turn around and go back. We'll either have to do it, or not, and if we don't, then we'll be officially disobeying, and I can assure you, you don't want to go there. But if we get there before having to talk to him, he won't send us back, and he can't say we disobeyed an order. You see?”
“But are we not officially disregarding his original order to stay in DC and run the investigation from there?”
“Semantics,” Tony waved it off. “And anyway, we're about about three quarters there. When I talked to Abby a few minutes ago, she said he was still at that same Shell station. And it'll be a good thing when we get there, too. She's about to have a nervous breakdown. She doesn't do well at deceiving Gibbs. I think I've reached my quota of favors from Abby for quite a while.”
“She did seem rather agitated,” Ziva remembered. She'd heard Abby's over-excited yelling at Tony over his phone all the way from her own seat. “How long before we reach his location?”
“Right now the ETA is about four more hours, but when he gets back on the road, Abby will have to point the way again.”
“I could get us there quicker,” Ziva offered.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Tony said quickly, and not at all politely.
“Why? Did I not squeeze off a few hours from the first half of the trip?”
“It's shave off, and yes, you did. You also shaved off about ten years of my life.”
“Fine,” Ziva huffed. “I need a nap anyway.” She put actions to words and settled comfortably in her seat and closed her eyes.
Tony's phone began to ring again. He sighed as he looked at the caller ID. It was getting harder each time, and it was going to be a long four hours.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tim stumbled, then fell, but regained his feet immediately and pushed himself further. He had no idea how long he'd been running, but it seemed like forever and he was really getting nowhere. Except away.
And 'away' was fine at first. He'd instinctively chosen between the 'fight or flight' response, and he had been in no condition to fight those goons, once again, for his freedom. It had been an instinctive choice, fueled by adrenaline, but they were still on his trail. They had their guns, his knife, and their anger. In contrast, Tim had tied wrists, no weapons, and flagging strength.
It was time to turn the tables. For the hunted to become the hunter, so to speak, though it would be more subtle than outright hunting them. In Tim's increasing exhaustion, his body, and subsequently, the few fighting skills Gibbs, Kate, Ziva and Tony had beaten into him in years past would soon be useless. He'd have to take his chance where he could. Again.
Tim forced himself further and a little faster, hoping to put some distance between himself and the noisy pursuit behind him. When he thought he'd collapse, Tim slowed, looking for a suitable unseen position and trying to slow his breathing. He was so tired he was beginning to tremble.
Tim looked up into the trees wistfully. Ideally, he'd climb one of the trees and drop down onto the unsuspecting muscle men when he was ready, like in one of Tony's favorite action movies. Realistically, though, Tim knew his flagging energy wouldn't even allow him to climb the tree halfway, never mind jumping from it's branches and initiating an attack on Mutt and Jeff. A terrifying image flashed through Tim's headachy brain of him trying to drop from a tree only to do something stupid, like land wrong and break a leg or sprain an ankle, thereby putting himself at the men's mercies once again. That would be his luck. Tim shook the image from his head, but it had made the final decision for him. He wasn't leaving the ground.
Which really left only one other choice in his current surroundings, which was trees, trees trees.
Tim kicked around in the piles of fallen leaves until he found a sturdy branch suitable for what he intended. Several yard away, Tim spotted a tree that had a trunk splitting off into three directions, almost making it look like three separate trees growing from the same roots. It's configuration made it wide enough to conceal him, though he'd have to be mindful of the gaps between the twisted, separated trunk.
Again hearing the faint noises of his searchers getting closer, Tim jumped behind the tree and peered through one of the gaps. But then he wondered which direction they'd actually head, so he decided to make sure they were drawn to where he wanted them.
He put his fingers in one of the many holes now adorning his shirt and gave a firm yank, removing a decent-sized scrap from the tail of his filthy, once- white shirt that he'd obviously never wear to work again.
Bolting from his hidden spot, Tim hung the scrap from a bush that flanked a nearby tree, letting it flutter in the breeze in an obvious manner.
Now to make sure they were drawn in the right direction.
Tim held the end of his makeshift club firmly, took a wide stance, and gave a few sharp whacks to one of the trees. The sound echoed through the woods, and Tim's trackers became suddenly and conspicuously silent, no doubt pausing to determine the source and direction of the noise. Tim returned to his hiding spot quickly, the thick branch still held tightly.
It took several minutes for Mutt and Jeff to appear through the trees, and they were obviously being cautious. Both held a gun and Jeff's stab wound was bleeding heavily. It was an edgy ten minutes as Tim watched them tread slowly, looking around carefully, coming closer and closer.
He held his breath a he watched them. They were together, which was fortunate, because he wanted to deal with both of them instead of having to worry about another one of them wandering unseen in the woods, but he'd have to be quick and careful since he was outnumbered.
Tim thought for a moment that they would pass his position and continue on, but he had a stroke of luck; Jeff called to Mutt triumphantly as Tim's waving scrap was spotted on the bush.
Jeff pulled the scrap from the bush and examined it, less than five feet from Tim's position. Tim silently urged Mutt join his partner, but the large blonde man simply stood where he was, watching Jeff's examination intently and awaiting comment. Tim continued waiting impatiently, but he knew he couldn't wait; he might lose his chance. He'd simply have to try taking Jeff out as quickly as possible in hopes of dealing with Mutt one on one.
Tim took a deep, quiet breath of preparation and focused on Jeff. His ears became deaf to the outside sounds of the woods and the other men's words and his vision tunneled; he was familiar with this phenomenon. He experienced it every time he prepared himself for a raid, or during a standoff, or when busting into an unfamiliar building to bust a dangerous baddie. He was focused solely on his intended target and what he must do.
He gripped his branch tighter, sliding his hands around the rough bark, stepped around the tree with a crackling of leaves, heaved the heavy branch over his shoulder like a baseball bat, and swung it down with all his force.
Jeff dropped like a bag of bricks, clutching his stomach. He was obviously unable to speak, but his eyes were angry as they trained on Tim. Brought to his knees, the man no longer towered over Tim, and Tim reveled in the power he felt at bringing the large man closer to his own level.
Seconds after his knees hit the ground, Jeff raised his gun, but Tim was ready and quickly sent it into a bush with a kick, then followed up almost simultaneously with another much harder kick to the other man's jaw. Jeff flew back and lay strewn in the leaves. He seemed to be barely conscious.
Thank you, Kate, Tim sent to the heavens. She'd taught him that particular move not long before.....that day..... and he never failed to thank her when he had cause to use it.
The time had slowed for Tim, but the encounter had only lasted several seconds, and as Jeff hit the dust, time speeded up to normal. Tim spun quickly to face a stunned Mutt, standing motionless ten feet away and who seemed to have just grasped the situation.
Tim tensed as Mutt raised his gun, raising his own restrained hands in a weak attempt at defense.
Mutt cocked the gun, and to Tim's ears the sound seemed to reverberate through the woods.
Tim had to fight the urge to close his eyes. Instead, he stared at Mutt, meeting the other man's eyes angrily.
If Tim was going to die in a small patch of woods in GodKnowsWhere, Virginia, then his murderer was at least going to have to see his dying eyes.
One corner of Mutt's mouth lifted in a satisfied smirk.
TBC
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