Scott noticed a very small, but distinct head jerk from Richie when his father made that last statement. I imagine that what Dad is saying must sound really strange, Scott thought. Sword fights are not something you hear about every day.
Oh, great, MacLeod thought, mortal witnesses to my death, and a journalist no less. Trying to give a plausible explanation, MacLeod said, "I guess I do wonder, some. When I woke up in the hospital they told me my heart had stopped and I was revived by the emergency personnel."
Paul knew he was taking a risk confronting him, but he felt the man's problems stemmed from his death and revival and that he needed to work through those emotions. It must have been a frightening experience for him. Before he could say more, however, Paul noticed an abrupt change of attitude in MacLeod. He was looking around as if he heard something, and the strange energy current became even stronger.
Knowing MacLeod was in no shape to face the Immortal they were both feeling, Richie glanced at Mac and said, "I just remembered something I've got to do. Why don't you guys go up to the loft and talk some more. I'll be back as soon as I can." As Richie rushed out the back door, he grabbed his coat and sword.
MacLeod didn't really want to talk, but knew it would be better if the mortals stayed inside while Richie took care of business outside. If they had been alone, Duncan would have insisted on being the one to take the challenge.
Duncan wondered who the Immortal was and felt concern for Richie's well-being. But the young man had been practicing and was good with a sword. He would be able to easily hold his ground against any Immortal of average skill, and stood a good chance against one of superior skill. Duncan just hoped there wouldn't be a Quickening to explain. "Yes, come on up to the loft and we can get something to drink."
"You guys go on," Scott said. "I'm going to go take a shower." He ran up the stairs to the locker rooms.
"Scott, no..." Duncan started, but the young man was already gone.
Before Paul and Duncan had reached the elevator, they heard the front doors open and turned to see who was there. Six men in army fatigues with machine guns rushed inside, and surrounded them. Paul wished he could get his sphere. Duncan wished he had his sword, though it would be ineffective against so many. He also knew resistance would only get the two of them shot, and Paul wouldn't come back.
A seventh man, wearing a cheap suit, entered the room and approached the captives. "Well, what do we have here? It's an inhuman monster, a creature that has no business walking this earth...an It."
Paul didn't want to believe that Fox's men had found them again. Why wouldn't Fox just leave them alone. At least Scott was out of the room and maybe he wouldn't be captured.
Duncan didn't want to believe the Hunters were back after so many years of peace. He'd almost forgotten how much Horton and his splinter group of Watchers hated all Immortals. At least Richie was outside and maybe he wouldn't be captured.
At a nod from the leader, one of the men handcuffed each of the captives with their hands behind their back. He then pushed them towards the door.
Richie knew the other Immortal was close but he couldn't see him.
A woman's voice came from the shadows, "Where's MacLeod?"
"Show yourself," Richie demanded, as he raised his sword in an offensive posture. He still couldn't see anyone, but he heard some muffled talk, and several people moving through the dark towards the front of the building.
"I came for MacLeod. Since he sent you out here, I can only guess he's still inside." The woman came into view with her sword drawn. "I'll take your head first, then I'll get the Highlander."
She attacked with the swiftness of a cat, and Richie just managed to block the blow aimed at his neck. Her sword swiveled in an arc, and slashed Richie's leg from hip to knee. He grimaced at the pain, but didn't allow her an opening to further the assault.
An approaching car shown its headlights onto the two combatants. Both Immortals concealed their swords. "We'll meet again, young one," April said as she raced around the corner.
Richie started to follow her down the alley when he heard a man's voice from the other side of the building. "Would you hurry up and get them inside. There's a car coming." Richie made it around the corner just in time to see two armed men scramble into the back of a van as it pulled away. He limped back inside and met Scott coming down the stairs from the locker rooms. "What happened in here?" Richie asked.
"What?"
"Where is Mac and your father?"
"They said they were going up to the loft."
A quick look at the elevator, which was still on this floor, told Richie they were probably not up there. But just to be sure he ran up the stairs.
Scott followed and bumped into Richie when he stopped only half way up. "Why'd you stop?"
"There're not here."
"How can you tell?" Scott frowned.
Yes, how? Richie thought. "I just can." As they descended the stairs, Richie said, "Some men in a van just took someone away and I think it was Mac and your father. Didn't you see anything?"
Scott shook his head. Fox must have been here, he thought. But why would Fox take MacLeod? As they reached the main floor again, Scott noticed the bloody gash in Richie's pants. "You're hurt."
"It's nothing." Richie was telling the truth since the wound had already healed.
"There's a lot of blood. It can't be nothing," Scott insisted, as he bent down to try to get a better look at Richie's leg. Before he could see anything, a voice sent chills up his spine.
"Scott Hayden, stand where you are with your hands above your head."
Spinning around, Scott faced a tranquilizer rifle in the hands of George Fox. He wanted to reach for his sphere, but was afraid a sudden movement would cause the man to fire. He put his hands on the top of his head and clasped his fingers together. The knot that instantly formed in his stomach felt as big as a basketball.
"Who are you?" Richie asked.
"I'm George Fox with the Federal Security Agency. Who are you?"
Ignoring the question, Richie asked, "What do you want with Scott?"
"That's none of your business. Scott, now why don't you tell me where Forrester is?"
"Tell you where he is?" Scott asked. "Richie said he was just taken out of here in a van. Don't you even know what your own men are doing?"
"My men? I don't..." Not wanting to give away his lack of re-enforcements, Fox stopped. "I didn't have him taken away."
Richie didn't know who this guy was, but he knew he didn't like him. "I'm making it my business." He stepped between Fox and Scott. "Now, tell me what's going on here."
"Get out of the way, son, you're interfering in a matter of national security."
"I'm...not...your...son," Richie said with controlled anger. "And what's this 'national security' business?"
"It would be better for you if you didn't get involved. Now, step aside."
Glancing back over his shoulder, Richie could see fear in Scott's face. Richie advanced towards Fox. "I am involved. Scott is my friend and I don't take threats to my friends lightly."
"Richie, don't." Scott said. "You really don't want to get involved in this."
"Good advice, Hayden. Now, tell me where Forrester is and we'll leave." Fox stepped sideways so he was again directly across from Scott.
"There's no way I'm going to tell you anything about my father," Scott spat.
From Scott's interaction with this man, it seemed clear to Richie this encounter wasn't completely unexpected. Even so, Richie didn't like the man's strong-arm tactics.
"If that's the way you want it." Fox removed a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and started towards Scott. "I'll take you in, and we both know he'll show up to get you."
Richie was certain MacLeod and Paul had been taken by a group of mortals, probably Hunters. "I don't know who you are, but I can tell you, if we don't find Mac and Paul, fast, they will die tonight."
The finality and certainty in the way Richie made that statement caused a look of panic to cross Scott's face. "Who has them?"
"It's hard to explain," Richie said, "but they have been after MacLeod for years. Paul was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"How can you be so sure they'll be killed?" Scott asked, with his heart in his throat. As he became more anxious, his breath came in short, shallow bursts.
"I just am. I know what kind of people we're dealing with. They are cold-blooded killers and they take no prisoners."
Being so close to getting the alien, and then having It snatched away made Fox very angry. The owner of the bar where the inquiry came from hadn't wanted to cooperate, and the delay had cost Fox precious hours. After some threats and coercion, Fox finally managed to get the name and location of one of Hayden's friends from a waitress and that had led him to this place.
Gesturing at Richie, Fox asked, "If you know so much about these people, do you know where they are?"
Richie knew that if he could get close enough, he would be able to sense Mac. He could also ask Joe for information. "Maybe."
"What about you, Hayden, can you find them?"
"Maybe."
"You two are not helping." Fox waved the tranquilizer rifle toward the pair. "We can wait here as long as you want to keep playing these games."
"But Richie said the men who took him will kill him!" Scott pleaded. Though he was no longer a child, Scott still felt like a major part of his life was being ripped away.
"Maybe," Fox said.
"There's no maybe about it," Richie said deliberately. "They will be killed."
Scott was unsure what to do. He didn't want to lead Fox to his father, but he also didn't want him hurt. "Are you really sure they are in danger?"
"Absolutely." Richie studied the man in front of him, judged the distance between them and wondered whether he could disarm him.
"What's it going to be, Hayden?" Fox took a couple of steps toward Scott. "Am I going to take you in and wait, or are you going to help find them?"
"I can't." Scott shook his head. "I just can't."
"We really don't have the time to argue about this," Richie moved closer to Scott. "The longer Mac and Paul are in the hands of the Hu...the men who took them, the more chance there is they will die."
Scott had never felt so uncertain about what to do. He considered making a run for it, but knew his chances of getting away were slim. If Richie was right, they needed to hurry and Scott couldn't waste time eluding Fox. Scott studied the face of his tormentor. He knew Fox needed both of them alive to prove to the world that the alien was real. Scott decided if the alternative was having his father killed, they would deal with escaping from the FSA later. Besides, knowing where Fox was all the time could be beneficial. Letting his need to find his father override concerns about giving away his secret, Scott said, "If you'll let me use my sphere, I can find him."
"No way. That's too dangerous...for me," Fox said.
"A what?" Richie questioned.
Ignoring his friend, Scott continued, "I can't do this any other way. Except for when I'm actually using it, you can keep it."
Fox thought for a moment. He didn't want to lose the alien, but could he trust this half-breed? "What would keep you from just knocking me out and going on by yourself?"
"That's a very good question," Scott mused, and allowed himself a small grin.
The smirk on Hayden's face made Fox angry, but he didn't let it show. Allowing the half-breed use the sphere was insanity, but the alternative was unthinkable. Over twenty years of Fox's life had been devoted to this search, and to have the alien killed without being able to prove what It was, was something Fox didn't want to face. He decided he had to take a chance. "I'll be in control of the sphere the rest of the time?"
"Yes."
Fox gestured with the rifle, "This is a high potency tranquilizer. It will put you out in less than a minute and you'll stay out for at least two hours, maybe more."
"I understand," Scott said.
"I don't," Richie muttered.
"Do you?" Fox ignored Richie. "If I feel threatened at any time, I'll pull this trigger. No matter what happens to me, it will be hours before you'll be able to continue the search."
Even though Scott didn't like the circumstances, he felt this was the best option for getting his father back. "I promise I won't hurt you."
"You, Richie wasn't it? Get the sphere and give it to me."
"Do what?" Richie asked.
"It's in my right pocket." Scott turned towards his friend. At Richie's puzzled expression, Scott continued, "Just feel for the round, metallic thing."
Richie put his hand into Scott's pocket and pulled out the sphere. "This ball bearing is what you want?"
"Yes." Fox held out his left hand.
"How is that going to help us find Mac?" As he gave the sphere to Fox, Richie looked between Scott and Fox, but neither offered an explanation.
"Now, both of you," Fox stepped back, "walk out of here, slowly."
A few minutes later, Fox had Scott's left hand shackled to the left back door of the car. Fox got in the front passenger seat and pulled Scott's right hand up to rest on the back of the front seat. Fox cuffed his own left hand to Scott's right. Richie was in the driver's seat.
"Okay, Hayden. Let's get this show on the road." Fox patted the tranquilizer rifle in his lap. "Remember, I can pull this trigger in an instant." Fox placed the sphere in Scott's hand.
With a glance at Richie, Scott concentrated and activated the sphere. "Head south," is all he said.
Richie's mouth fell open as a brilliant blue light came from the round, silver object. "What...?"
"Don't ask questions," Fox snapped. "Just drive."
With his hands cuffed behind him, it was a struggle for Paul to sit up. As he scooted back against the wall of the van he saw that Duncan was already sitting against the other side, facing him. There was a passenger in the front seat of the van, and two men holding rifles sitting cross-legged at the back doors. They were attentive, but didn't seem concerned about the actions of their prisoners. Paul tried to reach the clasp on the cuffs to release them, but couldn't get his fingers in the right position.
Duncan knew that with the skills he had learned from Houdini, he would be able to get out of the cuffs, but there was too much firepower present to try anything in such close quarters. These guys were probably a group of the Hunters, and thus, they would know how to kill an Immortal. He looked at his fellow captive. Death wasn't something MacLeod feared after all these years, but even though he didn't like the guy, Forrester didn't deserve to die.
They had been in the van a little less than a half hour when Paul felt his sphere, which was still in his pocket, make a connection with Scott's. Paul wondered why Fox's men hadn't taken his sphere and hoped it hadn't been left with him to draw his son into a trap. Scott's impetuousness could lead him into a dangerous situation and get them both captured.
In the cramped confines of the van, Paul's legs were touching Duncan's. The jumble of emotion coming from MacLeod was difficult for Paul to sort out, but one thing came through very clearly. Never one to turn away from a person in need, Paul asked, "Why do you want to die?"
"What?"
"You think you have no reason to go on living. Is it because of what happened in that alley?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." MacLeod studied the face of the man sitting across from him and wondered what kind of story Forrester was fishing for.
The Starman's years among humans had taught him many things, and one of those lessons was that getting a suicidal person to talk out their feelings often helped them past the crisis. "I'm sorry you're in so much pain and I'd like to help. Can you tell me about it?"
"What's your game, Forrester?" Duncan snarled.
"Game?" Feeling MacLeod's anger and understanding its source, Paul asked, "How can I convince you that I'm not the Paul Forrester you knew? I've changed."
"Right, and now you're a psychiatrist? Now you want to get inside my head and 'help me'?"
"I do want to help you." Paul wished he could place a hand on Duncan to calm him, but since that wasn't possible, he did the next best thing. He squirmed around, as if to get more comfortable, and in the process made a more firm contact against Duncan's leg. The sensations he received were strange, confusing, and often violent. He did his best to impart a feeling of tranquillity through their tenuous connection. "You've been trying to die for months. Why?"
I have died, lots of times, Duncan thought, but I don't stay dead. I can't get any peace. He said nothing.
Paul received several murky visions like he'd gotten from his first contact with MacLeod in the bar. All were scenes of death. He opened his eyes wide in amazement as he realized they were all images of MacLeod's death. I wonder if he thinks about how many ways there are to die? "Why were you and that woman fighting?"
"She wanted me dead." Duncan knew he couldn't tell this man the whole story, but thought maybe if he gave some answers Forrester would be satisfied and stop asking questions. How could Duncan explain that April wanted to kill him because he had killed her husband a few days prior to their battle? How could Duncan explain that while with a resistance cell in France during World War II, he had killed April's mortal lover before the man could betray their position to the Nazis? It was all just more proof that Immortals couldn't have lasting relationships. April's companions, like his, always died.
The emotion and thoughts that came from MacLeod were unlike anything Paul had experienced on this planet. Never before had contact with a human given him so much insight into a person's mind. It was almost as if they were linked at some basic energy level. "She felt you had wronged her in some way?"
MacLeod frowned at the man sitting across from him. Surely, Forrester was only after a story, but his questions were hitting too close to home. MacLeod didn't answer.
The memory of seeing the woman trying to kill MacLeod -- no, actually killing MacLeod, swam before Paul's eyes. "I just don't understand why some people want to hurt other people." Paul sighed and looked at the two men at the back of the van, then continued almost in a whisper, "I don't understand why some people fear those who are different from themselves."
Get your own Free Home Page