Date: Tue, 31 Oct 1995 11:00:25 EST Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: Adam, Part 5 [Another note: I'm sticking to the tradition I established in "Hold Fast," that Joe Dawson has only one artificial leg, although I know Jim Byrnes has two.] Adam, Part 5 by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu For the second time that night, Duncan came back to life with a gasp, and his mouth filled with water. He thrashed and coughed. As someone hauled at his shoulders and pounded his back, he realized that he was floating in cold, choppy water. "Adam?" he choked. "Right here," said the Immortal behind his back. "It's about time you came around. I thought I was going to have to drag you all the way to shore. Can you swim yet?" Duncan began to move his arms and legs belatedly, ignoring the lingering pain in his chest. "What happened?" "I killed Alan Guise. There was a fire, and the boat blew up." "Joe?" A long pause in the sloshing darkness. "There was nothing I could do for him," Adam said. "Yeah. I saw." Duncan looked away and nodded his chin very slightly, trying to find a way to accept the news. A tightness in his chest made him cough again. He tried to rise a little higher in the water to see around them. The shore lights seemed very far away. "My sword," was his next thought. "I have it here, stuck through my belt. It keeps jabbing me in the ribs. I don't suppose you'd like to carry it?" Duncan rearranged his clothes, ditching most of them, and the sword ended up tied to his waist with his shirt. They began to swim for shore, ignoring the cold, and the wind, and the waves that hit their faces. After all, it couldn't kill them. "What happened with Guise?" Duncan asked at length, when swimming through the endless darkness began to pall. "I went after him with your sword. He tried to shoot me and ended up hitting something on the boat's controls. Half the console shorted out, and that started an electrical fire. We were too busy wrestling with each other to put it out. By the time I finally got my sword arm free and . . . ran him through, the fire had spread to the main deck. I saw it was going to reach some of the fuel containers, so I grabbed you and went over the side." Adam was silent for several strokes. "I doubt any of them survived." Duncan closed his eyes. He had tried to avoid killing anyone, but just by rendering them helpless he had become responsible for their deaths. Yet he hadn't chosen to be hunted, any more than Joe had, or Richie . . . "Tell me about Richie," he demanded. "He just got into this by accident -- at least, that's what I thought at first, but then I realized maybe Guise was hunting him all along." Adam spat saltwater from his lips. "You see, I heard about Guise and his group through the Watchers. Just rumors, at first, about how he was planning to get revenge for Martin Carver." "Why didn't you just warn me?" "I was going to, but I wanted to be able to tell you what to expect. I waited until I found out what they were up to, and by then it was too late." "You should have told me earlier," Duncan gritted. "But never mind that. What happened to Richie?" "I bumped into him when I was about to make contact with Guise and his group. I hoped they wouldn't know him, but I suppose they were just about to make their move anyway. That's why we all ended up in the same place at the same time. Ryan thought I had set him up. "Guise wanted information from Ryan, about you, about Joe and other Watchers that had helped Immortals -- about me, and the rumors that there was an Immortal among the Watchers. He . . . tortured him, until Ryan finally ran himself through to end the session. As soon as he revived, Guise was going to start the questioning again." ============================= When the rest of Guise's men had cleared out, Adam looked around the room anxiously. He wasn't sure how long it would take Ryan to revive -- multiple wounds like that could take a long time to heal, especially for a young Immortal -- but he did know that he wouldn't have much time to arrange an escape. There were only two ways out of the room: the door, which had Hunters on the other side, and the windows, which were boarded over. Adam went to one of the windows and started to pull at the boards. He didn't make much progress, even on the loosest of them. Glancing around, he caught sight of Ryan's sword propped against the wall. He picked it up and started to pry at the boards again, mixing dust and splinters into the blood that coated the blade. One of the slats began to come free. He dropped the sword and braced one foot against the wall, pulling with both hands. The nail shrieked as it came out of the door frame. Adam winced and looked at the door again. This wasn't going to work. Uncovering the windows would take far too long, and the noise would bring the Hunters running. He was going to have to think of something else. There was a closet in the corner, with a warped door. Adam hurried over to it and tried to find anything that might be of use to him. It held an old, moldering roll of carpet, some canvas drop cloths, a coffee can full of mismatched screws and bent nails, and a cracked mirror. Adam looked toward the door once more, calculating. He might be able to pull it off, but he would be taking a big risk of discovery. Perhaps he should wait for a better opportunity. If Guise and his men found out that Adam was trying to get Ryan away . . . No. He had already waited for a better opportunity once, and ended up watching Ryan being slowly tortured. After all Macleod had done for Adam -- and for the rest of the Immortals in the world -- he couldn't just stand by while the man's protege was slaughtered. That aside from the fact that if Guise beheaded Ryan, Adam would _certainly_ be discovered, and the quickening would leave him helpless. He started to break the mirror out of its frame, separating the biggest piece from all the smaller fragments. In his haste, he left smears of his own blood along the edges. With spit and the corner of his shirt, he tried to wipe the dust from the neglected glass. It did more to dirty his shirt than to clean the mirror. Next he uncuffed Ryan's wrists and dragged the gory body over to the darkest corner of the room, away from the windows and the single bare lightbulb. He propped the freed window slat against the wall, cutting off the direct line of sight to Ryan's head, and set the mirror in the corner at an angle. He had to keep hurrying back to the doorway to see if he had it adjusted properly, all the time trying to keep his movements as quiet as possible. A scrap of canvas tied to the chain above the hanging lightbulb cast a strategic shadow against the wall. It was almost convincing enough, Adam decided -- so long as no one decided to take a closer look. He returned to the center of the room, picked up Ryan's sword, and took a deep breath to prepare himself. Then he scuffled hastily across the floor, cried out, and kicked the chair against the wall. The door opened in seconds. Alan Guise came in and saw Adam standing with his back to the door and Ryan's sword in his hand. Ryan's body was collapsed against the wall, his head appearing to lie several feet away. Adam turned around with wide eyes, casually standing between Ryan and Guise and keeping his hold on the sword. The muscles along his spine tightened in anticipation of a fight. Guise cast a single glance at Ryan's still form and turned a furious glare upon Adam. "He -- he came after me," Adam stammered. "He got free and tried to kill me. I didn't have a choice." "Didn't you?" Guise growled, stepping forward. "I think you made your choice, Pierson -- exactly as you wanted. Now we can't get any more information from him." "I told you, his information would have been worthless anyway." "Would it? Or were you just too lily-livered to watch me get it out of him?" Guise glared up at Adam from close range. "There's no room for Immortal sympathizers among my people. Choose your side and stick to it." Adam swallowed. "I'm with you," he said as steadily as he could manage. Guise stared into his eyes for a long moment. "Fine," he said. He looked once more at Ryan's body, and Adam quivered. What if he had moved enough to see the mirror, or the board? "There's nothing more for us here," Guise said in a louder voice. "Let's clear out." Adam sighed with relief as Guise joined the other Hunters in the doorway. "I'll get rid of the body," he offered. Guise glanced back. "Don't bother. Just leave it." ===================== Adam slowed and rolled onto his back for a rest. "Less than a mile to go," he commented, glancing toward the lights bobbing across the water. "So that was the last you saw of Richie?" Duncan asked, treading water. "Just about. I was afraid they might decide to move the body after all, so I moved the mirror and the other stuff out of the way and rolled him up in a carpet. If they did take him somewhere to dump him, there's no reason they should have noticed that his head was still attached." "Unless he revived while they were moving him," Duncan returned grimly. "I suppose." Adam slapped his palm against the surface of the water. "I thought Guise was just going to leave him there! He didn't care if anyone found the body." "Well, apparently he did care." "We don't know that. Ryan might still have gotten away." "And never contacted me?" Duncan shook his head. "He has to be either dead or trapped somewhere. Otherwise he would have warned me that Guise was on the way." They were both silent for a few minutes. "Come on," Duncan said at last, turning toward the shore. "Let's get out of this damn water." Anne passed by the waiting area for emergency treatment and cast a measuring eye over the patients there. As she looked, a young man she didn't recognize came through the doors supporting an older man she knew quite well. "Joe?" she cried, moving quickly to help him to a seat. He was strangely dressed in a too-small sweatshirt, a too-large jacket, and jogging pants that barely reached his ankle. The other leg of the pants hung loose; he wasn't wearing his prosthesis. "What happened?" she asked. "A boating accident," Joe said tersely. "I'm fine, there's really no reason for me to be here." "We pulled him out of Puget Sound," the young man explained. "How long were you in the water, Joe?" Anne asked, noting his blue lips and clammy skin. "Just a couple of hours," Joe replied. He was shivering violently. "Hours! That water's less than 50 degrees at this time of year!" She nabbed a passing nurse and sent him to get blankets and a wheelchair. "Thanks for bringing him in, we'll take care of him now," she said to the young man. "I don't need a wheelchair," Joe protested. "Just get me a pair of crutches and I'll be fine." "Sorry, rules," Anne said cheerfully. She and the nurse shifted Joe into the chair and wheeled him down the hall. Half an hour later, Joe had stopped shivering and his temperature had come up two degrees. Anne frowned over his X-rays. "I don't see any water in your lungs, but those ribs are cracked," she reported. "Right where you have that bruise." She started to point to his chest, but Joe pulled the blankets tighter. "How did that happen?" "Must have been when I got knocked off the boat," Joe suggested. "You were with someone else, right? Why didn't they turn back and pick you up?" "They were a little preoccupied." "For that matter, why weren't you wearing a life jacket?" Anne set her hands on her hips. "Joe, did they throw you in the water on purpose?" "It's really not your business, Anne." "They were trying to kill you?" "Well, they didn't. I'm fine. When can I go home?" "What were they preoccupied with?" Anne glanced quickly around the ward. "Was Duncan there?" Joe didn't say anything. "Were they trying to kill him, too? Did he get away? Joe, talk to me!" "I don't know, Anne," Joe said softly. "That's one of the things I need to find out, as soon as I get out of here. Can I leave yet?" "Absolutely not. You need to have those ribs taped, and you really should be monitored overnight." "I can't stay here, Anne!" "You'll be safe here. Whoever they are, they can't come for you in a hospital. It's too public." "What about Macleod?" "I'll see what I can find out. In the meantime --" she glared at him "-- you stay put." Under the weight of her gaze, Joe leaned back on the table with a sigh.