He rested, drinking water to try to hydrate while he waited for the painkiller to take effect. Rio moaned a few times and grew restless, but eventually he quieted. Conner prepared for the journey slowly and with deliberation. The first thing to do was clean as many of his own wounds as possible. He used the Betadine, which burned like hell. Once he was certain he passed out, but as soon as he came around again, he sewed the worst of the wounds closed to keep from leaking more blood.

He had to pause several times, his body shuddering with pain, shaking so uncontrollably at times he couldn’t work the needle through his skin. He continued doggedly until he thought he’d done enough repairs to stay alive. The next step was to drag jeans over his lacerated legs. That was a hell of a lot harder than he’d imagined and hurt so much more that he actual rolled over onto his hands and knees and was sick.

He gathered weapons next, methodically preparing for the journey. He had to get Rio to a clearing where a helicopter could come pick him up. The others would be looking at the coordinates on the map they’d used for every contingency including this one. They’d be coming, but they needed a place to set down.

It took three tries to get Rio on his back. Each time Conner tried to heft him up, his legs turned rubbery and threatened to give out. Both men were sweating profusely by the time he managed to lift Rio up. Conner began with one step. One foot in front of the other. At first he was conscious of hurting Rio and tried to keep his stride smooth and even to jar him as little as possible, but within a matter of minutes, Conner realized it was going to be a long, bone-jarring journey for both of them.

He walked, or more accurately, he staggered as far as he could go toward his destination until his strength gave out and drove him to his knees. He put Rio carefully on the ground, gave him water and drank himself, both lying down until the air stopped burning in his lungs and he could push himself again to another effort.

By the second hour, Conner realized the others were long gone and no one was coming to relieve him. They were sticking to the plan and meeting at the rendezvous point with the helicopter. He really wasn’t all that certain he and Rio were going to make it there.

Rio was mumbling, his eyes glazed, his breathing shallow. Real fear bit at Conner with every step he took. He didn’t want to risk taking any more breaks. He forced each leg to work, concentrating on foot placement, calling on his leopard’s strength and endurance to help him put one foot in front of the other.