TAG
This is the standard disclaimer. They don't belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.
Warning: This story contains corporal punishment
~*~*~*~
Chapter 3
Blair slid an exchange slat into the outlet along with Daphne’s chip and punched in a few numbers on the keypad. He glanced nervously around the grungy mall, half expecting the sentinel to show up any minute. The collar was buzzing again with a low pitched thrum, prickling the skin on his neck and sending barely perceptible icy ripples through his system. The damn blemish on his butt had started to itch annoyingly, causing him to fidget restlessly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He alternately rubbed his butt, trying to alleviate the sting that still lingered from the previous night’s spanking, and scratched at his birthmark
The bus had gotten him to the northern outskirts of Last Stop and he’d hopped off at the only remaining trading district before the berg dwindled off to nothing.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath. The re-charge to Daphne’s power banks seemed to be taking forever.
A tinny sounding ping indicated the chip was finally recharged. Blair quickly popped the silver disc out of the slot and into its small black carrier. He extracted the earpiece and fitted it into his left ear and the interface immediately chimed to life.
‘Yes Blair, full charge.’
‘This damn collar is dancin’. We need to shuffle.’
Blair fumbled with his bags; he shrugged into his backpack and slung his duffle up onto his left shoulder as he began to walk toward the edge of town.
‘There is a message from Ezekiel.’
An apprehensive shudder pulsed through his body and Blair lurched to a stop. He leaned up against the wall of a nearby tavern and took a deep breath as his inner voice whispered.
‘The trumpets will blow and the walls will tumble down. The accursed shall die, but those of the house of Rahab shall---‘
Blair rolled his eyes and shook his head.
‘Yeah, yeah, I get the vid.’
“Leave it to good ole GL to spout a sermon just to say, ‘See you soon’,” Blair mumbled sarcastically. “And they say I know how to razz-dazz,” he chuffed as he pushed off from the wall, and resumed his trek.
~*~*~*~
Jim and H made their way north through the back alleys and side streets of Last Stop. Jim had seamlessly fallen into Sentinel prowl mode once again, relying mainly on his sense of smell and the faint, but steady, buzz of the tag to keep him on track.
H easily kept up with the pace Jim had set, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings and allowing Jim to concentrate on the skate. He’d worked with Jim long enough to recognize which sense the sentinel was using, and wondered what it was about the kid’s scent that left a trail for Jim to follow.
When he noticed Jim clasping and unclasping the band on his wrist, he realized it was more than a unique odor that urged the sentinel on.
The two men turned in to a wide alley, splashing their way through puddles, kicking piles of trash and detritus out of their way as they followed the maze-like path for several minutes. Jim hung close to one side of the alley, but every now and then would turn his head, as if catching a whiff of something, or someone, across the way. They rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt as the passageway ended at a brick wall several stories high.
Jim growled in frustration as he realized the kid had hugged the one wall on the way in, but then doubled back out of the alley, hugging the opposite wall, causing the fleeting scent he’d picked up.
H bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling as he watched Jim kick the wall and grumble threats about what he was going to do to the kid when he got hold of him.
Then Jim turned and began jogging double-time, back the way they’d come. He shot H a warning look, clearly projecting that no comments or smart-ass remarks would be appreciated. H clamped his mouth shut and once again fell in step with his friend.
The radio crackled to life a minute later.
“Jim, you there?” Joel questioned.
“Yeah, you got something?” Jim answered.
“Yup. We’re at an on-off and a couple eyeballs say the kid jumped a cross town, heading to the trade district in Z sector,” Joel said. “I’ve zapped your twenty, we’ll swing over.”
Jim and H slowed their pace to a walk.
“Z sector?” H wondered out loud. “Where’s that?”
“Oh, it’s about as far north as you can get in Last Stop and still be in Last Stop,” Joel explained. “My eyeball says Blair makes this trek on a regular basis,” he added.
“And?” Jim prompted, hearing the slight hesitation in Joel’s voice.
“And,” Joel continued, “Well, you heard the scutt Twist snagged about the kid. My eyeball says the kid skitters to Z and then ghosts for a day or three at a time.”
“Into the Zone for a howdy-do with Ezekiel,” Jim finished with a long drawn out breath.
“Could be,” Joel agreed. “It’s still just scutt.”
A few minutes later, all four men were in the hover, heading north.
“What about you, Rafe,” Jim inquired from behind Joel. “What’d you snag from central? Anything?”
“Not much,” Rafe answered. He typed a command into the onboard comp and the display came up on the screen in the back seat.
“A birth record, from the old Colorado territory. Nothing about a Nine-Six-One classification, or Senty/G testing at all for that matter. No school records, no Juvie registration number either.” Rafe shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at Jim. “But if he and his,” he peeked again at the display, “mother were Zoners from the get-go, there wouldn’t be.”
“Which means, now that he’s outta the Zone, he’s an unclaimed Underage,” H stated.
“Was,” Jim corrected. He tapped the silver band on his wrist. “Illegal tag or not, this puts him in my custody.”
“This whole thing doesn’t make any sense,” H ventured. “I mean, why would he skitter in and out of the Zone? What kinda work could he possibly be doing for Ezekiel?”
Jim sat back and rubbed at the base of his neck, massaging a few small kinks.
“Gathering in-tell, maybe,” Jim said. “He was tapping some information systems back at that grungy dozer of his.”
“In-tell? What kind of in-tell? And why?” Joel asked incredulously. “Why would anyone in their right mind help that nutcase gather in-tell?”
“Who knows? Maybe ole Zeke got a message to find out what’s playing at the Vid-Plex,” Rafe interjected sarcastically. “And if Zeke decided the kid was the one who needed to snag the info, then that’s who he’d send. It’s not like the kid would really have any choice,” he added bitterly.
The three older members of the squad turned their attention to Rafe, giving him looks of quiet understanding and support.
“Tell us,” Joel urged, laying a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Rafe stared at the display screen for a second and then took a deep breath before looking up at the others. “Nobody does anything in the Zone without Ezekiel’s okay. I don’t mean he oversees everything personally, it’s just his edicts, you know? The Inner Circle decides where you live, where you work, who goes to school and what they’re allowed to learn. Remember what a dumb shit I was back when?” Rafe asked as he grinned crookedly at Joel.
“Not dumb,” Joel corrected with a mock swipe at the back of Rafe’s head. “Not by a long shot, just no by the book schooling. You caught up damn fast, as I recall.”
Rafe just shrugged and his smile petered out as he continued.
“Marriages have to be approved. Couples are encouraged to have children, but once they do, the parents have to separate; they live and work in two different parts of the Zone and can only see each other on scheduled Zone-Days. No one travels within the Zone without paper. Kids stay with one parent until they’re twelve and then they’re sent to the youth communes. There’s always an unspoken threat that something will happen to a loved one if you step out of line. Plus,” Rafe pointed out emphatically, “He’s crazy.”
“Yeah, well, the sooner we catch up with the Bait, the sooner we’ll get some answers,” Jim stated.
~*~*~*~
The shielding surrounding the Free Zone was a high-powered electro-statically charged field. It served two main purposes…to keep Unbelievers out and to keep the Faithful in.
It wasn’t impenetrable, although passing through it could deliver a mild to severe shock that often dealt a disabling blow or even death. That is, if anyone got close enough to try it. Sensors, placed in an inner perimeter, alerted the Soldiers of the Guiding Light to any activity within five miles of the shield, and the majority of those who tried to leave the Zone never made it as far as the shield.
In the Early Days, the Free Zone had continued to attract new followers and passage into the Zone was allowed, as well as limited trade with the Outside. But within a short time, there were more Faithful wishing to leave than enter, so the borders were closed.
At first, this saddened and confused Ezekiel; he didn’t understand why anyone would question his teachings. Eventually it angered him that his followers were so weak as to find his Way oppressive. His Purpose was to save them all from the evils and dangers of the godless Outside, prompted only by his unselfish love of his followers. They were like children, blind to the evilness of their former lives, and easily tempted to return to it. And like a good father, Ezekiel endeavored to save them from themselves. There would come a day, he was sure, when they would thank him for it.
Within six months, under the Guiding Light’s restrictive policies, it became increasingly difficult to leave the Zone and the Faithful had little choice but to fall into a grudging acceptance of the Way. Trade agreements continued for a few years, allowing small caravans in and out under tight restrictions. Many years passed; fewer and fewer of the Faithful escaped.
The same shielding that made it difficult for Outsiders to enter and the Faithful to leave also prevented most types of communication in or out. It effectively cut the Zone off from the Outside.
This suited Ezekiel just fine and for years the Zone was ignorant of what went on in the Outside, and vice versa.
And then Caleb found his way into the Zone, explaining a growing disillusion with his life on the Outside as reason enough to risk passage through the shield. He’d barely survived the ordeal, and used it as a means to draw the attention of the Inner Circle.
The ex-military man was almost as charismatic as the Guiding Light himself and he soon distinguished himself as a true follower and was granted passage to Glory and a meeting with Ezekiel. It didn’t take long for him earn a place in the Inner Circle.
Caleb brought news of life on the Outside - continuing conflicts between territories and huge swathes of land still uninhabitable due to radiation or natural catastrophes. His stories bolstered Ezekiel’s convictions about keeping the Free Zone cut off. His calm intelligence provided a needed counterpoint to Micah’s crude, overzealous protection of Ezekiel. He soon gained the confidence of both Ezekiel and Micah, and became Ezekiel’s Right Hand.
And when Blair had received his ‘calling’ as Chosen, he and Naomi came to live in Glory with the Inner Circle. An otherworldly calm settled over Ezekiel when Naomi had arrived and she soon became his Hope.
It was Caleb who had convinced Ezekiel to send the Chosen on his mission to the Outside.
~*~*~*~
Blair scurried along the same zigzag path into the Zone he’d used just the day before to return to Last Stop. The harmonic frequency of the shield had been re-programmed to allow a path for the Chosen. The shield opened and closed in a pattern known only to the Chosen and Caleb. The trek in and out of the Zone had to be timed to coincide with when and where the shield would be open. It made the seven mile hike into the Zone a two day endeavor, as he needed to stop and wait, sometimes for hours, between openings.
Daphne had been specially programmed so encoded messages could be sent through the shield, allowing the Chosen to keep in touch with the Guiding Light during his time on the Outside.
Blair planned his entry into the Zone to leave as little time as possible for the sentinel to catch up with him. He was pretty sure he’d slowed the Badge’s progress by the few tricks he’d used, but he didn’t delude himself into thinking the sentinel wasn’t following him; the collar was letting him know the sentinel was on track…and he was not happy. If he could stay just far enough ahead, he’d be through the first two openings in the shield before sunset, leaving the sentinel and his team way behind, trapped on the other side of the shield until the next day at least.
He stepped up his pace and reached the first point where the shield would open in the early afternoon. He only had to wait about fifteen minutes before he heard the telltale snapping…click, click, clickety-click, click…that signaled it was safe to proceed. The shield would remain open for approximately an hour and then close again for another twelve hours.
Blair hoped with all his might that the sentinel was at least an hour and one second behind him.
He made good time to the second point, and took a few minutes to catch his breath. He rummaged through his backpack and retrieved a nutrition bar and water. He settled himself under the large oak tree he always sat beneath while waiting for the shield to open. He squirmed a bit as his butt made contact with the hard ground, but soon found a comfortable position and sighed in relief as he realized the pain in his posterior was beginning to lessen. A half hour later the shield clicked open and he was on his way again.
The going was a little rougher over the next couple of miles and Blair slowed down. There was no point in hurrying now anyway; the next opening wouldn’t come until morning. He continued on past the spot he usually camped, and found a spot closer to the shield opening point before bedding down for the night.
He made a small fire, ate a little, and then stretched out on a patch of soft grass, using his duffle as a pillow. He shook the kinks from his arms and legs, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply, trying to achieve a state of meditation. He gave up after a few minutes as the birthmark on his rear end began to itch again. He willed himself not to think about the sentinel or Ezekiel or the next day. He pulled Daphne from the travel-pac and engaged the neural interface.
‘Yes Blair. I have plenty of power. There has not been much for me to do.’
‘I know, Daf. What about now? Pickin’ up anything wonky?’
‘You seem a little on edge.’
‘No shit.’
‘The collar is strange. I do not understand the vibrations it emits or the way it affects you.’
‘Yeah, well, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.’
‘But---‘
‘Not now, Daf.
‘All right.’
Anything from Ezekiel?’
‘No.’
‘Better power down, big day tomorrow.’
Blair tucked Daphne away and wiggled into a comfortable position. He gazed at the stars for a while, drinking in their beauty and mystery until his eyelids began to flutter and he drifted toward sleep. The collar hummed and he tugged at it experimentally, trying to free it from his neck. He suddenly felt very peculiar, and cold slivers of an unidentified need pulsed through him, pulling at him. He tossed and turned, trying to rid himself of the feeling, but it persisted.
He slept fitfully as he fought the tag.
~*~*~*~
Jim easily picked up his guide’s trail once the team reached the on-off where Blair had jumped off the bus. He and H were once again on foot, with Rafe and Joel following in the hover car. Jim led H past the mall where Blair had stopped to recharge Daphne.
“He went in there,” Jim stated offhandedly. “But he’s not there now.” He ran his fingertips over the smooth surface of the band at his wrist and then pointed straight ahead with a determined look. “I’m not falling for any more of his yoo-hoo’s.”
He fell into an easy lope and the team was soon well outside of Last Stop. They came to a halt a mile or so away as Jim held up his hand.
“We’re on foot from here. We’re gonna be moving fast, so pack light and button up the hover.” Jim barked the orders, following his own commands as he did so. “He doesn’t know he’s doing it, but he’s giving me directions through the tag.”
“Are you sure, Jim?” Joel asked. “He snazzled you back at the train yards.”
“Yup, but not a second time. The Bait thinks I’m a slow learner, remember? The tag works both ways and the little shit thinks he’s the only one who knows how to use it.” Jim smiled cunningly. “He needs to concentrate on where he’s going and what he’s doing in order to flit into the Zone---something about having to be in the right place at the right time. He thinks he’s got enough of a jump that we won’t be able to catch up.”
Jim unerringly traced Blair’s crooked path into the Zone. The team reached the first opening point well before it was due to close. Jim’s hearing and sense of touch easily recognized the buzzing and crackling of the shield and his eyes picked out the shield’s subtle flickering of blue-white particles not visible to normal sight. He had no problem detecting where the opening was.
“I get it now, Bait,” he said to the air, nodding his head. He turned to face his team. “The shield is timed to open and close at certain points along the way. If we miss it when it opens, we’ll have to wait until the next round. You can bet your ass the Bait knows when and where it opens, though, so we’d better scramble.”
The team jogged steadily onward at a fast clip. The sentinel had imprinted his guide’s scent almost immediately and the distinctive smell guided him along the path to the second point. They reached it with only moments to spare. Jim sensed the impending change in the shield’s frequency and rushed his team through.
It was well after dark when the Panther squad finally spotted the glow of Blair’s small fire against the blackness. They moved to within twenty yards and Jim directed them to set up their own camp and hunker down for the night.
Once his team was settled, the sentinel crept stealthily into his guide’s camp. He stood next to the sleeping figure, watching his guide’s antsy movements. A blanket of calm enveloped him as the presence of his guide and the hum of the tag soothed his frayed senses.
“Sleep well, Bait,” he whispered with a sincere promise. “You and I have a lot to ‘discuss’ come morning.”
~*~*~*~
At some point during the night, Blair’s restlessness abated. Warm shards flowing gently across his psyche gradually replaced the cold slivers of need that had been pulsing through him, taunting him as he fought against the tag. Strange, blue-hazed dreams skittered and danced across his mind. The tag nudged him, pushing him toward synchronization with the sentinel.
Blair woke with a start and sat bolt upright.
“No!” he screeched breathlessly.
There was something not quite right. Things felt just the tiniest bit off. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings as he rubbed at his eyes and shoved clumps of curls out of his line of vision.
He blinked slowly a few times as he gazed down at his legs and feet and then it slowly dawned on him that someone was standing over him. He gulped nervously as his gaze swung unsteadily upward until he found himself staring into the narrowed, steely-blue eyes of one extremely irritated sentinel.
Jim reached down and grabbed hold of Blair by the front of his shirt. He hauled the kid to his feet before the first startled exclamation of “Shit!” had a chance to be spit at him. Jim kept right on pulling Blair upward until the kid’s toes barely touched the ground and sentinel and guide were nose to nose.
“Mornin’,” Jim purred silkily between clenched teeth.
Blair’s mouth was suddenly dry and he gulped audibly before a squeaking out, “M-m-morning.”
Jim set his guide back on his feet but didn’t release his hold.
“You’ve got two minutes to take care of business, Bait,” he ordered calmly. He let go of Blair and spun him around. He propelled him toward a tree with a hard swat to his butt.
Blair spun back around…mouth open, ready to protest.
Jim just spun him around once again and this time two hard smacks landed on Blair’s behind.
“Move it!” Jim snapped.
Blair shuffled off, glancing back over his shoulder, shooting death-wish looks at Jim. He rubbed his butt and took a cursory look around, assessing his chance at flight.
“Don’t even think, Bait,” Jim warned, easily reading the kid’s thoughts.
Blair’s mind raced as he relieved himself, wondering how the sentinel had managed to catch up to him and how he was going to shake him this time.
“I’m a Sentinel, that’s how,” Jim stated in a calm voice, answering Blair’s thoughts. “And no way you’re gonna pull another Twist and skeddadle again.”
Blair jumped at the sound of Jim’s voice coming from right next to his left shoulder. The sentinel’s warm breath tickled the nape of his neck, sending goose bumps down his spine. He fumbled with his fly, hurriedly adjusting the baggy linen trousers.
Jim huffed and shook his head as he grabbed Blair by the elbow and escorted him unceremoniously to a large flat boulder a few feet away.
Blair struggled, writhing like a spitfire and protesting loudly. He cursed Jim wildly as the sentinel sat down and pulled his guide down with him, draping the kid over one knee. He held Blair in place with a hand on the kid’s neck while he yanked the baggy pants off the scrawny butt. He eased Blair forward a bit, maneuvering his backside into position as he swung his right leg up and over Blair’s legs. He moved his hand to a spot between Blair’s shoulder blades, holding him firmly in place…head down and backside up.
Blair’s face was nearly in the dirt and his sleep-tousled curls brushed the grass. He spluttered incoherently for a few moments as he tried to spit hair and dust from his mouth. He clutched furiously at the ground, trying to gain some leverage to push off Jim’s knee.
Without any preamble, Jim began spanking Blair’s bare butt. He ignored his guide’s outraged protests and insults, and concentrated on his task. He peppered every inch of the wiggling bottom with sure, hard wallops. The exposed flesh quickly warmed and blushed to a rosy pink.
“Lemme up, you scuzz headed mutant motherless sentinel,” Blair yelped. He squirmed enthusiastically, trying to escape the punishing swats, but the harder he wiggled, the more firmly Jim’s hand pressed into his back and the spanks came down harder.
With his backside on fire, and the sentinel showing no signs of slowing down, Blair soon tired. He gave up trying to extricate himself from Jim’s hold. Tears began to pool and he bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to keep from crying, but to no avail. The rapid-fire turn of events over the last forty-eight hours, coupled with his frantic flight and apprehension about the upcoming meeting with Ezekiel finally took its toll. Tears rolled down his cheeks and Blair gave in to muttered half-hearted apologies.
Judging that the defiance had drained from his untamed guide, Jim ended the spanking with a final round of well-placed smacks to the dead center of the beet red bottom.
It took a few minutes for Blair to realize the spanking was over. He sniffled and swiped at his nose and eyes.
And then he realized the stinkin’ sentinel was rubbing his back…and murmuring soothing assurances like, “It’s over. It’ll be all right.” Blair didn’t know what to make of it; he continued sniffling and hiccupping.
When he felt the trembling and sobbing begin to subside, Jim slid his leg off the kid’s legs and pulled the pants back up and over the crimson butt as he eased Blair to his feet.
Blair just stood there for a moment, rocking slightly, hugging his arms to his middle and looking like a lost little puppy.
Jim heaved a sigh, feeling uncertainty and anger pouring off his guide in waves. As he reached out to pull the youngster to him, the tag tingled with a barely perceptible warning. Blair lunged at Jim; swinging his arm up and rounding on him with a tight fist, clearly aiming to punch him in the face.
Jim responded to the telegraphed warning and grabbed Blair’s wrist, stopping the blow from landing. Blair glared at him with glistening eyes, huffing in short breaths. Jim shook the trembling arm once in a silent warning before giving in to his initial reaction to the kid’s confused state. He used the leverage of his hold on Blair’s wrist to tug the kid forward. Then he let go and wrapped his arms around his guide, hugging him tightly.
Blair struggled against Jim’s hold and tried to shove him away. He slapped the broad chest ineffectually, twisting his torso and bumping his thighs, knees and hips against Jim’s legs.
Jim was having none of it, and gave the youngster a warning slap on the butt. “Stop it, Blair,” he ordered gently.
Blair gave in then with a deflated huff, too confused and too tired, to do anything else. He buried his face in Jim’s shirt and cried.
“Y-you stinkin’ sentinel,” he hiccupped. “It-it-it’s not fair. It’s not,” he murmured.
“I know,” Jim commiserated. “I know,” he repeated. “You feel it, don’t you? The tag? The connection? We need each other,” he explained.
Blair trembled and shook his head vehemently against Jim’s chest, not really wanting to admit it, but no longer able to deny it.
“I don’t want it,” he spat out. “I don’t like it. It chisels, man.”
Jim chuckled and nodded his head. He gave his guide another quick, reassuring squeeze and released his hold but didn’t let him move out of his personal space. He scowled at the youngster menacingly.
“If you ever try to punch me again, kiddo, I’ll give you a paddling that’ll knock your socks off.”
“See? See!” Blair yelled as he threw his arms up in the air and paced away from Jim. “What the hell is that all about?” He rubbed his burning butt, emphasizing the question. “You barge into my life, force this whole whackoid me sentinel you guide crap on me, then roast my ass not once, not twice but three bee-linkin’ times!”
Blair bounced and danced around the small area, alternately waving his arms, swiping at his tear streaked face, pointing a finger accusingly at Jim, and massaging his behind.
“And then!” he continued, not coming up for air, “And then you hug me? And then threaten to paddle me again---?”
“Wasn’t a threat, Bait,” Jim interjected with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a promise.”
Blair stopped his hyper movements and stared at Jim in disbelief, mouth hanging open.
“As a matter of fact,” Jim went on, not allowing Blair a chance to comment, “I intend to warm your bottom a few more times for,” he started ticking off a list by holding up one finger after another, “sticky-fingering my rations, pirating juice and tappity-tapping databases back at your grungy dozer in Last Stop, using that little babble-ball to mess with the tag, and for leading me on this little spin-dash into the Zone.”
“What! You, you, you---!” Blair sputtered as his mind scrambled to come up with just the right slanderous retort to fling at Jim.
Just then the low rumbling sound of someone clearing his throat came from behind Blair, causing him to flinch. His mouth snapped shut and he rolled his eyes before squeezing them into tight little slits and shooting Jim a malicious look. He stormed past the Badge and wordlessly began gathering his gear.
“We’re, ah, just about saddled up, Jim,” H said hesitantly, giving Jim a questioning shrug. He watched for a minute as Blair stomped around the small campsite, snatching up the few items lying about. Then he threw a look over his shoulder at the other camp. “Figured I’d better come get you two before those two scarf down all the chow.”
Jim sniffed the air appreciatively. “Joel got ambitious, huh?”
H nodded. “Yep,” he chuckled. “Said ta hell with another day of cold rations.”
“Let’s move it,” Jim directed at Blair, growing a little impatient as the smell of fresh coffee and flapjacks beckoned. He watched his guide make a production of tediously packing up his things.
Blair pointedly ignored the two men as he went about pulling things from his duffle and backpack. He took his time arranging and rearranging the items, packing and repacking. He very deliberately directed nothing but petulant, displeased vibrations concerning his predicament along the tag’s connection, hoping his actions and the smell of breakfast would be enough to distract the sentinel.
Jim had left his gear, except for his holstered gun, vest and light-pack, at the team’s camp the night before. He busied himself with putting the vest on, adjusting the holster and pack, and doing a sensory sweep of the area as Blair continued his lollygagging.
And then in a flash, Blair snatched up his backpack and took off at a run, heading away from Jim and H.
In the same instant, Jim sensed a change in the air around him as the shield hissed and clicked, signaling the impending opening.
“I don’t believe it,” Jim muttered with a growl as he dashed after Blair. “Grab his stuff,” he called out to H, “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Blair hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards, when he slowed to a stop. He turned to watch as Jim came pounding after him.
The sentinel had covered about half the ground between himself and his guide when he realized the shield was already closing.
“H! Get the others!” He bellowed over his shoulder as he increased his speed. “The shield!”
Hearing Jim’s shout, H dropped Blair’s duffle and turned toward the Panther team’s camp. He cupped his hands to his mouth, sucked his lower lip under his teeth and whistled shrilly, attracting the attention of Joel and Rafe. Using hand signals, he quickly motioned to the others what was going on and directed them to drop everything and join him. Then he took off after Jim.
Jim jacked up his vision, zeroing in on the route Blair had taken, and was able to discern the shimmering outline of the rapidly diminishing rift in the shield.
Blair was bouncing anxiously, waving his hands at Jim, trying to shoo him away. “Go back,” he yelled. “Go back! You won’t make it!”
The band on Jim’s wrist was humming crazily, in sync with the collar on Blair’s neck, as he ran faster toward the dwindling opening. The need to get to his guide was overwhelming, blocking all other thought. The threat of the closing shield narrowed his purpose to one goal---get to the guide.
H came running up and slid to a stop as a twist of purplish light enveloped Jim and sent him flying through the air with a loud pop. Five seconds later, Joel and Rafe barreled into him and all three men stumbled and grabbed at each other to avoid plowing into the shield.
Jim could feel the heat and electricity of the shield as it closed around him, hurling him through the air with a burning jolt. He landed on his stomach with a thud. His head swam and his vision blurred. He heard the erratic thumping of his guide’s rapidly approaching heartbeat, and was aware for a brief moment of Blair dropping to his knees next to him. He felt dazed and his limbs seemed to be frozen. He managed to twist his neck a bit, groaning in agony at the movement. He looked up to see Blair’s terrified face looming over him, his features bobbling and contorting. Jim tried to reach out and touch his guide, but his arm refused to cooperate. His eyes quivered and rolled upward, revealing the whites, just before he blacked out.
End Chapter 3