TAG

By Caillech

caillech2000@yahoo.com

http://www.arkwolf.com/caillechsite/index.html

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.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to Spacepixell for beta-ing.

Warning: This story contains corporal punishment.

~*~*~*~

Chapter 5

As soon as Jim declared his intention to help Blair retrieve Naomi from Ezekiel’s clutches, the sentinel took complete, no talkback from a squirmy guide, charge of the situation. And the first order of business was to square things with the Panther squad. Which meant, instead of heading toward the meet with Ezekiel, they were once again at the shield.

Since his team already knew who Blair was, Jim made quick, one-sided introductions for the benefit of his guide. “Joel Taggart, Henri Brown,” he said, pointing to each of the men in turn. “But we just call him H,” Jim clarified with an added finger waggle at Brown.

Joel and H tilted their heads in acknowledgement, understanding Jim’s actions, if not his garbled voice.

Jim waved his hand in Rafe’s direction, “And the fidgety little cuss is Rafe,” he added with a tiny smirk.

Rafe couldn’t hear Jim’s words, but he caught the gesture and facial expression leveled at him. He rolled his eyes before giving Jim a sour look.

Blair stood a few feet away from Jim, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. He offered a half-hearted wave, remembering the last less then cordial hand signal he’d flipped at the three men. He rubbed his butt and kicked the ground as his gaze bounced around anxiously.

Jim and Joel started to discuss a plan of action by means of a mixture of hand signals and half-words, which degenerated rapidly into a shouting match, the two men clearly at odds with each other. Blair could only pick up bit and pieces of what Joel was hollering, but Jim’s side of the difference of opinion was loud and clear. He wanted the team to skedaddle from the Zone pronto, backtracking along the route they’d come. They were a good enough team that Jim knew one, if not all three of the men, had twigged the track and would be able to negotiate the timed shield openings.

Joel seemed equally insistent that the Panther squad wasn’t going to leave without all team members in tow. He adamantly stood his ground, countering every one of Jim’s pronouncements with one of his own.

Blair grunted in annoyed frustration as he watched the swift flurry of hand signals that flew back and forth. He noticed H and Rafe seemed to take the entire exchange in stride, shaking their heads and elbowing each other periodically as they waited for the battle of wills to play out between Jim and Joel.

They were wasting too much time, and Blair’s agitation grew, tripping along the tag, frazzling Jim’s composure and fueling his annoyance. A low-throated roar emanated from the sentinel. It resonated through the shield, causing all three men on the other side to jump in surprise. Jim signaled quite emphatically that the Panther squad was to head for safety.

Seeing the almost manic look on Jim’s face, Joel capitulated. He raised his hands to chest height, surrender-style, and then gestured the team’s compliance. Jim studied him intently for a few minutes, but Joel didn’t flinch under his friend’s scrutiny. Blair took a step closer, and laid a hand on Jim’s forearm.

Jim relaxed then, and nodded at Joel. He turned around and scooped up the gear that’d been scattered earlier. He spoke to Blair as he secured his vest and pack.

“Let’s head out, Bait,” he said, jutting his chin in a curt nod toward the northeast.

“Finally!” Blair exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air. He spun about, not waiting for Jim to bestow any further blessings on the crusade, or chance another delay. “I coulda dashed, howdy-do’d ole Zeke, and waltzed Naomi outta there double-barreled in all the time that’s been frittered,” Blair blathered as he hustled off.

Joel watched as Jim quick-stepped to catch up to Blair, and kept his eyes trained on the pair until they disappeared from sight. He waited another five minutes, rooted to the spot, as H and Rafe wandered back to the team’s campsite and began packing up.

Once Jim and Blair were well on their way, Joel joined his teammates. He pitched in, helping to break camp quickly. When they were done, H and Rafe turned to backtrack out of the Zone. Joel headed in the opposite direction.

“Uh, Joel?” Rafe called out, thrusting his thumb toward the way out. “It’s thataway.”

Joel shook his head. “Ain’t no tag-happied bullheaded sentinel gonna tell me to leave a man behind, no siree.” He continued walking, waving at H and Rafe to come along. “I’m boss-man for the duration of this little get-go. So move your asses.”

“All right!” H exclaimed, as the two men sprinted to catch up to Joel. “That’s more like it,” he beamed with an enthusiastic nod. The three men fell in step and ambled back to the spot where the shield had opened.

Joel dropped his gear on the ground and placed his hands on his hips. “We’re staying right here ‘til they return, or the shield pops open again and we go in after ‘em. So get comfy-cozy and make yourselves useful.” Joel’s eyes swept the area. “Twist? You think you can yoo-hoo Simon?”

Rafe’s face split into a wide grin as he dropped to his knees and shrugged his pack off his shoulders. He surveyed the terrain and then looked skyward as he yanked out his equipment. “You betcha, Bombshell, no botheration at all.”

~*~*~*~

Simon Banks stomped around his office, muttering to himself as he replayed the message from the Panther squad for the third time. His long legs made the circuit with a minimum of effort, yet he was huffing and snorting as if he’d just run a clip-dash into one of the rad zones. He rubbed the top of his head and scratched the back of his neck with irritated vigor as he chomped the tip of what was left of a cigar into tiny shreds of hard to come by, overpriced, nearly impossible to procure tobacco from one of the last outposts to still barter in the trade good.

The snake had come through on a zip-tight code-four signal, slithering its way around a myriad of obstacles and roundabouts to reach the Northwest Quadrant’s CO without an intercept. At first, Simon couldn’t understand why Rafe had sent a snake; the last yoo-hoo from the Panther team had been a fairly standard stat-quo, with jabber about their trek and button-down, plus a snag-req for data on the squirt Jim tagged. The youngster had pulled a Twist on the team, and rabbited, but they’d expected to snare him in short order and be looping back to HQ. Simon had sent con-firm that the squirt was underage and unclaimed, which automatically made Jim his legal keeper, even if the Tag was illegal.

Once Simon unzipped the signal, he immediately realized the need for the snake and nearly blew a gasket. His best team was split up and separated, stuck inside the Free Zone way beyond the regulation five hundred yard limit. If Rafe hadn’t been the best ears in the entire Olympic Territory, it was likely even a snake wouldn’t have been able to wiggle through the maze that had to be calc’d to find it’s way home, while avoiding any intercepts. The Panther Team was in violation of at least eight Territorial-Con-Fed treaties. Depending on the what-why of a situation, sentinels and guides were usually granted certain levels of immunity when there were infractions, but to the best of Simon’s recollection, it had never been put to the test over a Free Zone breach.

“Con-sarn rabblefrackin’ sunova---” Simon grumbled under his breath. He turned toward the computer console behind his desk and marched over to it. “Root-tootin’ lil squirt---” he ranted a little more loudly. “Computer!” he barked. “I need a 10-6-FZ, in god-blessit triplicate, and a dad-blastit S-G-4-dot-8 in,” Simon hesitated a moment, mentally tallying the number of high-up mucky-mucks in who knew how many split-offs he’d have to notify, “Oh hellinabucket, just keep it on deck,” he ordered. He tromped back across the room and flung his office door open. “Rhonda!” he hollered as he pulled the cigar from his mouth. “Find that good for nuthin’ old coot Wooly and tell him to get his butt in here! I need a set of ears that can shed a snakeskin for me and zigzag it back to its let-go.”

~*~*~*~

The morning sun had not yet risen high enough to warm the area where Ezekiel had set up camp. It was a desolate area of the Zone, far from Glory.

Naomi had never been to the place, but she knew immediately it was the meeting spot by the unusual landmarks framing the camp. The rock outcroppings towering overhead and ringing the area lent the appearance of cupped hands, with long beckoning fingers that appeared deceptively inviting from one angle, but twisted and evil from another. Naomi had often heard the men speak of the Grasp and she’d shivered at the sight and thought of her son within it’s forbidding embrace.

Wrapped in a light blanket to ward off the dew-laden chill, Naomi sat by herself, off away from the men, who were eating and talking. She appeared to be meditating; looking calm and serene on the outside, but on the inside she was bristling with mixed emotions. Since being informed of Blair’s return to the Zone, Naomi had had to use all her self-control not to fall apart, or erupt with anger, or strangle Ezekiel. She had to trust that Caleb would take care of things, as he’d promised.

Only Naomi knew the Hand’s true purpose for coming to the Zone and gaining Ezekiel’s trust, and it had nothing to do with his feigned disillusionment with life on the Outside. Caleb hadn’t planned on finding an ally inside the Zone, but he didn’t refuse Naomi’s help when she’d accidentally found him out and offered to help. The only thing she’d asked for in return was to keep it secret from her son and get him out of the Zone if possible.

So, Blair had been “chosen” by Ezekiel, at Caleb’s urging, to leave the Free Zone on whatever bizarre fact-finding mission had been decreed. While left alone to say their good-byes, Naomi had ordered Blair to take off, to flee as far from the Zone as possible and not look back. Blair had flatly refused, insisting he’d never leave Naomi behind at the mercy of Ezekiel. Instead, Blair had pleaded, begged, and finally charmed Ezekiel into an agreement that would allow Naomi and Blair an unprecedented amount of freedom within the Zone once he’d fulfilled his ordained mission and returned home.

Naomi knew it was a bargain Ezekiel would never keep.

Since Blair stubbornly refused to abandon his mother, Caleb conspired with a reluctant Naomi to take advantage of the situation. He pledged to arrange for Blair’s safety once the Chosen’s mission was fulfilled.

The knock and come on in’s that Caleb provided to Blair were totally harmless grab-bags, something to keep the kid busy and none the wiser, and provide the excuse needed for the meets inside the Zone. Caleb was amused, and impressed, that the little grubber skinnied all the data he filched before handing it over. But the true purpose of their meetings was for Caleb to send information out of the Zone. He’d been uncomfortable with the times Micah had gone to the meet in his place, but he did nothing to jeopardize Blair’s well being on those few occasions.

When the Jericho signal had come, it was totally unexpected. Caleb’s cohorts on the Outside were supposed to hook and net Blair when the time was right, preventing him from making a last trip into the Zone. Caleb had no idea what could have prompted the signal and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with its possible repercussions.

The men soon split up as Ezekiel meandered off by himself, to meditate and prepare to welcome the Chosen. He climbed to the top of a rocky ledge and looked out across the expanse of flatland to the south. The wind picked up, rippling his robes and whipping his hair about his face.

Naomi watched his movements, and shivered. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and waited.

~*~*~*~

Blair jogged along quickly, making a pretense of ignoring Jim. The sentinel kept up easily, matching Blair’s pace with long, effortless strides.

When Blair knew they were within a mile or so of the meeting place, he reached into his shirtsleeve and retrieved the neural link. He snatched a glance at Jim as he placed the earpiece between the two silver hoops in his left ear and waited for the interface to chime. Jim acted as if he didn’t notice the actions, or the kid’s covert looks.

‘Daf, you sizzlin’?’

‘Yes Blair, I was beginning to worry.’

‘No need, everything’s dee-lish.’

‘Something has changed. I am hearing…it sounds like an echo, a voice but not a voice. I am confused.’

“Damn!” Blair swore as he yanked the link out of his ear. He slowed, dropping behind Jim. He stopped, stomped his feet, and placed his hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he tried to compose himself, but instantly gave up.

“Get the hell outta my head, sentinel,” Blair demanded, purposely snarling the word derisively.

Jim tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Nope,” he replied, and kept walking.

“What!” Blair yelled. “You scabby, low-down, interfering, mutated, goat-coupling---,”

“You forgot scuzzheaded and twankin’,” Jim cut in with no attempt to disguise the humor in his voice. “But the goat-coupling thing is new,” he added with a nod of his head. He looked back again. “I’d rip that page outta your insult hit list if I were you,” he cautioned with a sharp look.

Blair gritted his teeth and scowled.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Head,” he intoned in a measured growl, ignoring the warning.

Jim stopped, turned slowly, and cocked his head in a manner indicating he either didn’t hear Blair, which was impossible, or Blair had better watch his tone.

Blair just continued to stare at Jim, fuming.

“Okay, look, Bait,” Jim said as he relaxed his stance, hooking one thumb onto his belt. “You’re the one who brought Darla into all this by letting her mess with the tag by doing that whole,” Jim waggled a hand, “misdirection who-ha back at the train yard.”

“Daphne,” Blair interrupted with an exasperated huff.

“Huh?” Jim questioned with a puzzled look.

Blair’s head lolled to the side, his eyes shifted skyward for a moment and then he trained them back on Jim. “Her name is Daphne, not Darla,” he clarified. He shook his head and snorted. “Jeez, Jim,” he chuckled.

“Right,” Jim agreed with a grin. “Daphne. Sorry. My point is if she can pick me up through the tag, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Blair looked skeptical, and conveyed his disbelief by body language and a less than subtle emotional jab shot along the tag, clearly accusing Jim of eavesdropping.

“I can’t hear what you two are saying to each other,” Jim said, “I can pick up on it, feel when you’re linked, that’s all.”

“Yeah?” Blair asked warily.

“Honest,” Jim assured with a nudge of his own through the tag. “So, what’s buzzin’?” he asked with a nod toward the earpiece still clenched in Blair’s fist. “Anything from Ezekiel? Anything vex-ating?”

The tag tingled warmly and Blair’s apprehension drifted away. “Oh, yeah, hang on a sec,” Blair answered. He re-fitted the earpiece and gave Jim a shy half-smile while he waited for the link to connect.

‘Daf?’

‘Is everything all right? The echo is still there.’

‘Not to worry, Daf, the echo is just Jim. You’re gonna hafta get used to it, at least until we calc a way to un-tag me.’

‘I do not detect a threat. In fact, just the opposite.’

‘Opposite?’

‘It is a very friendly echo. Protective. I trust it.’

‘Well that’s kookalicious, Daf, thanks for that little tidbit, but let’s focus on what ole Zeke is up to. Any buzz?’

Several seconds passed as Daphne scanned the frequencies she was tuned to.

‘Ezekiel sends his greetings and hopes that you are ready to meet him within the Grasp. He is anxiously awaiting your return to the fold and trusts that your time on the Outside and the telltales you have garnered will serve to strengthen---,’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get the vid. Is that a repeat meet and greet? Or is the old boy talking live up close and personal?’

‘It is a repeat, but if you had allowed me to finish, Ezekiel does express his wish for you to contact him real-time as soon as possible.’

“Zeke’s at the sit-talk and he’s yoo-hooing for a howdy-do from me,” Blair informed Jim.

“Do we know who’s with him?” Jim asked as he scanned the route ahead of them, looking for some sign to indicate where the Guiding Light was holed up.

Blair held up one hand as he checked with Daphne.

Jim squinted against the early morning sun, and detected wisps of smoke curling into the sky. He crinkled his nose, and the smells of an open-air breakfast wafted toward him. He was about to home in with his hearing, when Blair’s voice interrupted.

“Micah, Caleb,” Blair stated, “And---,”

“Who do we need to worry about?” Jim asked in a serious tone as he turned his attention to Blair.

“Caleb is called Ezekiel’s Right Hand. He’s the levelheaded one; helps keep old GL from completely bonking out over stuff. Kinda reminds me of you,” Blair added as an afterthought.

“In what way?” Jim wondered aloud, “Is it his scuzzheadiness or just his twankin’ personality?” he added with a laugh.

“Neither,” Blair answered seriously. “It’s totally his gung-ho, stick up the butt, soldier-man attitude.”

“Great,” Jim replied dryly, “What about the other guy?”

“Now him,” Blair advised with a pointed finger, “him you gotta watch. He’s called the Wrath cuz he’s got a short timer and he’s not firing on all pistons, if you follow. He’s mega loyal to Ezekiel and he’d do anything, I think, to protect him.” Blair shivered involuntarily.

“Got it,” Jim said, mentally taking note of Blair’s reactions. “That it? Anyone else skating along?”

Blair closed his eyes for a moment, as he questioned Daphne.

“Yes!” he exclaimed with a look of relief. “Hope, I mean Naomi, she’s with them.” He looked at Jim and smiled. “My mom,” he added in answer to Jim’s quizzical frown.

“Ah,” Jim acknowledged. “Is that it?”

“Yep,” Blair verified after a quick check with Daphne.

“Okay, Bait, here’s the sketch,” Jim said, “Send your howdy to Ezekiel. Keep it simple. Just a hey-ho and you’ll be there in no time, nothing else, got it?”

“Got it, jeez, it’s not like this is my first skip-dash,” Blair answered with an impatient wiggle.

‘Daf?’

‘Yes Blair?’

‘Send greetings to Ezekiel, no razz-dazz, just a howdy to let him know I’m on my way in.’

Blair puckered his lips, in and out; blowfish style, and bounced on the balls of his feet while Daphne sent the message. Several minutes crept by, and Jim raised his eyebrows questioningly. Blair shrugged, wrapped his arms around his chest, and squirmed impatiently.

‘Ezekiel sends his greetings and welcomes the Chosen home. He bids you not to tarry. He awaits you within the Grasp.’

‘Thanks, Daf. Now power down.’

Blair removed the neural link and put it back in its pocket. Nervous energy vibrated through his frame and jiggled along the tag.

“That’s it,” he informed Jim. “We’re good to go.” He adjusted the pack on his shoulders and started off.

“Not so fast, kiddo,” Jim said as he snagged Blair’s shirt collar and gave it a gentle tug, bringing Blair to an abrupt halt.

“What now?” Blair questioned petulantly as he spun about and grimaced impatiently.

Jim steeled his features and drew a deep breath. “Just this, Bait. This is different than the other in and out slogs you’ve trekked. I’m in charge from here on out, got it? I intend to get you, me, and your mom outta here in one piece, with as little bother as possible. So you’ll do as I say, when I say it, with no higgling from you. Do I make myself clear?”

Jim’s words were harsh sounding and commanding. But the tag buzzed insistently, infiltrating Blair’s inner being with a sense of warmth in seeming contradiction to the sentinel’s gruff demeanor.

For a moment, Blair was ready to put up an argument, to rail against Jim’s high-handedness. Jim read the hesitation in Blair and his eyebrows scrunched into a no-nonsense ridge. He shifted his stance, crossed his arms and let a subtle warning slide along the tag.

Blair fidgeted for another moment and then he felt a deep-seated sense of trust flitter through the tag and embed itself in his soul. He sucked in a lungful of air, and for the time being at least, capitulated.

“Sure, Jim, no need to get your skivvies warped,” he replied with a cheeky grin, “You sentinel,” he poked Jim in the chest with two fingers, giving him a slight shove, “me guide, right?”

And before Jim could reply to his guide’s cocky response, Blair whirled out of reach and resumed his course toward Ezekiel’s Grasp.

~*~*~*~

On the other side of the shield, the Panther squad went through their gear, sorting provisions and checking weapons. They took turns anxiously pacing and speculating about what Jim was up against, both in the upcoming encounter with Ezekiel as well as the guide he’d acquired. None of them had had much time to fully adjust to the notion of an addition to the team, especially an underage guide who was not exactly thrilled by the recent turn of events.

They talked for a while in low voices, recounting their mad dash from Cascade to Last Stop, and laughed for a bit about Blair’s in-Jim’s-face tenacity. Soon the need to talk dwindled away and they each found a spot to hunker down for a spell and relax a little.

As Rafe fiddled with his stuff, Joel seated himself on a nearby rock, adjusting his weight until he was comfortable. Then he settled in, watching Rafe guardedly, and waited. He could see it the split second the realization of where he was finally dawned on Rafe. The young face blanched and Rafe hitched a breath. Nerves recently on an adrenaline-high edge began to unwind and Rafe wandered around dazedly until he was within about an inch of the shield. He ran his palms up and down his thighs as he gazed through the invisible barrier, mere millimeters separating him from the Zone.

H caught Joel’s eye and the older man shook his head. H pursed his lips and nodded once, then went back to what he’d been doing.

Joel got up and walked over to Rafe, who seemed not to take notice of his approach.

Rafe was close enough to the shield to feel its energy, close enough to see dust motes swirl lazily in the air and splutter against the shield in flickering shimmers. He gazed off to the north and slowly lifted one hand, palm outward. The static electricity radiated a cool buzz through the air, buffeting his skin. His fingers twitched.

“Com’re, Twist,” Joel said as he clamped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder and hauled him back a few steps, pulling him up against his side. His hand slid down to Rafe’s upper arm and he hugged him hard, squeezing and kneading the tense muscles.

Rafe leaned into Joel’s embrace, relaxing against his foster father. He sighed heavily and shook his head, shooing away memories.

“Do you think he’s all right, J?” Rafe asked quietly, still staring at the desolate landscape. “Do you think I’ll ever see him again?”

“Aw, hell, son, I don’t know,” Joel consoled. “I sure hope so,” he added encouragingly.

Rafe’s only blood relative, the brother who’d arranged to smuggle him out of the Zone, was still in there somewhere, and Rafe wanted to believe with all his heart that he was alive and safe.

The two men stood silently for a moment before Rafe shouldered Joel and elbowed him in the gut. He looked at him with a gleam in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Rafe said, and he gave Joel a warm, sincere smile.

Joel just laughed a deep down rumbly belly laugh, and gave Rafe another quick hug.

A low-pitched buzz interrupted their moment, and Rafe pushed off Joel with a good-natured shove. He hurried over to his pack and grabbed the commlink. He slipped the small gadget into his ear and batted the mouthpiece out of the way. The tone of the signal indicated it was a response to the zipped code-four snake he’d released earlier. He listened intently, confirming the slither was from Simon, and gestured confirmation to his teammates. As the message played, Rafe paled a little and bit his lower lip. He could feel the tips of his ears start to turn pink. He plucked the earpiece out and thrust it toward Joel.

“What’s the jabber,” H interjected eagerly.

Rafe ignored H and waved the earpiece at Joel insistently. “Simon seems a mite miffed,” he offered. “You need to---,”

“Just spit it out, Twist,” Joel cut him off, and scowled at him impatiently.

Rafe shook his head and eyed Joel warily. “Nuh-uh, no way, no sir,” he started blathering as he held the earpiece out and waggled it, “The one and only time I ever used this kinda language, I was swallowing soap bubbles for a week and eatin’ all my meals standing up.”

Joel groaned and reached for the earpiece. Rafe dropped it into his hand as if it was burning his fingertips. H snorted and stifled a guffaw by covering his mouth with a fisted hand, as if he’d needed to cough, when Joel shot him a perturbed look.

“That’s right, laugh it up H-man,” Joel stated bleakly as he adjusted the earpiece. He winced as Simon’s bellowed tirade began its assault on his brain. “Looks like we might all be payin’ a visit to the woodshed when Simon gets hold of us.”

~*~*~*~

Jim’s gait slowed as the Grasp came into view. It was still at least a half-mile away but Jim was already casing the layout of the terrain.

Blair matched Jim’s pace and shivered dramatically. He held the straps of his shoulder pack with both hands and gripped them a little tighter. He tossed back his head, jutting his chin toward the rocky landmark.

“Creepoid, huh?” Blair said.

“Yeah, shhhh,” Jim replied thoughtfully, as he cocked his head to the side, listening. He easily filtered out any non-threatening noise and concentrated on what he could hear from within the Grasp. He counted three voices, all male.

“Your mom’s not much of a yapper is she?” Jim asked as he tried to pick out a woman’s voice.

Blair finally caught on to what Jim was doing and he started to vibrate excitedly.

“You can hear them from here? I’ve read that sentinels’ ranges vary depending on their natural abilities or training or a mishmash of things and when a guide’s along for the skate it can crank the scope. Is that it? Can you hear that far cuz I’m here? That’s, like, so frosty, man, and,” Blair finally addressed Jim’s question as his eyebrows arched and his eyes went wide, “You don’t know my mom.”

Jim was a sentinel classification Five-0-0 and didn’t need a guide for any reason, much less to hear things a mere half mile away. He was just about to clarify this for Blair, and remind him what ‘shhhh’ meant, when he felt a distinctive gut level drone emanating from the Grasp, infusing the air around him and prickling his senses.

“What the hell?” he growled as he turned toward Blair, seething with a raw, undefined emotion that zapped through the tag.

Blair’s mouth snapped shut and he backed a step away from Jim. He began to tremble and his hand went to his throat, not sure what he’d done. He remembered the fetter and how little they both knew about the tag’s auto-reacts. But the collar felt cold and loose and Blair breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed Jim’s fury was not directed at him.

“What, Jim?” Blair asked hesitantly. “What is it?”

Blair watched with fascination as Jim’s entire demeanor changed.

The sentinel’s stance became rigid, his face a stony mask. All his senses kicked into high gear and the tag’s link vibrated with the intensity of Jim’s concentration. Jim’s eyes never left Blair’s face.

Blair squirmed under the scrutiny, as Jim calmly angled his right arm out and behind, pointing toward the Grasp and asked a question that sent Blair’s heart plummeting into his stomach.

“Which one of them is a sentinel?”

~*~*~*~

“Oh crap,” Micah barked as he raced toward Ezekiel. “He’s having one of his fits. Hope! Dammit, woman, get over here!” He shouted over his shoulder as he scrambled up the ledge toward Ezekiel.

The Guiding Light was standing stock-still. His head lolled to the side and his mouth hung open. His eyelids fluttered rapidly over eyes that were dancing madly in their sockets. His brows furrowed and smoothed, twisting maniacally.

Naomi dashed over and hastily climbed upward, slipping and sliding as her dress snagged on rocks and scrub. She dropped to her knees next to Ezekiel and laid her head against his thigh, encircling his lower legs with her arms. She closed her eyes and started humming and whispering his name, as she rocked back and forth.

Caleb joined them a moment later. He glanced sidelong at Micah as he took in Ezekiel’s state.

“What the hell brought this on?” he demanded loudly.

“How should I know?” Micah yelled back. “He said he was preparing for the Chosen’s arrival and needed some time alone. Next thing I know, bam! He’s doing his mutant zombie routine.”

“The Chosen is not alone,” Ezekiel stated in a soft voice, causing the two men to jump. His eyes were now closed and his facial features had smoothed out into a look of intense concentration.

Naomi’s movements had stilled, and she remained kneeling next to Ezekiel. Her hands were now in her lap, but her head and upper shoulder stayed in contact with his leg.

“I can hear them, the Chosen and the one who accompanies him”, Ezekiel continued calmly, “and I can feel the stranger.” His eyes flew open then, and he looked around quickly, making eye contact with Micah and Caleb briefly. Then he directed his gaze toward the approach to the Grasp, and the two men turned and looked too.

There were two figures approaching, one ahead of the other, but they were too far off to see any distinguishing features. Caleb and Micah dashed to their tents and returned with binoculars. They each stiffened a little at what they saw. A tall, well-armed man, wearing Olympic Federated Territory insignia was marching purposefully toward them. Blair was with him, scurrying to keep up, his mouth and arms both going a mile a minute.

“Who are you?” Ezekiel asked the air, “Why have you come with the Chosen?”

The visitors came to an abrupt halt when Ezekiel spoke. Micah looked at Ezekiel and then at the approaching figures, and confusion spread across his face.

Jim hadn’t waited for an answer from Blair when he’d asked his question about another sentinel. He’d simply turned and resumed his trek toward the Grasp, stepping up his pace, moving with feline sureness. He stayed ahead of Blair, ignoring his guide’s babbling queries.

When he heard Ezekiel’s questions, he stopped and unceremoniously pushed Blair behind him.

“Hush,” Jim warned with a firm squeeze to Blair’s arm.

Blair shook his arm, trying to wiggle out of Jim’s grasp; he opened his mouth to say something, but his protest was cut short as Jim spun around. He latched on to one of Blair’s upper arms, and held up one finger in front of Blair’s face.

“Not one more word, Bait,” he mouthed. He pointed to his chest and reminded Blair who was in charge. He narrowed his eyes meaningfully and Blair fell silent.

Jim turned around again and spoke, “My name is Jim Ellison, and I’m looking to parley.” He held his hands up and out to the side, a non-threatening move that could be seen from the distance separating him from Ezekiel, and started to walk again. Blair followed along quietly.

Ezekiel hesitated for a moment, baffled by the stranger’s presence as well as his response. But the man was with the Chosen, and he showed no sign of fear; it appeared as if he was fully intent on proceeding whether Ezekiel agreed or not.

“Very well,” he said, “Come then.”

“Are you warped?” Micah snapped, staring unbelievingly at Ezekiel. “He’s an OFT Badge, he’s got no business here.”

Ezekiel quieted Micah with one of his condescending looks.

Caleb continued to gaze at Jim and Blair through his binoculars, tracking Jim and adjusting the sights until his face came into focus.

“Blessed be,” he whispered. He quickly cleared his throat, to cover his words, but Ezekiel was already looking at him quizzically. Naomi was also staring up at him, her eyes wide.

“Blessed be,” he repeated louder. “Perhaps the Chosen has found a lost soul to bring into the flock.”

Ezekiel inclined his head in agreement, his mind eased at his Right Hand’s lack of worry. Caleb acknowledged Ezekiel with a curt nod of his own, and flicked the fingertips of his left hand against his thigh in seemingly random tapping. Naomi lowered her head and covertly watched the movements.

Ten minutes later, Jim and Blair entered the Grasp. They walked toward the high ground where Ezekiel and his attendants were gathered. Jim circled the base of the outcropping until he found an easy way up.

The sentinel slowly made his way upward, sweeping the area constantly with his senses. Blair scurried up after him, bristling with nervous energy. Jim immediately placed himself between his guide and the four strangers, giving them all careful scrutiny.

It was obvious which one was Ezekiel; Jim remembered pictures of the Guiding Light from years earlier. He was older now, and a little thinner, and there were tiny age lines around his eyes and mouth. But even if he didn’t recognize him from memory, the man had a presence about him that radiated his status.

The woman kneeling at Ezekiel’s side, looking anxiously at Blair was, of course, Naomi.

Micah was certainly the man to the left of Ezekiel. He stood a little in front of his leader, positioned defensively. But that wasn’t the only giveaway; it was a simple process of elimination, because Jim knew the man standing off to Ezekiel’s right side. He and Caleb exchanged fervent glances, quickly acknowledging each other, but giving away nothing.

Ezekiel broke the tense silence by holding out his arms and beckoning Blair to him.

“Welcome home, Blair,” he intoned warmly. “Come, come back into my embrace.” He placed his hand on the top of Naomi’s head and tightened his fist in her hair. His other hand still beckoned.

His voice sent irritating prickles across Jim’s skin.

“Stay put,” Jim ordered firmly, and everyone but Blair seemed to know whom he was addressing.

Blair stepped around Jim and tried to lunge forward. Jim swung his arm out, thwacking Blair’s chest, preventing him from advancing.

“Jiiii-im,” Blair hissed as he grabbed Jim’s arm and dug his fingernails into his skin. “Leggo, willya?” he demanded petulantly. His frenetic movements caused sunlight to glint off the collar on his neck, catching Ezekiel’s eye. The dazzles jumped about in time with Blair’s thrashing, and were soon joined by the glimmering of the band on Jim’s wrist.

The untrained sentinel, unaware of his true nature and abilities, nonetheless suddenly fathomed the significance of Jim and Blair being together.

“What is that?” Ezekiel shouted angrily, pointing a quivering finger at Blair’s throat. “Release him,” he bellowed haughtily. “He belongs to me,” he sneered in a sickeningly sweet voice, “he is my Chosen.”

To emphasize his point, Ezekiel pulled Naomi’s hair, yanking her head back, eliciting a startled shriek from her.

At that point, things erupted chaotically. Micah moved toward Jim, ready to wrestle Blair away from him. Jim lowered the arm that was restraining Blair, and turned, in order to face the threat. At the same time, he tried to push Blair down and away and ordered him to take cover. Instead, Blair took advantage of the distraction to make a break and he stumbled toward Naomi. At the same instant, Caleb swooped in and hauled Naomi away from Ezekiel, gathering her into his arms and pulling her off to the side. Ezekiel didn’t resist Caleb’s efforts, assuming his Right Hand was acting to protect his Hope. He let go just as Blair reached him, and he grabbed onto Blair. He pulled him against his body, Blair’s back to his chest. He wrapped one hand around Blair’s neck, touching the collar, and covered Blair’s mouth with his other hand.

A desperate, throaty gasp escaped from Blair as the force with which Ezekiel wrenched him against his torso knocked the breath out of him. Blair’s eyes grew wide and he frantically glanced around, looking for Naomi. His hands were on Ezekiel’s forearms, tugging and pulling, as he tried to free himself. He tried yelling and cursing, but his voice was muffled by Ezekiel’s hand.

Jim turned his attention to Blair, his senses honed into his guide’s distress. The tag screamed silently along the neural link, rebelling against the intrusion of the other sentinel’s presence. Jim stepped toward Micah and without preamble, landed a tight fisted punch to the other man’s jaw. The force of the blow spun Micah about; his knees gave out and he hit the ground hard, momentarily dazed. Jim stepped over the downed man and advanced on Ezekiel.

“You!” Ezekiel shouted, his eyes blazing with uncontrolled rage as he turned his heated gaze on Jim. “You are an abomination!” He tightened his hold on Blair, and stepped backward, toward the edge of the precipice, dragging Blair with him.

Jim immediately halted. All his senses came fully alert as he assessed the situation.

Naomi had quickly recovered from the shock and pain of Ezekiel’s actions. She was begging him to let Blair go, and Jim could hear and feel the fierce protectiveness of her pleas as she struggled with Caleb. Caleb had his hands full trying to keep her from pulling free of his hold. Her maternal need to get to her son was as at least as strong as the sentinel’s need to get to his guide.

Micah was still on the ground, twitching and moaning, and Jim could sense he’d be coming around soon.

Jim took a cautious step forward, holding one hand up, palm out, in a non-threatening manner, while signaling Caleb with his other hand to stay put and keep Naomi out of the equation.

“I’m no different than you,” Jim said soothingly, “You’re a sentinel, like me.”

Blair’s eyes grew even larger as his gaze flickered upward to Ezekiel’s profile. Tiny beads of sweat clung to Ezekiel’s rigid jaw and tight throat muscles. Blair could feel the anger and confusion rippling through the man. The tag was buzzing and Ezekiel’s fingers skittered across the collar as the thin piece of metal sent jolts of warning into his flesh.

“No,” Ezekiel protested weakly, shaking his head. “I’m nothing like you. You are an abomination, an evil influence who has come to test me and steal my followers from me.”

“You hear what others don’t,” Jim continued, ignoring the accusation. “Only you can’t control what you hear, because you were never classified, never trained.”

Jim wondered for a moment what it must be like, to be a sentinel and not know it. To never have been classified, or get training if needed. To never have been allowed the chance to have a guide to help. Ezekiel wasn’t a Five-0-0, not even close. His hearing was enhanced, that much was obvious, and Jim suspected his sense of touch as well, judging by the fabric he chose to wear and the scent of mild, herbal cleansers. But no other senses; Jim was certain. Without control, an unbridled assault of voices, sounds and noises, garbled and distorted, must have driven him to the point of madness and the belief, for whatever bizarre reason, he was some sort of messiah.

Ezekiel continued to shake his head, more vehemently now, as he clutched at the tag’s collar, furious and confused.

“Lies,” he sneered. “You dare to come here, to the place my Voices have sent me, and tell lies.” He turned sideways to Jim, pulling Blair with him. “This one does not belong to you,” he hissed as he maneuvered Blair, positioning him as if to hurl him over the edge. “He is my Chosen and you have corrupted him.”

Blair struggled wildly, but couldn’t loosen Ezekiel’s grip.

Naomi argued with Caleb to release her, as she lunged forward, shouting curses and threats at Ezekiel as Caleb tried to drag her further away.

Micah hoisted himself to his knees, swaying slightly. He took in what was going on, and started to clumsily rise.

Acting decisively, Jim quickly drew his weapon, cocking it as he swung it up. He held it at arm’s length, his gun hand resting in the palm of the other; his arms locked and steady. He pointed it at Ezekiel’s head. His face was now a stony mask, and his eyes narrowed to ice blue slits.

“Let him go,” Jim stated authoritatively, “Now.” His eyes bore into Ezekiel and his jaw muscle twitched once.

Naomi sobbed and drew in a frightened breath as she slumped against Caleb, who held fast and reassured her with platitudes, confident in Jim’s abilities to salvage the situation.

Blair’s eyes darted from Jim to Micah, who was now on his feet. The tag was haywire, twittering frenziedly, as Ezekiel’s unwelcome touch and Jim’s overriding authority battled for dominance. Blair willed himself to calm down, and concentrate on the link with his sentinel. Ezekiel’s hand slipped a fraction of inch, so that the Blair’s upper lip now rested on the forefinger. Blair seized the opportunity, and Jim, having once experienced his guide’s chomping ability for himself, instantly knew what the kid was going to do.

Ezekiel howled and yanked his hand away as Blair managed to wiggle his mouth open and bite down hard. Blair pushed off at the same instant, dropping to the ground and rolling off to the side. At the same time, Micah hurled himself toward Ezekiel, intent on putting himself between his friend and the bullet he assumed would be fired. But as soon as Jim saw that Blair was free, he lowered his weapon.

Blair scrambled on hands and knees to Naomi and Caleb finally released his hold. Naomi hugged Blair, and rocked him, weeping and laughing nervously with joy.

Micah couldn’t stop his momentum, and with a startled thump, collided with Ezekiel. The impact sent both men toppling over the side of the ledge, and they slid down the rocky slope, head over heels, hitting rocks and boulders on the way down.

Jim raced to the edge and peered over, his weapon swung up to shoulder height, barrel pointed skyward. Caleb joined him and both men watched silently as Micah and Ezekiel tumbled downward, picking up speed as gravity propelled them on.

The sickening crunch of bones snapping and flesh smashing against chunks of rock and packed earth echoed off the surrounding ravine. The two men landed at the bottom in a mangled heap. Micah’s neck was broken during the fall, and Ezekiel’s body was contorted unnaturally.

Ezekiel glanced up, but his eyesight was fading fast, and he couldn’t see Jim or Caleb. He stroked Micah’s bloodied body, patting it comfortingly. He looked up toward the sky, listening for his Voices, and with one last shuddering breath, they called him home.

Jim holstered his weapon, and wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He turned to Caleb and frowned as he waved his hand about, encompassing everything around them.

“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on, Pendergrast?” Jim growled. “You wanna explain to me how a shriveled up, lazy-ass, washed out sonofabitch Badge ended up deep in the bosom of the Free Zone, cozied up to the notorious Guiding freaking Light?”

Jack Pendergrast threw his head back and snorted in an aborted half laugh. He slapped Jim on the shoulder and exclaimed, “It’s good to see you, too, Slick.”

“Cut the crap, Jack,” Jim said, clearly exasperated. “Let’s hear it.”

“Come on,” Jack replied. He tugged Jim’s arm and pointed toward Naomi and Blair. “You’ve got some explaining to do too.”

Mother and son were still hugging, and Naomi was checking her son over. The two of them were conversing quietly, but Jim could overhear Blair trying to explain the tag to her. Naomi was having trouble buying it; she was insisting quite strongly Blair was not a guide. When Jim approached, she broke away and marched straight up to him. Without warning, she slapped his face.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, mister,” she barked. “But I demand you remove that, that, thing, from my son’s neck right now.”

Blair scooted next to her, and tried to pull her away. “Wait, Naomi, mom,” Blair soothed, “come on, it’s not Jim’s fault.”

Naomi was outraged and remained in Jim’s personal space, clearly not intimidated in the least by the Badge or willing to back off at her son’s insistence.

Jim rubbed his cheek, but stood his ground. “Look, lady,” he started to reply gruffly.

“Naomi,” Blair interrupted, as he tried to wedge himself between them.

All heads turned to look at Blair.

“Jim, this is Naomi,” Blair continued, intent on diffusing the tension. “My mom.” He smiled at them both. He patted Jim on the chest and waved a hand between the two. “Naomi, this is Jim.” He gulped nervously when Naomi just huffed and Jim tilted his head ever so slightly. Not liking the look in Jim’s eyes, he tried another diversionary tactic.

“So, what’s up with you two?” Blair asked, pointing now to Jim and then Caleb. Then he stood on tiptoe and tried to see over the side of the ledge. “And what about GL and Micah?” he questioned without stopping for a breath. “Are they, you know?” he asked with a grimace, giving a full body shudder. “What’s the telltale? What’s gonna---,”

Jim cut Blair off by grabbing his arm and yanking him close. Ignoring everyone else, he hugged Blair to his chest and checked him over with his senses. The tag hummed soothingly as sentinel and guide connected. Jim broke the hug and tapped Blair lightly on the cheeks with his fingertips, and then grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and started frog-marching him away from the others.

“Excuse us a moment,” Jim tossed back over his shoulder. He walked a few steps, found a small log, propped one foot up on it, and bent Blair over his knee.

Jim tugged Blair close to his torso, anchoring him to his midsection with a strong-armed hold and began spanking his bottom.

“Yeouch!” Blair yelped. “What the---,” he cried indignantly.

“I thought I’d made it clear I was in charge of this little clip-dash, Bait,” Jim lectured. “What part didn’t you understand about letting me do the talking?” He continued spanking, landing measured, heavy swats to Blair’s squirming butt. “What part didn’t compute when I told you to get to cover?”

“Ow!” Blair yipped. “He had my mom, I didn’t think,” he sputtered.

“You sure didn’t,” Jim agreed. He tipped Blair forward a little, raising his butt a little higher. He concentrated his swats on the underside of the cheeks, spanking still harder.

“Okay, yeah, I get the vid, I do!” Blair offered contritely. “Please! Enough!”

Jim delivered a few more hard smacks and then let Blair up. Blair danced away, but Jim reached out and reeled him back, pulling him back to chest, mimicking the hold Ezekiel had had on him, but with his strong arms criss-crossed over Blair’s chest. He hugged Blair once, and the tag buzzed merrily. Then he let go and propelled Blair toward his mother with a wallop to his backside.

“Now,” Jim said, clapping his hands together to get everyone’s attention, “Let’s all have a little chat and see if we can straighten all this out.”

~*~*~*~

It took a bit of doing on both Jim’s and Blair’s parts, along with help from Jack, to get Naomi calmed down enough to listen to Jim’s story. She’d been ready to kick Jim’s ass after the way he’d treated Blair, and continued to insist that Blair wasn’t a guide.

“He was tested,” she explained. “When he was a little over a year old, just like everyone else. And they assured me, they made it very clear that he was not,” she stumbled to a halt, and frowned.

“What?” Blair prompted, “Not what?’

Naomi’s face changed as her memory righted itself. “They,” she hesitated. “I remember now,” she said haltingly, “they tested him twice. The first results said he was, ah, I don’t recall the classification.”

“Nine-six-one?” Jim filled in.

“Yes,” Naomi agreed, looking at Jim in shock. “That was it. They said he was a Nine-six-one,” she added, comprehension dawning. “But then, a few weeks later, they contacted me to let me know they’d mixed up some records, and I needed to bring him back. And that’s how he got that mark on his---,”

“Mom,” Blair squawked, turning pink as he snatched a glance at Jim, “nobody’s need-to, huh?”

“Oh my,” Naomi whispered, a bit breathlessly. She looked at Jim, tears filling her eyes as she realized what it must have been like for Jim with the father he had. “How awful for you. And my baby,” she looked at Blair, “he almost,” she gulped, “you saved his life.”

“Mega!” Blair sung out, bouncing on the balls of his feet, wanting to turn everyone’s attention elsewhere. “We’re all jamming on the same link.”

Jim rolled his eyes, knowing there would be a lot more to straighten out, but before he could say anything else, Blair changed the subject.

“So what’s the jabber with you, Caleb, or Jack, or Mr. Right Hand of the Guiding Light, whoever you are,” he pressed, locking his baby-blues on Jack “Wanna give us the jabber? Hmmmm? Wanna tell me what all this Chosen drack was about?”

This got Jim’s attention too. He was just as interested in finding out what one of his old Badge mentors was doing in the Free Zone, and spoke up.

“Yeah, Jack, time to spill,” Jim prodded with a tight smile, “Give.”

Jack stepped forward, and cleared his throat, eyeing Jim slyly. “About three years ago, the New-Gov out east dug up some long lost records, military records, that catalogued a whole slew of arms, nuke and standard issue, medical supplies, food stockpiles, and gold reserves stashed somewhere inside,” he slowed and let what’s he’d said so far take root in everyone’s minds, “you guessed it, the Free Zone. At least, as near as it could be calc’d, it was in the Zone. Think of all the goodies Ezekiel mighta been sitting on while not only his followers struggled to get by, but the Outside coulda used too.”

“So you came in under-cov,” Jim interjected. “To re-con and report?”

“Yup,” Jack agreed with a shrug. “That’s about it. Only, I got a bit more than I bargained for. I wanted to get close to Zeke, but he wanted me a lot closer. I wanted in on the Inner Circle, but the Right Hand thing? Crimped the entire op. Him turning out to be a sentinel, sure does make a few puzzles pieces drop into place.”

Blair was angry now, and Jim could feel his guide’s ire through the tag.

“How does that make me Chosen?” Blair butted in loudly. “And what in the name of Nyloc’s Ghost is zinging between you and my mom?” he added brashly as he recalled the way Jack had come to Naomi’s rescue just a little while earlier, and how Naomi had clung to him. He had a sudden urge to punch Jack and stepped toward the older man with a fisted hand, ready to swing.

Jim picked up on Blair’s intention through the tag, and interfered before Blair could wind up.

“Whoa, there, Bait,” he said as he latched on to Blair and whirled him away from Jack.

“Yeah, take it easy, squirt,” Jack added, “the Chosen thing was supposed to keep you out of the loop, and get you out of the Zone. Naomi found me out by accident, but was ready to help from the get-go. She wanted you to rabbit once we convinced Ezekiel to let you out,” Jack raised his brows and shook his head, “Since you wouldn’t skedaddle as instructed, we made the most of it. But then you decided to re-program the dig-comp I finagled for you, which was supposed to net any snakes I could slither, so I had to improvise. Maggie was my go-to and she was gonna pin you down if things got hinky.”

“Maggie?” Blair asked incredulously. “You mean my Maggie? That sweet little old lady at the market, that Maggie?”

Jack laughed and shook his head.

“Maggie’s one helluva cov-op, kid, and I wouldn’t let her catch you calling her old, if I were you,” he said with a wink.

“This is all just whackoid,” Blair observed. “So what happens now? Does the shield come down? Who’s in charge? What’s gonna happen to the Inner Circle? Who’s gonna run things? What about all the Zoners who want out?”

“Come up for air, Bait,” Jim suggested as he took a deep breath himself. He scanned the area, letting his senses roam for a few moments.

He watched Naomi, who was now quietly observing everyone else. Here was a woman who knew when and how to keep a secret; who wasn’t afraid to fight for what she believed in, either silently or loudly, as needed. She was protective, smart, and willing to listen. She could admit when she was wrong, was willing to see more than one side of an issue, and she was compassionate.

Jim caught Jack’s eye and nodded toward Naomi. The two men gained her attention and a silent conversation took place among them.

“It’s not going to be that easy, kiddo,” Jim said softly. “The Zoners will need to protect themselves from scavengers that won’t waste any time swooping in if the shield just drops. They need to have someone who’ll represent them fairly, to protect what they’ve got here so they can join the Outside on even footing. If Jack is right, and this stash exists, then the Zone will have something to barter with and they’ll need someone who’ll look out for their best interests.”

Blair threw his arms into the air. “Who can be trusted with that?” he asked, missing the decision that’d already been made.

“Not to worry, Bait,” Jim said as the link sizzled. He wrapped an arm around Blair’s shoulder and squeezed his guide. “There’s Hope for the Free Zone.”

~*~*~*~

The afternoon sped by as Jim, Jack and Naomi laid the plans for the return to Glory. Blair sulked around the fringe of activity, kicking the soft ground with the toe of his shoe until tiny divots surrounded him. He alternately spied on the others, and tossed rocks or sticks off into nowhere. He tried every now and then to offer a suggestion, but one or the other of the adults rebuffed his interruptions.

Jim was grateful he hadn’t had to shoot Ezekiel or Micah; explaining their deaths as accidental was going to be a lot easier than explaining bullet holes. Maneuvering Naomi into a position to replace Ezekiel would be tricky, but with the Right Hand at her side to vouch for the Guiding Light’s dying wish for his Hope to take his place, it would only be a matter of time. Between the two of them, the Inner Circle could slowly be disbanded and a smooth transition to a true Free Zone could be made. Naomi would extend an offer to establish diplomatic relations with the surrounding territories and confederations, and once new treaties were in place, the shield could finally be lowered forever.

Deciding what to do about Blair was a bit harder. Explaining why or how the Chosen had not returned would be easy; there were several different stories Naomi could tell that wouldn’t cause a stir. But Jim needed to return to the Olympic Federated Territory. He had duties and obligations there, and even if not, his presence in the Zone would only be a detriment to the plan. The tag was solidly in place now, which meant Blair would need to stay with Jim until they could find a way to undo it. Blair felt the tag’s demands too, and even though he’d accepted, still somewhat grudgingly, his role as guide, the reality of being tagged and collared still grated.

There really was no choice, though. Blair would have to go with Jim, and be registered as a claimed juvenile under Jim’s keeping.

By evening, final preparations for the next day were made. A small campfire helped to ease the chill of both body and spirit, and a simple meal warmed their insides. Jim and Jack reminisced and joked about old times, and all the while the sentinel kept in tune with his guide through the tag. Naomi and Blair talked long into the night, finally drifting off to sleep well after midnight.

Just before first light, it was time for the four to part company. Naomi and Jack had a hover car to make their journey easy. But Jim and Blair had to hoof it back to the shield in time to slip through when it opened. Then they had another day’s trek back to Last Stop to rejoin the Panther squad.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Naomi soothed as she hugged Blair. “You’ll see. Jack’ll manip the shield and you and I’ll be able to yoo-hoo each other with Daphne’s help whenever we want. And before you know it, the Free Zone will be opened and then we’ll see each other again.” She traced a finger along the collar and sighed. “It’s really not so bad, being a guide,” she told him, “even if I didn’t know that’s what I was doing for Ezekiel, it does help to know that I did ease some of his torment, even if it was too late for him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Blair admitted quietly. “It’s just, he spanks, mom. How one-dimensional is that?” Blair rubbed his tender behind for emphasis.

Naomi tipped Blair’s chin up and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Then you’ll just have to behave, sweetie,” she admonished.

Jim and Jack shook hands, and exchanged last minute advice. To Naomi’s surprise, Jim gave her a gentle hug, and kissed her on the cheek. He gave her his assurances that he would see to Blair’s care and well-being.

Blair thwapped Jim on the chest, and groused, “Gakky, man, that’s my mom.” Jim popped Blair on the back of the head and mussed his curls in reply.

Sentinel and guide set off then, and Blair walked slowly at first, looking back over his shoulder every thirty seconds until the Grasp shrunk out of sight. Then he picked up the pace, and hurried along with Jim.

When they reached the shield, there was the Panther squad, hollering greetings and grinning like dementoids. Jim gave his team a sour look, but couldn’t keep up the gruff act, and a brilliant smile lit his face. They were only a few minutes early, and as they waited for the shield to open, Jim elbowed Blair, and let the tag hum. As the shield shimmered and opened, Jim waved Blair through first, and then followed.

They set a leisurely pace on the trek back to Last Stop. There were two more shield openings that had to be timed, and one would have to wait until the next day, so there was no need to hurry. Jim gave Joel a hard time about countermanding the decision to skeddadle from the Zone, Joel just shrugged it off, and they both laughed. There wasn’t much laughing when Joel filled Jim in on Simon’s reaction to their unauthorized skip-skate into the Zone. But after a minute, Jim shrugged, mugged, and stated he had a Sentinel get out of jail free card and he wasn’t afraid to play it, as he crooked a thumb toward Blair.

Blair remembered Jim telling him about Rafe growing up in the Zone, and the two youngest members of the squad became fast friends, as they compared notes about the Zone and overbearing parental-types.

After making camp for the night, Jim escorted Blair away from the others. He sat down on a rock and motioned Blair over. Blair hesitated for a moment and then came closer. Jim pulled him down and over his lap.

“Hey!” Blair protested. “What’d I do?”

Jim placed a hand on Blair’s back, pinning him in place, before he explained. “I said you had a few more wallopings due, didn’t I? Well, I wasn’t yankin’. Every night for the next six nights, I’m gonna warm your bottom with twenty good, hard wallops,” he clarified, “more if you’ve earned it,” he added.

“What?” Blair yelped as the first smack landed. “Come on, that’s not fair,” he howled, as he kicked and squirmed.

Jim ignored Blair’s protest and delivered the twenty wallops hard and fast.

Blair jumped up as soon as Jim let go. He wiggled and massaged his butt with both hands, as he gave Jim a dirty look.

Jim just crossed his arms and cocked a brow.

“Six nights?” Blair squeaked disbelievingly. He screwed his face into a sour pout and eyed Jim critically.

“Yup,” Jim nodded and added the clarification so Blair wouldn’t forget, “More if you’ve earned it.” He got to his feet and started walking back to camp.

Blair groaned, and dashed to catch up to Jim.

“Can’t we negotiate, man?” Blair asked as he caught up and nudged Jim hard. His hands and arms started flying as he began bargaining. “Please?”

The tag hummed.

End Chapter 5