During one of these side trips, Frank noticed a trail of trampled grass leading a little deeper into the woods. Walking further along, he noticed broken branches, trampled grass and footprints in the soft earth. Crouching down, Frank’s practiced eye picked up three more sets of footprints, one set smaller than the other two. All had been purposely obscured. Hoping he’d stumbled onto his father’s handiwork, Frank followed the tracks with rekindled hope.

*****

Checking her watch, Laura couldn’t help but worry. It had been hours since Fenton had set out to get help and she was wondering if he’d indeed be able to keep his promise to get Joe out of the woods today.

"Mom," Joe rasped softly, "is Dad back yet?"

"Not yet, honey, but he’ll be back soon." Laura smiled pushing a few strands of sweat soaked hair off Joe’s face. "Can I check your temperature again?"

Joe smiled and gave a small nod in response. As Laura pulled the thermometer from his mouth a moment later, she expertly kept her fear hidden.

"Higher?" Joe asked.

"Nope, no change." Laura lied with a smile, cringing inside at the 105.6 reading. Glancing down, her fear grew as she noted the red streaks had now progressed halfway up Joe’s arms.

‘Hurry, Fenton.’ She prayed silently as she sat next to Joe who had given himself up to sleep again. As she took Joe’s hand in hers, he moved his head in her direction and let out a soft moan.

"Shhh, Baby." Laura whispered. "Dad will be back soon with help."

As she sat staring at her youngest son with increasing concern, she heard a twig snap close by and cursed silently when the covering began to move. Getting to her feet, she reached for her makeshift weapon and retreated to the hiding place she had found earlier. A moment later she peeked out and saw a dark haired figure crouching down next to Joe.

Swiftly, Laura emerged from her hiding place and swung the heavy branch aiming for the intruder’s head. Instinctively, he spun around and stood to face her. Surprise registered on his face seconds before he caught the branch in his hands and snatched it away. He threw it to the ground stopping the sneak attack and leaving Laura – and Joe – helpless.

With a gasp, Laura reeled back a few steps. Both hands flew to her mouth as she stifled a scream. For one split second the world stood still as protective mother and suspected assailant stared at each other in utter shock. Regaining her senses, Laura threw herself at the young man.

"Oh! Oh my God! Oh, Frank! I almost hit you!!" She cried out, hugging him.

"It’s ok, Mom." Frank said returning the tight embrace.

"I’m so sorry, honey!"

"I’m not." Frank pulled back and smiled down at his mother. "At least I know Joe’s been well protected."

Returning his attention to Joe, Frank knelt down next to his younger brother and placed a hand on his forehead.

"Oh, geez, Mom. He’s burning up!" Frank exclaimed.

"I know." Laura responded, worried. "And he’s getting worse."

Joe moaned at the sound of voices and slowly opened his eyes. Through slightly blurred vision he saw his older brother leaning over him, a concerned look on his face.

"Frank," Joe said quietly although it took some effort, "get Mom outta here."

Frank glanced at his mother and rolled his eyes in spite of the situation. "Did you hear that?" He asked with a wry smile.

"Yes, I did." Laura replied, touched. As sick as he was Joe was more worried about his mother than himself.

Frank looked down at his brother. "How about if I get both of you out of here, huh, buddy?"

"That’d be good, too." Joe replied weakly, closing his eyes again.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought." Frank patted Joe’s shoulder then stood, surveying his surroundings.

It was only then that he noticed the rather large, unconscious form lying a few feet away. Slowly approaching him to get a closer look Frank’s eyes widened in shock. The man’s hands and feet had been handcuffed, tied with rope and covered with duct tape. His mouth held a piece of ripped towel as a gag, secured with more duct tape. His eyes were covered with another piece of the towel, apparently serving as a makeshift blindfold, which was also covered with several layers of the now familiar duct tape.

"Uh, Mom?" Frank asked, somewhat amused.

"Yes." Laura looked up from her position beside Joe.

"Did you do this?"

"Yes." She said defensively. "I wanted to make sure he couldn’t escape or call for help if he came to. I didn’t want him to hurt Joe and I certainly wouldn’t be able to fight him off."

Frank shook his head and chuckled softly. ‘You didn’t stand a chance, pal.’

"Good thinking." He replied.

Returning to his mother’s side, Frank knelt down next to her. Looking at his battered younger brother, Frank cringed.

"How bad is he?"

"Concussion. Possibly some broken ribs. But I’m more concerned about the infection." Laura replied, pointing to the bandages around Joe’s wrists and the bright red streaks running up his forearms. "They tied his hands so tightly the rope made deep cuts in his skin. Then they dragged him through the dirt. It got embedded in the wounds…" Laura stopped and squeezed her eyes shut as her voice began to quiver. Frank put an arm around his mother drawing her close, anger building at the men who had attacked Joe.

"And now he has the beginnings of a systemic infection. When they removed his spleen in Chicago, it weakened his immune system. He can’t fight off the infection on his own." She sniffled and turned to her older son, desperation in her eyes. "He needs antibiotics, Frank. If he doesn’t get them soon he’ll die."

Frank stared at Joe in stunned shock, unable to believe Keith Rashman’s abuse was still having such serious repercussions for Joe. Would it ever end? Or would Joe be haunted by it for the rest of his life? The unquenched thirst for revenge Frank hadn’t felt in months briefly bubbled to the surface. As always when that happened, Frank cursed himself for not doing away with Rashman when he had the opportunity. It wouldn’t change what he had done to Joe, but it might have been able to give his brother – and himself – some closure. Something Frank wasn’t sure Joe would ever have.

‘Not now!’ Frank admonished himself, pushing the hatred back down. He needed to focus all his attention on getting Joe to safety and on the medication he needed. He couldn’t do that if he was distracted with vengeful thoughts of Keith Rashman.

Frank stood, eyeing the meager supplies as he tried to decide the best way to transport Joe out of the woods.

"I take it he can’t walk under his own power." Frank commented.

"No." Laura responded softly.

"How many blankets do you have?" Frank asked as an idea began to take shape.

"Two." Laura replied as she watched Frank wander around the small encampment eyeing the vegetation, obviously looking for something specific.

"Any rope left?" He asked, bending down to examine a long, sturdy branch.

"Yes." Laura said, pulling it out of the backpack.

"Good." Frank said absently, poking further into the underbrush and coming up with a second branch similar in size and shape. Walking back to his mother, he took the rope she offered. "I can rig up a makeshift stretcher to carry him out on."

"Um…okay." Laura answered hesitantly. She recalled how physically draining it was to support Joe when he was upright and attempting to walk on his own. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to carry half his body weight without collapsing.

"Don’t worry, Mom," Frank chuckled holding up a walkie-talkie, "I’ll radio one of the guys for help."

"Your friends are here?" She asked surprised.

"Yeah, you didn’t think I’d try and take on Jarrell alone did you?" Frank asked dryly. "That’s something Joe would do."

"Heard that." Joe mumbled, having momentarily reawakened. "Don’ need a stretcher. I can walk. Jus’ help me." He protested his brother’s plan.

"Sure you can, little bro." Frank humored him. "Go back to sleep. I’ll let you know when it’s time to leave."

"Can too walk…" Joe insisted stubbornly as his eyes slid shut.

"He can’t stay awake very long anymore." Laura said worriedly, hovering over him.

"Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll get him out of here." Frank reassured her as he laid out the blankets, branches and rope in front of him.

Picking up the walkie-talkie, he pressed a button and spoke. "Biff, come in." He requested.

He’d purposely given Biff the area closest to himself to cover, knowing in the back of his mind he might need help getting Joe out of there. He waited a few seconds then pressed the button again.

"Biff? You out there?" The ominous silence was the only response. "Biff?" He tried one more time with no success.