Lost In The Woods

Part One

A Lonely Cabin

"We must keep going..." the Major said in a weak voice as Dorian half-dragged, half-carried him up the two short wooden steps of an apparently uninhabited cabin.

"Not a chance," Dorian replied sharply, shifting his weight to practically pull the man bodily up the final step. No mean trick while wearing the officer's heavy backpack. There had been a few times when he had wanted to leave it behind. But the fact that it contained emergency food, extra ammunition for the Major's gun, and an emergency locator beacon, were all reasons enough to keep it.

What was supposed to have been a simple mission had turned into a shootout, ending in the Major taking out those who had ambushed them, but not before he himself took a bullet to the shoulder. Being uncertain as to whether their attackers had backup, the pair had fled into the woods, making for a pre-arranged rendezvous point where they would be safely extracted from the country.

Unfortunately, the Major's injury proved severe, and they had stopped several times for the Earl to check on the roughly applied dressing. Eventually, he managed to staunch the bleeding, but not before the Major had weakened considerably. Dorian really began worrying when the officer stopped complaining about his helping him walk.

Then the weather turned, lightning followed by rolling thunder announcing the approach of a storm, the skies growing darker overhead. When a cabin tucked away in the woods came into sight, Dorian wanted to shout for joy.

The Earl opened the door, pulling the Major in with him. "You need to rest, Major. It'll be dark soon, and the last thing we need is to get lost in the woods in a thunderstorm." More lost than we are already, that is. He lowered the man down to the floor and then pulled off the heavy backpack, gratefully dropping it beside him.

The Major could not argue with the logic. It had already started raining and he was feeling the chill, despite his heavy coat. He lay back on the thick rug on the floor, gritting his teeth to keep from screaming in pain. Then he waved a hand toward the door. "Bring in some of that wood before it's too wet to burn," he instructed weakly.

Dorian scowled and went back to the door, seeing firewood piled up on the porch. Well, at least we won't be scavenging like in Alaska, he thought. He opened the front window and tossed in enough wood to hopefully last through the night. The decision to stop was made for him when it started to pour. Lightning lit up the sky, and thunder shook the wooden structure. He made doubly sure the door and window were fastened shut before turning back to survey his handiwork.

Feeling suitably pleased with himself, Dorian stacked some of the wood in the grate. Then he looked around for something to light it with. His eyes fell on the Major stretched out on the floor. When he went to ask him for his lighter, he discovered he has lost consciousness at some point while he was dealing with the wood.

The first thing the Earl felt was panic, which subsided when the Major gave a soft moan the moment he touched him. "Just hang on, Major," he said in as calm a voice as he could manage. "Let me get this fire going. Then I'll see to you."

The slight jostling of being repositioned was enough to bring the Major back to semi-consciousness. He partially opened his eyes and moaned, raising a hand to swat the Earl away. "Bloody...pervert..." he mumbled softly.

Dorian did not even pause as his hand plunged into the officer's pants pocket. "Don't even start with me, Major," he snapped. "I need your lighter to start the fire." He pulled out the object and held it up. Then the angry lines on his face softened when he realized the Major was out again. You're just on automatic pilot, aren't you?

Dorian got to his feet and returned to the fireplace where it took several tries before he was satisfied that the fire would catch. Then he closed the fire screen and stood up, rubbing his dirty hands on his clothes.

Now for the next order of business, seeing to the Major's wound. The Earl looked around the room. He would need something better than the meager contents of the backpack. He would also need better light.

Light. Dammit.

There was no way a cabin this remote would have electricity. A generator, perhaps, but he couldn't waste time looking for one. Nor did he think he would be able to start it even if there was one. The Major was the wizard with machinery.

He would need to find a source of light before night fell. The last thing he wanted was to have to rely on just the light from the fireplace.

A quick search of the small cabin produced a couple oil lamps, some candles, a working torch, and a stack of clean linens stored in protective plastic. Eroica's luck continued to hold when he discovered a working water pump at the kitchen sink. He found a water bottle on the counter that he reasoned was to be used to prime it. His actions were rewarded with a flow of water, dark at first, but quickly turning clear.

After a few short minutes, Dorian was returning to the Major's side with a basin of water. It wasn't hot, but it was better than nothing. He placed his gathered supplies within reach, making sure the basin was out of spilling range before he made a start on removing the officer's wet clothes.

The Major did not even move when his wet shoes and socks were removed. He mumbled something when his shirt was pulled from his trousers. Eroica waited for the explosion when he started to open the man's belt. Instead, he was rewarded with a horrified look and his heart turned over. The Major was too weak to even curse at him.

"Welcome back, Major," the Earl said in the most upbeat voice he could manage. "Before you start screaming at me, I'm getting you out of these wet clothes so you don't catch pneumonia."

He was mildly surprised when the officer cooperated, giving only a low snarl as his trousers were pulled past his hips. Dorian moved to take hold of each pant leg and gave a sharp tug, pulling the damp garment off. He wasn't sure if the Major even made an effort to object at this point. He suspected he would make the effort if he attempted to remove his under shorts, which he did not.

Dorian unfolded a heavy quilt he had taken from the bed on the opposite side of the room, laying it over the Major's bare legs. Then he turned his attention to the more difficult task of removing the man's coat and shirt. Shirts, he reminded himself, remembering the undershirt he had remarked on in Rome.

"Major, I need to sit you up," Dorian informed. The reply was a mumble. This is gonna hurt like hell, he thought as he took hold of the front of the Major's coat and used it to lever him up. As he expected, the pain brought the man back to his senses with a loud cry of pain.

The Major cursed in several languages but did not resist the Earl's efforts to get his blood and rain soaked clothing off. He responded with a grunt when informed that there was no exit wound on his back. The next thing he knew, he was being returned to the floor, lying on his back. The Earl moved the basin closer, dipping a towel into the water and then lathering it with soap. He started to gently wash the blood from his body, being carefully to avoid the wound site until it was absolutely necessary.

"Eroica...."

The Earl paused. "Major?"

"Water. Very...thirsty."

Yes, of course. The blood loss. The Earl wasn't sure how much more jostling the Major could handle at this point. He went to the kitchen, returning with a cup of water. He lifted the man's head, putting it to his parched lips. "Take it slowly," he said gently. "I don't want you getting sick on me."

The Major did not reply, his concentration fixed on the cup. After a few sips, he nodded and his head was gently rested back on the floor. He closed his eyes, cursing his helplessness. Cursing the fact that his life was literally in Eroica's hands. Cursing the idiots who had ambushed them. The list of curses only got longer when Eroica started cleaning the wound site.

"Major, can you hear me?"

"Ja."

"You weren't shot," the Earl announced startlingly. "It looks like you were hit by a chunk of metal."

"Was...?" Klaus had to struggle to concentrate, his eyes opening wider.

"No wonder it hurt like hell whenever I pressed on it," Dorian observed. He wasn't surprised when the reply was a stream of curses. "I'm gonna see if I can get it out."

"Just tell me when..."

"Okay." Dorian was relieved when the Major switched back to English, a clear signal that he was thinking clearly again. The Earl had noticed that the officer dropped into German whenever his concentration faltered.

Before making an attempt to remove the nasty looking chunk of metal, he prepared the wound. He picked up a jar of honey that he'd found in the kitchen and applied a generous amount to the wound, much to the officer's bewilderment.

"You fucking Limey, I'm not a Goddamn piece of toast!" the officer grumbled.

Oh, the things I could say about eating you just now! The Earl was beginning to think he would bite his tongue off before this was over.

"Major, this remedy is several thousand years old," he explained as he smeared the sticky substance on the man's skin. "Honey is a natural antibacterial. So it's actually beneficial if it gets in your wound."

Klaus could think of nothing to say in response to this. Then he braced himself at the Earl's warning. He was using a pair of needle-nosed pliers from his burglar tools to get a firm grip on the piece of metal imbedded in his flesh.

"On three, Major..."

Klaus heard the count to three, felt the sharp pain, and screamed. After that, he was aware of nothing, having blacked out.

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