Tyler flipped open the phone as soon as he heard the soft tone. He'd turned the volume almost completely down as traffic in his area increased. "'Tyler," he whispered.

"Chegwidden, Ensign," AJ spoke quietly, taking his cue from Tyler. "Are you all right?"

"Yes sir. A bunch of militia showed up half an hour ago. They're combing the area."

"Will you be safe?" AJ didn't want anything to happen to the young man.

"Yes sir. The leaves are pretty thick and they don't look up often."

"Good. Ensign, when you said Captain Perez called you? Did he use a cell phone?"

"No sir, we all have hand-held radios."

"Have you tried to contact Captain Perez?"

"No sir, we were afraid we might compromise his position. Anybody with a radio can hear these things."

AJ sat for a moment in thought, the ensign had a point. "If you can get to the road you came in, do you think you can get out of the area without being seen?" If he could get Tyler to a place where he could give specific directions, it would make any rescue op a lot easier. After talking to Tyler the first time, he'd talked to a Lieutenant Barker at the Memphis JAG. What he learned made him want to blister the hide off someone. The MP assigned to Mac and Singer had been found in the parking lot with a skull fracture. There'd been no sign of any of his JAG officers this morning. Tyler, Bell, and Perez had been listed as UA. Apparently Admiral Crowley, mindful of negative publicity, had treated the MP as a simple random assault. His opinion, expressed in scathing terms to Lieutenant Barker, was that the missing JAG officers were an undisciplined bunch, were no doubt responsible for the UAs and would turn up eventually. When Chegwidden arrived in Memphis this afternoon, he would have that man's ass. The sound of Tyler's voice brought him back to the present.

"Yes sir, but sir? I think I could do more if I stayed here. Once these guys have cleared out, I can scout the area."

"Tyler, I don't want them to find you. Right now you're my only link to the rest of my people."

"Sir, they're not looking for me. They were... are... looking for the Colonel and the Lieutenant. I guess Commander. Rabb and Captain Perez got them out. Tink and I were just in the wrong place when they found out about the escape."

AJ's eyebrows went up in surprise, he had assumed his three officers and Captain Perez were in the hands of the militia. That they were on the run put a whole new spin on the problem. However, in either case, good recon would be invaluable. "No offense Tyler, but can you do it and not get caught?"

"Yes sir. Growing up, I spent more time in the woods than I did in the house. Half these militia guys stomp around here like they've never been further than their backyards. I'd really like to try it, sir." Tyler threw in his final argument, "We're not supposed to leave our own behind, sir."

Covering a chuckle by clearing his throat, AJ took a moment to think it over. At last he said, "All right, Tyler. I'm going to give you my cell phone number. I want you to check in every two hours or as the situation merits, understood?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir!"

"Oh and Tyler? I will be out of touch during my flight to Memphis this afternoon. That would be from 1320 to 1450, your time. Try to stay out of any life or death struggles, will you?"

"Aye-aye, sir."

Vicinity of Bethel
Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
1318 Local

Mac pillowed her head with her good arm and idly watched Harm fiddle with a small radio. He'd come off watch thirty-two minutes ago. Singer was taking her shift and Perez was napping. Neither man would agree to her taking a turn. She hadn't really expected them to, but thought she'd give it a try anyway. Waiting was boring and left too much time for introspection. Her body had taken enough physical abuse without adding a self-inflicted mental beating. The plan was to move out at dusk, six long hours away. She started to take a deep breath and then stopped, trying not to wince. The gash along her ribs was becoming more sensitive. She'd rather not let Harm know, there wasn't much he could do and she wasn't in the mood for fussing. The wound was long and shallow. She considered it annoying but not life-threatening.

Mac glanced back at Harm and was surprised to see him sitting quite still, listening intently. She concentrated and then realized the background sound she'd been hearing subconsciously was growing louder. At almost the same time, Singer came sliding down the slope, wide-eyed and anxious. "Jeeps! A lot of them! They're heading this way!"

Perez had popped awake as soon as the Lieutenant had begun her descent. He looked over at Harm, "If they flood this area with searchers, they're going to find us."

Harm scrubbed a hand through his hair, "Yeah, we need to get out of here." He looked around for a moment, "The road could be a boundary for the search area. If we can get north of it, we can probably keep ahead of them." He helped Mac to her feet and steadied her while she regained her equilibrium. "Let's go." They hurried to the edge of the dell and cautiously peered out. Although the engines sounded nearer, they still didn't see anyone. Harm looked at everyone, "Try to stay undercover as much as possible 'til we hit the road, then run like hell."

"I'll take the Colonel," Perez said. Harm glared at him. Mac cut in, "He's right, Harm. We're closer in height, it's easier on me when we run."

Harm nodded although still scowling, they didn't have a lot of time. Quickly, the four made their way to the underbrush close to the roadside. They spread out to attract less attention. Mac and Perez would be the biggest risk, they'd go last. Harm moved to the edge of the road and crouched there. He signaled and Lt. Singer sprinted across. Harm went next. He had just reached the far shoulder when the first jeeps came into view. He dove and rolled before scrambling into the brush on the other side. Mac and Perez saw him come up alongside a tree and almost as one, they all looked up the road. For one moment, they thought they'd gotten away with it. Then the sudden acceleration of the lead jeep and accompanying yells proved them wrong. Harm threw one last look their way and then he and Singer took off at a run.

Perez flattened further into the leaves as four jeeps skidded to a halt not ten yards away. A dozen men leaped out and began the pursuit, leaving a driver in each jeep. The captain had a hand on Mac's good shoulder, he had no idea what she would do. She was rigid with tension. Three more jeeps came up, skirted the four parked vehicles and headed up the road. No one even glanced at the south side of the road. The two marines lay motionless, hidden by the scrub as the sounds of the pursuit faded into the distance.

Fifteen minutes passed, twenty... the drivers had congregated together to smoke and chat. Then the silence was broken by the sound of a rifleshot, closely followed by another. Mac jumped at the first, Perez clamped down harder. At the second, her hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, her knuckles white from the strength of her grip. Neither moved again. The minutes dragged by. The drivers who had milled around excitedly after hearing the shots, soon settled back in their vehicles. Perez glanced over at the Colonel. She could have been carved in stone. He looked back across the road and focused on his breathing, he didn't want to think just yet. Finally, the sound of voices came drifting on the breeze. Although neither moved, there was an almost tangible sharpening of attention. It took an eternity but a crowd of men came into view. Mac's hand jerked once when Harm and Singer appeared in their midst.

Hands bound behind, they were being pushed along by laughing, jeering men. Both looked worse for wear. Their pantlegs were wet from the knee down, small scratches and tears were evidence of headlong flight through thick underbrush. An angry red mark on the side of Harm's jaw told of the bruise yet to come and a thin trickle of blood worked its way down his forehead. They were loaded onto separate jeeps. The rest of the militia piled in where they could and the group turned around and headed back. Still, the two waited. Five minutes later, the last three jeeps sped by.

When they could no longer hear the engines, Perez felt Mac release her hold. Slowly, he rolled over and sat up, his body protesting the prolonged inactivity. He looked at the Colonel, she had pulled her arm in front and was resting her forehead. Perez waited silently, he couldn't think of anything to say. At last, she raised her head and looked at him, "Help me up." He pulled her to her feet and watched expectantly as she stood and stared at the ground. When she looked up, he almost stepped backward at the suppressed anger in her eyes. "We're going back."

Militia Camp
Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
1120 Local

Tink sat with his back to wall of the small storage shed. The metal roof was quickly collecting heat. He had already taken off his shirt. He didn't think it would get hot enough to kill him but it would definitely be uncomfortable. Vaguely, he wondered if they had bought his Neanderthal act. People generally believed what they wanted to believe and he certainly didn't look like a Rhodes scholar. With a little luck maybe they wouldn't shoot him out of hand. Truthfully, he thought he had pulled it off. If he read the militia leader right, the man craved power and, more importantly, the appearance of power. Having someone of Bell's size and demeanor at his beck and call would be a huge boost to his ego. And leaving Bell in this shed for a few hours could just be a subtle demonstration of his authority... that or the idiot had forgotten Tink was in here.

He closed his eyes and shifted a little to try and get more comfortable. Bell wondered if Tyler was all right. He was a funny little guy. He rarely lost his temper, had a surprising amount of guts and was a fount of eclectic information: fact, fiction and everything inbetween. Tink thought he had the makings of a good officer - almost as good as Perez. If nothing else, this whole episode with the JAG officers was giving him a helluva experience. Bell smiled to himself, he was also aware that Tyler was somewhat enamored with the Colonel. Tink could afford to be a touch condescending about it, looking at it as he did from the weight of his twenty-five years. At twenty-one, Tyler was just a kid. He could understand the infatuation, she was intelligent and good-looking. And completely unavailable, if he was any judge of the tall Naval Commander. Tink, himself, hadn't had much experience with female officers, the Colonel wasn't what he'd been expecting. Lt. Singer, on the other hand, was. Maybe it was the difference between being a Marine and just a Naval officer. He could see where overcompensation might occur.

He hoped the Captain and the Commander had gotten them safely away. From all the commotion before he was grabbed, it was pretty obvious the Colonel and the Lieutenant had escaped. Still, they were in the middle of nowhere, on foot and surrounded by hostiles. Tink didn't think their odds were all that good. Which made it even more important that he work himself in with the militia. It would be stupid to expect any sort of trust on their part. What he was hoping for was complacency. If they thought he was dumb as a post, maybe they wouldn't keep that close an eye on him.

He broke off his musing at the sound of the padlock being handled. Suddenly tense, he forced himself into an attitude of stolid acceptance. The sunlight streaming in when the door opened made him squint. He could just make out the silhouettes of three large men. The first one spoke, "Well, boy, Rev. Trask thinks we might just make a soldier outta you. It's gonna be my job to whip you into shape." He lowered his voice threateningly, "You make sure you do what you're told, boy, or I'll kick your ass."

Tink stared up at him. If this guy was trying to intimidate him, he was doing a piss-poor job of it. Obviously, he'd never been through Parris Island. On the other hand, Bell was ecstatic. They'd bought his story and he was getting out of this frigging little box. Continuing to gaze at the men, all he said was, "I'm hungry."

AJ stepped out onto the tarmac and scowled. He had specifically requested no honors. He rarely had much patience for the trappings of rank and none at all when his people were missing. His bad mood had been exacerbated by the delay in his flight. They had hit a headwind that had slowed them considerably. Yet here was that jackass Crowley and his staff, backed by a color guard and a small group of enlisted standing rigidly at attention. He settled his cover a little more firmly and reined in his temper. For the good of the service, he would refrain from pinning the Admiral's ears back right here and now. He glanced back at Gunny Walters standing quietly behind him, "Let's get this over with."

Arthur Crowley watched as Chegwidden exited the plane trailed by a large Gunnery Sergeant. While he waited for the Admiral to approach, he once more berated himself for letting Captain Koslov have a week of personal leave. Family emergencies happened all the time, having the Judge Advocate General himself visit the base did not. He had the reporters and a photographer for the post newspaper here, now he wondered if he should have tried for some outside coverage. Hopefully, all the arrangements for the dinner at the O Club had been made. It was awfully short notice and he wasn't sure his aide-de-camp was up to the challenge. Young people these days were hardly reliable, he always had Eric double-check his aide's work.

He straightened up a little more as Chegwidden began walking towards the group. Crowley didn't particularly like him and thought it patently unfair that the younger man had his two stars. Once again, evidence of line officers taking care of their own, even one that had been deskbound for years. Being a former SEAL shouldn't count for more when promotions were being handed out. ... Well, they got what they paid for - Crowley heard of the frequent clashes with the SecNav. No wonder Chegwidden's officers were unruly and practically insubordinate. He had quite a few things to say to the JAG, respectfully, of course, about the disruptive antics of those officers. He told himself to hold on to his temper, Chegwidden couldn't possibly understand the intricacies of running a base. He'd be patient and after subtly straightening the man out, he might even go so far as to play Dutch uncle and let him know how inappropriate it was to keep that woman as Chief of Staff. But, for now and for the good of the service, he'd smile and welcome Chegwidden to the base. Hopefully, the photographer was halfway competent.

Militia Camp
Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
1455 Local

Harm did his best to see what he could in the militia camp. It wasn't easy, these morons would hit him whenever they thought he was moving around too much. They also liked to hit him when he wasn't. Between them and his headache, he was lucky to see anything at all. Thank god none of them had been bright enough to think to look for Mac. Apparently, the adrenaline rush of the chase and subsequent capture had crowded out any other consideration. By the time someone with a modicum of sense thought to send them back out, Perez and Mac would be long gone. He hoped. Surely, the captain wouldn't let Mac pull rank or otherwise bully him into attempting a rescue. Harm ruthlessly quashed the little voice that kept pointing out the Marine creed of never leaving their own behind.

The procession stopped in front of a slightly larger metal-sided building that sported a 'Headquarters' sign. The men spilled out of the jeeps and the babble of voices filled the air. Several pairs of hands hauled Harm out of his seat and propelled him to the front of the group milling around the entrance. Lt. Singer arrived at almost the same time, looking as harried as he felt. "Are you all right, Lieutenant?" he asked and received a clout between the shoulder blades that made him stagger forward.

"That's quite enough, gentlemen." A rich baritone cut through the noise. Harm and Singer looked up as the men around them quieted. A tall, thin man wearing black fatigues stood on the steps in front of the open entryway. "Our guests will have a jaundiced view of Southern hospitality." He smiled at the laughter of the men. "Well done, I knew I could count on you. Now get on back to your barracks for some well-deserved rest. The cold beer's waiting." He glanced over his shoulder into the building. "Harper. Preston. Come escort these two to the interrogation room." Two large, heavyset men came out and wordlessly hauled the two officers into the building.

Marched down a narrow hallway, they were pushed into a bare, featureless room. The two men positioned themselves silently on either side of the door. Ten minutes later, it opened to admit the black-clad man followed by another man carrying a chair. He sat it down and left. The tall man settled down and crossed his legs, "I'm Rev. Trask. I suppose you realize you've made some people very unhappy?" He appeared pleased at the thought and looked at Harm, "Who are you?"

Harm looked at him for a moment and then shrugged, it really didn't matter. "Commander Harmon Rabb, of the Judge Advocate General's office in Washington, DC."

At the mention of DC, Trask leaned abruptly forward, "You're from Washington? Both of you?" He shot a triumphant look over his shoulder at his two guards. "So, tell me the real reason you're here." He was staring at them intently.

With difficulty, Harm concealed his surprise and chanced a quick glance at Singer. She was staring at the Reverend like he'd grown an extra head. He made a show of looking around the room and said carefully, "How much do you know?"

Trask started to answer when the door banged open. A dark-haired, middle-aged man stomped into the room, "Goddammit Trask! For once in your life, try to stay focused!" He turned his glare to Harm, "Where the hell is MacKenzie?"

Harm stared at the man. He noted the look of disdain and anger that flashed across Trask's face and heard Singer gasp. He glanced back at her. Who was this guy? Abruptly his legs went out from under him and he crashed heavily to the floor. He lay there wheezing and then looked up at the man now standing over him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Wrong answer, Commander," the man hauled back and kicked him hard in the side. He turned to the two guards and gestured curtly. They looked at Trask who gave a barely perceptible nod and then came forward, hauling Harm to his feet. The slight delay seemed to further infuriate the man. He jabbed Harm in the chest, "Where is MacKenzie?"

Harm gave him a lop-sided smile, "Halfway to the State Police, you son of a bitch. You'll never catch up with her now." He saw the fist coming and tried to relax and roll with it. He was only partially successful as the blow literally made him see stars. The fist to his midsection doubled him over and another shot to the head made his ears ring. Vaguely, he heard someone yelling stop. Singer? The beating ceased and he sagged for a moment between the two men. He tried to focus his attention, the Lieutenant was still yelling... at him? That couldn't be right... he concentrated harder. Singer was standing to the side of him.

"Dammit, Commander, just stop it and tell them! What difference does it make?!"

He looked at her fuzzily, what the hell? "Lieutenant... "

"Oh for godsakes," she looked at the man. "Colonel MacKenzie is dead. Commander Rabb made contact with some trucker on his CB and told him to send the State Police. Tried anyway, the stupid hick thought it was his buddies playing a practical joke. Now he's trying to get you to waste time searching until the troopers can get here. If they do."

Harm looked at her in disbelief, "Shut up, Lieutenant. That's an order!"

Singer looked at him with contempt. "No. We could have gotten away but you had to sit with her until she died. She knew she was dying, hell, she was unconscious most of the time at the end. We wasted hours!"

Harm struggled against the two men, "Damn you! Shut up!"

"Or you'll do what? Court-martial me?" sarcasm dripped in her voice. "You've killed us, you self-righteous son of a bitch. It doesn't really matter who pulls the trigger - this is your fault. And if I'm going to die from your misplaced loyalty and monumentally stupid sense of duty, I will damn well have my say." She turned to the bemused man standing in front of her. "Captain Koslov? Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Militia Camp
Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
1455 Local

Tink rested on his shovel and dully watched the line of jeeps go by. At least, he hoped he looked dull. He'd been hard-pressed to keep his face blank when he saw Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Singer. He glanced at the two men sitting in the shade about ten yards away. Their idea of 'training' was to saddle him with any manual labor they could find. Right now, he was digging a new latrine. He went back to shoveling. Hopefully, the absence of Captain Perez and Colonel MacKenzie meant they had escaped. Now he'd just have to figure a way to get the Commander and the Lieutenant out. He snorted to himself 'yeah, right' and then vigorously rubbed at his nose when his two watchdogs looked at him. "Bug," he said and bent back down to his task.

Ten minutes later, he clambered out of the ditch and headed to a waterbag hanging from a nearby tree. He alternated pouring water down his throat and over his head. He nearly choked when he heard a low-pitched 'pssst' coming from the ground behind the tree. Casually, he shifted to the side. A moment later, he was staring at Tyler's grimy face. The ensign looked like he'd been bathing in dirt, it was damn good camouflage. He gave Tink a thumbs-up and mouthed 'Later' at him. Tink gave a minute nod, turned around and ambled back to the ditch. He picked up his shovel and walked over to the men, "I'm done."

Tyler watched the three men leave. At first, he'd thought Tink was a prisoner, but then he realized that neither of the two men were armed. He figured that Bell had sold them on his wandering moron routine and actually gotten recruited. That had decided him on taking the chance to get Tink's attention. It had taken him forty-five minutes to work his way to the tree but it was worth it. Now that Bell knew he was around, they'd figure out a way to make contact. He had a feeling Admiral Chegwidden wouldn't be pleased with the risk he'd taken; maybe he could gloss over the circumstances. He cautiously began his retreat.

Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
1635 Local

Perez looked over at the woman beside him. She was flat on her back with her eyes closed. Her hair was damp with sweat and small rivulets trickled through the grime on her face leaving tracks. He dragged a hand over his day-old beard, he probably didn't look much better. They'd made pretty good progress but the anger and adrenaline that had been carrying her had gone just about as far as it could go. Despite that, he'd been the one who insisted on stopping and resting ten minutes for every half hour of travel. He was pretty sure that left to herself, the Colonel would have crawled to the militia camp. Beyond the anxiety of taking too much time, he had a feeling she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to get up after one of these breaks.

He took stock of their inventory, The juice was gone, he'd made sure the Colonel finished it in hopes of keeping up her energy. They still had a bottle and a half of water left. Food was becoming a distinct problem. Perez knew it was possible to go almost a week without it but that didn't mean it would be an enjoyable experience. He sighed, at some point they'd have to stop long enough for him to scare up something to eat. He glanced back and saw her watching him. "It's time, Captain." Her voice was getting hoarse. He frowned slightly and nodded. He couldn't tell if she was becoming flushed or if it was just the physical strain.