The Yellowstone Affair Chapter 8

[pactnmmt.livejournal.com]

To begin with chapter 1, go to:     http://pactnmmt.livejournal.com/10718.html


Author’s Note:  This chapter contains some gruesome imagery.

God, I’m cold! Napoleon threw another thick branch onto the fire. He had kept himself awake most of the long night by singing songs, recounting stories of his childhood aloud even though there was no one to hear them, and listing all the women he had dated since being released from the army. That in itself took several hours. It was a long list. Napoleon smiled ruefully. Napoleon, ol’ boy, you gotta get a life. Work and girls have taken over your life. What’s wrong with girls?  he argued with himself.

He checked his watch…05:00 and still pitch black out. Filling the coffee mug with snow Napoleon placed it next to the fire. He wanted to get hot liquid inside him to help warm him up. When steam rose from the mug he drank it down, sipping it slowly, pretending it was a delicious cup of coffee.

When he finished his “coffee” he reached outside of his crude shelter and felt his clothes. He had been busy during the night bringing them in when it was snowing and setting them out again when the snow had stopped.  They were beginning to dry out but were still damp and as stiff as boards. What moisture was left in them had frozen.  Napoleon knew that he had to do something about the clothing and soon, or he wouldn’t live long enough to worry about much more.

Napoleon thought about his next action. Should he wear just his shoes and stay wrapped in the blankets when venturing out of his shelter or should he risk getting dressed in his still damp clothes? He debated with himself for several minutes but was finding it harder and harder to stay focused on the problem and think clearly. Finally, he reached out and grabbed his shirt and pants and beat them against the side of the shelter to soften them before donning them. Damn that’s cold! He gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply as the cold fabric touched his skin. Immediately the chattering of his teeth increased, a sign he may possibly have made an error in judgement.  As rapidly as his sore body allowed, the marooned agent put on his shoes and suit jacket. He wrapped the blankets around him and crawled out of his shelter.

Napoleon’s injuries, further aggravated by the extreme cold, made it almost impossible to walk. He gave himself a few moments to allow his limbs to adjust to moving. As he waited he added several large branches to the fire wanting it to put out as much heat as possible by the time he returned to the shelter.

With new wood added to the fire, the flames sprang up loudly popping when they hit the sap stored in the branches. The sound of a crackling campfire was somewhat comforting to Napoleon - like an old friend coming to visit. The man shook his head hard to bring him out of his reverie. He had to stop thinking about such things and put his plan into action. He was concerned that he couldn’t seem to stay on task. He knew that fading mental acuity was one of the insidious symptoms of hypothermia.

Forcing himself to stand, in spite of sharp pains in his back and legs, Napoleon slogged his way through mid-thigh deep snow towards the wreckage and Sam and Ted’s bodies. The energy it took to fight his way through the snow to cover such a short distance actually helped to warm him up a bit.

Upon reaching the wreckage, Napoleon searched for the bodies. He knew about where they were, but the previous night’s snowstorm had buried them in about a foot or two of snow making them blend in well with the other lumps and bumps in the area where snow covered tree stumps and boulders. Finally, his foot struck one of the corpses.

Using a small piece of flat metal as a shovel, he dug down until he could see the clothing. He knew it was Sam’s body from the leather copilot’s jacket. He was glad that the man had not removed the jacket in the heated cockpit. Napoleon tugged at the one of the sleeve’s with no success. While rigor mortis had eased, the limbs were frozen from the extreme cold. The agent looked at the body. “I’m sorry, Sammy, please forgive me!” Tears filled his eyes as he set his jaw and began the gruesome task of breaking the arms so he could bend them to get the leather jacket off.

Next, Napoleon moved to the man’s boots. He had to cut the laces with the jackknife as they were frozen stiff and his cold fingers couldn’t work the laces loose.  Again, he said a prayer as he worked each boot of the dead man’s feet, then the socks. Lastly, he worked Sammy’s belt loose, and pulled off the pants.

Exhausted from the exertion, Napoleon made his way back to the shelter along the trail he had made earlier. He sat in his shelter and inspected his new treasures.  The jacket, although covered with snow for almost two days, was dry. It was too cold for snow to melt and the bodies of the men had not been perspiring, same for the socks and boots. Immediately, he brushed the snow off and put the clothes near the fire to warm them up while he got out of his own damp clothes and wrapped the blankets around him. A half hour later he was redressed in the new clothing and boots. For the first time in many hours he felt a bit warmer and with that warmth, meager as it was, he became more optimistic that he just might survive long enough for help to arrive.

Taking care not to get overheated again, Napoleon left his shelter and worked his way through more of the snow to gather enough wood to last him through the night. He crawled back into his spruce bough mansion and drank more hot melted snow. He threw some of the branches on the fire, wrapped himself up in the blankets, and went to sleep dreaming of being rescued. As he slept something kept niggling at the back of his mind, but he just couldn’t focus on what it might be.

In the deepest hour of the night, Napoleon’s eyes flew open as he finally realized what was bothering him.  “Because of the extreme importance of the information, if one of you is taken down and you are only carrying a decoy there will be no immediate, if any, rescue. Instead, our resources will focus on the agent with the authentic chip to bring it in safely.”

“Nooooooo!” was the anguished cry that reverberated through the woods.

Comments

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Good chapter, although disturbing for the what Napoleon is forced to do for survival. In the middle of his anguish, perhaps he knows instinctively that his partner will be looking for him regardless of Waverly's orders.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Hang in there Napoleon! Gruesome indeed. But if he didn't take the clothes and boots, he wouldn't stand a chance of surviving.

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Poor Napoleon! Having to take such truly heart wrenching actions just to survive

Hang in there, Napoleon; Illya won't just shrug his shoulders and not attempt a rescue.