He wiped his forehead and noticed the logs stacked by the fireplace. Outside, a larger stack of uncut wood was piled by the back door. A shiny axe leaned up against the logs.
Sean raised an eyebrow.
Two minutes later, he was standing in a foot of snow next to the cabin, chopping wood in Jack's pajamas and his shoes. The swinging motion didn't hurt much. It was more of an irritation than a hindering pain. He split a log in half, then set one piece back up on its end and cut it in half, repeating the process several times until he'd worked up a sweat. His heart pounded in his chest from the exertion.
"That wasn't so bad," he said.
He heard a car coming down the trail.
He hurriedly put the axe back where he got it and rushed back inside, careful to stamp the snow off his shoes and clean himself off before getting back into his makeshift bed on the couch.
Jack's truck rumbled to a stop, and the engine cut off a moment later. Sean heard the door slam shut, the footsteps coming up to the door, and then Jack appeared in the doorway. He closed the door behind him and set a few bags of groceries on the little round table in the corner of the kitchen.
"Looks like someone's been up and about," Jack said, staring at his patient with a condemning glare.
Sean did his best to look innocent, but the older man wasn't fooled.
"I was getting antsy," Sean said. "And besides, I'm feeling much better."
"Yeah, I've heard that from patients before. Know what we call that in the medical field?"
"Noncompliance?"
"Oh, seems we have a know-it-all in our midst," Jack said with a shake of the head. "No one wants to listen to the doctor. Everyone knows better than me."
"I didn't do much," Sean said. "Just a little exercise to build up my strength."
Jack made his way into the kitchen carrying a carton of milk and a container of butter. "I don't care what you do, son. I took the bullets out of you. If you want to go hurting yourself or putting more bullets in, that's your business. Can't say I'll be there next time, though."
"Hopefully, I won't need it."
Jack closed the refrigerator door and took his coat off. He hung it on the chair and lumbered over to the small pile of wood next to the fireplace. He placed another log on the fire and stoked it with the iron leaning against the wall.
"I see you split some wood out back. Hardly what I'd call easy exercise."
Sean said nothing. He didn't have to defend himself to this guy, even though the man had saved his life. The sooner Sean could get back to civilization and figure out what was going on, the better.
"No need to thank me for the chopped wood," he said.
Jack kept his eyes on the fire. "Good, because I wasn't going to."
Sean grinned at the response. He liked the old guy. Part of him wanted to know the full story about why Jack was out here on his own, but a little voice in Sean's head told him to let sleeping dogs lie.
"I made your phone call," Jack said, standing up straight again. He turned and faced Sean, who sat up a little straighter on the sofa.
"And?"
"And… the people at Axis said they'd never heard of you. They claimed they'd never heard the name Sean Wyatt before. And that security clearance number you gave me didn't check out either. Did you give me a wrong number or something?"
Sean's heart rate jumped. Had he heard Jack correctly? No one at Axis knew his name? That couldn't be right.
"I'm sorry; you said they don't know me?"
"Yeah. They said they'd never heard of you."
"And you spoke to Emily Starks?"
Jack nodded and eased into his recliner near the fireplace. "Yep. Seemed like a nice gal. Kind of direct, to the point, but not rude. Claimed she had no idea who I was talking about."
Sean shimmied to the edge of the seat cushion. This is worse than I thought. Axis has been compromised.
"What about the other number? Did you call Tommy Schultz?"
"Yeah, but all I got was his voice mail. Left a message that he had a friend who needed to let him know he was okay. Thought it might be better if I didn't give specifics in case someone else was listening to the call."
Sean's eyes narrowed. "Why would you think that?"
Jack took a pocket knife out of his jeans and picked up a piece of wood he'd left on the chair's arm. He whittled away at the wood for a second before answering.
"Son, I've seen a lot of crazy things in my life. I once had a man come into the ER with a kitchen knife sticking out of his forehead. Darned thing split right down the middle of his brain. He was fully conscious, too. One of the strangest things I've ever seen. We ended up getting the knife out. He survived and went on to live a normal life. I've seen it all. So when I see someone who has pissed in a hornet's nest, I know it."
Sean ignored the metaphor, although he thought it a good one. His host was insinuating something Sean hadn't considered. Were he at both full strength and 100 percent mental faculties, he likely would have thought of it as well.
The men he fought in the clearing, the ones who were going to execute him, obviously worked for the government. That meant they'd be watching all Sean's friends, monitoring any contacts that were made. No doubt, if they were watching Tommy's phones and email, they would have noted a call coming in from the remote region of New York — the same region where Sean had been abducted.
His mind raced. If the government was watching Tommy's communications, his friend could be in danger. He had to get to Atlanta, and fast.
He stood up and wavered for a second, dizzy from the sudden movement. "Where are my clothes?" he asked.
"Over there, on the table. I went ahead and washed them for you. Although your shirt and coat are ruined. I took the liberty of getting you a new jacket, and you can have one of my T-shirts."
Sean stalked over to the kitchen table and picked up his pants.
Jack acted like he wasn't paying any attention to his guest, but he could see Sean out of the corner of his eye.
"What's got you in a tizzy?" Jack asked.
"I… I have to get back to Atlanta. My friends could be in danger. If what you're telling me is true, the men that came after me might go for them next."
"Of course what I'm telling you is true." Jack turned to face Sean. "Look, Son, I know you want to get back home and help out your friends, but whoever wants you dead is a real power player. Who was it that you said sent you here in the first place?"
Sean swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. "The president."
"Right. And do you trust him?"
"He and I have been friends for a long time, Jack. John Dawkins may be a politician, but I trust him."
"Fine. You trust your president. That doesn't change the fact that you need to lay low for a while and recover. It will be a while before you will be back to normal physical condition, whatever that is for you."
More thoughts flooded Sean's brain as he slipped out of the pajamas and back into his jeans.
If Emily had disavowed knowledge of Sean's existence, that could mean whoever was behind all this had gotten to her.
He shook off the notion. He and Emily went back a long time. They'd worked together as partners when he first joined Axis. She'd begged him to stay on when she got promoted to director. If there was anyone Sean could trust in the government, it was Emily Starks.
If she was acting oddly, that could mean only one thing.
"Jack, do you have any money sitting around that I could borrow? I'll only need enough to get me back to Atlanta."
Jack nodded. "Sure. There's a cigar box on the counter. That's where I keep my cash. Should be a few hundred dollars in there. Take whatever you need."
"Are you sure? I don't want to put you out."
"Son, you strike me as a man who is going to do what he wants to do. There's nothing I can do to stop it, so I may as well help expedite your journey. I just hope the final stop isn't a grave like the one I pulled you out of the other day."