Part 6

"Josiah, put Chris on the bed there," Jackson ordered as they entered the room Moore used for surgery.

Sanchez placed the pale form on the bed and moved to help the other injured men. Vin Tanner's face seemed whiter than before and he was favoring his right shoulder. He knew the sharpshooter wouldn't leave until he knew what was happening with their leader.

"Sit down, Brother," he ordered as he pushed a chair towards the younger man.

"T...thanks, Josiah," Tanner hissed as he sat on the chair.

"We put Osborne on the couch," Dunne said as he entered the room.

"Make sure he's not bleeding anymore," Jackson ordered. "Josiah, check Vin's shoulder," the medic removed the bloodied bandage on Larabee's abdomen and cleaned the wound with Saline before covering it with wet and dry dressings. "Dammit," he swore as Larabee's body showed signs of seizing again. "Buck, get over here. Raise the rail on that side. Don't touch him just put up the rails!" Jackson ordered as he raised the sides on the bed.

They watched helplessly as the blond's body seemed to rise off the bed, arms, legs and body thrashing in a wild imitation of a marionette's dance. The seizure stopped as abruptly as it started and the body dropped heavily onto the bed.

"Daisy, does Moore have a phone hiding here somewhere?" Dunne asked.

"N...no. He never wanted a phone. He said people could trace you through the phone."

"Nathan, you're gonna have to look after Vin's shoulder. It looks like its pretty deep," the ex-preacher said as he placed a bandage over the wound. He turned his attention to the young woman standing in the door. "Are those cars really useless?" Sanchez asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"What did he do to the van?"

"He made me tear out some of the wiring," she cried.

"Can you show me what you did?"

"Y...yes."

"Then let's go. Nathan, if I can get the van going I'll drive to Lost Valley and call for help."

"Ok," Jackson said as he rigged up a new IV. He ripped open the sealed IV bag and hung it from the overhead pole.

Wilmington watched as the medic expertly inserted the IV and soon had it flowing into Larabee's right forearm. "That's all I can do until help gets here. Buck, stay with him. I'm gonna check on Vin and Osborne."

"Ain't goin' nowhere!" the ladies man vowed.

"Let me take a look, Vin," Jackson said as he helped Tanner out of his shirt. The medic probed the injury, eliciting a small cry of pain from the sharpshooter. "Sorry, Vin, this is deep."

"I know," Tanner hissed.

"I'm gonna clean it up, but you're probably gonna need an IV to help restore fluids. It looks like you've lost quite a lot of blood."

"It'll keep."

"Sure it will," Jackson grinned as he placed a gauze pad over the wound and secured it in place. "I want you lying down, Vin."

"I'm not leaving Chris!" Tanner declared.

"Vin, you won't be much good to him if you pass out and we have to pick you up off the floor. I'll come get you if he wakes up. JD, help him into the room Moore kept Chris in. I'll be right in to start an IV."

"Let's go, Vin," Dunne ordered and helped his friend to his feet and led him from the room.

"How's he doing Ez?" Jackson asked as he moved towards the third injured man.

"I do believe he's lost consciousness, Mr. Jackson. I've managed to stop the bleeding, but he still needs your expert hands."

"Let's see what we have," Jackson said as he removed the bandages and checked the wounds. The bullet in the shoulder went straight through, but the one in the thigh was still buried inside. He wrapped them both and started an IV before turning his attention to Vin Tanner once more.

"Your turn, Vin," he said as he entered the room. "What's wrong?"

"Nathan, he must've been tying Chris down," Tanner swore as he showed the medic the Velcro straps and the small drops of blood on the sheet.

"Chris hates being tied down," Dunne said softly.

"Should've tied Moore down and shoved his own drugs into him! Made the Bastard suffer like Chris is," Tanner hissed as the young Bostonian changed the sheets on the bed.

"Lie down, Vin," Jackson ordered and helped the younger man onto the bed. It wasn't long before he had the IV in place and his third patient resting. "JD, make sure he stays put."

"I will, Nathan," Dunne assured the medic.

Jackson patted the easterner's shoulder before leaving the room. He hurried back to find the ladies man bathing the blond's pale face.

"He's so hot, Nathan," Wilmington snapped worriedly.

"I know, Buck," Jackson agreed as he checked Larabee's vitals again. His temperature was rising rapidly and Nathan Jackson began to fear for his friend's life. He looked at his watch and saw two hours had passed since they'd escaped the tunnel and returned to the house.

"Nathan, I got the van running again. I'm gonna leave for Lost Valley right away. How're they doing?" Sanchez asked as he came into the room.

"Osborne has a bullet lodged in his leg and Vin's shoulder is showing signs of infection. They should both be ok once we get them to a hospital," Jackson explained.

"Chris?"

The medic shook his head as he watched Wilmington caring for the injured blond. "I don't know, Josiah. There's nothing I can do for him. The drugs he's been given are probably what's causing the seizures, that and the elevated temperature, but I can't be certain. Hell, I can't be certain of anything except that he's getting worse and we need to get him out of here!"

Josiah placed a hand on his friends shoulder, "You're doing your best, Brother. Chris will keep fighting as long as he knows he's got something to come back to. I'm gonna head out. I'll arrange to have medivac here as soon as possible."

"Tell them there'll be three patients."

"I will, Nathan." Sanchez assured him before he left. His last sight was Chris Larabee's body beginning the all to familiar arching on the bed that signaled another seizure.

"Nathan," Wilmington shouted as he reached for the convulsing body.

Jackson hurried to the opposite side of the bed as spittle dripped from the corners of the blond's mouth. "Buck, don't try to hold him down!" he ordered.

"But he's gonna hurt himself!" Wilmington snapped.

"There's nothing we can do, but let it run its course," Jackson said as Larabee's eyes shot open and screeching sounds erupted from his tightly clenched mouth.

 

'Oh, Jesus, help me!' He thought he screamed it but nothing came from his tortured throat. 'Vin!'

'Mine is the only voice you'll hear. You'll do everything I tell you too. You will be my greatest achievement!'

'No!' Larabee fought against the powerful voice taunting him.

'Remember the pain,' Moore's voice reminded him.

Larabee's body continued to arch on the bed as pain erupted from the incision in his abdomen. He struggled to reach for the sound of his friend's voices, the one he needed to hear was consistently missing. He withdrew further from them as he remembered the attack he made on Vin Tanner. He remembered leaping off the table and embedding the scalpel deep into the younger man's chest, remembered the shock of blood pouring from Tanner's body, and then nothing. He knew beyond a doubt that he'd killed his best friend and for that, the others would never forgive. 'I'm sorry, Vin,' he thought as his body dropped back to the bed and lay still.

 

 

"Nathan?" Wilmington cried.

"He's not breathing!" Jackson snapped as he pulled open the shirt and began CPR.

"God damn you, Chris, don't you do this to me," Wilmington snarled as he took over chest compressions from Nathan Jackson.

"Buck, keep going. Ezra, I need you in here!" Jackson shouted.

"What do you need me to do?" Standish asked as he stepped up to the bed.

"Help Buck with the CPR. I want to see if Moore has anything in his drug cabinet that can help him," Jackson ordered knowing the two men could perform CPR as well as he could.

 

 

"Vin, stay there," JD Dunne said as he held the sharpshooter to the bed.

"JD, let me go!" Tanner snarled, leaving no doubt he'd go through the younger man if he needed to.

"Vin, Nathan, Ezra, and Buck are in there. You can't help him right now."

"JD, get the fuck out of my way!"

Dunne knew he couldn't stop the determined man and helped him stand and move out of the room, They reached the room where Chris Larabee was being worked on and moved into the room.

"JD, I told you to keep him in bed," Jackson snapped.

"It's not his fault, Nate. What the hell is going on?" he asked as he watched Ezra and Buck perform CPR.

"He's not breathing. You just stay back and let us work," Jackson hissed as the younger man stumbled towards the bed.

"Chris, Come on, Cowboy, don't you go checkin' out on me," he hissed as he grabbed the right hand. "I need you, Pard, we got a lot of things we need to finish.

Larabee felt the pull of the Texan drawl even as Moore's voice continued to haunt him. 'Vin,' he sobbed as he tried to take a breath. He felt hands touching him and knew they were working to keep him grounded to his body, but he didn't know if he had the strength to fight Moore's agonizing pain any more. 'Sorry, Vin,' he thought as he tried to sink deeper into the awaiting darkness.

"You l...listen to V...Vin, Chris!" Wilmington hissed breathlessly. His arms ached but he refused to give up. "T...there's no w...way I'm letting you go, Pard!" he vowed.

"Breathe, Chris, come on, you can do it," Tanner said as Jackson inserted a needle filled with the required dosage of Epinephrine into the IV. He kept his face on the blond as Standish continued to perform mouth to mouth in turn with Wilmington's chest compressions.

Jackson hoped the drugs and CPR would be enough to get his friend breathing again but things continued to look grim as nothing changed.

"Don't do this, Cowboy! Don't you dare let that bastard win!" Tanner spat as he squeezed the older man's hand tightly.

Chris Larabee felt the tug grow stronger and knew he couldn't leave. He'd lost one family, but gained another when he'd met this strange group. He knew the voice calling him was the one belonging to his chosen brother, a man who'd brought him through one of the hardest times in his life, a man he'd killed. 'No!' he thought, a ray of light sparking a tiny fire in his heart. 'If I killed him he wouldn't be here. Vin!' he thought as he felt the full force of the call of his friends voices. They weren't ready to let him go and he knew he couldn't leave them. Moore had done things to him and he knew he'd have a long fight ahead of him. 'They'll help me!" He felt the spark begin to flare as the hands working him over became more powerful and he felt the pain as he sucked in a small breath of air.

"Nate?" Wilmington asked as he felt the body shudder under his hands.

"I got a pulse," Jackson smiled as he continued to work on the injured man. "Ezra get that oxygen mask on him. Come on, Chris, keep fighting."

"That's it, Cowboy, I knew you could do it," Tanner grinned as the first shuddering breath turned into a second and a third. He continued to count, reassuring himself that he really was seeing the older man breathing on his own.

"Will this happen again, Nate?" Wilmington voiced the fear they all felt.

"It could, Buck. You guys have to realize Moore was using mind altering drugs on Chris and from what Osborne was able to tell us he already started on phase two. I want to check out Moore's office and see if I can find out what he was using," Jackson explained as he continued to examine the pale form on the bed.

"I hope the son of a bitch r...rots in h...hell," Tanner hissed weakly

The medic looked up at the quivering voice and noted the pale skin on the man's face. "JD, take Vin back to his room. Don't argue, Vin, he'll need you if this happens again," Jackson's soft voice conveyed the strength behind the words.

"Let me help you, Mr. Tanner," Standish said as he took the opposite side from JD and they helped the sharpshooter out of the room.

"Buck, I'm going to check Moore's office. Watch Chris and come get me if he needs anything," Jackson ordered.

"I will," Wilmington assured the medic as he left the room.

"Jesus, Pard, that was just too damn close!" The ladies man picked up the cloth and bathed the perspiring face. The heat continued to emanate from the face and chest and he knew they needed to get the blond's temperature down. "I wish the hell we'd never stopped here. Jesus, talk about a scene from a science fiction movie. I can't believe we found our very own mad doctor in the middle of no where. We're not gonna let him win, Chris! You just keep fighting, Pard, cause I ain't letting you go and neither are the others," he repeated.

 

 

Josiah sped towards town, his face a mask of torment as he remembered the last glimpse he had of Chris Larabee. The blond's body arching upwards on the bed as he left the room. He knew there was nothing he could do to help the injured men and that it was important he get to town as quickly as possible, and call for help. Storm clouds were quickly overcoming the area and Josiah knew how fast the weather changed in the mountains.

He continued to drive over the speed limit as the overhead clouds erupted in a torrential downpour. Lightening bounced across the uneven macadam and he knew he should slow down, but the convulsing body of his friend made him press harder on the gas pedal. He'd been driving for more years than he cared to remember but this was one time he was glad of his ability to control the large club van.

 

 

Jackson pulled the files from the locked drawer and discovered a box of tiny cassette tapes and a recorder. He flicked on the small device and hit the rewind button. He swore as he listened to Moore talk about his subjects and the things he planned to do to Chris Larabee. How he planned to test the blond by having him kill each of his friends. How he used his drugs in an effort to control Chris Larabee and force him to do his bidding until there was no more than a shell of the man left.

"You sonofabitch," he hissed as he carried the device and the tapes into Larabee's room.

Buck watched the medic enter the room and place a few items on the bedside table. The mans very demeanor told him something was wrong. "Nathan?"

"How's he doing, Buck?" Jackson asked, ignoring the ladies' man's questioning glance as he checked his patient's vitals.

"He's still burning up, Nathan. If he gets much hotter Daisy won't need the stove to cook breakfast on. She can use his chest. She made some coffee, Nate, it's on the counter if you want some."

Jackson moved to the counter and poured the strong hot liquid into a cup. "All we can do is hope Josiah can get to a phone and call for a chopper. There's not much more I can do for him here. All three of them need to be in a hospital not here in this hell hole. Jesus!" he snapped, dropping the cup on the table as a pair of glazed green eyes stared at him.

"Chris."

"Chris!" Wilmington echoed as the green eyes turned his way. The smile that spread on his face quickly disappeared when he saw no recognition in the eyes. "Hey, Pard, how are you doing?" he asked worriedly.

"Chris, can you hear me?" Jackson asked. Noting the blank stare and the heavy eyelids. "Come on, Chris, I know you don't feel very well, but you gotta fight what he's done to you. Josiah's gone for help and we should have you out of here in no time."

Larabee let his eyes slide closed again, wondering where his tormentor was and who the two men in the room were. He knew the voices, but as he tried to answer them the pain in his side intensified and he turned away from them. He felt the lethargy come over him again and retreated from the friendly voices that caused him only pain.

Jackson touched Larabee's forehead and looked at Wilmington. "Buck."

"What?"

"Moore's been using Chris as a subject for his mind altering drugs."

"We knew that, Nathan."

"I know, but the bastard was recording everything. He called Chris his Control Subject and the things the sonofabitch wanted of him boggles the mind. He wanted to use him to kill not only us but the people who refused to give him the grants he needed to continue his so called work. If he'd finished giving Chris the drugs for phase two we'd never have been able to get him back. As it is there's no way of knowing just how much damage he's already inflicted."

"What are you saying, Nathan?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"I'm saying that Chris may never be the same. That the combination of drugs Moore used could have long lasting, devastating effects."

"Could have?" the ladies man latched on to the small hope those words conveyed. "That means it's possible he'll come out of it, right?"

"A lot of things depends on the life of the drug and how long it takes Chris' kidneys to rid his body of them. We also have the fever to worry about and the fact that he's weak from surgery and whatever other horrors Moore was doing to him. The incision is kind of swollen and a little red, but I don't think its infected."

"How long do you think it'll take to get rid of the drugs?"

"I don't know, Buck. I don't have the right equipment to run the tests I need here."

"So it all depends on how fast the chopper gets here?"

"And how fast we can get him to the hospital," Jackson said as he slid wearily into a chair. "Why don't you go get some rest, Buck?"

"Nathan, you're the one who needs to rest. Chris, Vin, or Osborne could need you anytime. Go get some sleep. We'll call you if anything happens."

"Alright, Buck," Jackson stood up and stretched. "Just make sure you come get me if either one of them needs me!"

"Sure, Nathan," Wilmington said, turning his attention back to his friend. "You're not giving up and neither am I, Pard," he whispered in the blond's ear.

'Buck,' Larabee thought, but as quickly as the thought came it was erased by an overwhelming surge of pain and he let the shroud of darkness completely settle over him.

 

 

Josiah pulled up in front of the same motel they'd stopped at the first night in Lost Valley. He slid from the van into the stormy night and hurried towards the home. He pounded on the weather beaten door until the same man from that night answered it.

"What the hell do you want?" the man snarled as rain lashed into the house.

"I was here with some friends last week..."

"Nobody stayed here last week..." the man interrupted.

"I didn't say we stayed here!" Sanchez snapped. "You told us where to find a doctor."

"Dr. M...Moore," the man said fearfully.

"That's right," Sanchez slammed his foot in the tiny space as the man tried to close it. "Not so fast," he hissed, pushing it open and slipping inside.

"You can't stay here."

"I don't want to stay here. I just need to use your phone."

"I...I can't let you u...use it."

"Why the hell not?" Sanchez hissed.

"Cause he'll know."

"Who?" the ex-preacher asked and realized who the man was talking about. "Moore won't do anything to anyone anymore."

"What?"

"The son of a bitch is dead! Now where's your damned phone?"

"It's on the desk but..."

"Thank you," Sanchez hurried across the stained rug and reached for the receiver. He placed it to his ear. He slammed his fist down on the buttons but received no dial tone. "It's not working," he snapped as he continued to push the buttons angrily.

"That's what I was trying to tell you. The storm must've damaged the lines again."

Slamming the receiver back in it's cradle Sanchez asked. "Where's your police station?"

"We don't have one."

"Jesus, I've been sent back into the dark ages," the ex-preacher swore. "Who else has a phone?"

"The Carters and the Mercers, but we're all on the same line."

Sanchez shook his head and looked outside. The rain hadn't let up and he knew there was no way he could drive back to the house. "Dear God, will this nightmare ever end?"

"Is y...your friend ok?"

"No!' Sanchez answered simply as a streak of lightening danced across the midnight black sky.

"I...I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What good is that? Why the hell did you send us to him?"

"I d...didn't have a c...choice. He's the only person who can treat my Martha and he has people in town who work for him. Dangerous people."

"Who are they?"

"I...I'm not exactly sure, but they're out there. They bring him his supplies and help him with the things he does. Look, I'm sorry bout yer friend but ya can't stay here. If they find out I helped ya they'll kill me and Martha."

Sanchez shook his head at the terrified man. "If Chris Larabee dies you won't have to worry about anyone else coming after you because I'll beat them to it," he snarled as he checked the phone once more before leaving the house, slamming the door behind him.

 

 

Vin Tanner was scared, not for himself, but for his chosen brother. Something was preventing him from feeling the silent connection he normally shared with the blond from the first day they met. Somehow the drugs Moore fed Chris Larabee were interfering with that connection and he knew a piece of himself was missing. 'Hang on, Chris, we'll get you out of this,' he vowed as he sought to reconnect with the older man.

"Vin, how are you feeling?"

"I'm ok, Nathan. How's Chris?"

"Still the same. Fever hasn't gotten any higher, but it's not going down either."

"Is Josiah back yet?" Dunne asked.

"No, probably stayed in town because of this damned storm," Jackson answered. He picked up Tanner's wrist and took his pulse before checking the blood pressure and temperature. "You're running your own temperature, Vin. I don't want you getting out of that bed until the rescue choppers arrive."

"I said I'm ok, Nathan."

"That's what you always say. Look, I'm going to relieve Buck so he can grab some shut eye. JD, Ezra is going to help me so I want you to get some sleep as well. Don't argue with me, ok? I've got enough to do as it is."

"Alright, Nathan," Dunne agreed. "Holler if you need me."

"Go, JD," the medic ordered as he replaced the IV bag over the younger man's head. "Vin, just call Ezra if you need something for pain."

"I will, Nate."

Jackson shook his head as he left the room. 'I'll believe that when I see it,' he thought.

"Coffee, Mr. Jackson?"

"Thanks, Ez," the medic said, gratefully wrapping his hands around the hot mug.

"How is Mr. Tanner doing?"

"Worried, feverish, and won't take anything for pain."

"Mr. Tanner and Mr. Larabee have always been in tune with each other. I do believe they were meant to be born to the same parents."

"You're probably right, Ezra. Keep an ear out for Vin. I'll be in with Chris."

"Certainly, Mr. Jackson."

"Let me know if Osborne needs anything as well," Jackson moved into the room where Chris Larabee's pale form lay unmoving. 'I'm sorry, Chris, I should never have let Moore put his hands on you. I should've known he wasn't giving you Heparin,' he thought angrily.

"Dammit, Chris, don't do this," he snapped as his friend's body once more convulsed on the bed. His hands, arms, legs, and torso rising up in uncontrollable motions that seemed imposable for any human being.

 

 

Sanchez drove along the stretch of highway wondering how they were going to get word out. He'd searched the town for a pay phone, but was unable to find one. He'd knocked on doors and was greeted with the same hostility the man at the motel had first shown him. He'd given up and was on his way to tell the others what happened and that he was taking the cell phones and driving until he was able to get a call through. He kept watching the road closely, praying he wouldn't miss the turnoff in the storm.

The violent weather continued around him and he kept his eyes glued to the dark rain swept road ahead. "Godammit!" he swore sharply as he felt himself lose control of the van. The tires slid across the road towards the steep embankment as he fought to bring the van back under control. He pumped the brakes in an effort to bring it to a stop and succeeded in slowing it down. He knew there was no way to stop it from going through the guard rail. He grasped the wheel with one hand and opened his door as the van slammed through the rail and rolled down the slope, ripping up saplings and small brush as it carved a new trail. Fire erupted from the gas tanks as it came to rest against a large boulder, tires spinning, as rain hissed on the hot metal.

 

 

"Nice shot, Billy."

Billy Markham dropped his rifle from his shoulder as the fireball lit the rain drenched wilderness. "Thanks Bobby. I guess we'd best go check on Mr. Moore and make sure that bastard didn't do anything to stop our cash flow," he grinned as the rain dripped from his dirty red hair.

"He'd better not have done anything or he'll find out just how long it takes a man to die painfully," Bobby Markham laughed, his hair a slightly lighter shade of red but just as stringy and dirty as his younger brother's.

"Too bad we destroyed his van."

"Yeah, coulda used it ourselves. We gonna check and make sure he's dead?"

"Nah, no need. Nobody coulda lived through that explosion. Come on let's go get the jeep and get on up to the doc's place." The two brothers scrambled through the trees back to their own jeep.

 

 

He felt as if he was floating. No sound met his ears, nothing penetrated his eyes, he felt no physical pain as his troubled mind tried to grasp the sound of the angry words spoken by a familiar voice. 'Nathan,' he thought but was jolted by a stabbing pain, reminding him that Moore wasn't through with him. 'No!' he exclaimed as the pain grew worse and Moore's voice continued to taunt him.

 

 

"Don't do this, Chris," Jackson repeated as the body continued its violent convulsions. He lost track of time as he spoke soothingly to the injured man, hoping some part of his voice was getting through to him. He breathed a sigh of relief as the body dropped to the bed. He checked for a pulse and sent a prayer of thanks as he found one, weak, but a reminder that there was still life in the man.

"How is he, Mr. Jackson?" Standish asked from the doorway.

Jackson shook his head as he changed the bandage on his friend's abdomen. "I don't know, Ezra. Nothing I do seems to help. He just had another seizure and I don't know if he has the strength to handle any more."

"Don't give up on our distinguished leader yet, Mr. Jackson. He's beaten the odds when everyone said he didn't have a chance," Standish assured him.

"I know, Ez," Jackson smiled thinly as he replaced the bandage and set up a new bag of IV solution. "It's just that he's been through so much..."

"You're worried about the drugs aren't you?"

Jackson nodded, " I don't have a clue what they are. I've been going through Moore's files and I've found some very disturbing things. Some of the drugs he describes being in his C. M. 5 compound are illegal and some of them I've never even heard of. If Chris is to survive this we've got to hope his kidneys continue to work properly and rid his body of the drug."

"How long before you know anything?"

"It depends, Ezra. Some drugs are easily expelled by the kidneys while others can take much longer. It also depends on whether or not the affects accumulate over a period of time. What I'm saying is if a drug is given over a period of time it can add to the time it normally takes the body to expel the drugs. In other words each injection can add time onto the length of time it stays in his system."

"You look exhausted, Nathan," Standish observed, using the man's first name purposely. "Why don't you get some rest and I'll watch our three patients. I'll call you if either of them needs you."

"Thanks, Ez, but I need to check Moore's notes and see if there's anything I've missed."

"You won't be able to concentrate if you don't get some rest."

"I will, Ez, as soon as I finish going over these last few pages."

"Alright, Mr. Jackson," Standish looked at the unconscious man on the bed. 'Keep fighting, Chris,' he pleaded silently before leaving the room. He walked across the room and stood before the big bay windows. The storm raged around them and he wondered whether Josiah was able to get a message out. The high altitude in the mountains and the violence of the storm made him feel as if he were closed off from the outside world and he felt shivers run down his spine as he realized it was true. They were cut off, at least until Josiah Sanchez came back to tell them he'd gotten a message out and that help was on the way. He turned away from the window and missed the two figures moving towards the house.

Ezra checked Osborne and Tanner before returning to Jackson. "Would you like a coffee, Mr. Jackson. I find I'm in need of something to occupy my time."

"Thanks, Ez, that'd be great. Any sign of Josiah?"

Standish shook his head and made his way to the kitchen to perk a fresh pot, unaware of the danger lurking outside.