Dell's boots slid out from under him every once in a while, a consequence of all the mud they had to slosh through. He managed to keep upright, driven enough to keep himself from falling, believing whatever authorities had came here were only a few steps behind them. He began to picture the police like wolves, hunting the two of them down. After his eyes started hurting again, Dell allowed himself the luxury to closing them briefly, trusting Felice enough to lead them both out of Badwater. The ground was slightly less slick, here, and his boots had some traction.
He opened his eyes again when he heard Felice whisper something too him, and was about to ask him to repeat it when he realized that they were at the fence.
By this time, they were soaked again, and the rain was almost starting to become a nuisance. They'd have to find somewhere to hole up in this storm or they'd face pneumonia. He took a quick breather, placing a hand just above his eyes as a makeshift visor against the rain.
It took him a moment to wrap his head around the orders, glancing back from the way they'd come. Their footprints lead a trail back through Badwater, water collecting in their muddy footprints. The police could use them to track the pair, if they weren't washed away in time.
"Wait....you're not coming with me?" Engineer whispered, taken by surprise. If they split up, and one of them got into trouble, it was curtains. He didn't know what to say as Felice pulled out a walkie-talkie and pushed a duffel bag into his hands.
"But--" Dell tried to protest as Felice quickly outlined his plan to the Texan. He didn't like the idea of leaving Felice to fend for himself; personally favoring the method of sticking in a group. And what the cook was planning to do could potentially get himself killed.
"That's not--" He tried again, but Felice gave him a shove towards the fence, running from him, telling him to leave. He took a step after him, morals conflicting with what Felice was asking of him. What if this was the last time they saw eachother?
Dell halted himself at the thought, standing there, in the rain for a moment and watching Felice go with a slightly pained expression. 'What ifs' weren't practical, and Dell harshly reminded himself of that. They'd just have to meet up later, at the place Felice specified.
"Best be careful, cook." Dell murmured to himself, snapping back into reality as he heard more gunshots, more shouts. Some of the shouts were too close for comfort, and he decided that he had to make a run for it while he still had the chance. He'd have to leave the toolbox; there was no time to heave it over the fence.
He tossed the bag over his shoulder, clipped the radio unto his coveralls, slowly scaled the fence, dropping down on the other side in the nick of time. He didn't wait to be spotted; he sprinted away, letting the rain cover the sound of his sloshing feet and his forced breaths as he slowly recovered from being gassed.
His lungs still burned, and his legs ached, but he kept moving, trying to get as far away from the base as possible. By the time the officers had reached the fence, Dell was long gone. He ran for as long as he could stand, allowing himself to drop down in a small crevice to catch his breath and gather his thoughts.
Looking back, he couldn't even see the base anymore. He could still hear distant gunshots, and military vehicles, but he appeared to be in a safe spot.
Panting heavily, he tore his hard hat from his head and dropped it beside him with a dull clunk against the ground. He just now remembered the radio, and after a minute's rest, he pulled it off his clothing, and turned the dial to the police radio, listening in on them in careful silence.
Things at Badwater weren't going well, from what he could gather, and things were getting worse the more people kept shooting. He switched through the channels until he heard another voice that he recognized, and sat straight up. Felice.
"Well, I have good news and bad news." Engineer stated into the radio, voice just loud enough to hear over the rain around him.
"Good news is I got out; if anyone else can hear this. Bad news is a don't have the first damn clue where I'm at, and I recon I'm soaked enough I could be a finalist for a wet t-shirt contest. God forbid." Dell gave a quiet chuckle, trying to give a little light to the situation, as it was, unaware on the status of his teammates. Hopefully, though, the small joke was enough to keep their spirits up. He couldn't offer much else.