We have tried to reach Heather F, but have not gotten any replies. This story has been rescued. Since Lady Angel's Library (now M7FC) was already hosting some of Heather's other stories, we assumed implied permission to host this one as well. If you know how to reach the author, please ask her to contact us.
"Gawd damn it's
hot." The grumble over the tiny headsets stretched agreeing smiles across
agents' faces as they moved inconspicuously through the milling Saturday late
morning crowd.
The 4-H County Fair and
Carnival had been in full swing since Friday afternoon. Carnival lights and
music carried over the excited voices of kids and parents alike. The heavy
equipment tents featured big names such as John Deere and Ford Tractors as well
as the little local businesses such as Jack's Ace Hardware and the such.
The animal barns sat on the
west end of the fair grounds near the show ring and auction yard, while
Amongst the throngs of
families, laughing kids, obliging parents, carnival workers and 4-H
administrators, roamed ATF agents. Seven moved amongst the crowd while hordes
worked behind the scenes running leads and checking facts.
Someone had threatened to
'bomb' the Fair. Amongst the revelers, the cotton candy smeared faces, and the
mounds of Nacho chips buried in too little processed liquid cheese, worked
seven men trying to stave off the impossible, with an unimaginable sea of
support.
Team Seven did not work
alone, but they did move amongst the revelers in their own form of solitude.
Team Seven walked and
observed sweating under airless, unmoving, summer heat.
The heavy oppression of
draping humidity promised to make the day sticky and miserable for all those
caught outside without the benefit of air conditioning.
"Hell Buck, this ain't
hot," JD's young voice spoke with an air of superiority and experience,
"you should see
As he walked away his mind
wandering back to another time…it would probably be in everyone's best interest
if they kept their undercover agent away from the big cat exhibit. He didn't
want Ezra getting 'adopted' again.
Buck was right. The unusual
muggy heat reached the scales of miserable.
"Mr. Dunne, not even
your wretched hazy, hot and humid summers in
"Should try
"It's just above
"Duh, Nathan, we knew
that," Buck's sarcastic remark had the others laughing. Clearly they had
not known but no one was willing to admit it.
"Why must we be here
again?"
"Ezra quit yer
whining." Vin watched the others wander slowly amongst the displays and
rides. He scrutinized parents pushing strollers, witnessed how the other agents
made sure that the strollers indeed carried infants or toddlers. Older children
held onto sweat slick hands and pulled invariably in the opposite direction
that their parents walked. Teenagers roamed the crowds like young bucks
scanning the currents of people, trying to appear cool and unruffled while
wearing pants that hung too low on their hips almost to the point of obscene.
Vin wondered how cool they would look if they got 'pantsed.'
"Don't do it
Buck," Larabee spoke over his mike as he spied
"Mr. Larabee, why is it
we must always take these kinds of duties?"
"Because Ezra,"
the irritated sigh filled earphones, " I'm the devil and you're one of my
pissant minions." The exasperation in Larabee's voice had the others laughing.
"I knew it," a
soft disheartened Southern whisper slipped over headsets.
"Has anyone swept
through the live stock barns?" Larabee ignored the grumbling of his
undercover agent and the snickers that fed the Southerner's cocky rebellious
attitude.
"I did the beef and
dairy barn," JD piped up. The young agent watched the kids on the Tea Cups
and hoped that when their shift was over at the Fair they, themselves, would
have time to go on some of the rides.
It still shocked JD that
someone or a group would sink so low as to do something as crazy as bomb a 4-H
fair and carnival.
The young agent scanned the
crowd. There were no soldiers here. Just families… moms and dads and their
kids. Who in their right mind would seek to destroy a beautiful Saturday, why
blow up a place that hallmarked everything good and wholesome in life?
"Brother Nathan and
myself, did the poultry, goats and sheep barn," Josiah craned his neck
around as a man in camouflage pants walked past him. The man had long greasy
hair pulled into a pony tail. A thick chain looped from his wallet to a belt
loop. Heavily used, well creased, black boots seemed too hot on such a scorcher
day.
Just as Josiah was about to
call it in, a small girl ran up to the unwholesome fellow shouting,
"Daddy! Daddy! Look what I won!" She held up a yellow stuffed snake
with a red tongue hanging out.
The big man bent down and
enveloped the slim girl in his arms and swung her slight frame easily up to his
eye level. "Well, Sweet Pea, that is just the purtiest thing I've seen
since you and yer ma." The burly man gave his daughter a kiss and
continued walking down the paved lane taking in the sights.
Josiah watched them for a
moment and turned his attention back to the conversation over the tiny ear
pieces.
"Well, Ezra I guess
that leaves you the Pig Barn."
"Oh please, Mr.
Larabee," Ezra's indignity heralded his every intention to fight the
order. Josiah could picture him trying to find an exit or suitable excuse to
escape his current circumstances. "You are still not sore about that tiny
little remark…"
"Hell, Ez," Buck's
chuckling voice burst through the headsets, "you're the only one I know
who had the balls enough to tell
This earned snickers and
grunts from the others.
"Ain't ever seen
"Especially his own
living room," Nathan laughed.
"Yes well, I didn't
hear anyone refute the claim," Ezra pointed out unabashed by his earlier
remarks a few days ago, " and it did produce the desired results."
Standish knew he made his point.
The other team members
nodded in silent agreement. That had been the first time in weeks that JD had
actually smiled. Since the last bust, JD had withdrawn into himself. It had
been a particularly violent end to a month long investigation. In the end, JD
had a righteous shooting, no one had argued it. Not even IA…they had
investigated it because it had to be done but everyone involved knew it had
been righteous. If JD had not pulled the trigger then Nathan would have been
dead as oppose to just suffering a concussion. Killing another person was tough
enough, but to have that person be just a young, hot headed teenager looking to
make a name for himself, thinking himself immortal, well that had drawn first
blood from JD's heart. He had killed someone not much younger than himself.
After that day, he had become morose and un-talkative and hardly smiled.
At least until a few days
ago.
Last Sunday,
It had broken the ice.
Even now, walking through
the sticky heat of a humid day, smiles and laughter still rolled through the
group just thinking about that particular event.
"Ezra go."
"Why me?"
"Ezra just go,"
Nathan responded, bringing a weary hand to his forehead. The sno-cone stand he
just passed looked good. The ex-paramedic turned around and headed back. Nathan
would be damned if he was forced to sew anyone up today. Hopefully Ezra would
keep his comments to a minimum. Though he was amusing most times.
"Who would raise Swine
anyhow?" Standish fished for an understanding ally.
"Brother Ezra,"
Josiah's schooling voice hailed amused insightfulness, "without swine
you'd have no pork chops or ham."
"Well thank you, Mr.
Sam the Butcher Man," Ezra retorted.
"Hey, ain't he from the
Brady Bunch?" JD asked no one in particular.
"Think so Kid,"
Vin responded.
Ezra continued as if no one
had spoken, "And I'll have you know, Pork Chops come from the frozen food
section of your local grocer….not some Pig Barn."
"Ezra you had better be
walking in the direction of the barn," Larabee warned.
"He is," Vin
answered back. The sharpshooter watched the undercover agent from the shade of
a large over hanging maple tree. Tanner sat comfortably on an old Backhoe tire
that had been converted to a circular bench. From the comfort of his shaded
seat, while he licked at some ice cream, he watched the slow progression of the
Southerner. Vin chuckled when Standish scuffled the toe of his sneakers in
frustration, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
"He's pouting,
guys." The amused laugh had the others joining him.
Standish lifted his eyes
from the ground and surveyed the area. He spotted Tanner under the shade of the
tree sitting on some mammoth tire. The undercover agent flipped off the
sharpshooter.
"Play nice Ezra,
there're kids around."
"Hey Ez, ya know where
beef jerky comes from?" JD's taunting voice had the Southerner bobbing his
head in satiric mimicry of Dunne's voice.
"The plastic, greasy
jar, next to the register at every Ma and Pa gas station across this desolate
state…."
"Oooohhh, he is
pouting, isn't he?" Buck piped up.
"I don't care what he's
doing as long as he's heading for the Pig Barn," Larabee's order and
threat were not masked exceedingly well.
Ezra sighed. The
sacrifices he made for the team were just too much. Sacrifice myself above and
beyond what a normal human being would do for another, at least according to
Mother and still no appreciation from my friends…It should be criminal.
Pigs….indeed…..Who would even buy a piglet, knowing that it would grow into a
pig….And to think that people ate such things, himself included. He
shuddered at that thought. Meat did not come off the hoof…It came from under
cellophane, just behind the refrigerating mist at the grocery store.
Standish gazed around the
crowd as he slowly made his way toward the 4-H fair side of the community
festival. He paused and watched some of the games. He had learned to beat most
as a small child. Maude did allow him to indulge in such nuances in order to
practice his skill and turn his own profit. Besides when he won a fair amount,
not many could complain. How could a grown adult or organization berate a
'lucky' kid when they themselves rigged the games for their own profit. Ezra
smiled wickedly to himself….He almost longed for the days when others saw him
as just a young, wide-eyed child too innocent for any mischief or treachery.
As the undercover agent
perused the crowd, his gaze fell on another man and his partner. They looked
hauntingly familiar.
Standish slowed to a stop.
The three men stared at one
another. Recognition settled on them simultaneously.
"Good Lord." The
worry in his voice had the others pausing.
Nathan sidestepped a crowd
and found a quiet spot. JD backed away from the rides. Vin slowly stood up and
Buck suddenly stopped speaking to a gorgeous brunette.
"What is it Ezra?"
"Hughes's henchmen just
spotted me…." Ezra immediately began removing the earpiece as discreetly
as he could, using the passing crowd as camouflage.
"What the Hell are they
doing here?" Buck's urgent disbelief verbalized what ran through the
other's minds. "Didn't he leave the country?"
"Ezra can you filter
back into the crowd?" Larabee started walking in the direction of the 4-H
barns.
"
Tanner watched as two men
converged on the lone Southerner.
It did not look good.
Hughes was the big fish that
got away. It was the one that marred a nearly spotless record. In the end, the
warehouse had been destroyed, a whole block had gone up in flames, weapons had
been destroyed and men had been injured. It was where the others had learned
fire both fascinated and terrified the southerner, discovered just how much Vin
could not stand to be confined in any sense of the word; and it was where Buck
had taken a bullet to the shoulder snapping his clavicle. It had been a
hellacious bust. No one won. The only good that did come out of it was they did
not lose the 50K that Ezra had brought with him for the buy. Standish had
somehow had enough sense to grab the over laden carrying case and make good his
escape. Except for the dancing flames. Those had mesmerized him.
It was all in the past.
Hughes had gotten away, but had been rumored to have cleared out of town,
headed for different shores.
Until now.
Tanner quickened his pace,
weaving in and out of the crowd, mumbling apologies as he shuffled people to
the side as he skipped, jumped and worked his way between the throngs of
people. Occasionally he hopped up to peer over the heads of the people trying
to catch a glimpse of Standish.
Finally, the crowd thinned
and Tanner broke into a jog, quickly crossing the distance to the three men.
From the looks of it, Ezra was being 'encouraged' to go with the two men.
He, of course, balked.
Tanner smiled, A pain in
the ass to the end…at least he was theirs.
"Sullivan!" Tanner
shouted out. All three men turned and faced the approaching sharpshooter.
"Buck, JD? Can you guys
see anything?"
"Nothing yet
pard,'" Buck huffed out. The big agent ran the gauntlet through the thick
crowd and now seemingly narrow lanes.
"Still by the
rides," JD swore as he jogged down another dead end blocked by vendor
carts.
"Still by the Truck
display," Josiah breathed out. The big man pushed his way through people
offering apologies to those that did not move quick enough.
"Can't see 'em,"
Nathan's worried voice was punctuated by his soft repetition of 'excuse me' as
he forced his way through the Saturday morning crowd.
"Shit," Larabee
whispered to himself as he listened to what he could hear of the conversation
over Vin's head set.
"Sullivan, where ya
think ya goin'?" Tanner's cock sure tone had the three men stopping.
"He's with us."
The big man gripping Standish's upper arm raised a lip in a snarl.
"Federal agent,"
Tanner flashed his badge, "and you boys don't want him…He's in a bit of
trouble with us."
"Funny, my boss says
the same thing," the second man spoke while pushing Standish and his
partner ahead of him, keeping Tanner from reaching out and snatching their
'guest'.
"Still at it, huh,
Sullivan?" Tanner's gruff demeaning snarl had Standish raising his
eyebrows in mock shock.
"I have no idea what
you gentlemen are talking about," Ezra kept his eyes on Vin silently
hoping the others would show up.
Hughes had always claimed
that Sullivan or Ezra had stolen the 50K from him. Hughes had figured that even
though the weapons had never truly changed hands, and though Sullivan had not
truly handed over the cash, even though the building had exploded around them,
and the weapons had been destroyed, Sullivan had run with the cash. Cash that
Hughes had thought rightfully belonged to him. When it was thought the crazed
gunman had left the area, all was forgotten.
Apparently not.
"You're coming with me
Sullivan," Tanner reached out to push the one over muscled henchman out of
the way so he could grab hold of Ezra and physically draw him back across that
invisible line to safety, within Vin's personal space, into his realm of
physical protection.
"Ahh, you see
gentlemen, I'm a wanted man," Ezra started trying to release his arm and
head for Tanner. Impeccable timing Mr. Tanner…impeccable.
No back up visible. Could
be worse….
Tanner stepped forward to
grab Ezra, slightly turning his shoulder to the bodyguard closest to him.
Things went awry.
The bodyguard wasted no time
and brought a punishing meaty fist down on the junction between Vin's shoulder
and neck. The sharpshooter was driven to his knees.
Ezra tried to snap his arm
free when he saw Tanner go down.
A lady screamed. A father
grabbed his 2 year old son and turned his back to the four men fighting,
shielding the boy with his body.
The crowd reacted, to the
noise and movements.
Tanner tried to regain his
feet but a solid boot to the side of the head sent him sailing sideways and
falling limply to the ground.
Standish broke free of the
first henchman and brought a side elbow into the bridge of the man's nose. The
Hughes's security man swiveled his head just enough to catch a glancing blow
off his cheek bone. Standish stepped through the blow with hopes of continuing
his momentum and pivot on the second man.
A pistol shot rang out.
It snapped, almost like a
fire cracker or a child's pop gun that was a little too loud and held its sound
just a little too long.
Someone else screamed. An
older sister grabbed her younger brother and threw him to the ground, covering
him with her body. An old man with a cane dropped his walking stick and
shielded the two children with his aged worn back.
Standish screamed and
crumbled to the grassy dirt in a spiraling motion, clutching his bleeding leg.
Only two men still moved
with any determination and alacrity. They grabbed either arm of the undercover
agent, hauled him to his feet and sprinted for the grass parking lot.
Larabee heard the shot. He
pulled his weapon and shouted, "ATF!"
Over the head sets, five
voices could be heard shouting variations of "ATF! Federal Agents!"
Covered children watched
quietly, awed and frightened, their bodies hidden and protected by crying and
seething adults. Anger, frustration and terror roared through the cowering
masses like a forest fire on a hot brittle day.
Five men converged on the
scene, where one man lay crumpled on the ground where he had fallen. Blood
streamed down from the cut on the side of his head. Long blood caked tresses of
brown curly hair covered the side of his face.
Nathan dropped to one knee
and rested his hand on the side of Vin's neck, "He's alive."
Larabee nodded, "Anyone
see them?" The others merely shook their heads as they scanned the crowd.
A young girl frightened to
near tears spoke up, her voice strong but scared. "That way," she
pointed to the North, toward the parking lot. "They went that way."
Four of the men instantly took off in that direction.
The black man turned and
smiled reassuringly at the young girl who could not have been more than eleven.
"Thanks ma'am."
The girl simply nodded
either not realizing or not caring about the tears that streamed down her ruby
cheeks. She slowly brought her tiny brother up from under her and hugged him
fiercely.
Nathan chuckled to himself
when he heard the younger brother mutter, "Quit it Sissy…'fore someone
sees…."
Nathan turned his attention
back to the sharpshooter who started to stir, "Easy Vin, ambulance is on
the way."
Tanner brought a heavy hand
up to his head, "Oh shit."
Nathan turned his gaze to
the North side of the Carnival, in the direction of the parking lot, "Oh
shit is right, Vin…son of a bitch."
"Git 'im in the car! Git
'im in the car!" Shawn urged as he whipped the driver's door open,
heedless of the struggle his partner found himself embroiled in with the
injured man. The driver side door smashed into the Chevy pickup beside them.
The back door was eventually
thrown open and Standish was bodily shoved into the car. The undercover agent
rolled onto the seat, spreading blood in his wake. He gripped his thigh tightly
between his two hands, cinching down on the muscles trying to tourniquet the
pain and blood flow with his bare hands, all the while scrambling for the
opposite side door. Breath and spittle sprayed from between clenched teeth.
Manny shoved Standish
further into the car as he folded himself into the tight confines of the
backseat.
Ezra pressed his back into
the seat and curled his legs toward himself. He reached for the door handle
closest to him.
A sharp fist slammed into
his left eye, slapping the right side of his face down onto the door's arm
rest.
"Try it again and I'll
break your hands," Manny growled. A set of hands kept Ezra's head pinned
to the door arm rest, well below any windows.
"Git us the fuck out of
here!" Manny hissed as Shawn tried to feed into the line of traffic
pulling out of the fairgrounds.
"Shut the fuck
up!" Shawn hissed back as the car lurched into the slow stream of traffic
winding its way through the rows of parked cars and trucks. There was no where
to go. They had not planned on running into Sullivan today or anyone for that
matter. Boss had sent them there to purchase a 'Beef' later that night, a show
of support for the kids and the community. Hughes had a twisted macabre sense
of right and wrong. Running into Sullivan today had been a bonus and obviously
a curse.
Shawn kept an eye on the car
in front of them; they did not need a fender bender now.
Manny scanned out the
windows, searching for any signs of Feds or police.
"Shit here they
come!" the man in the back seat, whispered out in a harsh overload of
adrenaline. "Geezus! Is that Larabee?!…..We're f***ed…..damnit,….Sullivan
what the Hell did you do to get Larabee's attention?! Are you f**ed up or what?!"
Standish blinked. The sweat
that dripped from his forehead into his eyes hardly registered. Larabee and
the others were coming…They were coming…
The driver slowly but
methodically moved the car toward the front gate. Only a few yards to go……
"Keep it cool."
The driver looked in the review mirror. "Damn it! Keep his head
down!" the driver's shout dragged his partner's attention from the side
window over toward Sullivan who once again attempted to raise his head up over
the window in hopes of giving the others a chance to see him.
A solid blow smashed his
wounded leg.
Standish did not bother
holding back the scream that erupted as he tried to bolt upward and curl inward
all at the same time.
The driver ignored the blood
curdling scream and faced forward again.
Almost there……
~~~~~~~~~~
Larabee stopped dead in his
tracks. The others gathered around him frantically searching the crawling cars
that slunk their way toward the only exit gate.
Then the howl. They heard
it….the muffled scream. For a brief flash, Larabee spotted three people in a
maroon Buick Le Saber.
"There they are!"
JD shouted pointing out the car a few rows from where they stood. Larabee was
already running towards his own black truck.
Josiah, Buck and JD sprinted
behind him.
The Buick suddenly spun its
wheels. It pulled out of line, side swiping cars, as it shot through the chain
link gates.
The Black Ram pickup with
its vortex engine, rammed its way out of its spot, leaping itself into its own
lane. Its driver did not care nor heed any form of defensive driving.
With police siren blasting
and blue dash board light flashing, the black Ram bullied its way out of the
dirt parking lot. Cars and smaller trucks gave way out of respect and self
preservation.
The ram roared to life,
skipping from dirt to paved road. The man behind the wheel was expert enough to
harness the power of the truck and not allow it to fish tail. No speed was
lost.
Four tires gripped the paved
road and shot the vehicle down the stretch of highway hot on the heels of a
maroon car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ezra rocked back and forth
in the back seat. He continued to slouch down unable to sit up as pain ripped
through his leg. His hands were covered with blood, his sock was soaked, the
blue denim had taken on a dark maroon to black color. Blood seeped thickly
between his fingers.
"Geezus he's gonna
bleed to death before we even git 'im to Hughes," Manny spat out in
disgust. He whipped off his belt and shoved the Southerner's hands away from
the wound. Standish did not cooperate. He was too intent on cinching down on
the pain, on slowing the blood flow. Nothing else existed in his world.
"Gawd damn it!"
The big man snapped out another punch colliding with the side of Standish's
jaw. Ezra's head snapped around again, spraying the side window with spittle
and blood. The hands slackened slightly. The big man wrapped his belt around
his captive's mid thigh twice and cinched it down tightly. Standish cried out
and arched his back. His bloody hands reached for his wounded leg again. The big
man slapped them away until he got the knot tied.
"Should keep ya alive
until our boss kills ya."
Ezra merely leaned back
against the door and the seat and stared at the man through sweaty bangs and
vibrant green eyes.
"Shit, we got a black
Ram on our ass!" Shawn spat out checking both his side mirrors before
looking to Manny in the rearview glass.
"Well lose 'em!"
"Ya think
Sherlock?" Shawn spun the wheel throwing the Buick into a smooth U-Turn.
He flipped off the Black Ram
as he sped by it in the opposite direction.
"Gawd Damn Larabee….I
can't believe it…of all the dumb ass luck..," Manny whispered from the
back seat, watching the Ram skidding to turn in behind them. He turned his
attention to the man bleeding beside him, "you got Larabee tailing you…I
can't believe it…Geezus
Standish managed a weak
smile and a half hearted shrug, "only the best," he mumbled out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Gawd damn,
sonofabitchin' bastards,"
Buck grabbed the handle
above the passenger side door and hung on for dear life. From the corner of his
eye, he noticed JD slide across the back seat on his shoulders with his feet in
the air into Sanchez…. Seat belt JD…wear your seat belt.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"I can't lose
him," Shawn spit out as he wove through light country traffic. He avoided
the highways and their tire shredding road strips. They had managed to pick up
and lose the few county police and State Troopers that had joined the fray.
None kept close. Shawn was a professional driver, trained by the government
itself no less. Not many could match his skill nor his control of speed. In
fact, Shawn knew no one who equaled him in driving, until now. Larabee hung on
him like a shadow. The only thing keeping the crazy SOB of an ATF agent from
catching him was the nature of his pursuit vehicle. The truck just couldn't do
it. In fact, Larabee had pushed and maneuvered the truck through paces that
would have its manufacturers scratching their heads and smiling with pride.
Larabee matched Shawn's
skill and may even surpass it.
The driver swore. Like Hell.
He made his move. With a
sharp cut of the wheel, the Buick crossed lanes, speeding over the double lane
rural road, and dove off the pavement onto a dirt country lane.
The car hit, its front
bumper nearly slamming into the dirt. The back end sailed upward, throwing its
passengers into the back of the front seat. Manny braced himself while their
prisoner merely slid to the floor of the car with a plaintiff groan and still
clutching his leg.
Shawn never lost control of
the car. The Buick kicked up dust as it sped down the narrow, non-shouldered
dirt road.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Where the hell is he
going?" Larabee hissed out in anger. He kept the car's trunk just under
his bumper.
Josiah sent up endless
prayers as they shot down the dirt road. There was no soft shoulder. A mountain
side sat to their left and a sharp drop graced their right side. Large pines
occupied both the upper and lower parts of the lane. The mid morning sun cut
shafts of light through the canopy casting everything into undulating shadows.
There was no room for
maneuverability. No space for mistakes or corrections.
There was no real spot to
knock the other car safely out of commission. Instead, Larabee literally stuck
to their bumper.
Two people were easily
visible in the car The third had disappeared from sight. The occupants of the
pickup remained quiet.
Around blinding turns, over
bone rattling pot holes, the two vehicles kicked up dust and gravel and hogged
the road.
The Buick fish tailed for
the first time, as it careened around a corner. It came face to face with an on
coming pickup. In a flash of time, instinct kicked in and both drivers reacted,
mirroring each other's movements. With no where to go, the pickup took the
ditch, its driver acting not only on instinct but his skill as a log truck
driver. He took the ditch hoping to avoid killing the idiot in the red car
driving too fast on such a road. He never saw the black Ram that tailed it like
an ominous spectre of doom.
Teenagers.
The red car swerved as well,
its driver also acting on instincts. For the first time in his life, the
driver's instincts failed him.
The maroon Buick shot off
the side of the road. Still traveling forward, its right tires lost contact
with the road , spinning over air. With nothing to support its weight, and with
its forward momentum, the car careened over the embankment and log rolled down
the wooded incline.
"Shit!"
"OhmyGod…Buck?"
"Iknowkid….Iknow."
"Protect him,
Lord."
The driver of the white Ford
pickup was already on his cell phone. He fumbled to open his door and step from
his truck.
Larabee pumped his brakes
and shifted the Ram down to a stop fighting the wheel on the rolling surface.
He threw the truck into
reverse, spun its wheels until the back end swung around and faced the left
side of the road in a perpendicular manner.
"
Larabee threw the truck into
second gear hit the four wheel drive button and nudged the accelerator,
"Hold on".
The truck moved forward. The
Ram's front tires left the graded road and lurched downward threatening to
topple nose first down the incline. The passengers were thrown forward harshly.
Larabee felt his seat belt cinch tightly across his chest. He pressed the
accelerator further toward the floor. The tires gripped the side of the
mountain's wooded face and pulled the rest of the truck off the road.
Larabee gritted his teeth
and with no second thoughts, drove the truck down the side of the mountain
following the path of the Buick.
Foliage whipped, scratched
and beat the marauding truck. Thick, low branches smashed into the windshield,
momentarily, blinding the driver.
"Oh Shit!" JD
braced his feet high against the back of Buck's seat and was forced to keep his
hands pressed flat against the ceiling.
Josiah thanked the Lord for
the reckless abandonment of his team. And quietly wondered just who in their
right mind would ever insure
Larabee fought with the
wheel and answered without looking up, "He's in the Buick, Josiah."
The curtness of his tone dissuaded any more foolish questions.
Despite the insanity of
their maneuver or maybe because of the surrealness of their situation, Josiah
and the others chuckled.
The Dodge dove headlong
through the forest.
The driver of the white Ford
slowly dropped his hand from his ear, bringing his cell phone down to his hip.
He stared open mouth as the taillights of the Dodge Ram disappeared from sight.
The man gawked in open mouth shock ignoring the tinny plaintive pleas of the
911 operator to disclose his location and the nature of his emergency.
The sounds of smashing
foliage, snapping twigs and sticks resonated unseen from below. The violent
path cut by the rolling vehicle seemed virtually invisible, as if the forest
had simply swallowed the car. Larabee followed like a hound on a fresh scent.
Only the fresh barkless scars on standing pines marked the brutal descent of
the car. The horrific screech of tearing and twisting metal filled the area.
Branches and shrubs gouged
black paint from the body of the truck. Stumps and small depressions in the
ground stole the truck's alignment away. The black Ram bounced, jolted and
rocked its way down the mountain with no intention of being left behind.
The marooned dented roof of
the Buick worked its way into view, camouflaged by the thick undergrowth.
Larabee rocked his battered
truck to a stop. The maroon car had ceased rolling. It had become wedged
against an ancient pine. The passenger front quarter panel had molded itself
around the tree, its mangled bumper biting into the trunk. The car was
momentarily anchored.
A wind fallen Ponderosa
forced Larabee to stop a hundred yards from the other car. With a curse,
Larabee threw the truck into park and shoved the brake to the floor. The truck
rocked as heavy treaded tires gripped for purchase. Tires stopped turning but
the Ram still slid forward, the back end slowly swinging around trying to pass
the engine. The rear quarter panel slammed into a tree, jarring the occupants
of the truck. The bumper scraped heavily along the bark, peeling painfully from
its braces, tearing itself back away from the undercarriage of the truck. A
piercing screech cut through the area.
The truck lost its forward
momentum.
All sound stopped.
They spilled out of doors
before the truck even lunged to a complete stop. Its back fender hooked and
anchored the Ram to the old unyielding tree.
Buck splintered off from the
rest of the group, heading South of them, hoping to flank the kidnappers…just
in case….just in case those idiots were lucky idiots.
Buck ducked and shoved
branches out of his way. His heart hammered in his throat. He thought of
nothing but circling around. He gave no thought to Ezra's chances of surviving
the wreck, gave no thought to the shape the undercover agent was in at the moment.
Instead, he concentrated on gaining his position and removing any possible
threat to his team.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Buick sat cockeyed on
all four wheels, leaning precariously to the right, threatening to spill even
further down the slope if given the slightest chance.
Larabee had his gun out,
close to his body and raised to fire, an extension of his eyes. He boldly
approached the crumbled car.
He passed through slivers of
sunlight. Shadows and light bent and molded across him as he closed the distance
to the car with confident determination. His feet never struggled for balance,
his hands never wavered. His dark hazel eyes focused on the person behind the
shatter lined glass, the unwavering gun barrel mimicked his steady line of
sight.
Larabee cocked his gun and
approached the front side of the Buick, towards the door that shielded the most
frantic movement. People still sat behind the spider cracked glass. Each
movement rocked the car, tilting it, threatening to send it careening once
again down the slope.
The silhouettes were too big
for his missing man.
The Sig barked once. A
deafening, solemn toll that rang through the deathly still forest. Nothing
moved, not even the air stirred as a small spray of red splashed onto the
inside of the window and the one moving silhouette disappeared from sight,
tipping across the front seat.
Larabee merely changed the
aim of his gun and turned his attention toward the back seat.
The back door shot open with
a cry both metallic and human. Two men tumbled from the vehicle and down the
steep incline, one hidden behind the other.
Larabee dashed to the
mangled trunk of the car, his gun raised to fire.
Standish slid face up, on
his back on top of his captor. He stared directly at Larabee for a brief moment
before heavy ferns blocked his wild descent from view.
A sharp flash of metal
caught a stray stream of sunlight. Did the captor have a gun?
Larabee swore. He lowered
his Sig and gave chase. He crashed through the underbrush chasing the bodies of
the two tobogganing men. JD and Josiah followed behind.
Under branches, between
trees and through bushes the ATF men followed the crazy slide of the others.
Larabee cursed the thick
woods.
The steep incline finally
ended at a small stream. One could cross the stream with an easy stride. The slope
immediately began climbing back up on the other side.
Broken shadowed images stood
camouflaged behind the thick foliage on the other side of the stream a few
yards up the slope.
Larabee squinted, trying to
piece together the broken images. Was it a rifle? Did whoever hid behind
Standish have a gun?
"Back off!" The
hoarse order held no hint of surrender. The speaker remained nearly invisible
in the cloaking darkness afforded by a thick overhanging canopy and forest
growth.
As Larabee contemplated what
to do, noise from just to the side of kidnapper snapped everyone's attention to
the east.
Buck broke through the
underbrush just a few yards from the kidnapper. Without warning, the unseen man
redirected his stance.
Larabee brought his gun up
trying desperately to see through the natural camouflage that mocked his eyes.
A Shotgun blast exploded.
Buck's eyes widened. His
chest and abdomen were punched violently backward, his shoulders and head
thrown forward with his legs. He sailed back, his arms flung garishly out in
front of his body. He flew. He flew until he disappeared amongst ferns and
fallen leaves. His hands and feet were the last to hit the earth. His head
rebounded, reappearing above the ground cover only to disappear again.
The forest became ominously
silent watching this theatre of death play out. A small breeze moved leaves and
small branches.
Standish let out a strangled
cry. A blood curdling "NO!" ripped through him and he fought with his
captor.
Under the protection of
shifting shadows, poor light and behind the shielding body of Sullivan, Manny
dragged the weakly struggling man up the slope, deeper into the shadows. It was
just a damn Fed…what the Hell was Sullivan's problem?… A Larabee Fed…that made
things a lot worse, but still. Manny cinched the crook of his arm around
Sullivan's neck and literally dragged the Southerner across the mountain side
before heading upwards. Larabee would be relentless.
The bullets that started
tearing through the leaves, and pinging into the ground and surrounding tree
trunks only served to hasten Hughes's security man into action. Sullivan still
fought with him. The big man swung the gun down and slapped it off the injured
leg. Standish let out another howl and tried to drop to grip his leg. Manny
smashed him between the shoulders with the gun, stunning him. The henchman
started dragging the dazed man further into the shadows, deeper into the
forest.
Someone needed help.
JD screamed Buck's name even
as the big man disappeared, seemingly consumed by the monstrous ferns.
"Buck!" JD ran to
his fallen partner.
Josiah tumbled and slid down
the slope toward Larabee. The leader never took his eyes from where Standish
and his kidnapper had stood.
"EZRA!!!" Larabee
hollered at the top of his lungs. Frustration and fear mingled freely.
Standish paused in his fight
to regain his feet, listening to the man he could no longer see. The undercover
agent fought back the tears, the fear and the flood of anger that threatened to
consume him. Buck Wilmington dead…Buck was gone…Oh God Buck was gone.
"YOU'RE A DEAD
MAN!" Larabee's enraged voice rang out again. Hatred and vile spite
dripped from the blatant promise. A proclamation.
Standish swallowed uneasily
and silently agreed with Larabee's pronouncement. Yes, he was a dead man,
either way he had lost everything, but somehow it did not compare to the savage
brutal loss of Buck Wilmington.
Ezra Standish had nowhere to
turn, no haven in which to escape to.
Sullivan allowed Manny to
pull him further away from the existing carnage.
"We'll get ‘im
brother…we'll get ‘im," Josiah didn't bother touching Larabee. The man had
already killed today. Had already stepped across that boundary that they had
been trained to ignore when the time came. A lesson not many could or were
willing to learn.
Josiah didn't touch him, not
out of fear of what
If they were to stop the
violent jerk of emotion or electricity, they first had to find the source of
the problem. They needed to get Standish back.
Josiah looked longingly at
Dunne. The kid walked toward and then shied away from an unseen spot on the
ground. Sanchez watched as the young man tried to approach his prone friend
only to stop abruptly, unwilling to acknowledge the death that lay at his feet.
The boy was truly a boy now,
and lost. Frightfully lost.
Blood drooled from the
corner of Buck's mouth, his eyes stared blankly up at the canopy of trees. One
leg lay twisted under the other, his arms were flung out from his sides. He
appeared dead.
Larabee waited….and waited.
He cursed. JD teared beside him, fighting his own rushing emotions.
Then he felt it. A bump. A
solid bump. A long wait and then another one. And finally a breath.
"He's alive."
JD stood quietly staring at
the ground. "He's alive…he's alive….he's alive," the soft mantra
slowly sunk into a shock muddled brain.
The young agent finally
focused on Josiah. Sanchez was fumbling with the protective vest Buck wore
under his shirt.
"JD?" Sanchez
looked up at the young man. "You ok?"
"
"I'll stay with
Buck….you go with
JD paused and thought about
it. He slowly nodded his head, growing confident with each second, "Yeah,
Josiah….yeah, I am," Dunne looked back down at his fallen friend,
"Buck's alive." His soft mutterance didn't go unnoticed.
"Yeah, JD he is,"
Josiah gently nudged the younger man in the direction Standish had disappeared.
Dunne took off after
Larabee.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ezra tripped and would have
fallen if the man beside him wasn't keeping a death grip on his arm. They
continued to run up hill. Each step pushed more blood from the wound. Each step
delivered them further from Buck's body.
Ezra fought for breath,
fought the hitching sobs that stole his breath away.
He wanted to feel numb,
needed it. It hadn't happened. Where was the cold numbness he had heard about,
the deadly shock that dulled the brain? Instead, sharp clear pictures blitzed
his mind…Larabee's enraged declaration rang in his ears. He couldn't shake
them.
Nausea rolled through him
like a storm surge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He did not hear anyone
follow him. After a few yards, with no sign of his quarry in sight, with his
chest burning like a stoked fire, the steepness of the incline finally forced
him to a walk.
He cursed his
ineffectualness, cursed his lack of physical endurance, not realizing that he
had covered a distance and a climb that would leave most Olympians yards
behind.
The leader of Team Seven
gazed over his shoulder when someone scrambled breathlessly up beside him.
Dunne.
The two men continued on
side by side. Josiah would be calling in the
The two men continued up the
slope. JD matched
~~~~~~~~~~~
The bodyguard made it to the
top of the mountain and got his bearings. He knew where he would lead them
next. If he could just keep the lead he would get them out of this forsaken
forest and back to civilization,-- his turf. No one would find him once he hit
pavement.
Manny snapped his head up
when he heard the hounds. "Shit!" This had gotten out of control. The
slap of helicopter blades over head brought his eyes upward. At least the heavy
forest offered something positive. Nobody would be able to see them from up
there.
The big man tightened his
grip on Sullivan's arm and hauled the lagging man forward.
The two men struggled and
fought their way through the pine forest. Standish tumbled and tripped again
dragging his captor down with him.
"Gawd damn it!"
The big man hissed, "if I didn't need you to keep me alive I'd shoot your
sorry ass right now." He hauled the Southerner back to his feet.
Standish felt his vision
blacken at the sudden change in height. His legs weakened and threatened to
buckle. The world dipped and spun at an alarming rate. The numbness he had so
wished for, engulfed him. Ezra failed to realize it.
Buck.
He shivered.
Something pulled on his arm.
Once again he found himself tumbling and fumbling over rough terrain.
Buck.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Larabee cut down the path.
JD followed without question. The young agent nimbly skipped and jumped, swung
his arms to keep his balance but maintained a steady few paces behind Larabee.
Two small targets instead of
one large one.
Hounds bayed in the
distance.
For that JD was thankful. If
Buck and Vin were down and
Ezra missing. There was no way JD would stop. No way at all. They were wasting
enough valuable time searching for sign of their quarry.
Dunne finally found some
insight to what a hound must feel when it was on the scent of a big cat or a
bear. With their game only just in front of them, how could they stop now?
JD zigzagged, kicking up
trail dust, his arms snapping out left and right helping his body to maintain
his balance and his feet. The young agent barreled down the mountain trail hot
on the heels of his boss.
They would not fail. Not
again…and certainly not today.
Not today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Manny let a smile cross his
dirt streaked face. They had made it.
Meridian Mall. Of all the
places to have a mountain dump you off at…a mall. A shopping plaza with miles
of parking lot and hundreds if not thousands of cars. All sitting unattended
and shimmering in the
The afternoon sun sat in the
western sky casting the extensive parking lot into flickering pools of
reflective light. Natural camouflage.
Manny smiled. Nature was on
his side.
"Come on." Manny
hauled his sagging captive to uncooperative feet and dragged him onto the tar
covered parking lot.
The heat from the black top
worked its way through the thick soles of his boots. Manny paid it no need and
dragged his dull hostage between cars, row after row.
Car mirrors snagged
Standish's arms and shoulders, tugging him back a step while the forceful hand
on his upper arm yanked him forward repeatedly. The undercover agent focused
only on placing one foot in front of the other trying to keep his balance in a
rapidly spinning world.
Manny dragged Sullivan
forward again, sending the man staggering to his knees. The large bodyguard
cursed. This couldn't continue. Hughes's man gazed around the sea of parked
cars shimmering in the heat of the day. He'd stash his prisoner and then find a
phone and simply make a call.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Not just any road. A four
lane road divided by parallel yellow lines.
Sweat and dirt ran down his
face as he tried to get a fix on his location.
"Meridian Mall,"
JD whispered as he pushed his way from the underbrush and thick trees onto the
side of the road next to Larabee.
"What?"
"They're heading for
the Meridian Mall. " JD looked at
The sun glared down on them,
baking their backs as the two agents headed east, toward the shopping center
and back into the mayhem of civilization.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Another car?"
Standish mumbled to himself as he once again found himself bodily shoved into
the back seat of another vehicle. He didn't have the strength or the
coordination to keep himself from falling to the floor. He found himself wedged
between the front seat and the back, staring up at the grey interior ceiling
and dome light. The seats were cloth. Blood would be hard to remove. That is
why one should spend the extra money and purchase leather. Easier upkeep.
Ezra grunted in disgust.
The sun through the car
window felt good on his face. Not near as cold now. Yes, the heat felt good,
made it difficult to breath, but it felt good to be out of the cold. The
penetrating warmth pushed the bone brittle chill away…somewhat.
~~~~~~~~~~~
few hours later…
Manny exited the mall
wearing new clothes, sporting a new hair cut and eating an ice cream. He had
phoned his boss and explained his situation on first entering the
air-conditioned mall. Though Mr. Hughes was initially unhappy, the idea that
Sullivan would soon be within his grip was enough to curb his anger. The fact
Larabee had lost a man in the ensuing chase was something that both bothered
and thrilled the Illegal Arms dealer. Larabee needed taking down a peg or two,
but still to have a rabid dog like Larabee on your trail could also be very,
very paralyzing.
Hughes assured his man that
help would be coming, sit tight, he would be extricated from his current
difficulties in no time. A few hours, but not much longer. Mr. Hughes, after
all, was a careful man.
Manny stepped outside the
air conditioned mall into the humid oppressive heat of the late afternoon and
almost re entered the mall. Instead, he forced himself to walk along the
sidewalk, and check the pick up parked in Section J. Employee parking: the
farthest from the mall doors and normal employee hours should guarantee that
the truck be there until at least eight pm.
Manny smiled when he spotted
the truck. Sullivan would be going nowhere. Not until more of Manny's friends
and co-workers arrived. The big man leaned against the tan brick wall and
rested the sole of his foot against it. As he licked his ice-cream, he almost
felt sorry for Sullivan. Knowing his boss, Hughes would have his personal physician
fix the man up just so he could 'question' him and kill him later.
Manny shrugged. Not his
problem. Too bad about Shawn. Larabee was an ice cold bastard.
The security man let his
eyes rove around the parking lot. He paused and straightened up, dropping his
foot down from the wall. He spied two figures jogging round the far corner of
the mall.
"Shit." He lowered
his ice cream and pushed off the wall.
Larabee and Manny noticed
one another at the same time. Their eyes locked.
The few hundred yards that
separated them was not enough, not for Manny.
The big man turned, dropping
his vanilla ice cream cone to the white cement sidewalk, and started running.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD bumped right into
Dunne's sharp dark eyes
swung around the parking lot and immediately noticed the large man running down
the sidewalk and around the corner. The West side entrance, bastard was probably
hoping to lose them in the mall. JD took off running. His mind reeling with
another thought…..
Where was Standish?…Oh
God…was he dead somewhere on the mountain? Where was he?
Dunne gave chase peeling off
from
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Standish's labored breathing
became more and more shallow. Sweat had long ago evaporated leaving a salty
residue on his pasty skin. He wished someone would take the blanket off his
face; it was making it difficult to breath. He couldn't seem to move.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Josiah hung onto Buck's limp
hand watching the slow even rise and fall of the Ladies' man's battered chest.
He ignored the large winch truck that worked to pull Larabee's misused pick up
back up onto the road.
K-9 units and police units
lined the road. Radios squawked, competing with the heavy whine of the winch.
Lights twirled adding to the confusion of the scene.
Dust blanketed everything.
Running sweat cut dirty trails down the sides of flushed, determined faces.
Rescue crews and law enforcement officers alike, worked in tandem each doing
their best to help one another.
In amongst the controlled
chaos, a quiet oasis surrounded the gurney that was carried toward the
ambulance. The wheels refused to roll with any cooperation on the dirt road.
Josiah walked beside
"Use your walkie,"
was all Sanchez had to say.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vin fought to keep his eyes
open as he passed through a large, tan, doughnut shaped thing. It struck him as
unusual. Perhaps this is what Lemon filling felt like…. He could hear people
talking. Tanner tried to sit up and bumped his head on the inner ring of the
doughnut. He heard a string of curses that mingled with his own. Nathan kept
showing up, smiling down at him, except Vin didn't think it was a happy smile…
Vin wanted to ask him something… Nathan kept talking, telling him to keep still.
Nothing made sense.
Where was
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dunne sprinted across the
polished floors of the mall, enjoying the brief spate of cool air. He pushed
the side Mall doors open and found himself back outside, suffering, the draping
The man had a gun…a Gloc
from the looks of it.
JD reached for his gun
forcing the bigger man to suddenly changed direction.
Manny headed deeper into the
parking lot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Standish's heart raced. It
beat so rapidly that it nearly fluttered in its haste to beat the too little
volume of blood to the rest of the body.
His chest lingered, nearly
failing to haul in enough smothering, thick air into his suffering lungs.
A chill settled back in his
extremities. Nausea rolled through him.
Buck…
Standish tried to move a
hand. It refused. The effort left him exhausted, his mind wandering, confused
and disjointed. Who would ever raise a pig? Perhaps name it Bacon Bits…
A weak smile crossed his face.
The cold crept back on him. Buck
would name a pig Bacon Bits…as sure as JD thought McDonalds was fine dining.
Buck was gone…
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nathan paced in and out of
Vin's hospital room waiting on Josiah. Buck still lay in surgery. Ruptured
vessels. Thank God for modern imaging. A vascular surgeon and his team had been
on standby. The paramedics at the scene had suspected some kind of internal
bleeding and conveyed their concerns.
Sanchez had disappeared in
search of any information on the others.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Manny found himself running
out of wind. This wasn't going to work.
He circled back around and
headed for the yellow truck where he had stashed his captive. Time to employ
his human shield. Worked once why not twice?
Larabee was gaining…
He noticed a mother and her
three children. Toddlers. Leverage.
He made his move toward the
three children and their mother. The mother noticed it, something in her
instinctual make up had her swinging her head up. Shock and fear flashed across
her face and then angry determination. She reached into her purse as she
blocked her children from view with her own body.
The woman turned and faced
the danger that rushed her. A metallic object in her hand.
Pepper spray or a gun?
Manny swore and changed
direction. A prepared mother defending her children could be unpredictable on a
good day….and this was far from being one of his favorites.
The pick up was his best
bet….Sullivan had no fight left.
Ezra felt himself hauled
from the car again. The stagnant air that had worked to smother and warm him
suddenly disappeared. Thousands of tiny icy teeth bit into his skin. A breeze
tore across his exposed skin, chilling him to his core. He moved his good leg
once, in a feeble attempt to kick out at whoever grabbed for him. This earned
him a sharp blow to the wounded leg. He managed a raspy groan and rolled his
head in discomfort. The pain sapped him of the negligible strength he had left.
The stimulation urged the heart and lungs to work a little harder. Muscles
draped uselessly around bone.
An arm once again encircled
his neck and hauled his head back, drawing him to his feet. He couldn't support
his own weight any more. He sagged against the body behind his own, relishing
the warmth of the contact.
Was it winter?… His toes were cold, his fingers
too. Miserable.
"No closer…not another
step…I'll kill ‘im."
Hadn't we heard this before?
Ezra's mind wandered in a haze. Buck. Buck? Oh Gawd they killed Buck. He
whispered the loss of his friend, "Ahhh Buck," So sorry, so sorry.
Buck.
"Let ‘im go."
Larabee fought the rage that roared through him as he caught sight of his
undercover agent.
Larabee eyed his mumbling
agent and then concentrated on the man hiding behind Standish.
"Put it down
Larabee," Manny motioned with Standish's head for the gun to be lowered.
"I'll kill ‘im, then you, and then start taking out all these shopping
mall brats and their mothers." Hughes's man couldn't help but smile at the
steady glare that met him.
Larabee was a tough bastard.
Manny knew the ATF agent would sacrifice scum like Sullivan without a second
thought, but not innocents. He had heard it said by some of his cohorts that
Larabee would sacrifice anyone and everyone but his own damnable team…They
also said never ever touch Larabee's team…
The shouldering of
responsibility had shifted away from the young one. Manny recognized the
technique. Special forces had discovered with their snipers that their
percentages increased if they had a partner…someone to share the responsibility
in the killing of someone. Remove the nagging sense of right and wrong by
turning the directive into a command, and if you provide a second person to
help aid in shouldering some of the responsibility, you improve their kill
ration.
Larabee just gave this kid
the clear okay to kill.
Manny's smile brightened.
The kid just to his side wasn't a killer, no way. He'd let Larabee kill
Sullivan and then Manny himself would take out Larabee and then the kid….he'd
get out of this, no problems. Hughes's man swiveled his eyes and took a
measuring glance at the 'Kid' to his left. His heart plummeted. A young man as
determined as his rabid ATF boss smiled back at him from behind an unwavering
Sig.
Ezra slowly rolled his eyes
toward Larabee. Shoot Sullivan… The undercover agent's mouth twitched
into a sad weak smile.
The world swam in and out of
focus. He couldn't feel his leg anymore. Things swarmed around him too fast,
too haphazardly.
The silhouette of Larabee
was still aiming a gun at him. Ezra felt someone standing behind him, holding
him up….perhaps Josiah? Did Josiah hold him up so
But Buck was gone. His
fault…He messed up, got someone killed…Buck…Did Buck raise pigs?
Ezra felt the world heave
and suddenly dip, only to then swirl rapidly on its axis. The sense of up and
down, left and right disappeared. Nausea crashed through him like a breached
dam, violent and sudden, his body acted accordingly. With his stomach in his
mouth, the world turned black.
Ezra's upper body shot
forward and downward as his abdominal muscles contracted and spasmed brutally.
Manny's eyes widened in
horror as Sullivan suddenly and violently curled over and around his arm,
becoming dead weight. Manny's shield melted from his grip, mortally exposing
him.
Hughes's body guard
redirected his aim, the barrel of his Gloc. following his eyes toward Larabee.
His meaty finger started moving to depress the trigger the moment Sullivan
began moving. Killing Larabee would gain him nothing but Manny couldn't help
himself. He acted to save his life, a last ditch effort to make his pursuers
hesitate, anything to divert their attention. Instinct really, perhaps just his
training, he squeezed on the trigger.
Larabee and JD fired
simultaneously.
Two shots echoed through the
Manny flew backward, the
unspent gun flying from his grip. He cursed Sullivan. Man was nothing but a
pain in the ass since the day they met him. Son of a Bitch picked a fine time
to puke his guts out and collapse.
Manny slammed into and over
the parked car behind him. He slid down the trunk onto the bumper and finally
to the pavement. He rested sideways in a crumpled heap. Unmoving, not even a
pulse.
The two ATF agents ignored
him and rushed to the man puddled just a few feet away from his captor.
Too fast and shallow, but it
was there.
"JD call an
ambulance," Larabee ordered without looking up. The kid hesitated just
long enough for
"Hang on Ezra,"
Larabee whispered as he checked the makeshift tourniquet. Blood still seeped
from the bullet wound above the knee. He had seen Ezra placing weight on it so
the bone had to be in good shape.
A salty residue made the
undercover agent's face and neck gritty to the touch.
Standish lay limply, his
eyes partially open and unmoving. The shivering had ceased. Sweat dried clothes
scratched at Larabee as he watched the too rapid rise and fall of Standish's
chest.
"You hear me Ezra, just
hang on,"
Ezra thought he heard
voices, someone telling him to hold on…an angry voice, demanding him to hang
on…keep fighting… Whatever for? He had gotten Buck killed.
Ezra wondered at the unseen
anger. Buck…It was time to attempt his own emancipation. He truly did not want
to be shot again. Buck was his fault but he hurt so much already.
Standish tried to move,
hide, get away. Hadn't he been in a car?
Get away first. He fought to move. Push the
tentacle like arms away and disappear under a car. The exertion clenched his
stomach again.
He didn't hear
It was cold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
An aged mall security man
watched and waited from the safety and obscurity of tinted dark glass. He had a
perfect view of the parking lot. He dialed his boss.
Mr. Hughes would be unhappy
about the loss of Manny. The situation could have been terribly worse though.
The car and men coming to
meet Manny would be called back. There was nothing for them at the Meridian
Mall. He watched the crowd gather around the two standing men and the two
bodies. For a moment he thought the two men on the ground were dead, until one
started trying to crawl under a truck.
Whoever it was, was
desperate to get away from Larabee. The old man backed away from the window and
returned to his post when the first sirens were heard heading down the street.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Josiah,"
Sanchez let his gaze linger
on the undercover agent. Standish's right leg was elevated at the knee and
bandaged, the pant leg had been removed. An oxygen tank sat between his calves
and a hose snaked its way over his body to the mask that covered his nose and
mouth. Ice packs wrapped in cloth sat nestled under Ezra's armpits, knees, neck
and against his stomach.
The gurney sped through the
pneumatic doors, down a short hallway and into the ED.
"Vin's ok, Nathan's
with him." Sanchez matched Larabee's pace and kept beside the moving
stretcher. "Buck's in surgery."
Larabee snapped his head up.
"I don't know,
Orders were given and met
with almost military precision. Clothes were cut away and discarded as space
was made for the internal medicine , surgery and neurology people. Voices
mingled and wove around the stretcher, each seeking and giving advice and
direction.
Someone guided the two ATF
agents away from their third, cautiously but persistently.
Larabee turned and faced
Josiah. "Where's Buck?"
~~~~~~~~~~
The surgeon swore lightly to
himself as he released the clamp, testing his delicate sutures. The vessel
remained blanched then filled with blood, then leaked around the small knick he
had missed.
The nurses had pointed out
that this man, the big mustached agent was Mr. Larabee's oldest friend. Must be
someone special to have braved and stormed Supervising agent Larabee for so
many years.
The surgeon sighed, focused,
and reached back into the body to fix the leak, never taking his eyes off the
TV monitor that magnified his instruments and surgery site.
Tones beeped in the
background, the anesthesiologist played with the IV drip and a team of nurses
worked handing and replacing instruments as if reading their minds.
The surgeon ignored the
soporiferous information and concentrated on repairing another member of ATF
Team Seven. He had never met a group of men more dedicated to their job, each
other, and the pursuit of punishing their bodies.
One day one of them would
not get fixed.
Some day.
The surgeon swore, upon the
grave of his dearly departed mother, that it would not occur on his shift. He
would not be responsible for breaking up one of the most legendary groups in
modern times.
Maybe one day he would write
an article on this team, on their medical cases as they filed through his
surgery suite. Maybe.. one day….not today, though.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Josiah looked up as Larabee
once again kicked the Coke machine. Nathan sighed. He wasn't going to put his
life on the line for a soda machine. Not yet at least. JD continued to play games
on his palm pilot. Sanchez had never seen the kid use it for anything else but
to play games.
Reception had tried to
ignore Larabee and his gang when they had first gathered at the 4C's Mercy
Emergency waiting room, but when Mr. Larabee threatened to eat the heart out of
a known 'users' chest for taking up breathing room, reception thought it better
to give the ambulating members of Team 7 their own private waiting room.
Surgery… floor 9 could deal
with them.
The nurses peeked their
heads around the corner at the noise in the waiting area. They would need to
call Harold come Monday. The coke machine would surely need a new front. Mr.
Larabee would be a little poorer but apparently it was good therapy for the
man. He couldn't be in three places at once. Mr. Tanner, Mr. Wilmington and Mr.
Standish had once again stretched their boss's resolve to the snapping point.
He could pace angrily next to just one bed. He had three men down and could not
silently threaten them to open their eyes. His men had been separated from him,
in different areas of the hospital and it frustrated and angered the man beyond
reason.
Mr. Larabee did not like,
being kept from his men, forbidden to glare at them while they recovered from
whatever foolish endeavor led them to be at the tender mercies of the staff of
4C's
Mr. Larabee could not be in
three places at once and it boiled his blood.
~~~~~~~~~
Dr. Thomas exited the
recovery area removing his hat and booties while leaning against the nurses
station. "They up here yet?" His answer came in the guise of a boot
kicking a soda machine.
" I see Mr. Larabee is
anxious," the doctor noted with a grimace.
The nurses merely nodded.
The doctor took a breath and
headed down the corridor. They never truly prepared him for stuff like this in
~~~~~~~~~
Vin Tanner would still be
violently sick but less likely to mumble and blindly fight the hands that tried
to help him if Mr. Larabee were present to assist the recovery nurses….and Mr.
Standish was less likely to shy and 'hide' to protect himself from whom ever
tried to help him. The others recovered without incident--except perhaps for
young Mr. Dunne, but Buck Wilmington easily soothed the young agent during
those tortuous moments of recovery.
Surgical recovery
immediately following surgery was a hidden world for the protection of family
and friends.
It angered him to witness
the infantile weakness and helplessness in his men after surgery. Didn't
Standish realize why he needed to wear a vest at a bust? Couldn't Vin
understand the importance of not ignoring procedure during a raid?
They could not only get
killed, but they could end up in a recovery room. Recovery where they were
unable to control their own bodies, deficient of all their natural defenses and
abilities. Recovery where powerful people became infantile in their dependence.
He watched as his undercover
agent struggled to open his eyes and focus. He watched as lazy deep breaths
fogged the oxygen mask that fit neatly over Standish's nose and mouth. The
bruises looked pale as did Ezra's color. Blood loss they said. Twin I.V.s fed
right and left hands. Ezra would hate them when he figured them out. A pillow
rested under his right knee, slightly elevating the leg. The bullet wound
itself was fleshy and messy, the amount of blood loss, exertion and shock had
taken its toll. Infection had settled into the torn flesh. The heat nearly
killed him.
Too hot one moment, too cold
the next. His body didn't know which way to set its internal thermostat.
Larabee leaned forward when
he saw Standish's lips move from under the mask.
"Sorry…so
sorry….Buck…." and it started again, softly, barely, louder than an
exhaled breath, "so sorry…so sorry, Buck…."
"He doing alright Mr.
Larabee?" A recovery nurse stepped into their corner of the room and
smiled reassuringly. Larabee merely nodded.
"We'll be ready to move
him to ICU in a few minutes, if you can just meet us there you'll be able to
sit with him again."
Larabee couldn't help but
think he did not want to sit with Buck.
"Mr. Larabee?" The
soft question was more of a request. Larabee nodded again and left the room.
He stepped into the small
waiting area. The questions started immediately.
"How's Ezra?" JD
popped up out of his seat discarding the magazine he flipped through.
"Buck's still in
surgery.
"Vin's down on Three,
room 312, nasty concussion, CT looked good, should be ok," Nathan sighed,
at least once they got the sharpshooter to lay still. Damn man lingered in and
out of consciousness but when he did flirt with the waking world he moved.
Couldn't hold a thought and became talkative about nothing. Frustrating. Thank
goodness he remembered nothing about what brought him to this state. At least
they weren't having to tie him down to keep him from rushing to Buck's side or
running out to find Ezra.
"You alright
Brother?" Josiah put down his magazine and stared up at
Standish had tried to hide
from him, tried to get away from him in the parking lot. Not physically, Ezra
had mumbled it, confused and disoriented, he wanted to hide. He had feared
Sanchez let it drop. Privacy
was at a minimum here.
"JD, I want you with
Ezra," Larabee did not need to explain his orders. When Buck got out of
Surgery he would be in the same ICU unit as Standish. "Every time he even
so much as moves I want you telling him Buck's okay…You got it?"
JD nodded, already on his
feet and heading for ICU. Ezra would believe JD. Standish had never lied to the
young man, and Dunne had reciprocated the same kindness. A strange relationship
indeed.
"Nathan go back to
Vin,"
Nathan followed JD to the
bank of elevators.
Sanchez lay the magazine to
one side and leaned back in his chair. He would wait.
Larabee kept his eyes on the
dark night sky. The temperature had begun to drop, the heat wave dissipated
over the last few hours.
Minutes dragged by
stretching into an eternity.
"He thought I wanted to
shoot him….wanted to get away…idiot thought he could crawl under a car to get
away from me." Larabee still stared out the window, feeling the anger and
frustration, but mostly the hurt as it welled up inside him. He would never
hurt one of his men, not purposely. "He was dying and all he wanted to do
was hide from me."
Josiah nodded his head in
quiet agreement. He knew what had happened. JD had explained to them when
Never had Josiah thought
that
"Not just you
"Idiot thought hiding
under a car would be safe." Larabee shook his head and chuckled at the
absurdity of the image.
"Brother Ezra does get
things a bit ass backward sometimes," Josiah pointed out solemnly, though
humor laced his tones. He had to pick his words cautiously. Larabee reached out
for the first time since the team's beginning. The stalwart blonde leader,
rumored to be more of an angry machine than a human being by those who didn't
know him, actually reached out for some type of consolation. Even if he didn't
recognize what it was, Josiah did.
"He wasn't hiding from
you
"Thought I was going to
shoot him,"
"Weren't you?"
Josiah raised his eyebrows with his inflection.
Josiah nodded, "And
he'll know that, once you tell him." The large man paused and sat forward
fingering the pages of the magazine in a forgotten manner, "but I think
he'll figure it out for himself…." Sanchez leaned back in his chair and
shrugged, "or you'll explain it to him."
"Shouldn't have
to,"
"No probably not,"
Josiah eyed Larabee, watching as
Larabee kept staring out the
window. Maybe staring at his own reflection….What did he see in it? Maybe if
he could get
"
Larabee let a weak smile
cross his face. Yet, he shook his head in disagreement as he stared out the
night blackened window. He sure as Hell wasn't seeking protection from me in
the parking lot.
"Knock it off Buck." Larabee redirected the
heavy hand that swiped mindlessly at the nasal cannula.
The blue hospital gown had been loosely tied around
his neck allowing the nurses and doctors easy access to the EKG leads.
The heavy hand struggled again. A foot moved as a knee
bent. The white blankets shifted slightly and wrinkled.
Larabee waited patiently as
Finally they settled on Larabee, "Ch…s."
Buck blinked his eyes again, exaggerating the movement trying to will himself
awake.
"Right here."
Buck blinked again and dragged in a deep breath. He
stopped short, his face blanched and he screwed his eyes closed.
"Better not be doin' that again."
"No….sh…t,"
"You gonna remember this time?"
"I don't know," Buck blinked again and
surveyed the room this time taking stock in his surroundings… "ICU?"
His voice was weak, barely a whisper. The beep of heart monitors, pulseoximeters
and other assorted machines worked to drown him out.
Larabee nodded. It had to be proof that they, as a
team spent way too much time in hospitals if they could wake up from anesthetic
and name the ward.
"Ezra!" The hoarse gasp had the big man
trying to lift his head from his pillow. He managed to tense some neck muscles.
"Easy…he's okay,"
Larabee would have to ask to have the two men moved to
the same room when the time came. Ezra had come to twice, both times mumbling
about Buck and whispering apologies and some foolishness about Bacon Bits. JD
and Josiah had done their best to relieve the other man's fears.
"Shit….what hit me?" Buck prodded his lower
chest with a flat shaky hand.
"Shotgun,"
"Vin?"
"Downstairs with Nathan," Larabee smiled.
Nathan had been coming up to the ICU periodically when Tanner was allowed to go
back to sleep. Vin's sudden bouts of disoriented interrogation were driving
"How long?" Buck fought the heavy drowsiness
that pulled at him. He fought it but despite his best intentions he felt
himself get sucked down into the numb dark pool of drug induced apathy and
sleep.
"You're here for the duration,"
"Ezra." It was a weak statement more than a
question.
"Is fine,"
"Probably thinks I'm dead." The last word
faded as chapped lips stopped moving and the easy shallow breath of sleep stole
his words away.
A tight smile crossed Larabee's face. Buck was
remembering more and more each time he woke up.
"Working on it Buck, we're working on it,"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck couldn't tell if it was night or day. Couldn't
discern even where the door was if he had to get up and leave. Not like he
could move with any great speed or strength.
Night lights shone mutely around the room, casting
things into shadows or lighting them under a bluish hue.
Buck rolled his head, cursing the nasal cannula that
blew in a gentle current of O2. He hated it. It made his nose raw and dry and
it hurt. He raised a heavy uncooperative hand and worked to push the cannula
away from his nose. He managed to get it to his cheek. It blew air into his
eye, making it water. Damn things. He worked with it a little more and finally
had it resting somewhere near his forehead. Gawd he was tired.
Buck looked across to the next bed over. He found
Standish facing his direction with his eyes open.
"'Ey pard'." Buck waited a brief second. He
tried to scrutinize the undercover agent, but lethargy, shadows and painkillers
worked against him. "You doin' ok?"
Probably a headache.
It was then Buck noticed none of the others were
around. Must be night, no visiting hours. Good. The others should be home. No
sense them being here just to watch him and Ezra sleep. Wonder where Vin is?
Ezra…Buck tried to roll onto his side and face the other man but pain and
uncooperative muscles kept his torso and pelvis still.
"Headache?"
The half closed eyes blinked slowly and cautiously
rolled in
"Mr. Wilmington," a brunette smiled down at
him, "you're awake…Is everything okay?" Buck was too tired to return
the smile, though he tried. "I see you have tried to remove your
oxygen," the nurse reached over him and readjusted the cannula, "you
just leave that be."
"Ezra," Buck whispered out. He felt so
tired, terribly, terribly tired.
"What about Mr. Standish?" The nurse fixed
the blankets around Buck's shoulders and smiled down at him.
Buck fought to keep his eyes open,
"headache…Ezra." Buck licked dry lips trying to work moisture back
into them. His eyes closed.
He felt an ice chip slip between his lips and thanked
God someone had the brains to invent ice. Somewhere in the background he heard
a sweet voice speaking softly to someone about getting something for the pain.
Ezra…Buck fought to stay awake. Someone had to watch out for Ezra and
Vin…wherever Vin hid.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Josiah entered the ICU carrying a cup of coffee and a
box of muffins, and snuggly under one arm, a collection newspapers. He laid the
muffins at the nurses' station as a peace offering for the trouble that was
sure to come later when the three downed agents got their wind back.
In fact, right now, down on the third floor,
Josiah had left them to their own devices and sought
sanctuary from the noise in room 312 for the quiet beeping of ICU.
Sanchez carried a chair and placed it between the two
beds and almost sat down. He stopped when he looked over to Buck and found the
agent struggling to stay awake.
"Buck?" Josiah straightened, dropping the
news papers to the seat of the chair.
" Josiah." The name was dragged down by
exhaustion.
"How you feeling, Brother?" Sanchez gave
Buck simply closed his eyes. "Ezra," he
breathed out.
"Thank goodness you're here Mr. Sanchez," a
nurse strode over to the profiler. Josiah placed his coffee down next to the
chair.
"Everything alright?" Josiah looked from
Buck to Carol, the morning ICU nurse.
"Mr. Wilmington has taken it into his head that
he needs to keep an eye on Mr. Standish until one of you appeared this
morning."
Josiah turned his attention to Buck, who lay wilted
and drained, fighting to keep his eyes open, over to Standish who slept on his
side, with two hands and their IV's near his face.
"What's the matter?" Josiah gazed back to
the nurse, concern coloring his features and his voice.
"Headache.." Buck whispered out, struggling
to keep dry eyes open.
"Mr. Standish woke sometime early this morning
with a terrible headache," the nurse paused, eyeing both prone men,
"most likely a result of the severe dehydration and blood loss."
She turned her attention to Josiah who stared from
Buck back to Ezra back to Buck.
Carol continued "He was given something for the
pain and dosed off…."
"Thinks I'm dead," Buck breathed out again
fighting to stay awake.
Josiah grasped the situation in understanding. Sanchez
nodded to the nurse and turned his attention back to Buck, "It's alright
Brother, I'm here...I'll straighten him out…You go ahead and get some sleep.
I'll watch him."
Buck barely managed a nod, "thanks." His
eyes closed, his mouth remained parted and he simply fell asleep.
"Thank you, Josiah," Carol laid her hand on
Sanchez's forearm. "He kept fighting it, kept saying he had to watch out
for Mr. Standish …keep him safe until you or one of the others arrived."
Josiah nodded not surprised, "I'll keep an eye on
them."
Carol nodded her appreciation and headed back to her
pile of morning rounds.
Sanchez leaned over Buck's railing and fixed the
blanket, covering the chilled hand with the IV taped to it. "You don't
need to watch everyone's back, Buck….You got to give us a chance to watch
yours." The profiler kept an eye on
Josiah turned to the Southerner and untwisted the IV
that snagged itself on the bed railing. He then worked the second IV line from
the side of Ezra's mouth. He noticed the teeth imprints in the malleable
plastic tubing. Sanchez ran the line down below the undercover agent's bruised
chin making sure that it could lead cleanly to the hand knotted by his mouth.
Trying to chew his way out. Trying to find his way back from whatever trap he
found himself.
"And you," Josiah gently admonished, laying
a giant hand on the dirty brown hair, "have got to realize just how many
people look out for you."
Sanchez surveyed the man sleeping on his right side
with two hands balled by his face as if in hiding or seeking protection. Josiah
reached down and moved the left hand and concurrent IV catheter away from teeth
to hopefully prevent any premature removal of the catheter or extension set.
Josiah picked up his coffee settled down in his chair
and snapped the paper out with one hand.
A little quiet time….. It wouldn't last. Perhaps he
would get through the NY Times and get a chance to start on his
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tanner rose to his feet and stood stalk still. He
didn't dare breathe. The world had blackened on him, lights sparkled from the
corner of his vision and he sensed the hospital room whirling out of control.
He had been discharged but damn he felt like shit.
It would pass. It always did.
Someone spoke to him…but he couldn't quite bring
himself to answer them.
"Vin?" It was Nathan. "You
alright?…Need to sit down?"
The disorientation was complete enough that the
sharpshooter did not feel the supportive grip that grasped his upper arm.
Nathan stood patiently beside the Texan waiting for
the vertigo to dissipate.
"Vin?"
Tanner finally heard the voice, "Yeah Nate I'm
okay…jist give me a second."
"Take your time, we aren't in any hurry."
The sharpshooter opened his eyes and stood a little
more soundly. He gently freed his arm from Nathan's hold, "Lets go."
Tanner started toward his hospital room door with Nathan shadowing close
behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The two ATF agents heard the disgusted chuckling as
they opened the door to a small 'private' room. They nodded their hello's to
the uniform officer that sat outside, guarding the door. The chances of Hughes
making an appearance at the hospital seemed slim at best but no one was willing
to take any chances.
Late morning sunlight leached through the only window,
brightening the small room with a soft glow.
Larabee sat beside Standish's bed with his feet up on
the railing.
"What's going on?" Nathan asked he held the
door open for Vin to shuffle through.
"Cowboy," Vin spoke in quiet greeting to
Larabee. The sharpshooter kept his gaze on the sleeping man in the bed.
"You doin' alright?"
"Yeah," Vin breathed out. He was alright in
the sense that he was on his feet though his head wanted to be laying down. He
felt significantly better than last night and earlier this morning when he
puked his guts out the first time he tried to get out of the hospital bed.
Compared to that, yeah he felt pretty good.
"What's goin' on?" Tanner directed the
scrutiny away from himself.
Vin eased himself down into the only vacant chair. He
leaned against the wooden arm rest and placed his head in his hand.
Ezra, for all intents and purposes, had a private
room. The second bed closest to the door was empty. Buck would probably occupy
it when he finally got out of ICU. JD was down with
"They took out the second IV," Nathan noted
as he strode up to the left side of the bed. He eased the blankets back from
Standish's midsection and right side to check the bandage that snuggly
protected the Southerner's right lower thigh.
"Idiot chewed through his IV down at CT,"
Josiah and
Sanchez had then disappeared to get some lunch for
them all down the street and mentioned picking up some more newspapers.
Nathan shook his head amused. "Think maybe we
could get that Lamp shade thing of Diablo's and put it around Ezra's
head?"
Tanner chuckled and then tightened his hand around his
forehead. Damn, no laughing. It hurt. Diablo hated his E-Collar. It kept the
dog from eating his sutures out, but it did wreaked havoc with
"Probably magnify his voice too,"
Larabee watched silently as Nathan pulled the blankets
back up and then walked to the foot of the bed. The ex-paramedic flipped the
blankets off the bottom of the bed, exposing Standish's feet. Nathan began
checking for pulses.
"Where'd he learn to do that?" Vin closed
his eyes trying to block out the harsh morning light. He had a terrible
headache. Never thought about chewing stuff out…might work…depending on what
it is… The sharpshooter cracked his eyes open a little and fought to focus
on the undercover agent…probably learned it from Diablo… or maybe Ez taught
the dog…?
"Who knows…been chewing on it in his sleep,
finally worked his teeth all the way through it. Ran the whole liter out,
soaked everything and lost more of what little blood he's got left." For
some reason the IV pump hadn't been hooked up. Larabee shook his head. He had
heard the dripping on the floor down in the corridor outside of CT but had
ignored it until a puddle starting forming. They had to change Standish's gown,
blankets and gurney.
Nathan bit back a chuckle at the exasperation in his
boss's voice. It did
"How'd the CT come out?"
"Fine. They're pretty sure the headaches are from
the blood loss, and probably some of the bruising. Nothing 's broke."
"Yeah, Cowboy, I'm fine." Vin didn't bother
raising his eyes to meet Larabee's. It seemed too much trouble. Gonna puke
maybe…
"You mind stayin' here with Ezra?"
"No I don't mind," Vin finally rolled his
head back slightly, hearing something more than a request in the question.
"Hell, between Ez, here, and Buck ya'll gonna be runnin' back'n forth
playin' nursemaid." Tanner smiled weakly. No hard feelings, he did
not begrudge
Nathan watched the silent conversation and understood
the gist of it, "We better get down to Buck. He's liable to have JD push
his bed up here just to be with these two troublemakers."
Tanner merely nodded and hoped those two hurry up and
left. All he wanted to do was lie down on the extra bed and get some sleep. Gawd
damn he didn't want to puke again.
~~~~~~~~
"You sure he's okay to leave alone?"
"Yup," Nathan kept his eyes on the dwindling
light display that indicated the passing of floors. Floor six to floor nine.
Least they got Vin off of Three. They were slowly pulling the team closer
together.
"He's probably already sleeping in the empty bed
next to Ezra's..."
Both men paused and then stared at one another,
"Oh shit."
Nathan quickly held up his hands stalling Larabee from
hitting the 'stop' button on the elevator.
"
Larabee nodded and then looked toward the closed
doors. He wasn't sure who Nathan was trying to convince. Maybe
Damn man chewed through his IV in his sleep….Gonna put
a gawd damn E-collar around his head. He best not be teaching my dog any bad
habits….
"Hey Buck," JD leaned over the bedrail
watching as his older friend blinked his eyes. Dunne waited as the glazed blue
eyes opened and closed in a lazy fashion before slowly roving around the room.
"You in there Buck?" Dunne leaned over his
friend smiling and waving his hand.
"JD?" the voice was hoarse and soft.
"In the Flesh." Dunne's exuberance laced his
voice.
"Shiiit," Buck drawled out, closing his eyes
as a light smile brightening his drawn features.
"What the hell does that mean?" JD leaned
back away from the rail in mock disgust.
"You're suppose to be watchin' out for me, ain’t
ya?" Buck cracked an eye and stared at his young friend. The nasal cannula
had been taped high to his cheek bones to prevent him from swiping it out.
"Yeah , so?" JD stared at his friend in
confusion. He stepped on Josiah's copy of the Chicago Tribune. The Austin
Review lay somewhere under Buck's bed. Where the devil does he even get those
papers? Ain't nothing worth reading in them anyhow…least nothin' ya can't catch
on TV.
"Where's my blonde nurse with the big…?"
Buck's lecherous smile was a shallow shadow of its former self.
"Hell Buck, you ain't got enough strength to
appreciate it so don't go getting worked up over nuthin' you can't take care
of…" Dunne chuckled out.
"Don't be rubbin' it in kid," Buck closed
his eyes and settled back against the bed and pillow. He knew he had to be in
tough shape if his hospital bed felt comfortable.
"Ezra?"
JD pulled his chair closer to the bed and swiped the
Boston Globe off the seat. "He's doin' okay. Vin's with'im right
now."
Buck opened his eyes again and raised an impossibly
heavy hand.
"They're both doin' fine Buck," JD promised
as he leaned against the rail, resting his chin on his arms. "They
discharged Vin this mornin', and Ezra'll probably go home tomorrow." JD
sighed and stared at
Buck rolled his head and stared at his young friend,
"No, kid. You boys did."
JD furrowed his brow in confusion, "I ain't the
one laying here in a hospital bed looking like Dr. Frankenstein cut on my
chest."
Buck smiled weakly, "Hell no kid, ya ain't; yer
just the one who had to live through it." Buck paused, letting the oxygen
from the cannula feed his hungry lungs. "If it wears too deeply on ya, you
talk to someone about it," Buck paused for effect, "you got it?"
JD smiled and leaned back a little spreading his arms,
"Hey Buck, I'm fine; ain't nuthin' eatin' on me…nuthin' at all."
JD averted his eyes, looking to the floor at the
National Enquirer….That made him pause. Josiah reads grocery store trash
too? JD reached down and picked it up, the headlines catching his eye.
Elvis seen walking with the Bog man down a
JD shook his head, trying to concentrate on the
newspaper and dismissing Buck's earlier comment. Ain't havin' a problem with
what happened...none at all. Everyone lived, no one died…no reason to be havin'
any difficulties. No reason at all. Hell if anyone's still messed up its Buck
and maybe Ezra….
JD thumbed through the Enquirer, his mind replaying
the image of Buck flying backward, his head rebounding off the ground. Elvis
saves a New York Family while in the
Buck watched JD from the corner of his eye. Maybe he'd
talk to
~~~~~~~~~~
Buck opened his eyes, listening to softly whispered
words coming from his left. He drew in a deep breath and halted it short. Pain
ripped through his chest, wrapping around to his back. He shifted a hand,
feeling the tape pull at the hair on his arm. The IV.
A set of booted feet crossed at the ankles rested on
his mattress. He nudged them with his leg.
"Hey, ya suppose to be entertaining me, not
reading some…" Buck squinted at the newspaper held in… Nathan's hands?
Nathan? …"Home and Gardens?"
Buck nodded in understanding, "What happened to
the National Enquirer?"
"Nurses took it to their break room, next issue
comes out tomorrow …. Josiah'll probably bring it in."
"Good, cuz I was wonderin' what happened to
Elvis." Buck rolled slightly and gazed around the room--no longer ICU.
"Hey when…."
"This afternoon, ya in Ezra's old room."
"Yeah." Buck watched Nathan stand and walk
to the window and felt a sting of jealousy at the free movement. "Where's
Ez and Vin?"
"Their at the ranch Josiah and
"They released him this morning -- his breakfast
stayed down, and his attitude was on the rise."
Buck chuckled weakly. It burned his chest. "
The ex-paramedic nodded realizing that such things
were not easily kept from the rest of the team, no matter the situation,
"Josiah's handin' it."
Buck clucked his tongue and shook his head.
Nathan read the contemplative look and worked to
redirect it. He tapped the "Home and Gardens" magazine in his hand,
getting Buck's attention. "Buck they'll figure it out. Those two have been
workin' together, and pissin' each other off too long not to know the drill."
"…Oh and Elvis allegedly met the Bog man who
turned out to be a Bog woman and they slipped back into the glades
somewhere…They're hoping for a follow up in the next issue." Nathan then
sighed, "JD bet that Vin could track them down and find out what's really
going on…Ezra took the bet sayin' Vin wouldn't be able to find and I quote,
'his skinny gluteal mass with a compass and set of directions, and laid fifty
bucks down to anyone who would take the bet,"
Buck let out a whistle.
"No one, of course, took the bet, which you can
imagine got Vin all riled up." Nathan rubbed at his forehead, "Josiah
then felt he needed to add that trailing something as large as the Bog man and
as distinctive as the 'King' would not be a challenge even for someone as
scrambled as Vin…" Nathan sunk back down into his chair and stared at
Buck, "It pretty much went down hill from there…
"Damn, wish I could have seen it."
Nathan dropped his hand and looked at Buck with tired
eyes, "Ya did Buck, ya just don't remember…Sometimes I think you're the
lucky one."
"I'm feelin' it Nate." A small smile graced
Nathan sobered and pulled his chair closer, "Gone
to ground. Think he tucked his tail and moved onto greener pastures…Ez should
be safe for now…or until his smart mouth pisses
"Sure ya do Nathan," Buck smiled back,
closing his eyes as he shifted position on the bed. His muscles felt leaded and
his belly now hurt as much as his chest. Gawd he hated feeling this way.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Nathan
breathed out.
Buck nodded, "Think Hughes 's gonna give up that
easily?"
"Don't know. He lost two of his men. Didn't get
his hand on Sullivan and thinks he might have killed you, though by now I'm
thinkin' he knows that didn't happen." Nathan shifted in his seat.
"Don't worry though,
"When do I get out of here?" Buck asked,
letting his eyes close. He felt as if he had run a marathon. He was tired and
beat up and had no strength left to raise his head if he had to. He wanted out
-- to be in his own apartment in his own bed, but at the moment he couldn't be
sure he could move a foot to slide it off the bed let alone stand to walk.
"Not for a while Buck," Nathan leaned
forward and slid the blanket back up around
~~~~~~~~~~~
3 days later…
Buck eased himself out of the pickup truck. The
insurance company had refused to total the Ram and opted to fix it instead. The
truck refused to be aligned properly. The wheel jumped and vibrated more than
usual, and a case of oil sat in the bed. Josiah offered repair suggestions, and
so far
"You okay Buck?"
Through the roaring in his ears, Buck could hear
laughter and shouts coming from the house.
Josiah was bellowing at…Vin, from the sounds of it. JD
had the volume up on the TV to hear over Josiah's voice. Cartoons…Looney Tunes
from the sounds of the jingle. Nathan slammed the door to the kitchen. The
kitchen door, Buck recognized, because it sounded as if it swung back open and
slammed into the living room wall which hit the pool cues and rattled the old
iron triangle that rested against the wall. Ezra must have done something to
anger Nathan. Imagine.
The sound of a ringing dinner chime competed with
Josiah's voice and Porky Pig's "That's all Folks!" and the,
"Gawd damn it Ezra! How many times have I got to tell you not to do
that?!….you ken just keep ya sorry ass on the floor until ya can git your own
weak carcass back on the couch yerself!…And don't you dare even think about
stayin' down there!…
It battled with "Vin! You eat my dinner one more
time I'm gonna reach down your throat, grab your ass and turn you inside out!
You hear me?! Vin?!… JD turn down that Gawd forsaken Television!"
"What was that Josiah? I can't hear ya; the TV's
too loud!"
Both Buck and
"You feel like Pizza?"
Buck leaned heavily against the passenger side door,
"Yeah, Yeah I do."
"Lets go." Larabee walked back around to the
driver's side door and swung it open. Buck eased himself into the truck, using
the creased and re-straightened running board.
Larabee reached across the seat and waited patiently
as Buck struggled to slide the seat belt across his torso.
"Ya think they'll be ok?" Buck breathed out,
leaning against the head rest.
"Think I care?"
The Ladies' Man merely nodded and chuckled,
"Let's go pard."
The black Ram backed up and swung around. The big
truck jolted and lunged slightly, causing
The end.