Vegas in Red: What Do I Care
What reinforcement we may gain from hope, If not what resolution from despair.
The scene was one of utter chaos. The entire neighborhood had been cordoned and cleared. Blocked by numerous police cars and vans and ambulances. Even a fire truck was parked across a street, causing Detective John Sheppard to veer onto a lawn and drive over the grass to get past it. Yellow crime tape proliferated around one of the houses on the residential block. Teams were moving in and out of the house like a colony of ants on a sand hill.
John parked his car. He waited, as the last strains of Riders of the Storm played from the speakers, then killed the ignition, the power. Retrieved his gun from the glove compartment. He met Moira O'Meara's gaze. "You stay right here."
"John! I can help with—"
"No. You stay right here, Moira. The suspect is still at large. We've got this. Keep the doors locked and that pert little ass parked right here!" He exited the car, shut the door. Eyed her. Then moved to a black van where a group of men congregated, including Evan Lorne and Carson Beckett.
"We've got this," Steven Caldwell said, his tone dismissive. "Secure the-"
"Find this son of a bitch and put it down," John interrupted. "The area's been cleared of all civilians, but there could be holdouts and gawkers, so watch out for them. The police are doing a standard grid by grid search. You go farther out. This thing is probably hiding, but as it is insane it is completely unpredictable. Caldwell, flank right. Weir, flank left. Lorne, Beckett, with me. Move out now." John began to head for the crime scene.
Steven and Elizabeth Weir exchanged a glance. "Who the hell put him in charge?" Steven asked.
Elizabeth smiled. "I think he just did it himself. You heard the man! Move out!"
"Sheppard! Who are—" a policeman asked, watching the two armed teams disperse.
"Animal control. Just in case," John smoothly lied. "What have we got?"
"Attempted homicide. Vic's alive, but just. Taken to the hospital. Witnesses describe some kind of madman wearing a Halloween mask. The same perp."
"Sounds it."
"Who are—"
"Psych advisors," John identified the two men with him. "Anything in the initial sweep?"
"Not yet. We got here pretty fast so he can't have gone far."
John nodded. He gestured, leading the two men into the house.
"Psych advisors?" Evan asked.
"Get used to it," John stated.
The room was trashed. Furniture wrecked. Overturned bookcases and a smashed television littered a floor already covered with debris. Blood soiled the carpet. Gore. The outline of a body in white tape on the stained carpet revealed a disjointed form of limbs and torso and head.
"Poor bugger," Carson muttered. "He's lost a lot of blood. I don't think he'll make it."
"Face was nearly ripped off him." They turned at the female voice. DeMouy joined them. She eyed the two men with John. "They called me prematurely, but you're probably right. I don't think he'll survive. He had deep lacerations to the jugular. It seems I owe you an apology, John. It is a human. An extremely dangerous one."
John shrugged at the Asian woman. "No need. Anything else you can tell me?"
"No. My work's done. It's all yours, detective."
"Thanks."
The men waited until the coroner had left the house. They looked round the room. Eying the devastation, evidence of the sheer rage of the creature. Also of its strength. "If this thing's gone crazy it could be headed anywhere," Evan noted.
"Which throws our trajectory out the window," Carson agreed.
"Possibly," John said, not convinced. "We need to—" The sound of gunfire interrupted. The three men ran out of the house.
Moira was listening to the music, having switched on the radio. The eruption of gunfire nearly made her jump in the seat of the car. She stared out the windshield, deciding to heed John's advice, although it had been more of an order. Men were shouting, running. But she didn't see the Wraith anywhere. Just a mess of cops and the government agency team converging on two separate locations. All armed to the teeth and sporting TAC vests. Soon they were all out of sight and the street was deserted.
It was disquieting. The abrupt silence after so much noise. The empty street. Moira felt a chill although it was quite warm in the car in the heat of the afternoon. Stifling, even. She touched the door handle, about to let in some air when she felt a thump on the hood. She gasped in surprise. Freezing. Not daring to move at all.
There was a weird scratching sound and then the Wraith was in view. She gasped, jerking backwards in the seat as the creature leered at her through the windshield, upside down. Moira stared back at it, lost in fascination. The yellow eyes were slits, alien, the pupils dark. The rapid blinking reminded her not so much of a bug as that of a reptile. But the gaze was human, an intelligent but deranged expression on its scarred, tattooed skin. The face was angular, gaunt. Rows and rows of sharp teeth glinted when it smiled at her. It had long, thick, tangled white hair. Knotted with blood and other things.
A clawed hand hit the windshield, making her jump. The hand was missing a finger, and the palm was gouged, leaving an ugly, festering wound all the way to the bones. A gaping hole where the sucker should have been, she realized. It hit the windshield again, and Moira wondered if the glass would hold. She reached over and hit the horn. The loud blast startled the Wraith. She hit the horn again, again, trying to scare it away, trying to get someone's attention, anyone's attention. The Wraith began to hit the windshield again.
A crack appeared in the glass.
John heard the car horn. Recognized it as his. "Moira. Shit, cease fire! It's not here!" he shouted. "I should have realized!" He whirled, spinning on his heels and ran back towards the street. Didn't miss a step seeing the Wraith sprawled on top of his car, beating on the windshield. He began to fire his gun. "Hey! Get off my car!" he shouted. The bullets thudded into the creature but had no effect.
John kept running, kept firing. Until he ran out of bullets. He kept running anyway, heading right for his car, right for the Wraith. Right for Moira who was still honking the horn. "Get off my car, damn it!"
The Wraith turned. Leapt off the car and lunged for John.
"John, no!" Moira cried as the Wraith flew into John, knocking both of them several feet from the car. They fell, grappling. John fought but the creature lashed out, cutting a gouge on his arm. Blood flowed. Bullets from a P90 sent the Wraith flying off him. A laser struck it. Another, a burst of blue light but in an incredible burst of speed it tore past the people shooting at it. Screams were heard as it literally tore into a few on its way. "John! John!" Moira burst from the car, ran to him. She fell to her knees beside him. His arm was gushing blood as he scrambled on the ground, trying to move to his feet.
"Moira," he said with a frown. "You should have stayed in the car."
"You stupid, stupid man!" she accused, helping him to a seated position. "You're going to need stitches! Are you all right?" She helped him remove his jacket and tightly wrapped it around the deep wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. "Carson!" she cried, looking round as men were heading for them, shouting, waving guns.
"I'm fine, Moira. I'll just say it was a farming accident," he jested. Looked up as Elizabeth approached. "Guess I owe you thanks."
"Yes, you do," she agreed with a smile. "Teams are in position but it's gone off the radar again. This is the second time I've saved your ass, Sheppard. About time you bought me that drink."
John smiled. "Guess so," he agreed.
"I'll take you to our medical—"
"No, I've got him," Moira stated. Her grip tightening on his arm, on the injury. On her jealousy.
"You do? I can get him to our van to—"
"I said I got him! John?" Moira stared at him, oddly fierce, oddly vulnerable at the same time.
He met her gaze. Smiled. His eyes never leaving hers. "Yeah. You heard. She's got me."