Disclaimer: I do not own 'A Gifted Man'. (Too bad) I'm not making any money off this and I do not intend any disrespect to the owners of the show and the actors that make it incredible.
This is my first story for this show. I love the show and had to try my hand at beating the crap out of Dr. Michael Holt. It is what I do best (I hope you agree). Let me know if I should continue. Thanks for reading!
Chapter One
His feet hit the cement at a rhythmic pace, in time with the music playing on his iPod. The world around him was filled with other New York residents as they went about their day. All Dr. Michael Holt was aware of was the music pounding in his ears, the strength of his long, lean muscles propelling him along the road and the air rushing in and out of his lungs. Life was good.
Dr. Holt worked very hard to keep his body in its top form. He also worked very hard to keep everything in his life under control. His body was in peak condition and he was at the top of his chosen profession. Holt Neuro was his business. It was his life. When he operated on people he almost felt like a god. Despite his inflated ego, even he knew it was as close to perfection he was ever going to get.
Well, compared to this moment. He loved to run. He loved the feel of his body moving like an engine, propelling him forward. He easily side stepped anyone or anything that got in his way. All that mattered was the run.
Around the doctor merchants were opening up their stores, people were shopping, buying coffee, etc. It was a busy street, not one he usually travelled. New York City was a busy place but there were occasionally places to go where you could almost feel like you were alone. This was not one of those places.
He should have been on his way to work but Dr. Holt knew that there were no new patients until this afternoon. The few patients he currently had were all doing well and didn't really need his immediate attention. He had full confidence in his people to take proper care of them until he got there and even after. It just felt too good to be moving.
While he ran, Michael thought about things. Everything. From his dry cleaning to the ghost of his late wife that kept popping up. To the surgery he had scheduled for the next day. He was so preoccupied that he wasn't really even aware of where he was. Paying attention for the first time in half an hour, he realized he wasn't where he expected to be.
"Damn it," Michael swore as he ran in place while trying to get his bearings. He knew every part of this city, how the hell had he gotten lost? The back alley he was facing down was dirty as hell and apparently deserted. Looking around, he suddenly knew how to get to work. Unfortunately, it required a quick run through Central Park. Not a great idea, even at this time of day. Steeling himself, Michael turned back down the alley and bounded down the street.
This is a really bad idea, Michael thought as he made his way into the Park. There were trees. He'd seen enough trees and wildlife while he lived in Alaska. He had very little desire to see more here, where people could be hiding. Rather than take a chance, Michael stayed on the wider, more populated paths.
It was a good plan. It just didn't go quite as expected. Michael was feeling a little better. He was nearly there, just a tunnel and another hundred yards and he would be back in civilization. Entering the tunnel, Michael was relieved to see the light at the other end of it. Running as hard as his now exhausted body would let him, he was half way through when he spotted them. Three young guys were entering the far end.
They were rough looking, maybe street people, or gang members. Shaking his head, Michael knew from his experiences at the Clinica he knew better than to start stereotyping people. Still, as he got closer, he realized they made him a little nervous. Despite his peak condition, his size and his aspiring hockey career, Michael wasn't a big fighter. There was too high a chance of hurting his hands. He made his living with his hands and having them injured in any way would be a catastrophe. Michael wasn't good at taking a back seat and letting others do things, especially when it came to surgery.
Slowing his pace slightly, Michael tried to not make eye contact while still staying out of their way. The last thing he needed was a confrontation. He was nearly out of there.
"Hey, man. Nice phones," one of the three youths stated when they were still several feet away. Michael's stomach dropped down around his ankles. Damn. Not what he needed. Quickly, he checked his watch, probably not the best idea because that brought even more hazing from the trio as they came closer.
"Look, I need to get to work," Michael said as he slipped his cell into his hand. His thumb was hovering over it, ready to call 911 if things got any worse. He didn't get the chance.
"Too bad," a new voice stated from behind him. Startled, Michael chanced turning away from the trio that had stopped ten feet in front of him to glance in the other direction. There were three more young men six feet away. While his attention was divided, the first group pounced.
Fists and feet flew at him from the front. Before Michael had a chance to press the button on his cell it was knocked out of his hand. It all happened so fast that he didn't have the presence of mind to try to talk the group out of beating on him. Suddenly he found himself on his right side on the ground, his knees drawn up to protect his stomach and his arms wrapped around his head. It was an instinctual move.
It didn't seem to have any effect as blows continued to rain down on him while he felt hands rummaging through his few pockets. He was relieved of his iPod, his keys and his watch. They all ready had his cell. That didn't seem to satisfy them because so far they hadn't found any money. Amid the pain, sweat and spit that were his new reality, Michael felt first one shoe being removed and then the other.
"There's nothing there," a male voice growled. Michael was only vaguely aware as his pants were pulled off and his sweat shirt was removed. They were expensive, a brand name. Maybe he didn't carry cash or much in the way of ID while he ran between home and work, the group was going to get what they could.
Michael grunted as a steel toed boot struck him in his right kidney. His body stiffened automatically, which exposed his stomach and chest. The group didn't waste the opportunity. The blows continued to fall. Michael felt three ribs on his left side crack. Another kick in the same area caused pain to expand and envelope Michael as the damaged bone broke.
His vision turned red as his body finally began to respond to the assault it was enduring. The blows blended together. Michael's world contracted to the pain, the helplessness, the anger that was pouring through him. Then, just as he thought he couldn't stand it anymore a random kick to his head ended his torment as unconsciousness descended like a curtain at the end of a play.
"Let's get out of here," one of the group suggested as the man went limp. They had everything of value. The man was left wearing nothing but his underwear. Everything else could be sold. Maybe then he and his two siblings would have something more than cereal to eat for supper tonight. Grasping the expensive phone, he waited for his friends to join him. This wasn't what he'd expected to do with his life. But, it was better than welfare.
"Yeah, let's go," his best friend responded. He'd grabbed the iPod. As they left the tunnel he scrolled through the songs. Damn but this guy had really bad taste in music.
OOOOO
She'd seen them. It wasn't the first time the group had used the ploy. It always seemed to work like a charm. Stupid idiots, going into the tunnel. Didn't they know it led to that dark place? Inez pushed her cart a little closer. They must have been really angry. Usually the person they robbed was up and around long before now. This one was lying still in a pool of blood that was slowly gathering under him.
Most of the locals knew to avoid the tunnel. They'd seen and learned very quickly that the kids used it to ambush people. Anyone with a brain could figure that out. Inez shook her head in disgust. Idiot. She had half a mind to just walk away. Pausing in turning her cart, the red haired woman looked back at him. He was lying on his side, his bare back all ready showing nasty red marks and cuts that were bleeding freely.
Damn, damn, damn. Cursing under her breath, Inez pushed her cart towards the man. There was no one else around. As much as she wanted to leave the idiot there she just couldn't. He was too close to the dark. It would drag him under and he would come back as a zombie, like the others.
Inez had seen them, the zombies. They'd moved through the park a few days ago, or was it weeks? She had trouble keeping track of time. One of her friends had tried to tell her that they were actors for a movie but she didn't believe her. She'd seen them. One had ripped a man apart and she'd seen it eating his flesh. That was no movie.
Her cart creaking through the tunnel, seeming even louder than usual, Inez moved closer. He hadn't moved, the idiot. Now that she was closer she could see that he would have been kind of handsome, if you liked too thin, too muscular men. Inez huffed. Her Roger had been a big man. That was how she liked him. It was too bad that being that big had caused his heart to give out.
"Hey," Inez said, as she pushed at the man with the toe of her shoe. "Wake up." There was no response.
Huffing a breath out, Inez took the time to look around. Yep, she was still the only one there. Well, damn it. Using her foot, she shook the man again. All she got was a low moan. Well, that was an improvement. A few more nudges and the moan turned to a groan.
"Well, shit," Inez said as she carefully knelt beside the nearly naked man. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and shook his shoulder. His skin was hot and moist under her hand. Absently, Inez moved her hand to the close cropped dark blond hair. She ran her fingers through it as a low hum came from her throat.
"Anna?" a low voice asked. Startled, Inez pulled back and scrambled back to her feet. She put the cart between herself and the moaning and groaning man on the ground, just in case.
"No, my name is Inez," she said. It was the least she could do.
"AAahhh," the man said as he tried to move and his body protested heavily. His hand came up and tentatively touched a goose egg sized bump between his left ear and eye.
"You need to drag your ass to the hospital," Inez instructed as she prepared to push her cart back the way she came. The dark was too close. She could feel it speaking to her, trying to entice her to join it. That was not going to happen.
"W..w..what?" the man asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was blinking rapidly, his blue eyes trying to focus on the world around him. None of this was making sense.
"You're hurt. Go to the hospital. Or that clinic the others keep talking about," Inez said. She had her cart four feet away, now five. Just a few more minutes and she'd been back out of the tunnel. Then she would breathe better.
"W..where am I?" the man asked. He'd managed to prop himself off the ground by a whole three inches. Groaning piteously, he collapsed back onto the ground. He hurt all over. Some places hurt worse than others but it was hard to tell with the general cacophony. Bile rose in his throat. All he could do was keep conscious as his body heaved, relieving him of everything he'd eaten. The smell made the heaves continue. With each convulsion, his vision dimmed and nearly disappeared as his body exploded further in pain.
"Damn it," Inez cursed again. She'd turned back at the sound of the man throwing up. That was bad. She couldn't leave him. With each heave she could see what little strength he'd had evaporating. With one last look around Inez turned her cart back towards him. Yep. She was still the only one fool enough to come in here.
"What's your name?" Inez asked as she none too gently pulled the large man away from the pool of vomit he'd produced. This was going to be hard enough without trying to not step in the mess. Inez was not bringing that back to her home on her shoes.
"Name?" the man managed from the ground. While he felt better having some distance between the vomit and his head, the rough treatment had sent his body into a flurry of pain and heat.
"Your name, fool, your name. What did your mom call you?" Inez growled as she surveyed her cart. All of the items were precious. She'd collected them herself today. It tore her heart out to part with any of it.
"I...don't know," the man managed between grunts and moans. The pain was intensifying. The vomiting hadn't helped anything. What the hell had happened to him? Was the strange red haired woman with the cart responsible? Somehow that didn't make sense. She wouldn't be trying to help him now. Right?
"Damn it," Inez cursed. That was that. He was in worse trouble than she'd thought. Maybe she should take him to that clinic place? Then she looked down at the other end of the tunnel. No. The dark had found him. It wanted him. She couldn't let that happen. The doctors at the clinic wouldn't understand. She was the only one who knew how to help him now.
Growling under her breath, Inez upended her cart. She manoeuvred it until it was behind the man on its side. Not bothering to prepare the man at all, she shoved him bodily into the cart. A stifled scream was her reward and then he went completely limp as he lost consciousness again.
"You can't have him," Inez said, shooting a warning look at the encroaching darkness. With a strength that seemed improbable given her slight stature, Inez pushed the cart up into an upright position, the man's too tall body hanging all over the place.
Quickly, Inez adjusted his various limbs until as much of him was inside as she could get. Then she rummaged through her treasures she'd dumped on the ground. Coming up with a heavy coat and two holey blankets, she covered his nearly naked body. Glancing one more time at the things she was leaving behind, Inez turned the cart for the last time and headed out of the tunnel. She was going to have to get him home quickly. It was getting cold outside. Humming under her breath, she exited the tunnel and pointed the cart towards home.