The pain in his upper right leg was excruciating. Mentally he checked it, compartmentalized it and moved on. He took a deep breath and immediately started choking on the dust still permeating the air. Now, while it hurt to breath and he was desperately craving some water, he was relived that it was all just because of the dust and that he didn't have cracked or broken ribs. He knew the next step was to open his eyes and assess the situation, but he was dreading what he would see.
Pushing air through his nose in preparation, he opened his eyes. Then he blinked a few times. IT took a few moments for him to realize that his eyes were not playing tricks on him and it really was dark outside. That meant that he had fallen unconscious for at least five or more hours. That was a bad sign.
Tentatively, he flexed the fingers on his right hand, finding not much pain he moved his arm to check his head. All along the right side and disappearing into the rubble he was laying in he could feel the coagulating blood. Once he felt the sticky substance his mind registered the smell of it. His stomach lurched violently. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut he willed his body to relax.
"This is bad," he was a little startled that he spoke out loud. But it was still true, He must have been in some form of shock, had a concussion and from what little he remembered of his fall the fact that he couldn't really feel his legs was not something he was ready to think about yet.
He knew his left arm was buried in rubble and it didn't seem much more than possibly scraped, it was more the pressure on it that was bothersome. He knew that he would have to try and figure out a way to get it unburied and maybe with the use of both arms he could get some leverage to get the metal workings off of his legs.
The big problem was that it was pretty much pitch black and he couldn't see where he was in relation the building and he didn't know what was still on him or near him that he could use. He needed a light source.
Using his right arm again he patted around his person looking for anything and not finding anything he patted what little area around him he could reach. He felt his finger tips brush against something that didn't feel the same as the concrete and steel beams. Stretching as far as he could and grimacing from the pain he managed to get his finger around the object. He sighed and almost laughed with relief and frustration at the .45 ACP in his hand. At least if something menacing came by he could shoot at it.
It still didn't give him a light source. His best bet was to just wait for the sun to come up and hope that it would give him enough light to see how to try and get himself out of this situation.
Why, because he was a hot head and had gone on a hunch without telling anyone where he was going. Well, he had left one message about going to follow the very small lead with the old record store. The very small lead that Charlie was saying was the anomaly in the case map so far. Of course that was at least ten hours ago and the other side of town. Even if Charlie and the others knew now where he had gone, they wouldn't have much of a clue as to where he was now.
For that matter he wasn't that sure him self. He had been ambushed where he had gone to explore around the tiny, dirty store. In the back alley he had been blocked in by at least six men and when the fighting started someone had injected him with something. He fought hard and tried every trick in the book to counter act what they had injected him with. After purposefully slicing his had on one of the wielded knives he continued to fight or at least try. Pretty quickly he realized that the men in ski masks were backing off and taunting him into tiring him self out. He dropped soon after that. Not unconscious, more paralyzed. Then he was loaded into a van of some sort and transported.
He assumed it was in the warehouse district and he assumed that he was now on the ground floor of the building he had a vague memory of. He heard shots fired. He remembered a searing pain in his calf, and there was an explosion. He remembered the sensation of falling. And that's about where his memory got fuzzy.
He knew there was something else he should be thinking about but the rhythm that Fleinhardt was beating into his head was getting to him, distracting him. Making him wanted to just lay down and relax for a few days. Maybe even daydream about that date he had had with that contortionist that Megan had set him up with a while back. He didn't quite notice when his body betrayed him and let him slip back into unconsciousness. Colby Ganger was in a world of trouble, and his team we desperately trying to find him.
f(n)g(n)