Time & Snow
Chapter One
AN: the characters do not belong to me but to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro and TNT. I also owe a debt of gratitude to Julio Cortazar's story La noche boca arriba. If you have not read this, I encourage you to do so. It will not give away my plot because it is only an inspiration idea by which I have been fascinated since my first reading of it many years ago, long before R&I existed even in novel form. That said, enjoy my story and tell me what you think! Xoxo
September 13, 2010
Boston Police Headquarters
As soon as the smoke cleared, the bodies that littered the sidewalk were strewn about as if a bomb had exploded. Blood was flowing like floodwater after a downpour.
"Jane!" Maura screamed as she tore across the concrete sidewalk and made it to her best friend's side, but was much too late. With choked sobs, Maura stared at the mangled form of her best friend, Jane Rizzoli, lying directly in front of the shooter, Bobby Marino. Her final shot had taken them both and had only begun the rampage that was to come. Even though she knew it was all for naught, she knelt in Jane's blood and tried to save her. It was a loss which Maura was not prepared to face as she wailed in front of Jane until the bullets once again started to fly.
"Jane," Maura whimpered, "I don't want to leave you. Not ever." But she knew that Jane would want her to save herself so she frantically raced to find a place in which to take cover.
She had nowhere to duck, but by some miracle alone, was not hit. She watched in frozen horror as everyone she knew was struck down by Marino's cohorts as they perched on rooftops and on opposite sides of buildings across the street. The explosion of gunfire was unreal and the moans of the dying were everywhere. She watched in a nearly paralyzed and catatonic mode as Korsak went down, then Barry Frost soon after him. The backup officers were next until no one but Maura was left alive and breathing. Upon seeing this, she fell over in a heap of unconsciousness beside the body of her best friend.
When she began to awaken, the air was still flooded with the scent of gunpowder. None of the shooters were anywhere to be found. Footsteps neared her and she tensed as she tried not to move or make a sound. Peering through one eye, Maura saw a man dressed in black, carrying a gun. He strolled the scene as if he was taking a leisurely walk on a sunny fall afternoon in the park. Nevertheless, his demeanor changed as he roughly shoved the bodies into a rolled position with his foot to make certain they were dead. One of the officers groaned in a gurgle of blood as he was turned. The gunman looked down at him and cooly aimed a bullet through his head. The officer twitched once and afterward lay silent.
As he neared Maura, she felt the panic rise in her body. She hoped that her heartbeat could not be heard by the shooter as he surveilled the bodies of Jane and Marino. She closed her eyes fully, but forced them to relax as though in death. Her body slackened to imitate a total loss of muscle control should the steel toe of the assassin's boot prod her side. Suddenly, a shot rang out. Maura was convinced that it had been aimed for her, although she felt no pain or sensation. Only when Maura opened her eyes did she see the still form of the gunman lying dead, just three feet away from her. A fatal crimson wound bled between the eyes, shot in the same place where he had executed the officer a few moments earlier. She still dared not move when running steps echoed through the street as a number of individuals approached. Not knowing to whom the sounds belonged, Maura kept still and continued to play dead. She tried not to flinch at the pierce of ambulance sirens as they pulled to a stop. Through her infinitesimally parted eyelashes, she watched paramedics assess the people lying in the places in which they had died.
A pair of footsteps approached Maura and she felt herself shake even more in terror. She wished they would just get it over with and kill her, if that was their purpose for stopping over her. The gunshot might be painless when compared with this eternal waiting. But, she was very surprised to hear an entirely different exchange.
"Hey, Joey, over here! I think this one's still with us! Maybe it's not too late to get her to the hospital," he shouted.
Paramedics. Not executioners. Maura opened her eyes a crack and saw the paramedic who was looking down at her with concern. No gun. No knife. Yet she remained petrified.
He knelt beside her. "Can you hear me? My name's Mark and I'm a paramedic. I'm not going to hurt you, and neither is my partner, Joey. We're going to take you to the hospital to get you checked out, ok?"
Maura managed the most imperceivable nod, but Mark caught it. "Good. I knew you'd cooperate. You're Dr. Isles, aren't you?"
Another barely visible nod. Joey helped Mark carry her to the ambulance, gently and kindly lying her down on the gurney inside. Once she was out of the autumn sunlight, however, the images of the afternoon crowded into her mind and she screamed a strangled cry at the further touch of the men's hands. There was darkness, complete ebony, tinged with the way Jane's blood had looked streaming down the sidewalk.
Maura started to hyperventilate and writhe on the gurney against the belt wrapped around her middle. It was intended for safety during transport, but, to her, it was an entrapment. She could hear the paramedics' voices as if fifty miles away, imploring her to take slow, deep breaths, announcing that she was going into shock, both physically and emotionally. She felt stings on her arms and hands as needles slid into her veins, while they told her in frantic voices to let the sedatives work. She fought and fought until she felt herself floating up to the ceiling, finally hitting it with the inky oblivion for which she'd longed when the shooting began.