Author's notes: A hearty thank you to all my reviewers. I'm not certain if this is quite in character or not (or at least a valid interpretation of a character) so please let me know what you think.
A Place to Call Home: Chapter 2: You Hunt….
Booker
I had rarely wanted to go back to my apartment so badly. Hanson had made the bust so what were Fuller, Penhall, Ioki, and I doing meeting with Major Crimes? Speaking of which Detectives Fitzgerald and Ramirez were refusing to tell Ioki, Fuller, and I anything until Michelle brought Penhall in. I was so sick of sleeping at the Y. I was so sick of this case. Not that I wasn't glad that Hanson had caught the SOB but here was a reason why I didn't work Vice. Sex was legal (between consenting adults the monsters who targeted little kids deserved to be lined up and shot), selling was legal, and I had a hard time justifying that selling sex was illegal. As a cop I didn't indulge and to be honest I didn't need to but still a stupid rule that I personally had no problem with people breaking so long as no one was getting hurt. The pervs, deviants, and killers that took their frustrations out on prostitutes and hustlers deserved their own spot up against the wall. I wondered how many kids that old bastard had beaten nearly to death and how many unclaimed John Doe's in the morgue he had put there. I didn't regret those nights on the street trying to catch him but now that he was caught I wanted my own bed back. I slouched down a little further against the filing cabinet letting my eyes sag shut. If they didn't like it they could start talking.
Cemetery, swirling mist, an open grave Christine standing above it "I thought I knew you. I loved you Dennis"
I jerked awake as Penhall came in for once grateful for his timing. I hated that damn dream and I couldn't seem to shake it.
"Fitz?" Penhall wore his heart on his sleeve and he looked like someone had carved it out and handed it to him. So he still wasn't over washing out of Major Crimes any more than I was really over getting booted from Internal Affairs. Of course his mistake had really been HIS. I was stuck here because of the tag team stupidity of Hanson and Penhall. He still looked like a kicked puppy. I debated if I should give him some friendly advice later but why bother? He wouldn't listen. No body around here did, at least not to me, well maybe Judy, sometimes, Hanson had made certain of that. Rapist. It didn't matter that it wasn't true, that I would NEVER, EVER do something like that. 'Tommy', who everyone around here liked and respected said I could therefore I was the big bad wolf. It didn't help that I was ex Internal Affairs. Thank you very much Penhall and Hanson. I could have burned them back. I could have had Hanson's badge over the break in and washed Penhall out of Intelligence for ratting me out but I'd tried to prove I wasn't the monster Hanson had branded me. I'd taken the heat for fumbling the case, ended up branded 'not IAD material', and had been packed off to join the 'kiddy kops'. Who kept me at arm's length. Oh they were professional and they even let me 'pal around' with them but I knew exactly where I stood with them. Fuller I was less sure about. I'd been branded trouble early on but I thought I'd made up some ground. I sighed just because we worked in high schools didn't mean we needed to act like teens in the Chapel but we did. We had our cliques and Tommy, Doug, and Judy were the 'in' kids. Unless and until Hanson came around nobody was going to really trust me. To hell with them all. I didn't need any of them. As long as they were professional enough to watch my back when we were under cover that was enough. Besides if I kept up this train of thought any longer I was going to get as broody as Hanson.
"Hello, Officer Penhall" he winced and she flushed a little while the rest of us watched. I honestly liked Penhall and felt bad for the guy but I had no doubts at all about where his loyalties lay. "You made contact tonight with the individual known as 'Gabriel'?"
"Actually I think his name is Paullus."
Ramirez leaned forward taking the lead from Fitzgerald "He told you his name?"
"Not exactly, but he signed this note."
Curious I leaned forward catching only what looked like the word Jacuzzi. While I still wanted a good night's (or day's the case may be) sleep I was intrigued enough for most of my annoyance to exit stage right.
"Officer Penhall, why don't you start from the beginning?" Fitzhugh suggested.
Penhall drew a deep breath, "This is gonna sound pretty weird."
Fitzgerald sighed "Doug we've been trying to track this kid for five weeks ever since that girl pegged him as the East Side Slasher's killer without ever getting anything but ghost stories" she picked up the note "This is the first shred of physical evidence we have that the boy isn't a mass hallucination."
"Well" Ramirez observed dryly "there are the bullets."
Penhall seemed to be arguing with himself before getting a slightly triumphant light in his eyes "I can do you one better" he made a show of reaching into his coat and laying the photo on the desk with a flourish. I wasn't certain what I expected but as Ioki summed it up it wasn't 'the male equivalent of Shirley Temple'. He even had little gold ringlets and slightly pouty lips. I had to bite back a snide observation about silly tap routines not being a crime.
"So what happened last night Doug?"
As he related the events I could only conclude that Penhall had taken a wrong turn and ended up in the Anti-Twilight Zone where everyone got a sappily sweet ending courtesy of a refugee from bad Renaissance art.
"So why are we here?" I asked.
"Because the ballistics from Becket and Edward Jones" the East Side Slasher I mentally filled in "match six additional cases."
A chill swept through me at the thought of an eight year old shooter so I tried to ignore it with a little internal sarcasm. So what would the press make of this when if finally leaked? (because something this strange was bound to eventually). When Cherubs Go Bad? Killer Kids? Angel of Death? The Kind Killer?
I knew we were the 'kiddy kops' but he was like ten, tops. We weren't exactly going to blend into an elementary school.
"How many bodies?" Ioki asked.
"Thankfully just Jones. The rest where like Becket, guns shot out of hands, people clipped so shots went wild, that sort of thing. The other nine were treated on an out patient basis and incarcerated."
"Incarcerated? And I thought you said six cases?"
"Penhall and Hanson aren't the only cops who likely owe whoever the shooter is their lives. Every single shooting took place when the injured party was threatening someone else's life. Whoever the shooter is he's quick, clean, and a sniper class marksman."
Little Pauly Oakley? Boy Wonder? Mighty Mouse? Guardian Cherub?
"In one case he managed to disarm not one but 3 dealers. The weapon used is likely fully automatic and does not match any known gun. This is a custom weapon with custom ammo. And for the record NO ONE believes the kid is really the shooter or the medic but he's our only lead on who is."
Ah so we were after the Caped Crusader. I was never quite sure how I felt about the whole concept of vigilantes. I mean I'd LOVED comic book heroes as a kid and so far this guy didn't seem like such a bad sort. Granted he was breaking the rules but was what he was doing wrong? I joined the police force to 'catch bad guys' not stalk little kids. Besides I wasn't good with kids.
"Penhall you're to keep watch on Mrs. Ellsworth to see if he comes back there. Booker and Ioki you're to stay on the streets. It's clearly the center of his sphere and he has a soft spot for hustlers who get into trouble. Aaron isn't the first one he's helped."
I was having a tough time selling this case to myself and not just because the Y and the streets were the LAST places I wanted to be.
"What made Jones different?" I asked "Why kill him when he winged everyone else?"
Granted he'd killed a scumbag but if it was cold blooded murder it was still cold blooded murder and he was dirty.
"According to forensics from his position the only way to hit Jones without also hitting the girl was a head shot."
Damn. I looked at Fuller. I didn't want this case. He didn't need me to say it he could see it on my face.
"My men have been on the streets for over a week straight, at least give them a day in their own beds before you send them back out."
"The mayor is breathing down our necks on this. He's terrified the press is going to get a hold of it while we still don't have any answers."
"Look if Kevin is right then whoever has been operating out there for 10 months. Another day isn't going to hurt and Booker and Ioki will be better for it."
Fitzgerald didn't like it but Ramirez caved to the Captain. Weren't girls supposed to be MORE understanding? Whatever just as long as I wasn't sleeping at the Y today.
"I want them back out tomorrow night."
"They'll be there."
I stayed where I was as the detectives marched out leaving us a handful of files to study. Most of it went with them but I still had a few friends at IAD. By the time I hit the streets again I'd know everything we knew about 'Gabriel'.
"Why don't you send Hansen in with Ioki?"
"Because Hanson's cover is blown and so is Hoffs'."
"What about Ditrick? Or Simpson?" Sometimes I wondered if the Captain even remembered that there were actually more officers here than the Fab Four.
"I know you don't want this case Dennis"
Great, first name, why was it people always used your first name before telling you something you never wanted to hear like you have lung cancer?
"but we can't always have what we want. You didn't want to be in the 'nerd frat' and that turned out ok."
"Captain" I started but he held up a hand.
"I know you think 'rules' is a dirty word and that you're telling yourself that no one is getting hurt. But how do we know that?"
"Captain, I'm just not certain this is a good use of resources. We're already stretched thin from all the budget cuts and now they want us to chase down the only kid in the city who'll help an old lady across the street without expecting to be paid. That isn't what I signed on to do."
"Hey" Ioki, the worst stickler for law and order I had ever met broke in. "Whoever is behind this kid is a vigilante, end of story." I could have sworn Ioki had been defending the Street Rangers. I guess he must have taken Hanson nearly getting shot harder than I'd realized and picked up some serious anti-vigilante baggage.
"Fine, swell, whatever. I'll see you tomorrow night" because Ioki was going to hunt this kid and I couldn't leave him out there alone.
Quiet. I used to love the quiet of my own place. My little refuge of my, myself, and I, except we weren't as good company as we used to be. Somewhere along the way something had gone wrong and silence had lost its charm. Something, no, not something Christine. Something inside had cracked when I realized she'd killed Bobby because she thought he was the narc and it had broken completely when she threw herself down that elevator shaft. Everything had been…hollow since then. Maybe it always had been and those kids' deaths had just forced me to notice it. I'd almost cried in the dept shrink's office. God that was still embarrassing to remember. I had all but begged her to tell me how to fill the yawning void that had opened as the metaphorical ground crumbled beneath my feet only to have her give me some useless psychobabble about needing to get in touch with myself and some mandatory leave time to do it on. I'd given her the right pat answers when I got back, managed to convince my waking mind that Christine had been a ticking time bomb of a head job just waiting to go off and that it wasn't my fault. I almost believed it until I went to sleep. I gave myself a mental slap. I was NOT going to become as broody as Hanson. I had a reputation to maintain. Besides it didn't look like much fun and I was all about fun. So shower, call Brian and set up a meeting for tonight, sleep, hopefully, if that damn dream would let me.
It had been long enough since I'd been here that I actually had to order my drink instead of my usual just appearing. Maybe it was working out of a defunct chapel but the bottom line was the Jump Street crowd didn't go in for strip joints. They were more of a pool and pizza crowd. IAD was another story but this one was on the wrong side of town for most of IAD the only reason I'd frequented it was that I'd been dating one of the strippers for a while. I dumped her about the time she'd started pestering me about talking to her. My relationships had a shelf life of about six weeks. I couldn't decide if the variety was refreshing or depressing. By the time Brian showed up a half hour later there were four empty bottles lined up in front of me and I had the distinct impression that the waitress was trying to think of a way to slow me down without actually flagging me. She might have a point but I wasn't certain I cared at the moment.
Brian looked pissed as he came in, saw my line up and switched to concerned (and still slightly pissed – what had I done? Unlike the temperamental 'kiddy kops' the IAD crowd usually had the decency to wait for you to screw up to jump down your throat.)
"Want to talk?"
I didn't answer. The natural blond on the platform didn't look old enough to be up there. She was new at this and it showed. She had the goods for the job but was still rough around the edges. Just like so many of those kids on the street where I'd be going back tomorrow to hunt one of the few people who was getting them off the streets. Because maybe something was fishy.
He laid the files on the table "I can't let you keep these. I barely made it out with them. Something about this has the brass more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."
The fact that I found the comment hilarious meant that I'd had a little too much too fast on an empty stomach.
"Dennis please tell me you aren't too pickled to even read these."
Brian was a great guy and I was being an ass.
"I'm shorry" that shouldn't have slurred maybe four was just what was left in front of me.
He just sighed "It wasn't your fault Dennis." Brian had undoubtedly read every single report including Fuller's and the shrink's.
I shook my head (a mistake) cleared my throat, swallowed a belch, and attempted to speak clearly "Not that. I shouldn't have asked you to jeopardize your job for me."
Brian was old enough to be my dad and he was definitely more reliable.
"It's ok, Dennis. Now are you going to look at the files or her?"
"She's probably prettier" I offered.
"Undoubtedly but if you don't buckled down and at least pretend to look at them I'm going to kick your ass."
I pulled the one on the top and had to swallow hard when I realized that it was a photo of the remains of someone's head.
"The East Side Slasher?"
"Yes"
Brian had ordered us coffee and I took a gulp. My stomach complained but I ignored it "What's he using? A cannon?"
"The ballistic guys think it's a .24 caliber."
"WHAT?!"
He shushed me, not that the other patrons were paying the slightest attention to anything but Lisa. I was momentarily distracted by memories – why had I dumped her?
"Dennis" Brian both amused and annoyed. So back to what was left of a murdering rapist's cranium.
"No way, no WAY, a bullet that small did…this."
Brian took a sip of coffee and focused all of his attention on me. "I put that picture on top for a reason Dennis. The ballistics guys are certain he's using some sort of explosive ammunition. Something they've never seen before. If he nails you in a limb you're going to lose it if he hits you center man you're dead. Not on your way to the hospital and they think you'll pull through, dead, DOA, as in forensics will be scraping bits of you out of the wall. They think it's a small gun with a longish barrel. If he pulls it on you don't hesitate because I don't want to be attending your funeral. I like you kid. You have the makings of a great cop. Don't screw up by getting killed on me."
"He's been saving cops not killing them" I pointed out as another effect of too much beer too fast made itself known.
"Who the hell knows what he's going to do if you put him in a corner. I don't care if he really is an eight year old if he pulls that gun on you, You. Put. Him. Down."
"I'll be right back" I got a touch of a head rush as I headed for the little boys room. Lisa glared at me as she finished her routine on my return trip. I ignored her.
"I mean it Dennis" Brian was worried. I didn't know if I should be insulted because he thought I couldn't handle myself or bah, we weren't chicks, I settled for being annoyed.
Instead of answering I pulled another file. Brian jerked it away.
I frowned "I can't shoot a little kid." A couple of teenagers were ripping me apart I didn't need to add the 'male equivalent of Shirley Temple' to my ghosts. My hand hadn't even been on the trigger with those kids, how the hell could I live with myself if I was the shooter?
"I'm going to find a way to get you off this case Dennis" Brian swore.
I should tell him not to, not to interfere because Fuller would probably take it personally, or as an excuse to think even less of me. But I didn't because I didn't want this case. Fitzgerald and Ramirez hadn't been kidding (no pun intended). They had next to nothing on 'Gabriel'. Penhall had more solid information in a single night than they had a month. I ransacked the files looking for anything dirty. Any sign of anyone other than the kid. I picked up a copy of Penhall's picture. I considered anyone under fifteen to be avoided like the plague (and honestly I wasn't real fond of teenagers either) but the kid looked really sweet and cute. There was a fair bit on the people he'd helped and that was only the ones who had been willing to talk or that we knew about.
Hm, that was interesting "The notes were written with a QUILL? As in an honest to God bird feather?"
"Whoever he is he's a nut Dennis and you never know what a nut is going to do." I frowned and buried myself in the files.
I put the last one back on the pile now stone cold sober and liking the whole thing less by the minute. "Thanks" I clapped Brian on the shoulder as I tossed enough to cover both of us onto the table and walked out into the cold night.
Fuller was going to be pissed about me being late. The sun was long down and I doubted he was going believe I'd overslept even if it was true. After a couple of hours of nightmares I'd finally given up and taken something. Just some over the counter stuff but apparently once asleep my body had decided to sleep itself out regardless of alarm clocks. I drew a deep breath in the parking lot pulling my 'Officer Booker' persona around myself. A glance in the rear view mirror revealed brash confidence with just the right touch of arrogance. Perfect. I swaggered into the Chapel each footfall announcing that the world was my oyster. Body language shouting there was no mountain I couldn't climb, no obstacle could possibly get in my way, and nothing could touch me. Not true but image was everything. Hansen looked up, some sixth sense knowing I had just entered 'his' territory even from across the building. I changed directions since pushing his buttons was a fundamental part of the character I played here. Truth was it was too easy and I was bored but it had been fun early on and now I was stuck with it or people would ask what was wrong. And who knows I might tell someone the truth.
We were both rescued by Fuller's annoyed "Booker, my office, now."
"Shut the door."
He just stared at me until I shifted uncomfortably.
"You're late."
"I overslept."
"I thought you were out of IAD."
"I am" I hadn't meant for it to sound that bitter. Pull it together Booker I mentally hissed to myself.
An arch of brows "Then why is your excaptain complaining about my treatment of you?"
Huh? I blinked at him Blake hadn't had the time of day for me. Except Booker probably didn't KNOW who the captain of IAD was so it was probably Brian who had called not Blake.
"The Slasher photos weren't in the files we were allowed to see and Ioki still hasn't seen them." I could see in his eyes that he had.
He sighed "There seems to be some doubts about your ability to handle this case. That you aren't able to do what might need to be done. What do you think?"
I was suddenly a lot more sympathetic to the rah-rah jocks from a few months ago. I wanted to sit this one out but who wants to admit they belong on the bench? So much for all my advice to Penhall.
"Let me run a few scenarios by you. Let's say the boy is the shooter and he pulls that gun on you. Could you put him down?"
"No" I didn't even have to think "If you're asking me if I can live with myself if I have to shoot an eight year old to save my own hide then the answer is no. If you're asking me if I can watch Ioki's back and do my best to help track the boy down then the answer is yes."
"I wasn't done yet, what if he drew on your partner?"
I had to think about that one "Yes".
"Not a lot of conviction there Dennis"
I shrugged miserably unable to meet his eyes.
"And if he were to threaten an innocent bystander?"
"Yes" a little quicker this time and with a bit more certainty behind it.
Fuller sighed "You don't belong on this case but I don't have anyone else to back up Harry right now."
"Sorry to disappoint you" the edge I'd put on that surprised me.
"I'm not disappointed" he steepled his fingers and looked up at me. "Did you really slash my tires during the strike?"
The truth probably wouldn't hurt anything now "No."
"But you took the heat for it and paid for it. Just like you took the fall for Penhall and Hanson's…misbehavior a few months back."
"I didn't know you knew about that."
"I didn't. Dennis you AREN'T in IAD anymore."
"I know that."
"I'm not so sure. You came here to play a role with a cover and a character already in place and I don't think you ever stopped. I think we only get to see the real Dennis Booker on rare occasion and from what I can see he's a real good guy. Cares about people, gives some damn good advice, and makes pretty speeches. Pity you won't let anyone meet him." He shifted gears "Dennis why did you become a cop?"
"To catch the bad guys."
"Didn't we all. But that means slightly different things for all of us. For some anyone who breaks the law is a bad guy. I don't think you agree Dennis so who are your bad guys?"
"People who hurt other people" that sounded so lame.
"And THAT is the reason you don't belong on this case, not the fact that I suspect you are way more torn up about those kids than even the department shrink thinks. As far as we can tell so far this is a victimless 'crime' and maybe it shouldn't be called a 'crime' at all. You let Harry take the lead and just make sure that no 'bad guys' take a chunk out of either of you. And Dennis, there's no shame in admitting that you can't shoot a kid. I doubt there's a soul in this building that could do it and walk away. Your work on your last two cases has been exemplary. You're good at what you do and we ARE making a difference even if it doesn't seem like it some times. Those kids were a tragedy but don't let Christine destroy you too."
I nodded and walked out to where Harry was waiting impatiently for me.
I played with my lighter a little more and let my eyes sweep the streets again. No little blond kids or blue-eyed yellow huskies in sight. I shivered, a cold front had moved in and it was brutal out here. Harry was in deep conversation with a little red head who didn't look old enough to be in high school yet. How bad could home be that this was better?
Maybe we should get social services in on that one except their budget had been cut too. Easy for the Congress on the opposite side of the country with cushy jobs and plenty of everything to decide that federal funding for social projects should be reduced they weren't out here in the cold looking at the results. Harry looked thoughtful as the kid wandered further down the street. He ambled over to me.
"Apparently there's bad blood between the Mercy ER and 'Gabriel'" he blew on his hands.
Interesting. No one out here had wanted to talk about the deviant pervert who was beating the crap out of their fellow hustlers but everyone had a story about 'Gabriel' usually sixth hand so there was no telling what was and wasn't true but this was the first I heard of anyone speaking ill of him.
"Want to check it out?"
"It has to be warmer than out here." We turned and walked out of the 'red light' district looking for a cab.
"So, what's the story?"
"Red" what an imaginative street name, I rolled my eyes "got a nasty cut on his arm a few weeks back and went to Mercy both to have it stitched up and to have the stitches removed. Apparently five guys were sharing a dive over on 7th and 23rd. They all got sick. Three of them ended up in Mercy's ER, two refused to go to the hospital and ended up with 'Gabriel'. 'Gabriel' went to the ER while Red was waiting to be seen and asked to speak to one of the doctors. He tried to tell the doctor that the guys didn't have pneumonia but something else something much nastier that required different treatment. The doctor didn't take being told what to do very well. It ended up in a screaming match and the doctor called security on 'Gabriel'. Two weeks later went Red back to get his stitches out and this other guy is bawling in the waiting area so Red buys him a soda. Turns out he's one of the five guys and he's just learned that the three in the hospital didn't make. According to Red he's the only survivor of the five."
"So Gabriel lost one too?" That was a first, every other story had a happy ending.
"Sounds like it, if it's true. The Dr's name is Walker."
We rode the rest of the way in silence. I let Ioki take the lead. Dr. Walker looked more like one of the walking dead than any horror flick character I'd ever seen. His lips were blue, his complexion grey, and his hand limp and icy and he had all the personality of a dead fish. That is until we mentioned that we were cops inquiring about his run in with 'Gabriel'. The change was astounding. The kid had really, really gotten under this guy's skin.
"Finally someone is going to do something about that little menace to society" he snarled. "The brat had the audacity to march into my ER in my hospital and call me an unqualifiedly incompetent ignoramus who clearly found his medical license in a Cracker Jack box. The unmitigated nerve of that undersized quack, which he also called me, along with moron, idiot, fool, and small minded hypocrite."
Clearly Red was right about the fight at least. The doc had gone from grey to florid.
"Terrible" Ioki murmured encouragingly not that he really needed any.
"I do my job, officer, and I am capable of making a simple diagnosis" from the edge to his voice someone had recently said he wasn't. Probably a youthful someone with blond ringlets. I really wish I could have seen this fight. It had probably been hysterical, except that four kids might be dead which was a sobering thought. Suddenly it wasn't funny at all. "without the assistance of pint-sized ankle biters with pretensions that they have the least clue about medicine!!"
Ioki had to wipe some flying spit off his face. Fortunately being a little further back I was out of the spray zone.
"Do you have any idea what the boy's real name is or where he lives?"
"Of course not, if I did I would have given his parents a piece of my mind and told them to keep that little freak locked in the basement."
"Could we possibly speak with the patients you were discussing?"
"I'm afraid that doctor patient privilege doesn't allow that. Why don't you gentlemen go looking for that juvenile delinquent on the streets? His parents clearly can't be bothered to discipline the creature and he runs wild at all hours."
"So you see him a lot?" Harry asked.
"He is a millstone around my neck. My own personal albatross" his eyes flicked to one of the nurses "If you'll excuse me."
No sooner was he out of the room than a very nervous looking nurse with a pile of paperwork slipped in "These are copies of the files you were asking about."
"What about dr. patient privilege?"
"It doesn't extend to the deceased. These are everything I could gather on all eight patients they've argued about and the one rumor has it 'Gabriel' lost along with the statistics on pneumonia deaths for the last five years."
"Are you saying that every one of the patients they've fought over is dead?"
"Yes, they are officer. There's an all night diner just up the street, Dr. Walker hates the place."
I took the files "Thank you."
"No problem officer" she looked down at her white shoes "he tried to hit that boy last time he was in here."
"He took a swing at the kid?" I knew it was the kid I was supposed to be tracking but I wanted a crack at the doctor.
"He missed, the boy's quick, just ask the security guards though I don't know how hard they're actually trying."
Harry added his thanks and we headed for the diner.
"She's afraid" he observed as the doors slid shut behind us.
"Of losing her job or of whatever killed nine people is the question."
Harry shrugged "Could be both. You want to start on the files or the statistics?"
"Give me the stats."
We ordered some surprisingly good coffee and got down to work. Since I'd had no idea that life on the streets would require a calculator I was stuck doing math long hand with a pencil borrowed from the very world weary waitress. I did the numbers three times, just to be certain.
"Harry, 'pneumonia' deaths are already triple the 5 year average and we have another month of winter to go."
He looked up from the file "You're kidding me."
I shoved my numbers at him. "Walker's blaming it on HIV related illnesses. Is that in those files of yours?"
"Yeh but only two were positive. The one Gabriel lost had full blown AIDS and one of the first three who wasn't even symptomatic yet."
Well, that explained why 'Gabriel' had failed, his patient had already had both feet in the grave.
I took a drag wrong and coughed my whole chest tightening up "They're mostly homeless kids who are dying" I sounded strangled.
"And we've been with them all week" Harry was scared, hell, I was scared. "I'm going to get this to Fuller. Get someone with a little more medical savvy working on it."
I took another long pull. I was supposed to be giving these things up. "I'll see you back at the Y."
I wondered as I watched Harry leave if he was going to actually show up then I wondered if I was.
The cabbie refused to drive all the way to the Y but I figured I'd survive the three block walk. The night had gotten colder and even down here the streets where all but empty. I shivered and started walking a little faster but not too fast. Image was everything, act like prey and the animals down here will treat you like it. I whirled as squalling tires and panicked screams shattered the night behind me. Headlights temporarily blinded me as there was a sickening thud. The tires squealed again and I flung myself into the shelter of a doorway before the dark Nova could make me into a second casualty. I tried in vain to make out the license plate before turning to look for the victim only to stop stunned in the middle of the sidewalk.
'Gabriel' or Paullus raised his blond head from his examination of the tangle of limbs and bloody meat before him "Will you help?"
I swallowed "He's still alive?"
"With a shot at surviving. First I need you to call it in. Do you have paper and pencil?" I started to fish some out and then blinked. The kid was slitting the guy's throat!
"What the hell?!"
"Cricothroidotomy, his trachea is damaged I need to open an airway. Phones are right down the street. Call 555-0100. It's the main line to County's ER. Ask if Dr. Blackburn or Meyers are in tonight if so have them paged NOW, tell them Paul needs an ambulance stat. 4 units A-, lots of saline. Hit and run. Male Caucasian, 16, unconscious with some head trauma, signs of severe internal bleeding, suspect ruptured spleen and kidney damage, broken pelvis, complex compound fracture of left femur, lacerations to the right distal femoral artery. Tachycardic, blood pressure falling. If neither Blackburn or Meyers are in call 555-4863 that's Memorial's ER have them page surgery and give them the same message. Do you need change?"
I shook my head. "As soon as you have confirmation that a team is enroute get back here. I need another set of hands. Oh, and see if they can toss in a change of clothes. Now GO."
I sprinted for the phones and nearly lost the quarter before managing to drop it in and dial. Pick up, pick up, pick up, damn it don't you dare be getting coffee, sleeping, or chatting with your boyfriend.
After an eternity "County ER, main desk."
"Are Dr's Blackburn or Meyers in?"
"May I ask who is calling?"
"Are they in?" I practically screamed at the stupid creature.
"Dr. Meyers is on tonight."
"Paul says to have him paged"
"Just a sec" she interrupted "Dr. Meyers, Paul's found you some more work."
A man's voice, "Paul, what's the bullet?"
"Paul's with the victim" I drew a deep breath and repeated his message along with our location.
"Tell him Smith and Jones are rolling and he is under no circumstances to give the guy a transfusion. He's already made one donation today and at least two this week. You tell him, he gives any more blood and I will knock him out and put him in restraints if I have to to give him some back. I don't care if he does have hemochromatosis."
"Got it."
"Then get back to him."
I dashed back to Paul who was asking if I knew CPR before I'd even stopped.
"You need me to do compressions?"
"No, he's still got a pulse" He was pumping a bag thing "I need you to take over breathing for him and monitoring his pulse while I stitch up the lacerations in his right leg before he loses it."
"I've had training but I've never actually done the deed."
"I'll talk you through if you need help just keep it nice and steady and let me know if his pulse stops or gets any threadier. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
Once he was certain I really could he switched on his headlamp, grabbed what proved to be a surgical kit (where the hell had the kid gotten that from?), and went to work on the guy's right leg carefully not disturbing the left. I tried to watch but I'd never been a big fan of dissections and this was a living, breathing (with help) human being the kid was down there slicing, sniping, and stitching on and I was a hair's breath from either fainting or puking neither of which would do any good from my image or this poor bastard.
I dared a glance and saw him take the tourniquet off, he muttered something and yanked a little jar out of his bag. Those could not be what they looked like. No way.
"What are those?"
"Leeches."
That was very nearly the final straw for my stomach and only the thought that some infection from my puke might finish the poor guy off tipped the balance but I still had to swallow hard several times and my throat burned from the acids.
"Why?" I croaked when I could finally trust my gut again.
"His blood has clotted in the peripheral veins and arteries if circulation isn't restored he's going to lose this leg and he's going to need it given the wreckage of the car made of the other."
"And leeches will help?"
"Modern medicine certainly has nothing better when it comes to restoring blood flow. They work superlatively on frostbite too."
"I'll keep that in mind" I meant it to be sarcastic but it came out very thin.
"I can" he stopped "Do you know your blood type?"
"A positive" I felt the change as his pulse suddenly faltered. Paul already had a needle in his own arm and slid one into the guy's with a practiced ease I wished the nurse at any doctor's office I'd ever been in shared.
"Dr. Meyers said you shouldn't be doing that. That you've already given blood today."
"It's ok, I have hemochromatosis."
"Which is?"
"My body is an order of magnitude more efficient at extracting and storing iron than is normal. The excess iron can lead to organ damage unless bi-weekly donations are made."
He made it vague but I was willing to bet it should be every other week not twice a week, either way, according to Meyers this was going to put him over the limit.
"He made it sound like you've already given your quota."
A flick of the eyes that screamed 'busted' to any undercover cop worth his badge. "You're A+ he's A- as an O- I'm the only option at the moment. I'd hoped the paramedics would have arrived before this became necessary. If I faint yank the needle out of my arm and pack me in the ambulance with him if nothing else you'll make Meyers day and Blackburn's week."
"Where'd you learn to do all this?"
"Too much quality time in wars zones and refugee camps. You would be amazed what you can pick up" I had absolutely no doubt that this was the medic but those words now made it a probability he was the shooter as well using God only knew what picked up in some hell hole. Though I did wonder how he had gotten a weapon back into the country. "You gave the right location right?"
If I hadn't already been well on my way to human popsicle that would have sent a chill up my spine. I thought about it. "Yes. He said Smith and Jones were rolling."
"So where the hell are they?" Paul muttered "Can you keep bagging if I have to open him up?"
I squeaked a "What?" before clearing my throat and continuing in a more normal tone "What are you planning?"
"He's bleeding out from the ruptured spleen. If they don't show soon it's going to become a choice between certain death if I don't open him up and likely death if I do once the left lung collapses on top of everything else."
"So are you Gabriel or Paul?" I asked not wanting to think about emergency exploratory surgery in the middle of the street.
"Technically Paullus but Paul works."
"I'm Dennis."
"No one's giving you a street name yet?" he asked nearly invisible pale brows arching under the thin light of the few functional street lights.
"I'm kinda new down here."
"Almost two weeks" he retorted. I could see suspicion building in his intensely blue eyes, not a child's eyes, not even a young man's eyes, wary almost feral and agelessly ancient, I could see how someone could think they belonged to an archangel for they were utterly out of place in his child's visage. Abruptly the laser glare softened and he swayed.
"Paul?!"
He pulled the needle out of his arm and the guy's before rocking back onto his heels just a touch unsteadily.
"You really think he's going to make it?"
"If Smith & Jones get down here in time. Meyer's is almost as good as I am with trauma cases" he shrugged "Give me enough blood and saline and I could have him out of danger right here."
"Then why call it in?"
"One, I don't have enough blood or saline and two, that" he pointed to the left leg "is WAY out of my skill set. A kid's got to know is limitations. If I was the only doctor in town I might as well just take it off, he'd get more use out of a stump than I could give him. I'm one of the best at trauma, disease, malnutrition, and I can certainly play midwife in a pinch but I'm useless on the fancy stuff. About bloody time" he muttered.
He started gathering the used supplies into a biohazard bag that he pulled from his pack, then pulled off his surgical gloves. When his blood soaked shirt went into the bag I began to wonder if he hallucinating either from blood loss or cold since he hadn't been wearing a coat in this frigid night. Then I heard the wail of the siren in the distance. Paul had very good ears or I'd been listening to way too much loud music. Nah, the kid had good ears. And while I was wondering about the mystery that was Paul how had he managed to keep his scarf from getting as bloody as the rest of his clothes?
When the ambulance roared into sight he grabbed his pack leaving the biohazard bag behind and me stuck still bagging for the victim. Clever. He gave himself a solid lead and a clear escape route but didn't leave completely.
"Jeeze, kid give us a break this is your fourth disaster today." Smith turned out to be a burly black man a little older than me while Jones was an older, stocky, blond woman. They descended on the victim with the practiced ease of long partnership while holding up a running comfortable conversation with Paul.
Paul shrugged "It's hardly my fault that there is a superfluity of hostility amongst our fellow men today."
Jones tossed something at Paul which he snapped out of the air easily. Jones seemed to relax a little seeing him alert as I backed out of the way and toward Paul. Who looked none to happy with the fact that I was now free of my obligations of keeping the victim breathing.
"High iron pre-natal vitamins?"
"Meyers says if you're going to keep draining yourself at the clip you've been at lately you're going to need them."
"Thanks, now get Breeze in the ambulance and get him out of here."
"Not until we see you take one. Meyers orders unless you'd like to come with us" Smith tossed a small bag at him which he also caught. They were checking his reflexes because they were worried about the kid. Likely with good reason.
Paul rolled his eyes but dutifully pulled a bottle of juice out of the bag at his feet and took one. He drained the bottle without ever taking those feral eyes off us. He flipped a shirt out of the bag and stuffed his arms into it while speaking "If they can have them get a photo of his left leg before they start working on it. He's got a partial plate imprinted in it. Full plate LFT 461, black Nova. Maybe if the police can't be bothered to arrest the Cook on a drug charge they can at least get him on attempted vehicular homicide. Let Blackburn know that I haven't seen a new case of the disease that is apparently a figment of my overactive juvenile imagination in six days."
"You got it, and get some rest kid, you're looking ragged around the edges. Sure you don't want to come with us?"
Paul shook his head and took a step back but he stayed until they had Breeze safely in the rig.
"The Cook?"
"Biggest methamphetamine dealer and manufacturer in the city. His main lab is just around the corner and down a bit" those sharp eyes were back on me "if he keeps expanding his operation unopposed this city will shortly become the meth capital of the country."
"If you want the cops to do something about it why don't you tell them?"
"I have left a number of anonymous tips" he paused "Officer. I'm afraid I don't know you're last name but I'm assuming you're newly assigned to the Chapel. Officer Hanson 'collared'' his lips twisted a little on the word "the villainous rouge that attacked Aaron and the others so why do you linger here? Has Fitzgerald become so desperate that she would risk her brother officers in this midden merely for me? I don't know if I should be appalled or flattered."
"We just have some" the kid bolted. I was not going to pull my gun on this kid. I had a good foot and a half of height on him there was no way Paul could out run me but he'd given himself a good lead and while I was making up ground he knew how to use the terrain to his advantage. This was a kid who had a lot of practice at being chased. I rounded the corner and he was just gone. How the hell?
He had to have gone to ground somewhere close. There were several derelict buildings to choose from eenie-meenie-minee-moe that one.
I got half way up the stairs when there was a chuff behind me. I whirled, nothing. Grinning at my own attack of nerves I turned back to find myself face to face with a half grown wolf.
15