Chapter 4

The door burst open hitting the wall to its left with shattering force. For Lionel things were moving oddly fast and slow at the same time as his momentum propelled him further into the restroom's anteroom. For a split-second the thought that what he was doing was not just insanely crazy but also phenomenally stupid crossed his mind. But considering that the thought was about three seconds too late, he decided that disregarding his contemplations of being temporarily insane - locking the thought away for a deeper analysis later on - and concentrating on hitting the man with the gun trained on Wonderboy's forehead was his best course of action at the moment.

Obviously startled by Fusco's grand entrance the gunman turned, offering the side of his face as a perfect landing zone for the bottom of the fire extinguisher Fusco was still wielding as a battering ram. It connected with the man's jaw with a resounding crunch, blood and at least one tooth spurting from his mouth as the force of Fusco's blow spun him around before he dropped to the floor like a stone.

Fusco stood over the unconscious man, panting and still holding the extinguisher up, brandishing it like a weapon - and recognizing the man as the Fed who had shown up at the precinct almost a year ago, looking into the Corwin murder. He felt the urge to giggle like a madman, but with an effort Lionel managed to swallow down his hysterical relief that he was somehow still alive.

Dropping the fire extinguisher he first collected the two guns that had gone flying before rushing over to Reese, who so far had made no move to get up. Actually, he had made no move at all and that realization scared the hell out of Lionel. Reese might have a penchant for getting himself into hairy situations, but the guy was like Mr. Invincible. Nothing could faze him. Well, almost. A bullet to the brain would certainly do the trick and in a moment of panic Fusco wasn't sure if maybe the Fed hadn't squeezed off a shot before he had the pleasure of acquainting himself with the bottom of a fire extinguisher. But there was no blood or brain matter splattered on the wall behind where Reese was hunched, which Fusco took as a good sign.

Kneeling in front of Reese, Fusco called out Reese's name but received no response. Reese was hunched against the wall between the two metal sinks, his left leg wedged awkwardly underneath his right and his head limply hanging low with his chin on his chest.

Tentatively, Fusco reached forward searching for a pulse, expelling the breath he'd been holding when he found a strong one fluttering underneath his fingertips. "Thank God."

He noticed that Reese's breathing was off. Short, shallow gasps. Pulling aside the lapels of John's dress jacket revealed two holes with fresh burn marks in John's white dress shirt right smack in the middle of his chest. "Oh shit." Cursed Fusco and he frantically ripped open Wonderboy's shirt to find the mangled remains of the two bullets firmly imbedded within the protective layers of Reese's bulletproof vest.

As if on cue Reese's head jerked and he groaned and his eyelids began to flutter. "Hey there." Fusco said, gently slapping Reese's cheeks as it looked like his eyelids were losing their fight against gravity.

John groaned again and Fusco could relate all too well to what it felt like, still vividly remembering the agony he had found himself in after waking up on the cold asphalt of the road to Oyster Bay with two bullets stuck inside his vest, courtesy of the same lunatic Fusco now found himself relieved to still be among the living. Life did have strange twists and turns, but it didn't stop Lionel from feeling just a little bit of satisfaction that Karma had come through for him at least this once. "Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?"

Reese's eyelids stayed open after the third slap and he leveled a glare at Fusco from underneath hooded eyes. "Can't. Breathe. Fusco." Reese barely managed to get the words out between the painful gasps he attempted to take, dark spots already back dancing within his vision again.

Fusco made short work with the remaining buttons of Reese's shirt, ripping it open all the way to get better access to loosen the velcro straps on either side of Reese's torso and shoulders. John's breathing improved immediately after the pressure on his chest decreased but it still hurt like a bitch to fill his lungs and he grimaced in pain as he tried taking a deep breath. Or any kind of breath for that matter.

"Anything broken?" Fusco asked, actually sounding concerned and like he cared. John, who had squeezed his eyes shut, just nodded his head in affirmation.

After checking over his shoulder to make sure the gunman was still out for the count, Fusco turned back regarding Reese's face, which was contorted in pain. Lionel knew the guy was really hurting when he allowed his impassive mask to slip off his face like that and felt already sorry for what they had to do next. "Listen, we really have to get out of here. Do you think you can stand?"

John didn't have the faintest clue if he could stand and in all honesty he didn't really want to try. His chest was killing him and if he didn't know any better, he would never have guessed that breathing was such a vital process in keeping his body alive considering how much each breath increased the fiery agony. Ever tough, he cracked open his eyes and croaked "Yeah."

Fusco hoisted him more or rather less gently onto his feet, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder until the room stopped spinning, the flashing stars in his vision toned down their brightness, his breathing returned back to almost normal and his swaying subsided. Just then Reese got his first look at Hersh on the floor, out cold the restroom door hanging crookedly on its hinges and its wood splintered. John's eyebrows rose, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wow, Lionel, I'm impressed."

"Yeah, it means so much coming from you." Lionel mumbled less than enthusiastically as he wound his right arm around Reese's waist, ignoring the smirk on the other man's pale face. "C'mon. Let's go, before your boss has a heart attack."

To be continued …