Chapter Six: On the Run

Hans was in the back of the ambulance with Eddy and an unconscious Holly in the corner. He realized right before the ceiling caved in that he had been shot by McClain. He had been hit in the abdomen and was losing blood, fast. Eddy had helped him keep pressure on the wound.

"It's an hour to the safe house, boss. Can you hang on 'til then?" Eddy asked.

"I don't have a choice," Hans whispered. He tried to stay still, but found it impossible to accomplish in a moving car. Every few minutes, the ambulance would hit a bump in the road, causing him unbearable pain.

"Theo, you mind not hitting so many bumps?" Eddy said to the man driving.

"I can't help it. It's the road."

Hans sat in the back, quietly trying to keep the pain at bay. Eddy took off his own tie and tied it around Hans' waist to keep pressure on the wound so he wouldn't bleed to death. He was going to have to hold out for about an hour or so until he could get to the safe house. When they finally got there, Imelda could fix him up.

Throughout the hour ride, Hans fell in and out of consciousness. The next thing he was aware of was him being jerked and his back hitting the ambulance. Dark spots appeared in his line of vision, and he felt he was going to pass out any minute.

The doors to the back of the ambulance were ripped open. Theo climbed into the back and helped Eddy drag Hans out. Hans was too far gone to even try and attempt to walk on his own, so Theo and Eddy were on each side of his arms.

They were in the middle of a forest in front of a log cabin. Behind them was a dirt road where the ambulance and a few other cars were parked. Eddy was yelling for the other men inside the building to come out and help them. The door opened, light flooding out into the darkness. Two men came running to their aid and helped their leader inside.

Standing in the middle of room was a woman with long black hair and a pale face. She moved towards them with a concerned expression.

"What happened?" the women asked quickly.

"He was shot," Eddy informed her.

"Bring him this way." She led them into the back of the cabin, pushing open the door. She ripped off the covers from the bed in the corner of the room, instructing them to place Hans on it.

They got him comfortable and stepped back to make room. The woman kneeled down by the bed and surveyed the damage. "Alvin, go into the kitchen and grab my red bag. Bring it to me," she said addressing one of the men standing by.

Alvin hurried from the room to do what he had been asked. Imelda ripped open Hans' dress shirt, scattering the buttons everywhere. Blood was smeared across his abdomen and was still flowing freely. Imelda took the cover that had been on the bed and used it to press down on the wound. Hans groaned and opened his eyes.

He was looking around, trying to figure out where he was and what was happening.

"Hans," Imelda said. She used her free hand to turn his face so he focused on her.

"Imelda," Hans whispered.

"Yes, you've been shot. You're at the cabin. You're safe. You can relax."

At that moment, Alvin came back with the red bag and set it down on the floor next to Imelda. She told Theo to keep pressure on the wound while she searched through the bag and pulled out what she needed. When she had gathered everything, Imelda gave Hans an injection to knock him out then she set herself to work.

John McClain was sitting in the police station's interrogation room, getting debriefed on what had happened in the Nakatomi building. After fifteen minutes of shouting that he was not one of the terrorists trying escape and with the help of Sgt. Al Powell, they finally realized that he hadn't been one of the terrorists. They let him go, but not for long. He was quickly escorted to the L.A. police station.

He was interrogated by Dwayne T. Robinson. They asked him everything: What happened from the beginning? How many terrorists were there? How had they entered the building? McClain answered their questions to the best of his ability. Once he had explained himself and the cops had taken his statement, one of the other officers came in to speak to Robinson.

"We swept the building and found one terrorist to still be alive. We arrested him and he's waiting in another interrogation room," the officer related.

McClain jumped up from his chair and stood there with determination plastered on his face. "I want to see him."

"You can't, not until the FBI gets here."

McClain slammed his fist the table, making Robinson and the other officer jump back. "I don't care if the FBI has to talk to him. I need to know what that terrorist knows. THOSE PEOPLE HAVE MY WIFE!" McClain bellowed.

The door opened and two men wearing black suits walked into the room. McClain assumed they were FBI agents. They stood with their hands folded in front of them and their feet firmly planted on the ground. They looked like two robots. Finally, after a few seconds, the taller man began to speak.

"Indeed, the terrorists have your wife, Mr. McClain, but, before we speak to you about that, we must talk to the suspect first."

McClain frowned and was about to say something, but the other agent spoke up. "Feel free to walk around the police station. Get some food or take a nap. Just stay here and we will call you, Mr. McClain, when we're ready for you."

Without another word, the two FBI agents turned and exited the room, shutting the door behind them. McClain stood there glaring daggers at the closed door.

Sgt. Al Powell handed McClain a cup of water. McClain thanked him and took a sip. They were sitting out in the main police room with twenty mini work desks scattered around them. McClain sat in a chair by Al's desk, his hand supporting his head.

"Don't worry, the station will do all we can to help find your wife, John," Al said.

McClain looked up and sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of. No offense to you, Al."

"None taken," he said, taking a seat at his desk. "Talk to me. How did they get your wife anyway?"

McClain shook his head. "I don't know. I go and confront Hans one last time, and he has Holly. I tried to get her away from him, but the ceiling caved in and separated us. I couldn't find them before they had escaped."

McClain set his glass on top of the desk and ran his hands through his hair. The next thing he knew, a heavy blanket was thrown over him. He pulled it off and looked up at Al, puzzled.

"Get some sleep. There's nothing you can do now for you wife. Plus, you'll probably need it when the FBI comes. "

McClain nodded in agreement. He leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on the Al's desk. He pulled the blanket over him, closed his eyes, and tried to get some sleep.