Life Goes On…
Chapter 7: Here Comes the Calvary
A great big honking thank you for reading, and double thanks to anyone who took a second to review. I apologize, profusely, for this chapter taking entirely too long to post…but I hope you will forgive me, and continue to read. And I pray this doesn't disappoint anyone. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not Mine. Insert profanity that would make a sailor blush.
Weevil liked speed, liked the thrill of the chase. Or at least he had thought so, in all his years of boosting cars and leading motorcycle gangs. But the sick feeling currently twisting in his gut told him that he had been wrong. At this moment there was no excitement, no buzz of raging adrenaline. There was just the terror that they wouldn't be able to reach her, that any moment that van could slip out of sight and Veronica would be lost.
Wallace was beside him, talking a little louder than necessary, a little faster than he should, into his cell phone. Weevil noted that the guy's voice sounded like it was pushing through water; garbled and shaky. And he wasn't sure if he spoke at that moment that his voice would be any different.
Veronica had done some stupid things, put herself in danger before. But of the people, worried and frantic and packed into the Range Rover right now, only Logan had ever been there to witness it. And Weevil thought that's one thing he'd never envy about his rich white nemesis. He didn't think he could survive this more than once.
He kept his dark eyes trained on the van in front of them, noting every swerve, every lean, waiting with his fists clenched for the chase to be over.
Keith was thinking faster than he would have assumed possible, and barking orders at Wallace at an equally rapid pace. He had alerted local authorities of the chase, and both the sheriff's department and he himself would be reaching the pursuit shortly. He was in the process of telling Wallace to keep the van in sight, no matter what, when he realized the boy, the young man who he found himself loving more and more like a son as the years passed, was panicking. And his own tone, full of urgency, didn't seem to be helping. Trying to ease as much of the tension out of his voice as he could, he sounded almost gentle when he said. "Wallace. It's going to be okay. Hand the phone up to Logan."
He heard a sigh of relief in response to the reassurance, and a 'sure thing' in something closer to Wallace's normal pitch before shuffling noises came across the line until a succinct and gruff 'yes' indicated that Logan was listening.
"Logan, how are you holding up? How close are you?"
"I'm about half a car's length away. I've still got plenty of gas, but they are starting to weave more and more and this isn't exactly familiar territory for me."
Keith was thankful Logan knew what kind of information he wanted, and was beyond grateful that the boy he usually wrote off as rash and hot tempered seemed to be keeping a miraculously firm hold on his cool.
"What's the numbers on the buildings as you pass?"
"We're in the 7100's. Other than a few turns right off the exit they've been staying on Washington Way. I don't think they really know where they are either."
Keith nodded despite the fact no one was there to see it as he slammed his foot down farther on to the gas pedal. "I'm not far. Don't lose sight of them, and let me know immediately if they change routes."
He knew Logan understood that meant no hanging up; the time it took to make a call was too precious to waste. And so he continued to drive, one handed and desperate to make time, listening to Logan's heavy breath, realizing for perhaps the first time just how loved his daughter was.
Veronica was losing her focus. She no longer knew how long she'd been in the van, and she couldn't guesstimate what time it was either. Adrenaline and emotional distress seemed to be wreaking utter havoc on her inner clock, and she suspected part of her difficulty might be coming from the fact that she didn't really care. No matter what a watch would say, the very real point of it all was that too much time had passed and her early optimism was fading fast.
To make it in the life she had carved out for herself, to survive the mess she had been left with after Lilly's death, and her rape, and her mother's disappearance, she had to hold on tightly to the belief that Veronica Version 2.0 could handle anything, everything. If she doubted for a second that she'd make it, if she allowed weakness to show for even a moment, she was afraid everything would crash down around her, and she couldn't risk that.
But at this point, she'd already risked so much. And it was dark. And she was alone. So she decided to let it all show…just this once. Yes, she was afraid. No, she wasn't sure she had been right. And with a deep and shaking breath, Veronica Mars let herself cry.
Mac had practically chewed through her bottom lip, but if it was causing any blood or pain she hadn't noticed.
She wasn't sure if any major damage could be done to your eyes by refusing to blink for long periods of time, but if so she didn't care.
Veronica was the first and only best friend she'd ever had, and having taken close to 17 years to find her, she was not in any way eager to lose that yet. Her life had become fuller since the spirited blonde had first approached her in the Neptune High parking lot, and while sometimes it was full of stress or panic or danger, Mac would never willingly go back to the life pre-Veronica Mars.
Unable to do anything but stare at the tracking device and worry, she thought about the other people in her life. Sure, Parker was fun and sweet, a great roommate. She kept her side of the room clean, and understood, with only a limited amount of training, that sometimes Mac really needed quiet and space. And Wallace and Piz were fast becoming not only friends of friends, or friends of friends of friends, but people she enjoyed the company of and counted on in her own right. And well, whatever it was she had found with Bronson was a blessing. But Veronica understood so much more of her. Her low tolerance for pretense, her occasional self-isolation in an effort to avoid ignorance and superficiality. Her rare but genuine moments of giddiness or sentimentality. Veronica knew when to snark with her, when to comfort her, and when to let her be. And starting to get further panicked and internally hysterical, Mac found herself asking how lucky was she to have a friend who, even after being held at gunpoint and being taunted with the supposed death of a father, rushed to her aid and stood by her side, patiently, while her heart healed?
Too lucky to let some bastards ruin it now.
Suddenly, in addition to the fear, the concern, the desperation, she felt a substantial wave of anger hit her hard… and found that was the key to not feeling so powerless.
Then, everything changed.
Logan wasn't even sure how it happened. He didn't blink, he didn't flinch, and yet somehow the van he'd had his eyes trained upon vanished from his sight. Immediately, frantically, he began barking, "Where did it go? Where did they fucking go?" His palms instantly covered in sweat, slipping and struggling to keep an assertive grasp on both the wheel and Wallace's cell phone. His heart rate, already way above where it should be, seemed to triple and it hurt as it thumped against the walls of his chest. Even as Mac rushed to pick up a signal and Weevil and Wallace scanned every alley and lot around them with eager stares, even as Keith shouted desperate and disbelieving questions over the phone, Logan heard nothing but the gushing surge of blood in his ears. He was nothing but eyes; peeled and anxious. They strained in the darkness of the early morning to make out something, anything, in the unfamiliar landscape that might restart his breath. Was there a narrow street that he had missed? Did they pull over sharply and kill the lights, letting him zoom right past? How could this have happened? How was it possible that he could let her down again? His mind was half screaming at him, half shutting down in defeat, and not a single cell within him could truly focus. Until finally Mac's shout of "Turn left!" broke through his barriers. The world moved and sounded and smelled again just in time to hear another, "Now, turn right. Sharp right!"
Spinning the steering wheel abruptly again, Mac encouraged him to drive faster, to look for the van, like he'd be doing anything else. She instructed him to turn again, to speed up still. Finally, her voice low and perplexed, she breathed, "It's stopped. It says they are here… somewhere." Logan looked around "here" and found them to be on a dimly lit drive, something between a road and an alley, appearing to run behind a large lot of storage units.
Stopping the rover, Logan wordlessly handed the phone, with its sounds of static crackling and Keith's impatient breath, back to Wallace, and eyes never sliding down from the grid laid out before them, he reached across Mac to the glove compartment and pulled out the handgun Dick's father had given what felt like a million years before. She let out a small gasp, but didn't say a word as he reached for the door handle with his other hand.
Mumbling a "stay in the car," Logan took a deep breath and exited.
He made it only a few steps before he heard another door shut and a deep voice whisper harshly, "What do you think you are doing?"
"Mac says they stopped here somewhere. I'm going to find them. I thought it was a pretty obvious plan, Weevs."
"I don't think you should go in there."
"I'm sorry, were you confused about what we've been doing? This is a rescue mission, I don't really think I have a choice."
"Seriously, man, wait for Sheriff Mars."
"So I can tell him I lost his only daughter? No thank you." Logan thought this was a clear ending to the conversation, but as he went to turn away Weevil's voice again stopped him.
"Fine, Opie. I get it. But why are you the one going in? I mean, come on, out of the two of us who has the longstanding background in criminal behavior and violence?"
Logan quirked an eyebrow expectantly.
Weevil's lips pursed, as he rolled his dark eyes. "Okay, okay. Fair enough, but I've actually been the leader of a gang. So I think that still gives me the edge. Let me go in there."
"No way, Paco. And don't even suggest the buddy system. You know as well as I do, if we get her out of this, Veronica will never forgive herself, or either of us, if anything happens to those two." Logan nodded his head to the Mac and Wallace shaped silhouettes in the Range Rover. His eyes fell on Weevil's and locked, and for a moment Eli Navarro was surprised to see seriousness and respect on the other boy's face, as opposed to the blank ease of mocking he usually found. "Besides, you said you thinkyou love her. Shouldn't the one that goes in after her know?"
Logan broke his stare away and settled it somewhere insignificant on the shadowy pavement. His voice lost all sounds of pleading, and when he continued it was almost eerily matter of fact. "If something happens to Veronica, my life won't mean much anyway. So just, stay here. You wait for Keith. Keep your eyes open, and if things get ugly, you get them out of here."
Weevil nodded almost imperceptibly as Logan tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and strode purposefully toward the first row of cement buildings fronted by heavy metal doors.
"Hey, Echolls."
Logan paused to look back over his shoulder.
"Be careful."
In the moment that Logan's profane outburst brought Wallace's attention to the fact that the very icon of his terror was no longer driving in a rush before them through stranger's streets, it surprised him to find that his fear was not heightened as Logan's was, but that instead he found new alertness and increased awareness of every single particle around him.
The time to be weak and scared was over; she needed his A game now. They would find that van, and they would get her back, and there was no other option.
Wallace heard Mac's instructions shout over the roar of the road and 4 people's adrenaline-induced heaving, and it was with all his energy and fast athletic reflexes that his eyes and body moved to absorb each new corner, anticipating the need to act.
As Logan parked and handed him the phone he was nearly shaking out of his skin. He snuck an anxious glance at Weevil as Logan took what looked very much like a gun and slid out of the vehicle. He was annoyed the rich boy's naivety, and at Weevil's dismissive shrug.
And Wallace was severely annoyed at being told to stay in the car. He listened intently as Logan and Weevil fought over who should be the white knight, and rolled his eyes at the insinuation that he and Mac needed a baby sitter while they just waited to hear the fate of the girl they all cared about. He gently placed the cell phone on the seat, speaker side down to muffle the sounds. Leaning forward in his seat, he took a peak at Mac's expression. It no longer held the dread it did as they left the club, in fact it was almost stoic…at best, stony and cold. And he suspected he knew exactly what she was feeling.
"Hey, Mac?"
She didn't say anything but turned her eyes to his.
"I don't feel much like staying in the car at this point."
Silently she nodded.
"I know it's stupid, rash, potentially deadly…but I can't just sit and wait any more."
She leaned closer to him, her expression slightly more conspiring. "What do you suggest we do instead?"
"We?"
"She's my best friend, too, Wallace. And I figure, we're just as capable of helping as the ex lover and the ex con. Probably more so, since we're smart enough not to just go in, guns a' blazing."
With a deep breath, and a silent apology to his mother, Wallace quietly led Mac out of and around the Range Rover, unseen. And he supposed that he should have known all along that in being best friends with Veronica Mars, well, that this was what he was really there for.
Twenty horror-filled minutes later, Keith Mars pulled up to an abandoned Range Rover that appeared to have been haphazardly thrown into park and vacated in a hurry. He found a cell phone, one that he'd long since disconnected his call from, stashed on the back seat, and a hastily scribbled note from Weevil stating, "I couldn't stop them. Hurry."
Muttering curses about children who cared too much, who risked too much, he contacted the back up with a brand new level of urgency.
Then, with his hand hovering over his holstered gun, Keith Mars started cautiously toward a father's worst nightmare.
Author's Note 2: Please take a second to review...good or bad, I'd love to know what you think. Thanks!!!