I hereby invoke my artistic license. Enjoy...since I enjoyed writing it. Typos son mios...(are mine)
"Hey O'Hara, you miss me?"
The sound of her partner's voice made her heart swell. As she saw the number pop up on her screen, she yelled to everyone in the vicinity to get a trace. As she answered, the two techs plugged in her phone and put it on speaker.
"Carlton! Oh my god where are you? Are you okay?" A small crowd began to gather and Juliet saw her superior along with the elder Spencer following at her heels, a look a desperation and hope plastered on both of their faces.
"We stumb—upo—a—creek. I thi—it—ects—sespe—ek." Her partner's voice jumbled through the phone.
"What? Partner you're breaking up, please repeat, we are tracing your call."
A series of static came through and Juliet was about to lose hope. "—ear—espe creek!"
"Did he say the Sespe Creek? That's near 33. They are far away from anything out there." Henry said to no one in particular.
"Carlton, did you say Sespe Creek?" Juliet asked anxiously.
"—yes!" More static followed and the listeners could swear they heard several curses creep through the line. Suddenly, the line was clearer.
"O'Hara you —eed to get a fli— evac out here now. Spencer not lo—ood."
"Lassiter, stay on the line and we will trace you. Let us come to you." Chief Vick ordered. Juliet caught sight of Henry Spencer standing next to her, running a hand over his mouth out of the stress of the situation.
"Shit...batt—dying. And can't st—here."
"Lassiter, just hold on we will get a trace in a few seconds. Why can't you stay there? Evac is on standby." They heard rustling on the side of the line and Juliet could swear she heard yelling from far away through the phone.
"—awn get up!"
More sounds of rustling followed as if the phone was in the detective's pocket.
"What the—ell?" Another voice sounded through the line. Even through the phone, everyone could hear the disorientation that flowed through the voice.
"Lassiter what is happening?!" Juliet yelled through the phone. Her knuckles were white as she grasped the edge of the desk.
"Go, go!" More rustling followed before the line was filled with the overbearing sound of rushing water. "Jump!"
"Carlton?!"
The line went silent. Everyone surrounding the phone refused to move. Juliet allowed her eyes to meet those of the tech who was frantically trying to pull anything from the call. A look of sadness crossed his features as he shook his head, casting his eyes back to his computer.
"Damn it!" Juliet yelled. Everyone sighed in exasperation. Henry allowed his head to fall to his chest, placing interlocked fingers behind his neck and slowly stepping away from the excitement.
"What the hell happened on the other side of that call?" The Chief asked out loud.
Juliet felt tears welling in her eyes. "We need to get out there. We didn't get a trace but we know they are near the Sespe Creek. This is the only lead we've gotten so far."
"I'll call our air support." Said one of the officers surrounding the table.
"Sespe Creek is over 60 miles long." Came a gruff voice. Juliet turned to see Henry now leaning against the wall, the phone call weighing on him. They all knew the other voice on the phone was Shawn's, and while knowing he was still alive was a relief, finding out he was in bad shape out in the Southern California heat put a heavy burden on all of them.
"We are going to find them. O'Hara, I want you ready to run point on this rescue. Have ground evac on standby. And someone get me a map!" The Chief yelled back to the bullpen.
A map was delivered and the two women combed over the crinkled paper, finding the thin blue line they were looking for. "See how the creek runs along the highway?" the Chief said as she pointed toward the map. "If they were along the highway, Lassiter would have told us and would be flagging down cars right about now. Based on what he said, he can't be near any highways." Juliet nodded.
"He didn't specifically say they were on Sespe Creek. It sounded like he said 'near' the creek. So, doesn't that mean he could be at any of these other creeks that finger out from the main one?"
"That's hundreds of square miles of land..." added Henry.
"It doesn't matter. Detective, use your skills. They said they were heading west from where they started. Map it out, circle the relevant areas. Tell the chopper where to search."
Juliet blinked away tears and nodded sharply. She felt a fire of determination light beneath her. She was going to find her partner and Shawn even if it was the last thing she did.
Finally hearing his partner's voice on the other end of the call filled Lassiter with hope. He glanced down at Shawn who, although still unconscious, began stirring out of discomfort. The sun was relentlessly baking both of their bodies on the exposed land. He heard his partner asking where they were and if they are okay, although he didn't really know exact answers to either of those questions.
"We stumbled upon a creek, I think it connects to Sespe Creek." He said into the phone. When a static version of Juliet's voice came through telling him that the was breaking up, he wanted to yell in frustration. He knew they were tracing the call, so as long as he stayed on the line, they could get a hit.
"We are near Sespe Creek!" He yelled. Finally, they appeared to hear him. He yelled another affirmation to their question. Yes we are near Sespe Creek now get that trace and get us the hell out of here. He looked down at the cell phone, seeing the depleting battery and the barely-holding signal and couldn't hold in a few choice words. He glanced back down to the injured psychic. His eyes were open in slits and he was breathing shallowly. The pain from his leg and the heat were taking a toll on him, stacked up against every other thing that plagued the downed man. "Shawn stay with me, I'm on the phone with Juliet." Shawn's eyes widened slightly at the mention of her name but besides that, he remained motionless. Sweat dripped down his face, mixing with dirt and tracing its way into his hair.
In the sunlight, Lassiter could see just how bruised and battered the man below him was. Bruises like watercolors spread across his cheeks and jaw and forehead. Still-dried blood stuck to the edges of his lips and below his nose. The bandage that remained in place hid a nasty gash that Lassiter was sure also needed stitches. "O'Hara you need to get flight evac out here now. Spencer is not looking good." He said as he attempted to rouse Shawn.
He looked around at the surrounding area, scanning for anything else that might help the team find them. As he scanned the wilderness, his eyes paused as he caught sight of something, hoping that it was his own concussion playing tricks on his mind.
But unfortunately, the big cat was not just a figment of his imagination. As he heard his chief's voice telling him to stay where they were, he almost wanted to laugh. Of all things, they now had a mountain lion stalking them. His phone beeped again to tell him the battery was about to die.
"Shit! Battery's dying. We can't stay here." He said emphatically as he shook the psychic below him. He placed the phone in his pocket while the call remained on the line and gently, but forcefully, patted Shawn's cheeks. "Shawn, get up!" He yelled as he could see the cat creeping out of its hiding place. Its sights sat on the downed man. Lassiter remembered reading in a news report that mountain lions were struggling to find food due to the heat wave. There had already been an attack in the Los Padres, and Lassiter didn't want them to be number two.
"What the hell?" Shawn slurred as he opened his eyes to see a desperate detective urging him to move. His memory was shot and he was too dizzy to care. The sun blinded him and he reached up to shield his eyes, only to be grabbed roughly by the detective and hauled to his feet. He nearly collapsed again as his leg took some of his weight, but the intense pain that flared through the damaged limb shook him out of his disoriented state. Slowly, Lassiter turned Shawn's head so he could see the large beast currently lurking about a hundred feet away from them. "Oh my..." Shawn whispered as he felt his heart drop to his stomach.
Suddenly, the cat sprang from its hunched position and made a beeline for its prey. "Go, go!" Lassiter yelled as he pushed Shawn forward. Shawn couldn't hold back a yell as he was forced to put all of his weight on his leg.
Lassiter could see the cat approaching rapidly to their side. He knew they only had one option, and in a split second decision he grabbed Shawn and practically threw him toward the creek. "Jump!" He yelled as he followed the psychic's path. His feet plunging into icy water only to be swept out from underneath him a second later.
Some "creek" my ass. He thought as he fought against the current. He saw Shawn fighting with one arm as he tried to keep his head above water. The water wasn't particularly deep, but the roughness of the current made it difficult to remain upright. The only good thing that the detective could surmise was that the large cat abandoned its hunt as the two made their plunge. One danger out of the way. Thought the detective as he attempted to make contact with the psychic.
He could see his left arm just out of reach. "Shawn! I'm right here!" He yelled as they continued to be swept through the terrain of the river. Lassiter felt his knees and shins bump and scrape against the large rocks that dotted the bottom of the creek. Luckily the ice water and the detective's adrenaline made the injuries barely perceptible.
Shawn could feel the air practically sucked out of his body as he made contact with the water, which was appropriate, because this entire ordeal did suck. His head briefly slipped under the water as the current dragged his body against the rough bottom of the river...or creek, he didn't care. It hurt. He used his left leg to kick himself upright and take in a lungful of air. He blinked water from his eyes and looked around rapidly to see the detective. He used his left arm to fight the pull of the waves although he was unable to change his supine position as the current dragged them along. He could just hear Lassiter's yells over the current of the water.
"Lassie!" He attempted to croak out. He swung his arm back and forth, hoping the detective was within reach. He could feel the aches in his muscles increasing as his energy drained. They just had to stumble across the roughest creek known to man. And get stalked by a mountain lion? It was turning into a bad episode of the Three Stooges.
With one final kick, the detective was able to reach the struggling psychic. "Hang on to me!" He yelled as he attempted to grasp a large boulder in their path. The quick pace of the current coupled with the slippery nature of the rock set the detective up for failure as he tried but failed to keep his grip. The two men were sent swirling down the path of the deranged creek-river once again. Lassiter could see more white water in their path, followed by a drop that he didn't particularly want to experience. Shawn was clinging to him with all the strength he had left as Lassiter attempted to drag both of them to shore.
He could almost feel the dirt of the embankment when they were both thrown into a rock and tossed back into the middle of the creek. Shawn grunted in pain and Lassiter could feel the psychic's grip slipping. Before he knew it, the steep drop was directly in front of them. "Spencer hold on!" Lassiter yelled as he wrapped his arms around the injured man and braced for impact.
There was no brief feeling of weightlessness this time. All the detective could feel was a wall of water pull them down with the help of gravity. He braced himself for impact, doing his best to protect the man in his arms, and hoped the water below them was deep enough.
It wasn't as deep as he hoped. After a brief splash, both of the men's bodies were slammed into the rocks below. Lassiter felt his left side make impact with a large boulder. Shawn was ripped from Lassiter's grip as his back met a similar fate and he slipped beneath the surface once again. Lassiter ignored the glaring pain in his ribs to grab onto Shawn's T-shirt and haul him back against his body. Now that they were through the drop, the creek became quite peaceful.
When Shawn's back hit the bottom of the drop, he instinctively sucked in a breath of air, except for the moment, his air was water. He felt the awful sensation of water going down his throat and into his lungs. He automatically coughed, only to breathe in more water. As his grip on reality started to fade, he felt himself being pulled upward.
Lassiter hauled Shawn's limp body to the edge of the now-calm creek. His shoes were gone, as was his homemade sling. Lassiter could see fresh cuts on his arms and legs staining his pale skin with bright red. Lassiter watched with growing concern as the bandage, still held in place by the "kinky" tape as Shawn put it, was stained a deep red, no longer serving a purpose to his leg after being soaked in the river. However, Lassiter had more pressing matters to attend to.
He finally had the psychic completely free of the water's grasp and he lowered his upper body gently to the dusty ground. He immediately reached for the psychic's neck, feeling with relief a thumping beneath his fingertips. However, Shawn was yet to take a breath. Lassiter placed a shaking hand on the man's chest, his palm against the sopping T-shirt. He shook Shawn gently.
"Don't you dare make me give you mouth to mouth, Spencer!" He said as he shook the psychic beneath him harder. "C'mon you stubborn jerk!" He growled in frustration as he positioned himself next to Shawn's bruised and bloodied head. With one calming breath, the detective pinched the psychic's nose, placed his mouth over his, and forced air into unmoving lungs. He repeated the procedure, and as the stubborn psychic refused to respond, he felt a growing fear that his Shawn's body simply couldn't take any more.
"Damn it, don't give up now!" He yelled as he placed his hands on Shawn's chest again. He was about to begin another round of breathing when he felt the muscles in Shawn's abdomen tighten.
Shawn lurched beneath his pressing hands as his body erupted into hacking coughs, expelling water from his abused lungs onto the dry dirt below. Lassiter turned him to his side to prevent him from choking. Shawn took in a ragged breath once the coughs subsided and Lassiter gently rolled him onto his back again. Shawn swallowed with a wince, his throat feeling like sandpaper as each breath scraped against it. His body felt like it had been put in a blender and put on smoothie mode.
That reminded him...smoothies.
"Spencer? Shawn? You hear me?" The detective's voice cut through the fog in his brain. The sound of rushing water still filled his ears as his numb body began to return to a normal temperature with the sun's heat. His head was a cacophony of pain. Spinning, aching, and throbbing, the trifecta of a severe head injury, made itself known as Shawn struggled to open his eyes. "Ugh," he breathed out as he closed his eyes against the offending sunlight. He couldn't even keep track of the rest of his injuries, the only thing he was aware of was the warmth coating his upper leg.
Lassiter saw that Shawn was fading in and out. He wasn't completely awake but he wasn't asleep either. He was stuck somewhere in the middle, confusion and pain expressed in his features. Once Lassiter was sure that Shawn was able to keep breathing, he quickly went over to the psychic's bleeding leg. He winced as he bent down to his knees, the pull on his ribs forcing him to take shallow breaths.
The wound was spilling blood through the bandage. Lassiter managed to grasp the knife out of its holster and cut away the useless material. He lost everything else in their plunge. Shawn mumbled to the detective as the tape pulled at his skin, exposing a freely bleeding wound. Lassiter looked around for anything that could stop the bleeding but given the fact that they were both soaking wet, there was simply nothing that could help the injured psychic. Lassiter knew that Shawn's body could not afford to lose any more blood, so in desperation, he pulled off his own belt and wrapped it tightly around his upper thigh. He knew tourniquets were only to be used in dire situations as their use could cause severe damage to the limb, however, this seemed like it qualified as a dire situation. He hoped the sun would dry their clothes. Then at least he could secure some type of fabric over the wound. The fact that it was still bleeding after all this time...how long had it even been?
Shawn stirred beneath his grasp. Dirt clung to his hair and wet T-shirt as water continued to drip off of him. The wound on his head was once again exposed and it oozed slightly, mixing with water down his face.
"Lassie?" He said in a weak voice.
"Yeah Spencer I'm here." He said as he positioned himself over the psychic, blocking the sunlight from his face.
"Where'z the cat?"
"Left when we jumped in the creek."
"Ha...scaredy cat." Shawn said with a slight laugh that turned into a grimace.
"Shawn? Can you tell me what hurts?" Lassiter said firmly.
"Um...my head's poundin', my body feels like a fruit smoothie."
"I thought smoothies were good?"
"Not for the fruit."
Lassiter almost laughed. If it weren't for the fact that Shawn's delirium was caused by a concussion and severe blood loss, then he might be in the joking mood. What amazed him though, was the fact that the psychic, half-dead beneath him, still found a way to use humor in their situation.
"Do you feel any new injuries?"
Shawn looked like he was thinking for a moment. At least that means he's somewhat lucid. "Just my back...I think I landed on a rock." His voice sounded a bit clearer than before.
"I know the feeling." The detective said with a wince as he wrapped his arm protectively around his side. Shawn caught the movement through half-opened eyes. "Lassie what happened?"
"It's fine." The detective said with a wave of his hand. "Cracked ribs at most."
"Tough Eagle Scout..." Lassiter rolled his eyes.
"Shawn, do you remember what I was doing before we had to go in the creek?"
"No...and this is so not a creek."
"I was able to call the team. I don't know if they were able to trace the call, but they know we are near Sespe Creek."
Shawn's eyes opened wider and he tried to sit up but the detective held him down with the palm of his hand. "Easy."
"You think they can find us now?" Shawn asked, hope and doubt fighting for dominance in the waver of his voice.
"I sure hope so."
A plan was made, the areas were mapped off, and instructions were given. A chopper was dispatched out of Santa Barbara, traveling to Ojai and beginning the methodical search of the Los Padres. Spotters on each side of the helicopter combed the ground for any sign of the two missing men. Three medics sat anxiously inside. They had no idea what would greet them once they discovered the two men.
If they discovered them.
It wasn't far from anyone's mind that this could turn into a recovery and not a rescue. The choppers were told about the phone call losing connection under strange circumstances and they already knew that at least one of the men was badly injured. The success rate for operations of this sort were not high enough to build confidence in any of the men and women currently seated in the chopper.
But today, they would not be just a statistic.
A few hours passed and the duo had remained in their respective positions for nearly the entire time. Shawn had mentioned to Lassiter that he wanted to sit up, so the detective had carefully pulled him farther up to sit against a dried bank of the creek. He looked entirely drained, and Lassiter knew that he wouldn't be able to walk any farther. They both were sweating profusely. Where the clothes had attempted to dry from the soaking water was only replaced with sweat, causing the material to cling to their bodies. Lassiter however, had taken off his button up shirt, leaving only a white undershirt in its place. He put it on the edge of the bank to dry, which it did, thanks to the one-hundred degree weather.
"As you already know, your leg has been bleeding. I'm going to place this shirt over it and secure it with the belt, okay?"
"Okay, Nurse."
"Shut up." Lassiter pressed the fabric into Shawn's thigh while he undid the belt just above it. He made quick work of securing it over the new bandage. Shawn's fists were clasped tightly and his eyes were squeezed shut. He breathed sharply through his nose, dealing with the pain with each breath. "Okay, done."
Shawn's taught muscles relaxed but the lines of pain remained. His right arm lay limply in his lap. He only attempted to move his fingers. What he'd do for a bag of morphine right now...
"Sun's going down." Shawn said with a nod toward the shadow of Lassiter's body.
"We still have several hours. They are probably looking for us right now." Lassiter said in a matter-of-fact tone. But the fact was, he had no idea if anyone was looking for them, or if they were looking in the right place. Shawn had remained stable for the past two hours, however, Lassiter didn't think he would make it through another night out here. His fever was fighting to come back with a vengeance after the abuse his leg experienced. The effects of his concussion came in waves. His body was on the verge of shutting down. The only thing that kept him awake and still somehow annoying the detective was his sheer stubbornness.
He wanted that smoothie.
"-better be buying me the biggest smoothie on the face of the earth once we get back." The psychic's voice cut into his thoughts.
"Why do I have to buy it?"
"So I'll never tell anyone you kissed me."
"Spencer, you idiot. I did not kiss you." He said in a low hiss. "I saved your stupid life."
"I've heard it both ways." The psychic said with a smirk. Shawn winced and his smirk faded from his face as he placed his head into his hand. Lassiter instinctively moved closer to him but Shawn waved him off. "'m fine...just a headache."
"Headaches don't typically look like that."
"When they are caused by blunt-force trauma they do." Although concussed, Shawn was still quick on his feet...for the most part.
Lassiter was about to argue further when a sound in the distance made him still. He placed a finger up to his lips and leaned his head toward the sound.
"Lassie, what are you-"
"Shh!"
After several moments, the sound grew in intensity, and it was unmistakable. Lassiter felt his grin spread across his face as the "*WOP* *WOP* *WOP*" of the chopper blades echoed across the desolate land.
Finally.
Has rescue arrived? Or are we in for another dose of BAMF Lassiter paired with Shawn whump? I don't know...I suppose the reviews will guide me.
