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Colby glanced in the mirror for the dozenth time. His eyes met Trainee Ramirez's and the girl gave him an anxious look in return.
"It isn't right."
Megan looked back as Shelley spoke. The young trainee was looking uneasily at the motionless agent next to her. As they'd gotten on the road, Don had dropped into sleep so quickly that it would probably be more correctly termed passing out. "He should be getting medical attention, not heading further and further out into the desert on a whim that Madden might be headed for the shortest possible route to Mexico."
"You want to be the one to tell Don we turned around from rescuing Charlie because he took a nap?" Megan's sarcastic tone was belied by her own anxious glance at the white-faced agent sleeping – unless he's unconscious, of course - in the back seat next to the trainee.
Shelley winced. "Nope." A week of shadowing the team was plenty long enough to know that you didn't cross Don. Not ever.
"A couple things you gotta know about this team, Ramirez," Colby added. "When it comes to crime-fighting math stuff, Charlie's pretty much always right on the money. And Don - he's got a real knack for thinking three steps ahead of a criminal. This ain't a wild goose chase. If Don has a feeling this guy's headed for Mexico, you better believe we'll find him eating chili enchiladas in Mexicali."
"Hey, we're gonna catch him long before that!" Megan protested. She turned back to Shelley. "You know, this team has a reputation for being the most stubborn in the whole of LA. Once we got our teeth into a case, we're not letting go. We caught that from Don. He's the most headstrong of us all. Er…no pun intended."
Colby almost grinned at that.
"Okay, okay," Shelley shrugged and stared out the window. "Sorry. It's just that with an obvious concussion – "
"Hey. Stop!"
Colby braked and pulled in where a side road joined the main one.
"What is it, Megan?"
Megan didn't answer, thrusting open the door and jumping down. Shelley looked at Colby as the agent walked a few paces down the side road and then squatted down, staring at something in the dusty road.
"What's she doing?"
"Beats me," Colby shrugged, opened his own door and followed Megan, Shelley right behind him. Megan glanced up as their shadows came over her. She picked something up from the dirt and held it up for Colby to see.
"How much d'ya wanna bet that they went this way?"
Colby took the item. It was a business card, informing the reader simply that Charles Eppes, PhD, was a professor of applied mathematics at the California Institute of Science. Charlie must have managed to slip the card out of the window. Colby felt a pang of anxiety at the obvious blood-stain browning one corner of the card.
"That is some damn good spotting, Megan," he admitted. How the heck had she managed to see that tiny white square from the car? "Look - there's fresh tyre marks in the dust, too. Let's go."
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"Agent Eppes?"
"Nnnh…" Don groaned and tried to force his eyelids open. Somebody was shaking his arm.
"Agent Eppes, there's a car parked up ahead, it might be Madden's –"
Now that got Don's attention. He sat up and rubbed his face, stared blearily at Shelley.
"Don, just ahead," Megan pointed. "Looks like they've broken down. The hood is up."
Don squinted against the bright sunlight as the car bounced its way towards the vehicle in the distance. He could see a figure slumped against the shady side of the car. It was still too far to make out any features, but Don knew that was Charlie. He couldn't see Madden. He must either be behind the hood or inside the car where Don couldn't see him.
He leaned over the back and grabbed a spare handgun, checked the clip. "It's them. Colby, pull up parallel. We surround the car and call for Madden to surrender. Shelley, stick with Megan," he ordered. "Colby, if you can, go straight for Charlie and get him away from Madden. Last thing we need is Madden hanging on to him. I do not want to have to bargain with this guy, hear me?"
They were just a hundred metres away. Suddenly the tall, slim figure of Madden appeared round the side of the car. He grabbed Charlie and yanked the smaller man to his feet. Don swore. Colby braked sharply, coming up parallel with Madden's vehicle. The team piled out, all weapons fixed on Madden.
"FBI! Drop your weapon! DROP IT!" Don roared. Madden had his arm locked around Charlie's neck. He held a pistol to Charlie's temple. His brother was struggling to breathe. Help me, Charlie's eyes pleaded.
"Back off!" Madden warned. His voice seemed calm, but Don could see the sweat pouring down his face. He dragged Charlie back a few paces. "Back off or I shoot the Professor."
"Not gonna happen!" Don took a step forward. His gun pointed steadily at the pair. Madden yanked on Charlie's neck, forcing a choked gasp from his brother. A wave of desperate fury washed over Don, threatening to overwhelm all his years of ingrained training, but he forced himself to clamp it down. Losing his head now would mean instant death for Charlie. He had to think clearly - to speak calmly - just like he would in any hostage negotiation.
Only this isn't just any hostage negotiation. This is Charlie.
"It's over, Madden. You're surrounded. You pull that trigger and you're dead."
Madden's eyes flickered. A cornered animal. He licked his lips and jabbed the gun harder into Charlie's temple, eliciting a soft cry of pain from his captive.
"The car, Eppes. I get the car, or I kill him!"
Don could tell the former agent was losing his nerve. Madden had to know he was outmanoeuvred. He just couldn't admit to himself that he was beaten. "Not gonna happen," Don repeated. His mouth was dry. "You kill him and all that's gonna get you is four bullet holes of your own. Let him go and you live. You know it's over, Agent." Hoping the use of his position would recall the man to his senses.
Madden uttered a muted howl of rage, eyes darting between Don, Colby, and Megan. "I didn't want to hurt him," he cried, "but you're going to make me! I get the car, or Charlie hurts!" and quick as a flash he took the pistol away from Charlie's temple and drove the butt into the bleeding wound in Charlie's side.
Charlie's eyes rolled back. He went limp, held upright now only by Madden's arm around his neck. Don felt the punch as if it had driven into his own gut. He hadn't seen that one coming. His vision went red. He took a step forward.
BLAM! Madden's pistol fired. The bullet whizzed past his ear. Don hit the dirt, rolled up into a crouch, aimed, but - can't shoot back. Charlie's in the way. The barrel of Madden's gun gaped down at him. This time, Don knew, Madden would not miss. I'm dead.
Then – what the-?
A small fist slammed up from behind Madden, impacting the soft spot directly below the ear and behind the jaw. Simultaneously, a second hand chopped the wrist holding the gun. Madden collapsed soundlessly, bringing Charlie crashing to the ground on top of him. The gun skittered across the hard dirt road, kicked out of harm's way.
Trainee Ramirez? How the hell did she get there? Don's astonishment lasted for less than a second. He stumbled forward and pulled his brother's limp body off the former agent, leaving Shelley to spin the motionless man over and cuff his wrists. He barely noticed Colby and Megan running up as he knelt down and grabbed Charlie's shoulders, looking at his brother as if through a long tunnel.
"Charlie?"
A fresh rosette bloomed across Charlie's abdomen, the red fluid spreading to join the stains already colouring his brother's shirt. His eyes were closed and his face white as chalk.
"Charlie? Charlie!"
Megan crouched down beside him. "Don, let go -" she pushed Don's hands away from Charlie's shoulders, taking off her jacket to press against the hole in Charlie's side, trying to stem the rapid flow of blood. "Here, press - he's bleeding pretty bad - think that last blow damaged something further -"
Don felt the blood drain out of his face. He placed his hand where Megan said but couldn't get any strength behind it. He felt himself sway, the adrenaline that had kept him going trickling out of his veins and leaving him dizzy and disoriented. Oh, no. Don knew this feeling. He was losing his grip. I can't pass out. Not yet. Charlie needs me - God, I can't put enough pressure on this - desperately he cursed the weakness that was preventing him from helping his brother. I have to press harder! It's Charlie's life at stake!
"Megan - I can't -" his voice oddly distant in his ears.
"We had the ambulance follow us a couple miles back. Colby –" she didn't need to verbalize the order. Colby was already radioing the paramedics to get their asses over here, now.
Don saw Charlie's eyes drift open, staring glassily at the sky. His heart pounded. Don't die on me, Charlie. Just don't. He swayed, almost losing his balance.
"Megan-" he tried to say, but his mouth didn't seem to be connected to his brain any more. All the colour was leeching out of his vision, leaving everything a glaring white.
"Don? Damn it –" he could hear the alarm in Megan's voice. "Colby, I can't leave Charlie - get over here –"
Damn right you're not leaving Charlie. I'm fine – but he couldn't form the words to say it.
"I got him." It was Colby's arms around him, supporting him. "Don, can you hear me?"
Don couldn't answer, couldn't hold himself up any more. He felt Colby lower him to the ground beside Charlie. The world tipped and spun, a vortex of whiteness and bright light. So much for "I'm fine". Don had no strength left to fight anymore. Don't worry about me. Charlie…
"He's in and out of it. Don! Can you hear me?" Colby again. "C'mon man, you don't have to do this. Stay with me."
Sorry, Colby. I don't have much choice.
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To his dismay, Charlie became aware that he was lying in the road, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky. Lying in the road? That's a sure way to get yourself run over, he chided himself. He knew he needed to get up and move to a more sensible resting place - the ditch, perhaps - but somehow he just couldn't summon up the energy. There was thunder in his ears. How strange, when the sky was so clear.
"Don's out for the count. How's Charlie doing?"
Don?
"Charlie? Charlie, can you hear me?"
Hear you? Just about. It's answering that's the problem. Someone tell me what happened to Don…
"He's unresponsive…hell, his pulse is racing, Megan. I think he's going into shock." Surely that was Colby's voice? I am not unresponsive! Charlie protested, and tried to say so, but his mind didn't seem to be connected to his body any more. How interesting.
"He's lost a lot of blood."
"Put more pressure on. We don't stop this soon, he's gonna bleed out."
Am I going to die?
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Lights. Noise. Pain.
Colours swirl and haze giddily. He is at the centre of a vortex of sound and movement. There's something awful that smells like ozone and plastic covering his face. Get it off… Don, make them take it off -
"Shock…BP 60/40…do another IV, damn vein collapsed…" the words filter in and out. Charlie feels a needle pierce his arm. 60 divided by 40 equals 1.5…but 1.5 what?
A sustained electronic tone fills his consciousness.
"What the -?"
"He's crashing!" Someone starts banging away at his chest. Strange, but Charlie can't feel it, though from the effort on the medic's face and the muscles bulging under the blue uniform he would have thought he'd notice at least a rib or two cracking.
The colours are fading. Shivers of black trickle down the edges of his consciousness and the voices drift into silence.
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It is quiet where he is now, and it does not hurt anymore. He lies still in the soothing calmness, allowing himself to rest. For the first time since he can remember, numbers are not dancing through his mind, parading in front of his eyes, demanding his constant attention.
He knows he has a choice to make and he knows he has to make it soon, but he is unwilling to leave this place. Relaxing further, he hears the tone of a deep, deep resonance that vibrates with a beautiful power through his entire being. In this curious state, Charlie knows what it is he hears.
The Earth, as it rotates, emits a frequency, a musical note, at 7.83 hertz. But this frequency alters slightly, changes for reasons unknown. Some suggest solar flares as the cause, or electrical disturbance in the atmosphere, or the gravitational pull of the moon and other planets.
Perhaps, Charlie wonders, perhaps there is a simpler explanation. Maybe the sound of the planet is influenced by the 7.1 billion souls whirling around it, each emitting their own resonance, adding their own harmony.
If all ratios could be translated into sound, the music could be heard; a sound as powerful as the universe itself, yet as quiet as a single flower.
As enchanting as the beat of a human heart.
For some, music elevates the spirit to a place of supreme beauty.
Charlie simply finds that beauty in numbers themselves.
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