Cujo II - Chapter 11
Here's another. The next chapter is about half written and should be up within the next few days. RL can be so damned intrusive sometimes. I hate when it interfers with my fantasy life. Thank you for your reviews and comments, alerts and favorites. All are so very much appreciated.
Once again, I hope this isn't too choppy to follow. Let me know what you think of it. I value your opinions.
Disclaimer: I bought the island, the show and, even though slavery is illegal . . . the people. When the meds kicked in, reality once again bit me on the ass and I realized that I don't own any of it nor do I make any money from it. Bummer.
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
Brunch With Skippy
Grayson put his hand on a bare shoulder that was like tan satin under his fingers. She'd changed out of her usual attire of tank and shorts to a slinky, off the shoulder, dress for tonight's date. He admired her slender form and dimpled smile.
Such a waste, he thought as he hugged her body against his side. If only he had more time. This woman was what he'd always wanted but just not now. Now, she was just a means to an end. The end of Five-0 - if everything worked the way it was supposed to. The guy he'd sent to New Jersey should be taking care of business there soon. He, himself, would take care of business here.
He'd come to pick up Kono so they could go to dinner after work. The slender Hawaiian woman was normally a head turner but in the dress, she was breathtaking. Her new boyfriend definitely appreciated what he was seeing.
Chin looked up from his computer screen and frowned at his cousin and her boyfriend as they got ready to leave. He hadn't warmed up to the guy. There was something about him he didn't trust. Danny and Cujo had felt it too. Kono, apparently, wasn't even aware that anything was off.
The guy was just too good to be true. He couldn't put a name to it but it was there. He hoped Kono would wise up but she was a big girl. He couldn't do anything about it. She'd only laugh at his concern, calling him 'overprotective'. Maybe he had been in the past but, she was his little cousin. Of course, he'd protect her. He still would. If she let him.
Looking across the room at the tight line of Chin's mouth, Kono was aware of her cousin's disapproval of her choice in men. Grayson was good looking, respectful, treated her well . . . what wasn't to like? She didn't understand Chin's reservations about the guy. Cujo didn't like him as well but Cujo didn't like a lot of things; dogs, other cats, most people, cheap cat food, (though he would try to eat any rodent, bug or reptile on which he could get his teeth. He'd even dug into the trashcan and drug out part of a two day old malasada. Steve had chased him for fifteen minutes to get it away from him and had been bitten for his trouble.
...
It was almost five-thirty in the evening when Ingstad's phone rang and the number he was hoping to see popped up on caller ID.
He pounced on it immediately, praying that Doctor Sabato had some useful information for him. McGarrett was barely holding on. His body was beginning to shut down. His kidneys were failing and this afternoon, he'd been put on dialysis. It was the beginning of the end for his patient unless something could be done quickly.
"Ingstad" he answered.
"Peter!" Glad you're still in your office! Sorry it took so long to get back to you. How's your patient?"
"Barely hanging in there, Tomas. If he wasn't such a tough bastard, he'd have checked out days ago."
"Luck may be with him then. I think there are a couple of possibilities for you to look at. Both are contracted by inhalation of a soil fungi. Does your patient have any mouth or throat lesions?"
"None."
"Is your patient HIV positive?"
"No, we've already checked that. When he didn't respond to treatment, it was one of the first things we looked at. His immune system isn't really that strong though. It had been severely stressed by previous injuries and exhaustion. As we'd already talked about, he's been all over the map, Asia and South America included."
"My guess would be brasiliensis. Fever, tachycardia, respiratory distress, weight loss and a high white blood cell count all fit. It doesn't always present with the lesions. If my diagnosis is correct, your patient has a chance. It responds well to some of the old standard drugs . . . nothing too hard to get hold of quickly."
"Excellent."
"You always were one of my star students, Peter; very thorough in your approach. Glad to see that hasn't changed. Your patient is fortunate to have you as his physician."
"Uhh . . . thank you." stammered Ingstad like a schoolboy who'd won the approval of his favorite teacher; not quite knowing how to respond.
"Well, let me know the outcome. Good luck to your patient. Bye-the-way, what's his name?"
"Steven McGarrett, he's head of the Governor of Hawaii's special task force and a Lieutenant Commander in the Naval Reserve. I believe he's one of their SEALS."
"What the hell is he doing in New Jersey? I wouldn't be stuck in your crummy weather if I could be in Hawaii right now."
"I'm sure, if he survives, he'll be very happy to go back home. Thanks again, Tomas for all of your help."
"Good luck to your patient, Peter. Glad I could help out."
...
The tall man was nowhere to be found.
He'd have to go to the place with all the sand. Maybe he'll be there. He could find it. It wasn't an unfamiliar route for the little cat. Of course, he usually traveled it on the dashboard of a car.
The dark street stretched before him as he padded soundlessly in the direction of the big water and sand where he'd find his friend.
...
Kono, Chin and Lori spread out to search for the Cujo. They were methodical; thoroughly searching each floor of the palace. When they let him, Cujo would sometimes haunt its halls hunting for prey. Everyone in the building knew of the feisty little animal and gave him wide berth.
At first, there was an almost unfailingly predicatable pattern of response to the cat - most of the women tried to make friends with him; most of the men seemed determined to intimidate and subdue him . . . neither approach worked very well.
They all knew he belonged to Five-0 and no one wanted to risk the wrath of the governor's task force. Kono thought it was cool but funny. People were so intimated by their reputation, (well, mostly Steve's reputation). Not that some of it wasn't deserved. The man could kill you with a ping pong ball, a paperclip, or just his bare hands. Kono considered him a teddy bear at heart; a sort of dangerous, lethal teddy bear but, usually, a mild mannered one.
Cujo's own reputation would keep most people from messing with him but the little cat was deceptive in many ways; a small, velvety soft and sweet expressioned little animal who wouldn't hesitate to chew his way through your leg if you pissed him off.
They had to find him before he got into trouble. He was very much like his chosen human . . . it just seemed to follow him.
...
In spite of the gloomy weather that had hovered for days over the eastern seaboard like a heavy grey cloak, Ingstad swept into the room; his step actually a bounce.
Nothing appeared to have changed; his patient was still lying tethered to the machines breathing for him and filtering his blood. His family still stood watch over him. The blonde detective still sat at his bedside.
The compact man stood as Ingstad entered; eyebrows rising in question at the doctor's grin.
"We think we've got it!" announced Ingstad before he'd even fully made it into the room; an uncharacteristic smile on his long face..
"Got it?"
"We may know what's making the commander so ill and why he hasn't overcome his pneumonia."
"Great, what are you going to do about it and wait . . . what do you mean think?"
"Detective, there's really no time to confirm the diagnosis with lab work. It would take several more days to replicate it with cultures in the lab. I'm afraid your commander is nearly out of time. His body is beginning to shut down, hence the dialysis. He's critical enough that there isn't a guarantee we can reverse the decline. If he wasn't even as fit as he was to begin with, he'd no longer be with us."
Danny nodded grimly in recognition of his friend's precarious condition, "So what are you going to do to treat him?"
"What we can do is put him on a regimen of drugs that should have an almost immediate effect and then another milder drug for a few months."
"A few months! He's gonna freak! What the hell did he catch?"
"It's an airborne fungi that primarily affects people in Central and South America. It not that easy to catch actually. Your partner just got lucky."
"Yeah, when he gets off the ventilator, I'll be sure to tell him how lucky he is."
"Detective, if my former professor wasn't an expert, or shall I say the expert, on tropical diseases, the commander wouldn't have the option to decide if he is lucky or not. We most likely would never have found the cause of his illness in time."
"Don't get me wrong, Doc. I appreciate what you've done and that you didn't give up and just let him die but watching someone whose picture you'd find in the dictionary under the word 'healthy' nearly die in front of you is just . . . " Danny raised his hands in a gesture that meant to convey helplessness. "It was fucking scary to see him this sick." he finally sighed, unable to think of any other words to adequately convey how he felt.
Ingstad only nodded in understanding. In spite of what others may have said about him, he became a doctor because he truly did want to make a difference in people's lives. Helping this, obviously, well-loved young man survive was incredibly rewarding. Though he was monetarily well compensated by his profession, it wasn't his reason for becoming a doctor.
It was one of the things that drove he and his ex to divorce. He thought his profession was about saving lives, she thought it was about saving enough money to buy the Taj-Mahal; then re-decorate it.
"How long before we know if the new drugs are working?" asked Danny, his worry which had begun to ease slightly with the encouraging news, ratcheting back up with the way the doctor couched his answer.
"If I'm right and if the commander has enough fight left, we should see a change within the next few hours. If all goes well, his temperature should begin to come down. We've given him large doses of drugs to counter the tachycardia but his heartbeat has remained probably twice what it should be for someone who, according to his medical records, was in exceptional cardio-vascular condition. The drugs are also stressing his kidneys but they're all we have to work with. It's a balancing act. I'm not going to guarantee this will work but, it's the best chance he's got."
Danny ran his hand through his hair again. Why couldn't there be good news without the caveat? Without the 'if I'm right'', the 'if all goes well', the 'I'm not going to guarantee' bullshit? Why couldn't they just give Steve the new meds knowing he would improve, not just hoping that his best friend would wake-up and leap out of bed to begin making the world safe again for little girls and kittens? Why did Steve have to be dying so far from his beloved Hawaii? Too many questions without answers.
Evelyn and another couple of people in scrubs who'd just come into the room began to disconnect the respirator as Danny automatically moved out of the way.
"Wait! What are you doing?" he asked in alarm. Ingstad had already left the room.
"We have to temporarily disconnect the ventilator and take him downstairs. We need to get some of that fluid out of his lungs and then we'll administer a good dose of meds directly into the breathing tube. It's the best way to get the process started."
"He'll be back in about an hour and we'll start the new IV meds." added one of the scrub clad men who unlocked the bed's wheels and began to push it toward the door.
Soothed Evelyn. "Why don't you go get something to eat? You must be exhausted, detective."
Danny looked into her warm brown eyes and saw only concern . . . for her patient and for him.
"Uhh, yeah. I'll do that. I have to call my family to let them know the news."
"This is good news for a change. I'm sure they'll appreciate it. Oh, and say hi to that cute sister of yours for me. She's been very worried." smiled Evelyn.
Danny smiled at her as she winked back at him. Maybe Angie did have a shot at the tall woman. He wasn't sure for whom the wink was intended. Right now he was too worried to think about it.
They wheeled Steve out of the room. The pale man didn't stir but without the ventilator assisting him, Danny could again hear the stressed, rattling sound of his breathing. He squeezed his partner's hand one last time as the bed was maneuvered out the doorway and down the hall to the elevator.
The worried man dialed his mom's cell and she picked up immediately.
"Honey, is Steve OK?" she asked before she'd even said hello.
"Actually, Ma, I may have good news this time. We don't know for sure yet."
"What's happened?"
"They think they've found what's making Steve so sick."
"Think?" his mother immediately picked up on the word.
"Yeah, they're not a hundred percent certain and don't have time to confirm it with labwork but they're starting the new drugs now. They've just taken him downstairs to clear his lungs out some before they give it to him."
"When will we know if it's working?"
"The doctor said within the next few hours."
"Danny, I could see him getting worse. I was so, so worried. I had your dad to go Saint Benedict's and light some candles. I've been praying to Saint Jude with all my might . . . maybe it helped?"
"I'm sure Steve would appreciate it. He can use all the help he can get. It certainly couldn't hurt." smiled Danny at his worried mother.
Though Danny had been raised in his parent's faith and had even survived parochial school, Sister Marie Baptiste and a Mother Superior who'd have given Mrs. Ratliff a run for her money, he wasn't really devout. He'd said his own prayers in his own way for his friend's recovery but his mother's unshakable faith had sustained her through many crisies in the past. She's a strong woman who loves her family with every fiber of her sturdy little body. Steve couldn't have anyone better praying for his recovery, including Mother Theresa herself.
When Steve recovers, Danny would have to remember to tell him his mother was praying to the patron saint of 'lost causes'. He had to smile to himself at the reaction it would probably get from his friend. Danny had always called him a lost cause.
...
He was hungry. He'd gone up to several people and demanded food. Someone had given him a small piece of meat they'd taken from what they'd been eating. It was tasty; not as good as mouse but he purred when he ate it. The loud man at his other home had given him something like this a couple of times; usually just to get him to go away but, sometimes, when no one else was there, he'd give him treats. If only the man didn't wave his hands so much and wasn't so loud . . .
...
"What do you want Nadine!" he heard Angie hiss into her cell phone as she climbed the stairs to her room. He heard the phrase 'psychotic bitch' as her door slammed shut.
He felt bad for his sister. Tough as she is, her heart had been broken by the woman to whom she'd committed body and soul. He knew how it felt to be rejected by someone who meant everything to you; someone who was the very oxygen in your world.
Rachel hadn't betrayed him as Nadine had Angie but her rejection had almost killed him. If it wasn't for his family, (and later on - Steve), he'd never have made it through the darkness.
Matty, Anthony and Augie Williams had been called out in the middle of the night by more than one watchful bartender to come fetch the blubbering puddle of self-pity that was Rachel's bequeathment to them and they'd never forgiven her. If it wasn't for Gracie, they'd probably never even acknowledge Rachel had ever existed.
Family was everything. He was sad his sister had to lean so heavily on it. Moving back home to one's parent's home long after the usual age for such arrangements was humiliating but he knew she was grateful for the option.
He had to get back to the hospital. He'd only come home long enough for a shower and a quick change of clothing. His dad and Anthony were with Steve right now.
...
It was so dark. He couldn't make out the little shape in the dimness but he could hear the jingle of the bell attached to the little animal's collar.
Sometimes, when he'd worked late at HQ or at home when it was quiet in the middle of the night, he could hear that tinkling sound. It was such a small sound but so large in its meaning.
It meant he wasn't alone. It meant there was a being with which he had a connection; one who didn't judge him, criticize his way of interacting with the world and remind him of his limitations and awkwardness in 'mammal to mammal communications'.
He knew it was Danny's way of showing affection but he always felt there had to be some truth behind the snarky observations. Why would Danny say it if it wasn't at least somewhat true?
He could hear the jingle. Cujo was out there somewhere. He had to find him. It wasn't safe to be alone in the dark. He followed the sound. He still couldn't see the small, furry, body but he could hear the bell. He wouldn't give up 'till he found his friend.
Following the sound, he traveled further into the darkness. It wasn't good to be alone. It was scary to feel lost.
...
"Chin, what if we don't find him?" said Kono, worrying her thumbnail with her white teeth. They stood at the smart table with Lori, Max and Kamekona.
"We'll find him cuz. Look who we've got looking for him; all the resources of the governor's special task force." he smiled at her.
"Yeah, bruddah. If we can't find the popoki, no one can." assured Kamekona seriously.
"I hope someone hasn't picked him up." said Lori
"Who would possibly be that stupid?" asked Max who'd had his own experiences with the fierce little cat.
"You know how he appears." reminded Chin. "Soft, furry . . . deadly."
They all nodded seriously in agreement. Cujo seemed to dare people to pet him. He'd wind around their legs and look up at them with the innocence of a baby and when they'd reach down to pet him, he'd hiss and take a swipe at their hand. Danny asserted it was deliberate; just a trap; a lure set by the wily little predator to gather blood donations. They couldn't really argue with him. If did seem that way at times.
They'd actually taped a sign up in the office to warn people 'DO NOT PET THE CAT, (no matter what he says)!
Cujo was indeed deceptive. If no one paid attention to him, he'd sometimes even jump up onto laps to get attention. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason in his choice of victims. So far, few except Chin and Danny had been actually bitten other than the late and unlamented drug lord, Karl Aguillera and his henchmen.
Chin was aware that even Steve had felt the wrath of Cujo a couple of times but, of course, if he could hide the marks, their stoic SEAL would never admit it. McGarrett and the cat had a strange bond. The cat was as incredibly protective of Steve as Steve was for any member of the team. Chin understood.
...
He saw them come down the steps. They spread out purposefully; the guy in jeans and Hawaiian shirt, the two women, a huge man in a T-shirt and shorts and a little guy wearing glasses.
He could hear them call out 'Here kitty, kitty' and 'Cujo!" As soon as they were out of sight, he stole up the stairs, careful to pull the hoodie tighter over his head to avoid a clear shot by the cameras he knew must be taping him.
...
He'd have to stop to rest. The place of sand and water where the tall man sometimes took him must be near now. He'd traveled all afternoon and through the night. He was tired and thirsty . . . and hungry. He'd chased a large, juicy, lizard a little way but when he'd cornered it against a block wall, it had turned and hissed loudly at him. This was new. With needle sharp claws extended, he raised an armed paw toward it and it hissed even louder . . . hmm.
The stand off lasted another minute or two before Cujo decided perhaps a dinner that hissed was maybe not a good candidate after all. He chirped in frustration then backed carefully away before turning to abandon the hunt. Mice weren't so hostile . . . and they tasted better!
...
Slowly, Steve's temperature began to come down. Within two hours, it had fallen from 105 to 104. That was still way too high but at least it was going in the right direction.
Stella looked down at the sedated man and said another prayer. She hadn't been this worried since Augie had fallen off that ladder last fall and had lain unconscious for almost twenty-four hours. She'd told him to let Anthony and Andrew, take care of the lights this year. Usually Matty had helped his dad put them up but, not this year.
This year . . . there was no Matty.
She once again felt that dull, empty ache when she thought of her fugitive son. She tried to put it out of her mind as she looked down at the young man in the bed. Perhaps The Almighty does work in mysterious ways she thought. Matty had left and here was another son she didn't even know she had. She knew he wasn't Matty but none-the-less, he was Danny's brother.
She took the cool dampened cloth and wiped his face and neck as the ventilator continued its steady and reassuring rhythm.
...
They'd been searching all afternoon and into the night. Chin and Kono had alerted all of their many relatives in the area. Lori and Kono had gone to check out a couple of leads on a series of holiday car-jackings. So far, no one had been hurt but, it was probably only a matter of time before a victim thought Auntie Kanoelani's new set of jacquard woven dish towels was worth a fight.
The bad guys seemed pretty organized. They'd netted several new laptops and a few other big ticket electronic items. This didn't appear to be opportunistic druggies out looking to score enough to get them by until their next fix.
Chin was feeling guilty for taking the time to search for the little cat. He could just hear the governor's comments on it but he'd put in his hours already and as far as he was concerned, this was being done 'off the clock' on his own time. He really didn't want to have to tell Steve they'd lost Cujo.
Even though his BAMF boss might be angry, even more, he would be devastated. Chin knew the sometimes overly-vigilant man trusted very few people. He'd trusted his team to look out for Cujo and they'd failed him.
Man and cat had a strong, unexplainable bond. In some parallel universe, thought Chin, there must be a man named Cujo and a cat named Steve.
"Brah!" heard Chin as he answered his cell while his eyes roved the darkening landscape. It was his cousin Kanunu's voice. "Uncle Kokoa called! He said he just saw a grey popoki hauling ass down the street and trying to eat a dog!"
"Where?" asked Chin
"Out in front of his shoe store on Hala Drive."
"That has to be Cujo. What's the address there?"
"It's between Kapalama Avenue and Apaki Street on the south side in the middle of the block. It's call 'Big Momo's Shoe Stop'."
"Be right there, thanks cuz!"
Chin put on the lights and siren as he guided the SUV out of the palace's parking lot.
...
It was time for a nap. The sun was high overhead and it was making him sleepy. A nice little girl who smelled like flowers gave him food when he'd walked up to her as she was eating something that smelled really good. It was in paper that made a crackly noise as she unwrapped it. There was a woman with her who spoke sharply.
He heard the words 'stray' and 'rabies' as the woman seemed to be annoyed with the girl. There was a ringing sound and the woman turned and held a small black box next to her ear and seemed to be talking to it. The people at home did that too. He used to think they were talking to him but then he realized if he listened carefully, he could hear the box talking back . . . hmm.
The girl took that moment to take most of her food and set it down on the concrete beneath the bench on which she sat.
He went cautiously to it and then began to purr loudly as the taste of fish and cheese filled his mouth. A small hand reached down and stroked his back as he ate. He'd let her pet him for now, it was only polite.
The woman's voice was back. It said 'damned cat', (he knew those words), and then another word he didn't know the meaning of, 'expensive'. It sounded like the little girl was answering back defensively.
The woman sighed and leaned toward the girl to kiss her on top of the head and then they left. He was worried the woman would take back the food but they didn't. He finished it and then carefully washed his face and ears as his mother had taught him. He had to find a place to nap for awhile before continuing his journey.
...
Now was his chance. There was no one left in the office. He crept silently up the stairs, keeping his face hidden. He was careful not to jostle the small bundle he carried. Even though he knew it wouldn't explode without the timing mechanism attached, he was very careful with it. There was enough of it to blow the office sky high if not the entire building.
Five-0 had cost him enough time and money. He'd miss the company of the girl but, there were other girls. Maybe not one so intriguingly dangerous but - there were others. Anyway, it would be fun to go on the hunt again.
He cautiously pushed open the door to McGarrett's office. Ricardo might be an idiot but he'd seen the damage the 'demon' had inflicted. It was probably just that stupid cat, the one they were searching for but, he wasn't going to take chances.
Kono would probably have called or texted if they'd found the little shithead. She'd been pretty worried. He thought it was actually kind of funny McGarrett even had a cat but, it was apparently a pretty fierce one. Anyway, he had a job to do.
...
He hadn't been asleep for very long when something snuffled around the bush under which he'd fallen asleep. A cold, wet nose poked at him. He let loose a low rumbling growl and it withdrew.
"Come on Skippy" he heard and the sound of a dog coughing as its owner tugged on its leash and the collar pressed against its windpipe.
"Skippy, No!" he heard another sharp command then, suddenly, the nose came through the leaves once more to sniff him. How rude!
This time he growled louder and hissed a warning.
"Leave the kitty alone, dammit!" he heard the voice again, this time sounding even more annoyed.
"Honey, it's OK, he's just being a dog. Besides, it's only a little kitten, I can see it through the leaves. Let's just eat lunch and then we'll go drop off Skippy at home and go surfing."
"Stupid dog." muttered the male voice.
Cujo was now on edge. The fur on his body stood up and his tail, once again, took on the bristly look of a bottle brush. The stubborn Skippy's nose once again made its snuffling appearance through the foliage.
All right! That's it!
With his trademark screech, Cujo launched himself out of the bush like a rocket to sink his claws into the unfortunate Skippy's nose.
The surprised dog let loose a convincing screech of his own and hurled himself backward to collide with a passing waitress who screamed loudly and dropped her tray of soft drinks. Soda exploded into the crowd of lunchgoers gathered on the restaurant's patio as the plastic pitcher and tumblers flew in every direction.
The waitress stumbled backward to collide with a group of diners, knocking their pedestal style table and the attached cafe umbrella onto the table next to it. People screamed in alarm and scattered as the tables dominoed across the patio; several more toppling over with the heaviness of the opened umbrellas.
Skippy, yelping in fear scrambled through overturned plates of food, his leash catching on a chair and pulling it behind him like a wrecking ball with legs as a small cat with a blood curdling howl chased the beagle into the restaurant.
There was more screeching of all sorts, both human and animal as the sound of breaking glass and other mayhem resounded from inside the restaurant and a black and tan dog burst out of the open front doorway, a furious, snarling cat behind it.
They were followed by a man yelling "Skippy! Dammit!", a distressed looking woman and probably every busboy, waiter and waitress in the restaurant.
The parade, lead by the now chairless and food covered dog proceeded furiously down the sidewalk as startled pedestrians leaped out of the way.
Screaming dog, cat, owner, girlfriend, and a small army of food workers followed by a very irate man screaming obscenities in Italian followed up the rear as the parade thundered down the street.
...
He heard the jingle of the bell in the darkness. From the sound of it, Cujo was running. He heard other noises. Voices yelling, dogs barking, someone cursing in Italian?
It was still dark but the sounds carried to him. Cujo! He ran toward the sounds, stumbling into the darkness.
...
Chin pulled to the curb in front of the shoe store. He could see several people staring standing out in front of it and staring down the block toward where the street dead-ended at the sand.
A smiling Hawaiian man in a brightly colored shirt and expensive looking shoes met him at the doorway of the shop and pointed toward the shore.
"Brah, if that's your popoki, you'd better get him before someone shoots him. There's plenty hehena people chasing him. I think the cops just got there!"
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
TBC
Glad to hear that Mr. O is back at work. I wish continued good health to him.