Chapter 14

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From the moment Callen faced and scanned the vehicle tailing them, time occurred in slow motion. The first shot from the anonymous gunmen had blown in the Challenger's rear window, scattering glass over the back seat. The bullet narrowly missed his head. Callen spied a H&K PSG-1 sniper rifle poking through the shattered and partially blown out windshield of the black suburban following them. He readied his SIG-Sauer P228, aiming it out the Challenger's back window. Callen stared at the sniper rifle and the man holding and pointing it at him. The man pointing the weapon at him was the same one in his nightmarish dreams. Callen squeezed the trigger on his gun. Too late. The phantom fired off his second round. Terrified by what he was seeing, he couldn't speak. Callen watched the bullet in ultraslow motion, spinning through the air, whizzing toward his chest with pin point accuracy. No way to avoid its trajectory. He knew the weapon's capability, surviving a hit with a H&K PSG-1 at this range, less than fifty feet, with a muzzle velocity of 2820 feet per second, was impossible. The bullet hit his chest with extreme power, knocking him upwards and backwards at the same time and slamming him hard against the dashboard of the Challenger.

Callen screamed within his mind unable to scream out loud, the breath knocked out of him.

The nightmare began again, this time starting where he watched, in ultraslow motion, the bullet whizzing toward his chest.

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Callen gasped, his eyes flew open and he rolled over onto his back. He yelped in pain from the abrupt movement, rubbing his chest and crying out.

"G!" Sam rushed over to his partner's side.

"I need to get away, help me." He glommed onto Sam's arms, trying to pull his upper body off the bed. Callen shrieked, excruciating pain ripping through his chest. "No!"

"Easy, G, lie back, you had another nightmare." Sam settled his partner against several pillows.

"Please, need to get away, it's coming." Callen grabbed his partner's arms again, attempting to lift himself off the bed.

"Lie back." He eased him down onto the pillows again.

"Help me, it's coming, you've got to help me," he said, his breaths coming hard and fast, sweat pouring off his face and chest.

"G, wake up, you're having a nightmare." Sam leaned over him, staring into his partner's vacant, blue eyes. "Look at me, man, this is a nightmare. You are safe."

Callen startled, shook his head, and gazed into Sam's eyes, coming out of the nightmare. "Hurts, damn it hurts." Wetness formed in his eyes. He clutched his hospital gown to the left of mid-sternum, crying out and trembling.

Sam switched on the light behind the hospital bed and saw the terrified look on his partner's face. "G, you're safe."

"No." Tears flooded his eyes. "I should've died. It should've killed me."

In that moment, he knew his partner had remembered what happened in the Challenger. "But it didn't kill you, G." He grasped his partner's hand and held it. "You are safe now."

Callen pulled away. "Damn it, Sam, I should've died." Tears fell on his cheeks. "Crap, I was a dead man." He rolled to his right side, crying, hands covering his face.

Sam lowered the bedrail, sat on the bedside, and stroked his partner's shoulders and back. "You made it, G, you survived the unthinkable."

"How many nightmares?"

"That's four today."

"My chest… can't stand this." He held back a scream and shuddered, another wave of lancinating pain ripping through his chest and traveling up and down the left side of his torso.

Sam pressed the pain medication infuse button on Callen's bedside control.

"The power and velocity of that sniper rifle… at close range… crap…," he said. "It should've killed me instantly. I remember the moment of impact, the bullet striking my chest." Callen shivered, another flashback tore through his mind. "It propelled me upwards and backwards… rammed me against the dashboard." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I should've died, damn it, how did I survive?"

"The exact point of impact was lower than you believe," he said. "Had it been a couple of inches higher and to the right, we wouldn't be talking right now. The fact that you and the sniper were both moving increased your chances of survival. The bullet traveled through the seat first, an obstacle which altered its trajectory further, then it hit you."

"So it wasn't because the unsub was a bad shot?"

"No."

"Your passenger seat was destroyed?"

"Completely," Sam said, "better the seat than you."

"The bullet?"

"Clean through you and found later at the scene by our forensic team."

"Our forensic team?"

"Kensi."

Callen smiled. "How much longer will this pain last?" He rubbed his chest where the bullet had hit him. "I don't know if I can stand it without being heavily medicated with painkillers. Feels as if someone kicked me in the chest with a steel toe, logger boot, and more than once."

"Your doctors estimate at least a month, maybe longer."

"At least?" Crap. "I can't do it, Sam, not without stronger drugs."

"You really want to go back to the drugged stupor of the last five days?"

"It's beginning to sound and feel better than this."

"You need to speak with your doctors and request a different pain medication, stronger than this one and lesser than the cocktail."

"This is not your ordinary secure and private, intensive care unit." Callen needed to change the subject and get his mind off the agonizing pain throughout his chest and the shocking reality of the attempted assassination. One unusual feature he noticed in his room, no windows at eye level. The only windows were located nine feet above the floor.

"Protection from the sniper," Sam said. "We've taken over the entire wing and a corridor is cordoned off for your safety."

"I don't see the security guards."

"Yeah, no one can get past the first check point, unless they're an approved hospital staff who's background has been throughly investigated."

"Where?"

"UCLA Medical Center."

"Who's paying for this stint?"

"Don't worry about it, G."

"I'm worried it's coming out of my hide." Callen smirked and stifled a laugh. The lingering effects of a laugh reverberated through his chest, making him want to scream.

"The humor is coming back again?"

"Maybe."

"I've gone into banter withdrawals after five days without my partner's smart-alecky remarks."

"Sam, don't make me laugh."

"I guess I won't mention our banter about the fountain."

"Please, don't," Callen said. "Guess you won't be throwing me into a fountain for a while."

"Too bad, I found a nice one here on the hospital campus."

"I'm not allowed to lift anything heavier than a tube of toothpaste." Callen winked at him.

"That's a shame," Sam said, keeping a straight face. "I'll have to put off wearing my new swim trunks."

"I can wait, believe me, I'll wait."

"That's cruel, G."

"Anyone visit me?"

"No."

"Come on, Sam, you serious?"

"No, of course Kensi and Deeks have been here, but you're always drugged out of your mind when they arrive."

"Not nice," Callen said. "Hetty gave you more days off?"

"My injury warranted that I stay with you."

"I like her."

"Until she puts you on a leash again?"

"I told you not to make me laugh." Callen smiled. "Did you push the pump and give me extra painkiller?"

"Yeah."

"That's why I'm feeling relaxed and drugged." He blinked his eyes several times and yawned.

"Don't fight it, G."

He closed his eyes and pushed away the harrowing flashbacks from his doppelgänger's failed assassination attempt.

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