A/N: Sorry for the delays in posting. Real life has been getting in the way recently. I hope to update again soon. Thank you for all those who are reading this story, contacting me, supporting, and correcting me. I truly appreciate you all.
Chapter 21
Marco drove Chet's van as fast as he safely could, leaving the darkness of the mountain behind. As he neared Tehachapi, he increased his speed and turned on the emergency flashers to warn other motorists of the urgency of his task.
Behind the van, Lieutenant Crockett saw Marco accelerating and assumed that Johnny's condition had worsened.
"Hang on, Beverly," the officer commented, reaching for the blue light he often placed on his dashboard when he was heading to a crime scene.
Beverly winced when he flipped the light on, casting an eerie swirling blue flash around them. She watched as Marco drove the van closer to the edge of the highway, allowing Crockett to pass him. She gripped the door handle just a little harder as the sedan flew past the van then tucked back in neatly as the lead vehicle.
"Crockett's gonna clear the way for us," Chet announced when he saw the flashing blue lights behind his vehicle. "Only time I ever wanted to see those lights coming up behind me," he joked, trying to convince himself and the others that everything would be alright.
Marco knew that citizen drivers responded quicker to police lights than to emergency flashers on personal vehicles and he gladly allowed the officer to pass the van.
"I know what you mean," the senior lineman commented. He listened to the sounds of Roy urging Johnny to remain as alert as possible.
"Hey, Junior… Cap's going to write you up if you don't get a haircut soon." More than anything, Roy wanted to hear his partner's long-suffering rant about the departmental regulations being too strict. Instead, he was met with total silence.
"Stay with us, John… That's an order," Hank said, lightly patting the scruffy face of his downed paramedic. He wanted to laugh at the thought of John trying to grow a thick beard like the other two members of the cult that he had seen. To Hank, Johnny had always looked younger than his actual years. Perhaps that was why he was struggling to see John, the only one of his men with a nearly hairless chest, suddenly becoming bearded. He had always felt a sense of protectiveness with all his men, but especially with his junior medic.
"Gonna have to shave soon, John," he snickered. "Don't make me give you latrine duty for a month, okay?"
There was no response from Johnny. He remained flat on his back, his head turned to one side, and his unseeing eyes merely slits.
"John Roderick Gage, front and center!" Hank said, his voice booming inside the close confines of the van.
Somewhere deep in the darkness, Johnny heard the voice of his captain and knew that he was in trouble. He had heard Hank use that tone of voice very few times, and only when one of the men was in big trouble. He tried to perk up, tried to apologize for whatever he had done, but his body refused to fully cooperate. Slowly he slipped back into the nothingness.
"Looks like that got his attention, Cap," Mike said, encouraged to see Johnny trying to regain consciousness. "That's a good sign, right, Roy?"
"Yes, it is. He's recognizing us… Well, at least he's recognizing you," Roy said, shifting his forlorn blue eyes over at Hank and then back down at his partner. Johnny had not responded to Roy's voice and that made the senior medic's heart sink.
"Almost there, fellas," Chet called out from the front seat, just as Marco followed their police escort onto East E Street in Tehachapi. "Just a little longer, Gage."
E!
Ian eased the cart to a stop in front of the Holistic Unity Gardens sanctuary. The trio exited the vehicle and rushed to the front doors, pounding on them as hard as they could. Even though there were no locks on the sanctuary doors, they dared not enter Father Hiram's residence unannounced.
Within a couple of moments, two broad-shouldered men opened the door, silently allowing the frantic group to enter.
"Where is Father?" James asked the guards.
"Meditating," one of them said. Curious eyes took in the disheveled sight before them, scanning the grass-stained clothing and various bruises on James and Ian.
"We need to speak… to him now," Lily spoke up, the words nearly choking her amid her tears. "Our brother… has been taken from us."
"Who disturbs my meditation at this hour?"
The group turned to see their red-faced leader tightening the ties of his robe as he entered the large room.
"Our brother… Thorn, has been… taken from us," Lily said again, her tears burning her swollen eyes.
Hiram tucked his long, graying hair behind his ear, arching one eyebrow at the disheveled group. "John?" the leader questioned, as Lily was the only person who used that name for Johnny. When he saw the three heads nodding in affirmation, he continued. "Taken… Or left?"
"Taken… by force," James clarified, realizing that Hiram was questioning John's allegiance.
"By whom?" Hiram asked, slowly walking to the assembled group. He peered into the battered face of James. "The same person who assaulted you?"
James lowered his head in mock shame. He needed the cult leader to believe he had done his best to avoid the kidnapping. "Yes, a large group of his friends… firemen, I believe."
"I see. And did he resist them?"
"Yes, Father," Lily said, bowing her head in reverence. "He… He had drank an extra cup of tea, so he was thoroughly relaxed and prepared for sleep, but he fought them as hard as he could."
Hiram turned his head in Lily's direction, narrowing his eyes at her. He noticed that she quickly looked away from his stare, but chose not to address this behavior. "And just how did he obtain a second cup?"
Lily looked up at James and Ian, not understanding the significance of Hiram's question. "Um, I-I gave him mine," she said, looking back and forth between James and Hiram, her mind spinning. "He seemed to need it more than me… Remember, he has back pain sometimes?"
Hiram stared at the young woman, knowing she had no idea what she had done. "Have you forgotten who among you is the great healer?"
Lily bowed her head, trembling in fear. Was their scheme about to be exposed?
"I just… wanted to… help him. He's been… working very hard lately…"
Hiram glared at her, knowing that she could feel the heat of his stare. "You have no special skills or knowledge, Sister Lily. You are not authorized to administer healing to your brothers and sisters." The tall leader walked around her in a close circle, making her even more uncomfortable. "Only I – Hiram – have the power of life and death in my hands."
"Yes sir," she mumbled, her eyes remaining downcast.
Hiram took a step away from the chastised young woman, eyeing the other members of the group. "Did they threaten to return, or will they leave us in peace?" the leader questioned the trio.
Ian spoke up, having been completely silent thus far. "I believe they will leave us in peace," he said, using Hiram's own words. "It sounded as if they had gotten what they wanted."
Lily couldn't stop her sniffling as she recalled the mention of her mother, knowing that the group had not gotten everyone that they wanted. She understood that they had come to retrieve her, too. Lily knew that for her mother, learning that her daughter had not been rescued was going to hurt her badly. She hated that she had been unable to leave with them, but the mission was much too important to give up on now.
While her heart had nearly burst for joy when she had heard that her friend, Gretchen, had survived leaving the group, her heart was broken with the realization that her mother would only be partially relieved when she heard the news about Thorn. Lily just hoped that she would be able to make it up to her, and Thorn, when this mission was finally accomplished. She had already seen men go unpunished for the murder of an innocent man, her uncle; she was not about to allow it to happen again, not if she could stop it.
"Lily?" Hiram said softly, lifting her chin with his fingertips until she was looking up at him. "I am sorry for your loss. I know that you were very fond of Brother John."
She swallowed back the bile in her throat as she closed her eyes, forcing out the remaining tears. "Maybe… I will… see him… again one day," she whispered, knowing that if all went well, she WOULD see him, but it would be outside of this compound.
"You have done well, my children. You tried your best to save your brother. You are dismissed. Go and find your rest, clean your wounds."
The three turned to walk away, but Lily stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Not you, Lily."
All three of them turned around, seeing the stern look on Hiram's face.
"You may stay with me, Lily. I need to discuss some things with you," he said, caressing the side of her face.
Hiram often summoned the young women to his quarters when he was in need of carnal pleasure. Over time, Lily had become one of his favorites. It was during one such encounter that the leader had inadvertently mentioned the fate of a couple of their family members who had chosen to leave the group. That was the moment when Lily first realized that she was trapped in a religious group with a leader who was guilty of murder. Her heart thudded inside of her chest when his thin fingers brushed her cheek.
The three of them felt their sense of dread rise, none more so than Lily, herself. She knew what his words meant, and she knew that if he found the wire she was wearing, she might not live through the night. Yet, it was exactly the break they needed.
"Y-yes, sir," she choked back her words, unable to look at her two comrades. Although she had needed to be alone with Hiram, hoping to obtain some evidence from him while she was wearing the wire, she became instantly fearful. Her friends would be unable to help her if her deception became known to the leader and his bodyguards. She was about to embark on her mission all alone – a very dangerous mission.
E!
Marco pulled to a stop at the emergency entrance of Tehachapi hospital while Lieutenant Crockett parked his sedan in a vacant parking space. The senior lineman stepped out of the van, calling over his shoulder. "I'll get a stretcher."
Chet shifted in his seat, grimacing at his intimate soreness before getting out of the van. He gingerly stepped to the sliding door of the vehicle and opened it up. "How's he doin'?"
"Seems stable, but his numbers are still too low," Roy mentioned, resting his palm on his partner's midsection. "Respiration is still shallow."
Chet looked up at the sound of Marco's voice coming from the opening glass doors.
"He's in the back of the van," the senior lineman said to the orderlies as they pushed a gurney to the opposite side of the vehicle.
"We'll load him," Mike said, sliding out of the van backwards, holding onto Johnny's legs.
Hank scooped his arms underneath the thin medic's shoulders, firmly gripping his forearms in preparation of transferring his medic onto the gurney. The firemen made quick work of shifting their fallen comrade, then followed behind as the orderlies rushed his still form into the hospital. Roy held onto the rail of the stretcher as they hurried down the corridor, knowing he had vital information to give the attending physician.
Marco paused at the doorway, seeing Crockett and Beverly walking quickly across the dimly lit parking lot. "How is he?" Beverly asked, rushing into the arms of Marco.
"Still alive, but… he's unconscious," Marco said, caressing her brown hair as he pulled her into his warm embrace.
"Marco? Gimme the keys and I'll move the van," Crockett stated, tapping his friend on his shoulder. He knew that Marco needed to be with Beverly for a moment.
Inside the hospital, Chet leaned his back against the wall outside the treatment room. On the opposite end of the corridor, he saw a couple of pay phones, reminding him that he needed to call Caroline.
He was finally beginning to understand why Roy and Hank called their wives after particularly bad runs. They found their strength in hearing the voices of their loved ones. At that moment, Chet knew that he would be joining them from now on. He finally had someone to call to make him feel better. He knew that the sweet sound of Caroline's voice would be just what he need to settle him down after a failed rescue.
He swallowed back the lump forming in his throat as he watched Beverly and Marco lingering in each other's arms as they passed by him on their way to the waiting area. He offered them a slight nod as he pushed himself off the cold tile wall and headed for the pay phones. He knew it was late, but Caroline had made him promise to call with news as soon as he could. Now he knew he needed to hear her voice just as much as she needed to hear his. He fished inside his pocket for a few coins, enough for a quick phone call to let her know where he was and the outcome of their rescue.
E!
Johnny felt himself moving, floating, and then turning a corner. He had no idea where he was, or what was happening to him. He tried to open his eyes, but all he saw were blurry images of white-clad figures. When he felt his movement stop, and strong arms lifting him up onto another surface, he began to panic. His mind, already traumatized since his kidnapping, reeled back to 1965 and all that he had seen in Selma. In his drug-induced haze, his brain combined the past with the present, and slowly terror began to develop inside his soul. They had finally caught up with him after all these years. He was now in the hands of the Ku Klux Klan.
"Nuh… No," he grunted, feeling hands touching him and deep voices mumbling something his muddled brain couldn't comprehend. He felt something placed over his mouth and nose, and he knew they were trying to kill him. "Argh!" He grunted, trying to remove the offending object, but his arms were quickly held down at his sides. 'Oh God,' he thought to himself, 'oh God, help me.'
"Secure that oxygen mask on him," Dr. Buchanan ordered, recognizing both Roy and Mike when the group had arrived. It hadn't been that long ago that Mike had been brought into this same hospital after having been involved in an accident. When his eyes scanned the young man he was now working on, he recognized him, too. "Get me a set of vitals, and start an IV, D5W," he commanded with the same sense of urgency that Dr. Brackett often used.
"Respiration rate is 10, pulse 60, and pupils are pinpoints. We think he's been drugged," Roy commented, adjusting the mask over his friend's face as he had done several times before, when Johnny suffered from smoke inhalation. This time, Johnny protested the action, seeming to panic when he felt the elastic bands snap into place. "Easy, Junior… You need to just take a few deep breaths for me. You know how this goes. You're safe now," Roy continued to croon, upset by the way Johnny was fighting against his ministrations.
"Based on how he's dressed, I'm assuming that he's been spending some time in the mountains?" Dr. Buck asked, recognizing the clothing as that worn by the members of the Holistic Unity Gardens Family.
"Yea," was all Roy managed to say.
"Any idea what he's on?" the physician asked, a little too matter-of-factly.
Roy felt his feathers ruffle at the thinly veiled accusation from the physician. "He isn't ON anything. He's been drugged."
Dr. Buchanan looked up into the eyes of Roy DeSoto, his stethoscope still poised over Johnny's bare chest. "He needs your help, not your protection."
"No, Dr. Buck. He needs YOUR help, not YOUR judgment," Roy corrected. "My partner is not some junkie. He did not willingly get himself into this mess."
Both men looked at the doorway as Crockett entered the room.
"You need to wait outside," Dr. Buchanan ordered.
Crockett flashed his badge, knowing that it afforded him no special privileges in Tehachapi. "I'm working on this case, and I may have some information you need to treat John. He may be on muscle relaxers and opioids mixed into his drink. From what I've been able to gather, he got an extra dose tonight. Can you run a tox screen on him?"
Dr. Buchanan listened to Johnny's heart and lungs without commenting, as he pondered what to do next. He slipped his stethoscope from his ears, laying it across his shoulders. "Nurse, I need you to run a full tox screen and get me a dose of naloxone." He looked up into the faces of Roy and Ron. "I'm going to treat this like a heroin overdose until we know differently."
"But-"
Dr. Buck raised his hand to halt Roy's protesting. "I've seen my fair share of this from those hippies on the mountain. Some survive, some don't. I'm not taking any chances here. We can't wait on the drug screen. He needs treatment now."
Roy's blue eyes widened with the realization that Johnny could be dying from a heroin overdose, just like Gretchen. He pressed his lips into a thin line, his rage building. It was one thing to be sitting at Johnny's bedside after the younger man had been injured during a rescue, but to know that his best friend might lose his life due to a deliberate act was more than he could handle. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears until he heard Johnny's raspy voice.
"L-Lily?"
"Take it easy, Johnny. Everything's gonna be alright," Roy soothed, seeing the nurse preparing to start the IV.
Johnny heard garbled voices floating around him, and he had only one thing in mind – he was about to be tortured and killed by the group he so loathed. He needed to know that Lily had gotten away.
"Lil-y… Lil-y…" he whispered breathily, his voice barely audible.
"She isn't here, Johnny. Listen to me," Roy repeated. "She isn't here, but we're going to get her, I promise."
Roy had no way of knowing that his words sent fear straight to Johnny's core. They were going to get her? That could only mean one thing to John. The KKK was going to find Lily and kill her, too. He had to warn her, had to stop them from harming her. He no longer cared what they were about to do to him; he had to protect Lily.
"Nuh-uh… Nooo," Johnny moaned, shifting slowly on the exam table. He needed to get away from these people, had to save Lily from such a horrible fate.
"I can't get the IV in," the young nurse said, exasperatedly. "He keeps moving his arm."
"Restraints," Dr. Buchanan ordered of the two men in white who were positioned on either side of Johnny, holding down his squirming limbs.
When Johnny felt his extremities being tied down, his mind tried to protest, but his body refused to cooperate. "Lemme go," he tried to shout, in spite of the chemicals coursing through his blood.
Roy held Johnny's head between his hands, hating what his friend was going through. "Johnny look at me. Look at me! It's me, Roy. I'm here with you. You're okay."
"We can handle him now," Dr. Buck stated, dismissing the orderlies.
Johnny's glassy eyes caught a blurry glimpse of Roy and another wave of panic shot through his system. The man who had once been his best friend, was working with the KKK.
"Ugh, ohmygod," Johnny mumbled, pulling against the restraints. "No… P'ease… I… I sor-ry, 'oy… S'op, p'ease," he begged, his words slurry. "No… don' hur' Li-ly… I'm… sorry…" Johnny tried to convey his feelings from behind the oxygen mask. His eyes tried to focus on the face in front of him, but he could only see a blurry image of the man he had spent years working side by side with as they saved lives in Los Angeles County. He knew that Roy was disappointed in him. He knew that Iris had divulged his deepest secret to his friends. Now they seemed to want to remove him from the department in a way that was much more permanent than just a resignation. They wanted him dead.
"Johnny, don't worry about Lily. We're going to get her, I promise," Roy repeated, his own eyes brimming with tears.
"No, no, p'ease don'," Johnny begged, never feeling the pinch of the tourniquet as it was tightened around his arm.
Roy, assuming that his friend was begging not to have the IV inserted, continued speaking in a soothing tone to Johnny, unaware that his words were being wrongly interpreted by the drugged man. "We have to, Johnny. It's what's best. It has to be done."
"Nooooo," Johnny cried out, continuing his efforts to escape.
Dr. Buchanan grimaced at the scene in front of him as he continued to monitor his patient. He knew that he shouldn't treat a patient who was refusing his care.
"Mr. Gage… Do you understand what may happen if you don't get treatment?"
Johnny's muddled brain didn't process the question, being unaccustomed to being called by his surname.
"Have you lost your mind?" Ron asked the physician, speaking up before Roy could get the words out.
The nurse, having finally raised a vein, stood poised with the needle positioned at a plump vein on the back of Johnny's hand.
Dr. Buchanan looked up at the detective, remembering the badge he had flashed upon entering the treatment room. "Is he in your custody?"
"Of course not; he hasn't broken any law. He's a VICTIM, damn it!" Ron blurted out, unprofessionally. He didn't care; it wasn't as if he were on duty.
"I'm his medical proxy," Roy piped up. "It's on record at Rampart General Hospital. Call them for confirmation if you want," the senior medic said, knowing that time was of the essence. He knew that they couldn't afford to make an enemy of the physician. "The number is (901) 555-3113. Ask for Dr. Kelly Brackett or Head Nurse Dixie McCall… Please," he begged.
"He's been drugged, doc," Ron added. "He can't make his own decisions now, right?"
Dr. Buchanan looked at his nurse. "Go ahead and start the IV," he commented, walking over to the telephone to make the call.
Johnny's slurry speech faded, and he never felt the pain as the needle was skillfully inserted. Although the care he was receiving was pulling him closer to full awareness, the effects of the toxic tea he had consumed seemed to offset the effect of the increased oxygen. His eyelids continued to feel like lead, and the voices of those around him sounded as if they were echoing down a long corridor. He had no concept of time, nor did he feel any pain. In fact, he felt nothing at all as the silent darkness enveloped him like a cloak, cradling him into oblivion.
Outside the treatment room, Hank and Mike stood talking quietly, while Marco and Beverly consoled each other silently in the waiting area. Chet, who had been talking on the payphone, had just returned the receiver to the cradle when Roy's panicked shout permeated the quiet scene, and the rest of the group rushed into the small treatment room.
"Johnny!" Roy yelled, his voice rising an octave as he watched his best friend's breathing cease. "Respiratory arrest!"
Dr. Buchanan slammed down the phone without retrieving the information he had requested. He no longer cared who his patient's medical proxy was, or even if he had one. Right now, he had to start treatment for the overdose he suspected from the young man's presenting symptoms.
"Bag 'im," the physician ordered, tilting Johnny's head to open up his airway as he waited for his nurse to retrieve the ambu-bag.
As soon as Johnny's lungs began to inflate again, Dr. Buchanan scurried to the drug cabinet, pushing vials aside in search of the one he knew his patient needed.
Roy felt himself being dragged backwards by his captain's strong arms.
"Let them work, Roy," Hank said, his voice sounding weak. He had seen his men injured before, but never like this. He felt numb all over, and knew that his senior medic had to be in shock, too.
Roy's face was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Cap, I…" He stopped short, realizing that there was nothing he could do for Johnny now. Slowly, he backed away from the exam table, wishing that they were at Rampart, and that the medical staff in front of him was Dr. Brackett and Dixie. He stopped when he felt the cold tile wall against his back, the reality of the situation hitting him just as hard. They were not at Rampart. They were in Tehachapi. This wasn't Dr. Brackett and Dixie McCall. This was Dr. Buchanan and his nurse. Roy felt his chest begin to burn as a lump formed in his throat. Was he about to watch his best friend die right in front of him?
Across the tiny treatment room, a battle waged for Johnny's life. Dr. Buchanan injected the first dose of naloxone, then waited for it to take effect. He counted each weak thump of Johnny's pulse against his fingers, willing the rate to increase as time slowly ticked by.
After two minutes, Dr. Buchanan gave Johnny another dose, then reached for the blood pressure cuff. As he pumped it up, he saw a slight movement of Johnny's fingers.
"That's it… c'mon," he mumbled to himself, releasing the bulb as he listened for the thumping sound through his stethoscope.
"He's breathing on his own, Dr. Buck," the nurse stated, replacing the ambu-bag with the oxygen mask once more.
"BP's 68/40, pulse 56," the physician stated, more confident in his original diagnosis. "Roy?" the physician asked, looking over his shoulder. "Come get these restraints off, will you? Don't want him to aspirate."
Roy rushed into action, feeling better knowing that he was helping take care of Johnny. He quickly removed the wrist restraints, shifting further down Johnny's body to free his legs. Just as he released Johnny's lower limbs, the young man began to wretch.
Quickly the nurse stripped off the oxygen mask, assisting Roy in turning Johnny onto his side. They had barely gotten him turned when brown liquid spewed from his mouth. Fortunately, Hank had recognized the signs and had managed to shove an emesis basin beside Johnny's face, preventing the remnants of the nightly tea from soiling the uniforms of the surrounding medical personnel. The naloxone was working.
Ron found a stack o gauze squares and dampened them before handing them to Roy's awaiting hand. He watched as the older medic tenderly cleaned the offending liquid from the edges of Johnny's mouth. He was amazed at how rapidly Johnny seemed to regain his color, breathing, and his movement. The lanky limbs were beginning to fidget, and the young man began emitting sounds that were a combination of incoherent grunts and groans.
"That's it, Junior, come on and open those eyes." Roy continued talking to his partner, hoping to help bring him out of his unconscious state. He was pleased when Johnny tried to push the gauze away from his face, his breathing beginning to come in rapid pants. "Hey, if you don't like it, then just tell me to stop," Roy continued.
"Uh, 'top," Johnny groaned.
"84/66, pulse 62, respiration rate 12," Dr. Buchanan announced, removing his stethoscope from his ears and folding it as he placed it into the large pocket of his lab coat.
"What happened?" Ron asked, confused about the rapid transition from respiratory arrest to semi-consciousness and nearly normal vital signs. He saw Johnny's legs begin to shake and wondered what was happening inside the young man's body.
"The drug reverses the effects of opioids like heroin," the physician stated, clicking his pen to begin charting his diagnosis and treatment.
"He's gonna be okay, then?" the detective asked.
Without looking up, Dr. Buchanan gave his prognosis. "He'll likely make a full recovery. I just hope he's our only customer from the compound tonight." The tired physician looked up over the glasses perched at the end of his nose. "We're running low on naloxone."
E!
Chet hung up the telephone, feeling a sense of relief after talking to Caroline. She had a way of saying the words he needed to hear. He inhaled a cleansing breath as he headed to the waiting room. He was about to sit down beside Mike when a receptionist rounded the corner.
"Excuse me, but is there a Lieutenant Ronald Crockett here?"
"He's in treatment room one," Mike stated.
"Is he the patient?" the gray-haired woman inquired.
"Ah, no… Is something wrong?" Chet asked.
"He has a phone call at my desk. They say it's urgent," she stated worriedly.
Marco and Mike exchanged glances, but it was Chet who spoke up. "I'll get 'im."
The Irishman walked quickly down the short corridor, pushing through the treatment room door. He gulped when he saw Johnny unconscious and in restraints. "Uh… Crockett?"
"Yea?" the detective responded.
"Phone call for you…," Chet said, his face growing pale. "Receptionist's desk."
Ron hurriedly exited the room, anxious for the news that awaited him. He had been anticipating a call from the authorities related to the raid. He had deliberately delayed calling Iris until he had better news to deliver. Silently he prayed that the raid had been a successful one.
E!
Outside the sanctuary, Ian and James paced worriedly. Both men were concerned about the welfare of Lily. Even though they knew that the FBI was not far away, listening to every word, they still knew that she could be in danger. She had been alone with Father Hiram for too long and neither man wanted to think about what was happening behind closed doors.
Lily sat on the floor with her head bowed in reverence to Father Hiram as he rested among the many pillows strewn about his room. His legs were crossed, his arms relaxed, but his face was growing crimson. Although Hiram's actions had initially been seductive, they had quickly turned to rage. Lily was unsure which was worse.
"Do NOT lie to me, child!"
Lily sucked in a ragged breath, her sobbing limiting her ability to breathe. "I-I'm not, Fa-father."
Hiram rose angrily to his feet, standing over Lily to intimidate her, rehashing the minute details of Johnny's kidnapping. "How dare you," the leader grunted through gritted teeth. "It is certainly convenient that you encouraged Brother John to indulge in a second cup of tea on the same night that his friends came for him."
Lily held her breath, unsure of what might happen as Hiram towered over her cowering form.
Hiram waited for a response, but when he didn't get one, he continued with his accusations. "You knew they were coming, did you not?"
Lily vehemently shook her head.
"Then why the extra dose of tea?"
Lily merely shrugged her shoulders. She hoped he couldn't see through her lies.
"Why did they not come after you as well, Lily?"
Again she shrugged her shoulders, unable to look at him. She could almost feel the heat radiating off of him as he dropped to one knee in front of her, spitting out his next words.
"You have no idea what you've done, girl. Your boyfriend may not live through the night, thanks to you."
Lily gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Her tears burned her cheeks. "Wha- why? Are you… go-gonna k-kill him, too?"
He stood up again with a slow, maniacal grin spreading across his face. "No… No, I won't have to order his death. It seems that this time YOU took care of that for me."
Lily felt waves of heat washing over her body, her vision blurred, and she felt as if she were falling into a deep hole. "ACK! NO! How?" she cried, hugging her own midsection.
Hiram continued to give her the details in a painfully slow manner. "Why do you think we separate the men from the women during the evening meal?"
Trembling, Lily shook her head. She had lost her ability to speak.
"Because males and females have different needs. Our bodies require different enhancements to reach our full potential," he explained, further confusing Lily.
"I-I don't un-understand," she cried, rubbing her eyes to remove the tears and clear her vision. "The tea just… helps us to relax… and sleep more soundly."
Hiram gave her a snort, his wicked grin covering his face. "You… foolish… girl!" His teeth were gritted together as he spat out the words. "There are different… er, enhancements to the tea for males and females. They should NEVER be mixed," he emphasized, narrowing his eyes at her.
"But-"
"The tea issued to YOU was for the females only. Brother John had already consumed that which was prepared for the men," Hiram stated, burning holes into her soul with his dark eyes.
Lily finally realized what he meant. She had inadvertently combined the teas, unaware of the dangers of mixing the two concoctions. "W-will Thorn… die?" she asked, not wanting to know the answer.
A maniacal smile was the only response she received.
"Oh… my… God… ACK!" She cried out, her body melting onto the floor as darkness claimed her.
Lily's blood curdling scream sent chills down the spines of Ian and James. Both men rushed the sanctuary door, but they were unable to open it. Several swift kicks and bruising shoulder rams did not dislodge the obstruction.
"Lily!" James yelled, pounding his fist against the heavy wooden structure.
"Open up!" Ian belted out as he continued his efforts to get into the sanctuary.
Outside the compound, several dark-colored vehicles were parked along the desolate trail that ran down the length of the property beside the compound. Inside the command vehicle, federal agents were listening to the conversation taking place inside the sanctuary. As soon as they heard Lily's scream, the order to proceed was given, and an army of men and vehicles breached the unlocked gate, slinging dirt and debris as they rushed the premises. They might not have gotten the confession they wanted, but Hiram had said enough to damn himself in a court of law. And more importantly, they had to get their undercover agent and informants out of harm's way.
E!
Lieutenant Crockett hung up the telephone, loping down the corridor and passing by the stunned group from 51's.
"Uh-oh," Marco mumbled, giving Mike a quick glance and pulling Beverly closer to his side. He didn't know what was happening, but from the look on Crockett's face, it wasn't good news.
Lieutenant Crockett stuck his head in the doorway of treatment room one.
"Hey, Doc?"
Dr. Buchanan looked up, seeing the panicked look on the detective's face. "Yes?"
"Can I see you a minute?"
The physician, confident that his patient was in good hands for the moment, followed Crockett to an empty room.
"It's bad, Dr. Buck," Crockett announced then proceeded to share with the physician all that had occurred at the Holistic Unity Gardens compound.
Inside the treatment room, Johnny couldn't stop fidgeting in his hospital bed. His heart was pounding, his head was hurting, and his stomach continued to churn. Even though there was nothing left in his belly, his body seemed intent on expelling something. He felt himself being rolled onto his side again as the dry heaves continued.
"That's it, Junior. Just let the medicine do its job," Roy said, holding the emesis basin near his partner's chin.
"P-poison," Johnny rasped, trying to shove Roy's hands away from him. "Nuh-no."
"Mr. Gage," the nurse began as she finished charting his latest vitals, "you've been given naloxone. It's an antidote for opioid overdose. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Johnny tried to make sense of what was happening. He still thought Roy was siding with the Ku Klux Klan. Now he was hearing another white-clad person say that he had been given an ANTIDOTE for opioid overdose. Confusion swirled inside his head. Were they trying to kill him, or not? Then his exhausted brain remembered Lily.
"L-Lily? L-leave… her… 'lone," he said, reaching for the basin and giving it a shove as he rolled onto his back. His legs continued moving, and his entire body ached. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to pull his arm over his eyes, but found that it was being held down by a strong hand. He lifted his head slightly, squinting at the bright lights as he tried to focus on the man who was restraining him.
"C-Cap?"
"Yea, John. It's me. I can't let you move this arm. You don't want to dislodge the IV cannula. You know what'll happen if you do that."
Johnny's breathing continued to come in gasps as he looked around the room. He was in a hospital, but it wasn't Rampart. His eyes followed his arm down to his wrist where he saw an IV taped to the back of his hand. Hank Stanley's strong hands were keeping him from moving his arm around.
"Wha- Ugh," he groaned as he let his head fall back against the pillow. "Lily… Where's… Lily?"
Roy hung his head, dreading the news he had to deliver to his best friend. "Johnny… I'm sorry, she… She got away."
Johnny closed his eyes, fighting the nausea, and feeling a sense of relief that Lily had escaped. "Mmm," he grunted, smacking his dry lips. "Good… 'at's good," he said, panting slightly.
Roy's worried eyes locked with Hank's. Both men silently communicated their concern. Had Johnny really become indoctrinated so quickly? Why else would he have wanted Lily to get away when they were trying to rescue her?
Johnny suddenly became aware of the nasal cannula in his nose and used his free hand to swipe at it. Roy saw what he was doing, and quickly intercepted his hand.
"No, Johnny… Leave it. You need the oxygen right now. Your respiration rate is still too low."
Seeing that his younger medic was becoming more alert, Hank took the opportunity to ask the question they had all been wondering.
"John," the captain began, "who gave you the drugs?"
"Nuh, no… d'ugs," Johnny slurred, his eyes remaining closed. "Jus'… tea."
"It wasn't just tea," Roy commented, his anger at the cult growing. "It was opioids."
Johnny tried to disagree, but his stomach chose that moment to protest the opioid antagonist again. Roy helped him roll over, quickly shoving the emesis basin into the appropriate position with practiced ease.
Dr. Buchanan rushed back into the room, checking his patient and documenting his vitals in the chart. Roy noticed the worry lines on the physician's face.
"Doc? What's wrong with him?" the red-haired paramedic asked.
Dr. Buck looked over at the perceptive man, unaware that his stress had been so obvious. He shook his head negatively. "He's recovering, Roy."
"Then what's wrong?"
Dr. Buck blew out his breath. "Do you think you can manage him by yourself for a while?"
Roy replaced the emesis basin on the counter while Hank rolled Johnny onto his back. The senior medic dampened a wash cloth and used it to remove the sweat from his friend's face, another side effect of the naloxone and the dry heaves Johnny was now enduring.
"Of course, but why?"
"Got several patients coming in from that damn hippy commune," Dr. Buchanan swore. "It finally got raided, and… And a few are in bad shape, according to the police reports coming in."
Roy could see the near panic on Dr. Buchanan's face. "You're the only doctor here, right?"
Dr. Buchanan nodded his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Yes, me and a small staff of nurses."
Chet stepped over from the corner where he had been sitting. "We can take care of Johnny, Roy. I mean, as long as we turn him over to puke, and Cap keeps his arm still, then…," he waved his arm in the direction of his pale friend. "I mean, we got this. Right, Cap?"
"In a crisis like this, can you use a paramedic who's certified in LA only?" Hank asked.
Dr. Buchanan cut his eyes over to Roy. "You bet I can. We'll worry about the legalities later," the somewhat relieved physician announced. "Do you mind, Roy?"
"Not at all," Roy agreed, looking back over his shoulder at Johnny who seemed to be resting at the moment.
"Get me a set of vitals on him every five minutes," the physician instructed. "I mean, you men are trained to do that, right?"
"Yes, we are," Hank agreed, releasing Johnny's arm as he seemed to be relaxing a bit.
"Good, log it on the chart there," he said, pointing at the open chart displayed on the counter. "His numbers should keep improving… If not, then come find me. I think we're gonna be busy for a while."
Dr. Buchanan stepped out into the hallway with Roy following close behind. Roy saw the nurses rushing from room to room, sensing the urgency in their actions.
"How many?" Roy asked, following the physician.
"At least five who are showing symptoms of opioid overdose, and…"
"And?" Roy asked, stepping into a small supply room where Dr. Buchanan shuffled through layers of scrubs until he found a set that would fit Roy.
"And three are DOA."
Roy's heart sank into his belly. Was one of the three Lily? James?
"Change quickly, Roy. They should be here in about 10 minutes, maybe by then Lt. Crockett will be back with the naloxone."
Roy began removing his dirty flannel shirt, but stopped suddenly and gave the physician a questioning look. "What?"
"He's headed to meet a Sheriff's deputy from Kern County. Bakersfield is loaning us some naloxone," the physician stated. "Meet me in treatment room one," he ordered as he departed.
Roy was left semi-clothed in the supply closet. His mind was reeling with possibilities, but he didn't like any of them. As he dressed, he prayed that Lily would not be among the injured… or the dead.