I know, I know. Sorry for a little cliffie at the end of the last chapter. I decided not to let you wait long so here's an update on Steve and the team.
And as always, thanks for all your kind words. It means a lot.
Steve jagged sharply to the right, plowing into the thick bushes. They were tall, reaching well above his head. He raised his forearms to protect his face and plowed ahead. There was another crack of a bullet, but the shooter was aiming blind and hoping for a miracle, and the shot went nowhere near him.
The twigs slammed into his body, lashing against his hurt body and face. The pain in his left arm muffled all the other aches as it intensified with every stride. His foot caught against a rock and he tumbled over, scraping his hands and knees as he hit the ground. He paused, gathering his breath, wiping the sweat from his face. Forcing his muscles to cooperate, he raised himself to his haunches, staying low, and strained his ears for the sound of pursuit.
He heard the sound of running footsteps, then heavy breathing.
"He went this way," a voice bellowed out.
"He's hurt, he can't be that far."
"Go that way and try to cut him off. If you find him, shoot him."
"But you said he wanted him alive…"
"I know. But I'd rather explain why McGarrett died in pursuit than why he got away. Come on."
Another huge fork of lightning split across the sky. Steve took advantage of the brief flash, moving silently towards the track. He looked out for a second, no longer than that, and worked out his position and the route he would need to take to reach deeper cover in the jungle. He could see the figure of a man as he jogged to the trees. He turned quickly and looked behind him. Two other men were still near the crashed RV.
They were penning him inside the bushy area.
The flash of light died.
Thunder boomed.
One of the two men by the RV called out. "McGarrett!" It was Hoffman.
"This is stupid. I know you're hurt."
Steve crept back into the bushes, leaving some space between himself and the edge of the vehicle's tracks.
"The whole island is looking for you." He started towards the trees, moving quietly. "You might as well come out."
He stayed low as he moved, parting the leaves as delicately as he could.
"You're making things worse for yourself and everyone else. You come out now and maybe I ask him to leave your weird little family out of this. I can make sure they would be safe."
Steve supposed that by him, he meant Roederer. He didn't take the bait, though. His ohana would never be safe with Roederer running free. He sucked in a pained breath, and kept waking his way silently.
"But if you put me in a sour mood, I promise you that I'm going to make sure you're not the only one who dies."
Steve reached the edge of the area, leaving two rows of trees and bushes between himself and the clear space beyond. Lightning branched overhead once again, and he could see the man who was guarding this end. He was average height and build, dressed in a police uniform, with a pistol in his right hand.
He stayed low, each footstep paced carefully as he narrowed the distance between himself and the man.
The light faded as the thunder roared.
Steve was close enough to reach out and touch the man's leg.
He turned back towards Hoffman.
"I don't see anything in here!" he yelled out, the noise loud and sudden. "I'm coming back."
Steve held his breath.
"Stay the fuck down there, Ron!"
The man started to retort, clicked his tongue, and turned to face the trees. He cursed under his breath, barely audible, as he presented his back to Steve.
Lightning flashed. The branches parted around him as he stood and took a pace forwards, reaching out to grab the man with his right arm around his chest and his left, weakly, around his neck. He heaved backward, hard enough to send another burst of pain up from his wounded arm, and dragged the man backwards into the bushes. The man, Ron, was startled and he struggled uselessly as Steve held him. A deafening thunderclap unrolled overhead as he kept pulling, resisting an urge to snap the dirty cop's neck. He held in that position a little longer, until the man's body fell limp.
Steve dropped him to the ground, took his Beretta, and frisked him. He found a pair of handcuffs, a handkerchief, and a smattering of change. He pocketed them all, then ejected the magazine from the pistol and checked the load.
Two rounds left.
Unfortunate.
He patted him down for a spare magazine, but he couldn't find one. Two shots and at least four men still left out there. Steve didn't like those odds at all. It had evened out a little, but he was wounded and he didn't have ammunition. He was still going to have to run.
"Ron!" Hoffman shouted.
Steve crept up further north, parting the leaves and glancing around carefully. He saw the rocky fringe of a track and more trees beyond.
He paused, waiting for the lightning. It came, a blinding flash, and then it faded.
He stepped out to cross the track.
"Stop!"
There came a loud report as a weapon was fired in his direction. The shooter's aim was bad and the shot landed short. Steve swiveled around and raised the gun. Two men, a hundred feet away down the hill. How had he missed them? He fired, too far away to hope for a hit, but enough to scatter the two men, both of them throwing themselves into the corn.
One round left.
He scrambled up the shallow incline, dislodging small rocks and a cascade of stones, and sprinted for the trees.
He heard shouts from behind him, but he knew he would be able to get away from them now. They were scattered, and now they knew that he had a weapon. They didn't know that he was almost dry.
The low scrub scratched and clawed at his legs as he burst through it and started to climb the shallow slope that led deeper into the jungle and the hills beyond it. He needed time to collect himself. His arm was still leaking, and he knew that he would need to fix it soon. He needed to think about his next move, too.
His friends might be in trouble and he had no idea where they were. And Roederer was no doubt pissed because of his failed plan to grant Steve a slow death behind the bars. Steve didn't want to think of what he might do if he didn't find him.
The bastard had already done enough. Lynn was dead, and so were people unfortunate enough to witness the murder. Steve's ohana had been put into a difficult position and threatened over and over again. And the fragile sense of safety he'd been trying to build so hard for his son was now in ruins too.
There would be a price to pay.
The scream in Steve's head was baying for his blood.
He knew that Hoffman and the others would keep coming for him. They already outnumbered him. And there would be others, too. HPD, FBI, who knows who else.
He had no weapon, save a kitchen knife and a pistol with one shot in the chamber. He was badly wounded. But there was no way back now.
He had to get to Roederer before getting caught. And he would give him a demonstration that would make him wish he had never been born.
"Danny!"
He picked up the pace.
"Danny! Damn it, stop!"
Hearing the hurried footsteps approaching him, he didn't slow down as he made his way across the courtyard. The blocks of stone ahead created a path lined by benches and tall palm trees on either side, revealing the unique building of the State Capitol on its end.
"You should leave," he said as Adam, Lou, and Junior reached him. Junior and Tani followed just seconds later. "They know what we've done. Someone could see you here and…"
"And it's okay if they see you?" Lou snapped.
He didn't answer. The moment he saw their faces in the news, he knew this would end up badly. But it didn't have to. Not for all of them. Not if he managed to talk some sense into the governor and take the responsibility for his actions.
A hand on his arm forced him to stop, and he turned to face Lou's angry frown. "What the hell are you doing, man?" he said. "We're in this together, okay? But this isn't the way."
"Let go of me." Danny jerked his arm from Lou's grip.
Junior glanced around nervously, then looked at Danny. "I hate to interrupt," he said. "But this isn't the right place to talk about this right now. Can we just go back to the cabin and discuss it?"
"Discuss what, kid? The fact we're criminals now?" Danny raised his voice. "You guys go back while you can. I'll talk to the governor and try to explain."
"Danny, we've helped an inmate to break out of the prison and now we're hiding a fugitive," Adam pointed out. "She won't talk to you. The second you walk in there you'll be in cuffs and take Steve's place. It won't be good for nothing."
"She'll listen." Danny lunged forward again, but Quinn stood in his way.
She stood there quietly, hands crossed over her chest, the disagreement with his actions glinting in her narrowed eyes.
He stared at her for a moment, not expecting her to budge, and turned back to others. "Look, winning her over to our side is our only option right now, okay? What else do you want to do? Be fugitives on run for the rest of your lives? We've crossed the borders more than ever this time. I'm not saying it wasn't worth it, but this needs to stop. I have to talk to her. To explain what's going on and make her help us."
Well aware it was a desperate move, Danny stood his ground. He hadn't liked the idea of breaking the law since Adam had presented the idea, but what choice had he had with Steve's life at stake? He was glad his friend was out of that hell, but it was impossible not to feel the guilt. It was eating him up every time he thought back to the prison break. There was a full-scale riot inside, and even though some guards deserved it, there were people inside who had nothing to do with this, and what if they got hurt? What if someone had died? Even if they didn't, they could have.
Danny felt like they've been spiraling down a dangerous road ever since Steve's arrest, and he had to do something to prevent this going even further. Even if it meant showing up in the governor's office and risk a huge chance it wouldn't go well.
"You know they probably won't even let you see her, right?" Tani said.
"I have to try. We can't keep running forever."
"Then we're going with you," Junior offered.
Danny shook his head. "No. No way."
"Yeah, we are," Adam joined. "Besides, it was my idea to do this."
Danny opened his mouth to protest, but someone's phone began to ring, interrupting him.
Tani scrambled for the phone in her pocket, frowning at the screen.
"Who's that?" Danny asked.
"Duke," she said and answered the call.
Danny watched her eyes widen, sudden dread seeping into them. "What? When?" she snapped. "Anyone hurt?"
That got Danny's attention.
"Oh, God. Sure, thanks for calling. Please, keep us informed."
When she ended the call, all the eyes were on her. She sucked in a breath to collect herself.
"So?" Junior said. "What happened?"
"Someone attacked Mrs. Downey at her home," she explained.
Danny's stomach dropped as he fought a rising panic.
"I thought she had police protection," Quinn said.
Tani nodded. "She did. Both officers are now being transferred to Queens medical."
Danny's heart hammered in his chest when he imagined the possibilities of that scenario. He didn't have time to ask the most important question on his mind before Tani continued.
"Mrs. Downey had been knocked out," she said. "She'll be all right, though. But…" Her eyes locked with Danny's. "Maddie was gone when she came around."
Icy dread washed over Danny, seizing his chest tightly. "That son of a bitch!"
"I don't get it," Lou said, furrowing his brows. "Why go after the kid? You think Roederer knows that we've talked to Mrs. Downey?"
"Maybe he wants to stop her from testifying?" Adam said.
"No, why not kill her then?" Junior said. "So far he got rid of the possible witnesses. At least the ones he knew about."
Danny tried to keep his breath even when he spoke. "No, I don't think she was the target. He wanted the girl to get to Steve."
The confusion lined his friend's faces as they stared at him in anticipation.
"I'll explain on the way," Danny said, turning back to the car park. The governor had to wait.
Tani picked up the pace to catch up with Danny as he rushed to the Camaro. "But Steve doesn't know," she whispered, trying to keep up the pace.
"No, he doesn't," he said. "But looks like Roederer does."
He opened the door and watched Lou do the same on his car parked right behind him. When he was about to climb inside, though, he heard the screaming sound of sirens approaching.
Please, not now.
He turned to check, and swallowed hard when he saw two police cruisers approaching the car park. As quickly as he could, he sat behind the wheel and started the engine, ready to drive to the other end of the car park, where the second entrance was.
But just as he moved forward, another two cruisers blocked the exit.
Within seconds, the officers at each side were out and taking cover behind their vehicles, their weapons pointing in their direction.
"Get out of the cars and put your hands up!" he heard one of them calling out. "Now!"
He squeezed the wheel tightly and let out a shaky breath, knowing what would happen next.
Just like things haven't been bad enough already.
The rain began to fall soon after he'd lost Hoffman and others from his sight. The wet ground made it even more difficult to climb the slippery surface in the dark. He clambered up to the rocky outcrop. The ravine bulged outwards here, and the face was twenty feet from the water's edge. There was a carpet of scree beneath the ceiling that was, at least where it was close to the overhang, reasonably dry. The outcrop itself was sheltered by leaves, and two large bushes partially masked its existence. Steve decided that the spot was as good as it was likely to get.
He tucked himself under the overhang, shielding himself from heavy rain.
His whole body ached, but the pulsing pain coming from his arm was the worst. Hoffman and his men were nowhere to be seen, so now was the good time to take care of it.
He took off his t-shirt and unwound the torn curtain. He set up the flashlight so that the beam played back against him. He could examine the wound more carefully now. The bullet had passed through his bicep and left through his tricep. That was fortunate on the one hand, not so fortunate on the other. While there was no slug to remove, the journey through his skin and muscle had slowed the bullet down, the friction exerting enough force to start spinning it. The entry wound was neat and tidy, a little blackened circle that would heal on its own with no need for any serious ministration on his part. The exit wound, though, was wide and messy.
He went to the water's edge and rinsed out the grit and debris and, for a moment at least, he numbed the pain. He slathered sanitizing gel over the two wounds, wincing from the sudden sting. He reached into the bag and took out the sealed plastic container that held the first-aid kit. There was a needle and thread, but he knew the wound was not ready to be sutured yet. It would be better for it to be left open so that if it did become infected, the pus could drain away. As long as it could drain, it was unlikely to become life-threatening, regardless of how unpleasant it might look or smell. He unfolded one of the dressings and laid it across the entry wound. He attached it with a roll of adhesive tape and then repeated the procedure for the exit wound.
When done, he pressed his back against the moss-covered rock and closed his eyes. Maybe it was a mistake, because as soon as his lids fell, his head began to spin harder than before. But despite hours of sleep, he was still exhausted after a week in hell with almost no sleep. The blood loss, the number of injuries, and the tiring run from Hoffman and his men didn't help him to feel any better either.
All he wanted was to keep his eyes closed and submerge into sleep. He couldn't afford that luxury now. But maybe he could just stay here for a while and rest. Because he had a feeling that if he didn't, he wouldn't make it far anyway.
He kept his eyes closed as he rested his head against the rock.
Yeah, just a few minutes. Then he would have to keep going.
*to be continued*
I've read an article on a writing blog some time ago - about the obstacles for a hero of the story. It said to imagine the worst thing that can happen and let it happen. Then make it worse. So blame the author of that blog post for teaching me this (lol).
I'd appreciate if you shared your thoughts with me :)