Section 41:
Jim walked slowly and deliberately down the hall, very conscious of the fact that if anyone would recognize him, he would never get another chance to leave. Simon would keep him there under personal guard at the very least. He wished he had a baseball cap or something to help hide his face. Jim tried to figure out his next plan of action but found that it took most of his waning concentration just to keep his balance. He would have to get home first and then he would figure out how to find the shooter. He blinked rapidly in a vain attempt to equilibrate his eyes to the relative darkness outside. Everything seemed to have a halo around it, sort of how it looked when he had been exposed to Golden. Maybe this was a reaction to one of the medications he had been given during his hospital stay. Yeah, maybe that was it and this would all go away on its own. He stumbled over a raised sidewalk panel and realized that he hadn't been paying much attention to where he was going, just as long as it was away from the hospital. Disconnected words and ideas swam through his head. How would he ever figure out who took potshots at him? How the hell did they know where he was going to be? Was it random or was it intentional? Did I remember to turn off the water the last time I took a shower? Where was my gun? I wonder when it's going to rain? His mental babbling was similar to the how he usually felt when he was just about to fall asleep, in the twilight zone, as Blair liked to call it. Sometimes his most brilliant ideas came to him then. Yeah…so much for brilliant. He shuffled on towards where he hoped was his intended destination…home.
Section 42:
Blair was dreaming that he was being chased and he could barely move his feet. It was like he was trying to walk through mud and it kept sucking his feet back down. He tried to turn his head to identify his pursuer, but he couldn't. It was too dark but Blair knew he was out there, waiting for his chance.
A shrill ring ripped Blair out of his dream state and back to reality. His hand was reaching for the phone even before his brain could register the change in scenery.
Before he could say hello, a low, gruff voice interrupted. "Sandburg, is Jim there with you?"
"Simon?…Wh..What do you mean? Isn't he there with you?" Blair's voice became more strained with every word. He knew before Simon started into his explanation that Jim was in trouble. Simon didn't get that upset without a reason. "Where is Jim? Is he okay?"
"That's it. We don't know. He just disappeared out of his hospital room. His clothes and belongings are gone too."
"Do you think that he's been kidnapped or something, Simon?"
"Calm down. Even with Jim in a coma he wouldn't let himself get taken without a fight. We found no evidence of a struggle and we have a nurse who says that someone matching Jim's description was seen walking out through the Emergency Room entrance." Simon paused. "Sandburg?…Sandburg?"
"Yeah, Simon?"
"You're not planning on doing anything stupid now, are you?"
"Of course not. I'm the responsible one, remember?"
"You had better make it stay that way. If I find out that you did anything…"
"Don't worry about me. You just find Jim. I'll see what I can do from my end. Make phone calls, that sort of thing. Okay?" Blair was already throwing some things into a bag as he spoke to the Captain. "I'll call you if I turn up anything."
"All right, Sandburg. The same goes on this end. Rafe, Brown and some uniforms are already doing a house-to-house search inside a ten-block perimeter around the hospital. We'll find him."
"Thanks, Simon." Blair hung up the phone and threw his bag over his shoulder. He checked the battery on his cell phone and shook his head.
"Where are we going?" Max asked softly.
"We're not going anywhere. I'm going out to find Jim. He's left the hospital AMA. Man, against any advice. I need you to stay here in case he shows up. Here's my cell number in case you need me." He scribbled the digits on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. "I don't have a lot of juice left in this battery. I hope it's enough."
"Where are you going to be?"
"I don't know. Just out there."
"Okay. Be careful and good luck. I'll let you know the second I hear or know anything new about Jim, okay?"
"Great." Blair let out a slow sigh. When was this going to end?
Section 43:
Did Blair actually think that I would stay put and wait? I never was one to just sit still when there were things that needed to be done. I would just go out quickly, so I could be back before Blair did. I could find Jim again like before. Then Blair would come back and not have to worry anymore. How the hell did I know where to find him? Did I know if I could do that again? I didn't even know that I could do it in the first place. Okay, relax. Maybe if I held something of Jim's, it would give a vibe or something, somewhere to start.
I went upstairs to Jim's room and looked around in the semi-dark. I found a lamp and switched it on. It bathed the room in a golden glow and it seemed to take an edge off my anxiety. I sat down on his bed, waiting for some divine intervention or something. I moved until I was sitting in the center of his bed and crossed my legs into the lotus position. I closed my eyes and waited.
The world seemed hazy and off-balance, but still had the glow of the lamp in the bedroom. The darkness was slowly creeping into my vision, but yet I could still see everything as clearly as day. Maybe better than that. There was a far away buzzing noise that seemed to increase and diminish with no regularity. Random thoughts about the rain, baseball, and my father ran through my head, but not stopping long enough for me to make sense out of them. I didn't seem to recognize my surroundings, but somehow they were familiar. I looked down at my hands and realized that they weren't mine. They were Jim's.
I broke out of my trance or whatever it was at that insight. I had made a connection to Jim. I bounded off the bed to the phone and dialed Blair's number.
"Hello. Jim?" The hopefulness in Blair's voice made me cringe.
"No, sorry, Blair. It's me, Max. I think that I may have something on Jim, though."
"Has he come back?"
"I had a vision, Blair. I saw where he is. I don't know this area well enough to tell you where that is without seeing it for myself. Come get me and we'll find Jim."
"Oh man, great. I was afraid you were going to tell me something bad." With that, he clicked off the phone.
I wasn't so sure that Blair's fears weren't justified.
Section 44:
He was so tired, so tired. He could barely move anymore. The buzzing had exploded into a roar in the last hour or so. He had no idea how much time had passed or where he was. It was almost completely dark now. He leaned against the wall of the building to his left and slid down until he was sitting on the ground. There was no one around that he could ask for help. He sighed. He hoped that his Dad would come and pick him up soon. He was hungry and he knew that his Mom was making his favorite for dinner tonight. Where was the rest of his baseball team? His coach didn't usually leave until his father had come get him. His Dad would come get him. He just must be running late. He'd just wait here until he came.
Something else was nibbling at the edge of his brain. Something didn't seem right and his head hurt so much. The game must have gone into extra innings. That's why he was so tired. If he could just close his eyes for a little while…..
Section 45:
Blair had the feeling that something was wrong, very wrong, with Jim, otherwise he would have called or shown up by now. When was it any other way? He glanced at his watch. The lightly glowing hands showed that it was approaching 9:30 p.m. The light was gone and a bit of a chill was developing in the air, even though it was already May. He hugged himself and looked up at the sky, where he could make out one or two stars that were already blinking in the sky. Maybe they were just airplanes. He had just gotten off the phone with Max and she seemed to think that she could find Jim again. Man, how did that happen? How did someone else get to have a direct line to the Sentinel when he had to struggle so hard? He shook his head, trying to dispel the sudden spring of jealousy that had bubbled up inside him. The most important thing was to find Jim right now. Everything else can wait.
He ran back to where his car was parked and fumbled in his pockets for the keys. As he pulled them out, they caught on his jeans and he dropped them on the ground. As he leaned over to pick them up, he felt a sudden prickling on the back of his neck. Almost as if reacting to instinct, he crouched down further just as he heard the distinctive whine of a bullet pass just inches above his head. He fell flat on the ground and rolled underneath his car, hoping to garner some protection from whoever was targeting him. Man! That was too close! Good thing my spidey sense kicked in there. Where the hell did that come from?
He waited breathlessly for any sign of a continued attack. He stared up at the axles of his car and wondered darkly if they were going to be the last thing he ever saw. He turned his head and looked out longingly at his backpack on the street, slightly open. If only I could get to the phone and let Simon know what was going on. Did he dare try to reach it? He dared. It was the only way he was going to out of this situation alive. He knew that as surely as he knew his own name. He slowly turned onto his side, which was very difficult underneath the car. He scraped his hip painfully on the undercarriage of the car and hissed in response. Great. At least you're not dead, popped into his mind. He turned onto his stomach just as he heard another shot impact the driver's side door. The thwack on the side of his car was unmistakable. Wonderful.
He peered out of his hiding place and tried to determine where the shooting had originated, but he just couldn't get the visibility he needed. Where was Jim when I needed him? Okay, keep your cool. Jim's not here, you've got to get yourself out of this. You've spent enough years with the police department to pick up a few things. A few cleansing breaths didn't do much to dispel his fear, but it helped to slow his racing heart enough for him to concentrate on what he had to do. He waited for a few minutes for something to happen. Nothing. He hoped that meant that either the sniper had left or maybe was distracted with something. Now was his chance. He leapt out from beneath the car.
Section 46:
The memory of Jim's whereabouts was beginning to fade as I waited not-so-patiently for Blair to come back. I began pacing in front of the couch in the living room while staring outside through the French doors. The time is now. That phrase appeared in my thoughts without so much as an invitation. The time is now. Time for what? The sinking feeling in my stomach did not help matters any. I dialed Blair's number again, desperately hoping that my feeling was wrong, that it was just a reaction to the burrito that I had for lunch. No answer. Never let a man do a woman's job… I picked up my stuff and ran out the door. I hailed a passing cab and told him to drive around. Drive around until I felt something familiar. The night was falling fast and I hoped against hope that I would stumble onto something, anything that would help. My eye caught a pay phone on the corner. It was like finding a lighthouse in a bad storm. Maybe that Captain of theirs could help. What was his name? …Captain Simon Banks.
I paid the cab driver, slid out of the cab, and ran across the dark street to the phone. A light mist was beginning to fall and I hoped that Blair and Jim would be safe. I dialed 9-1-1 and waited.
"9-1-1 Emergency, how may I help you?"
"Yes, my name is Maxine Eliot-Jones. I'm trying to reach Captain Simon Banks at the 57th precinct, I think. I'm a friend of Detective Ellison and Blair Sandburg. It's an emergency."
"One moment, I'll connect you." The emotion-less voice droned as I waited impatiently for the connection.
"Captain Simon Banks." A staccato voice next greeted me and relief washed over me like a wave.
"Captain, this is Max Eliot-Jones. I'm a friend of Blair's. We met at the hospital. Remember?"
"Yes, Ms. Jones. What can I do for you? Is something wrong with Blair? Did something happen?" After all his years with the "dynamic duo" he knew that something was always wrong with them. It was only a question of where and when.
"Uh, Captain, I'm not really sure….Blair called me a little while ago and I told him to come pick me up. That was an hour ago and his cell phone isn't picking up." I told him in a rush, knowing full well that Blair was supposed to stay at the loft and make phone calls to help find Jim, not go out and look for him.
There was a pause and I could imagine that the Captain was probably trying to keep from yelling at me. His voice came across the line very deliberate and strained. "Okay, where are you? I'll come pick you up and we'll look for him."
"Thanks, Captain. I think something's wrong with Blair…and Jim. Please get here as soon as you can." I looked around for an indication of where I was and was greeted by a dark green cross of signs. "I'm at the corner of Spruce and Washington." I waited for his acknowledgement and hung up the phone. For some reason I felt that I could trust their Captain, even with my secret. I hoped that I wasn't wrong. Blair and Jim's lives just might depend on my not being dumped in the nearest Psych. Ward.
Section 47:
As Captain Banks hung up the phone, his stomach sank to the same place it always did whenever he found out that Jim and/or Blair were in trouble. Which seemed to be happening more and more. He left word with the desk sergeant where he would be and made sure that his beeper and cell phone were in working order. He quickly dialed Blair's cell phone and waited for it to pick up. When he listened for two rings and heard the voicemail pick up, he hung up. He grabbed his keys and flew out the door.
He didn't care that it was now approaching 10:00 PM and he still hadn't eaten dinner. He chewed on the end of his cigar angrily as he sped towards his destination, lights and sirens blaring. He hoped that the girl was waiting for him when he got there. He really didn't feel like having to search for all three of them. Food would have to wait.
Section 48:
Jim groggily stirred and wondered why his bed was damp. Was the roof leaking above his bed again? He wrenched his eyes open and stared at the night sky. The stars twinkled dimly at him through the cloudy haze that was trying very hard to produce some rainfall. His thoughts didn't seem to be quite coherent, but at least they seemed to make a little bit of sense. He wondered why the hell he was sitting outside in the rain and where the hell he was in the first place. He tried to stand up but was pushed down by the pain in his head and the fact that everything was spinning around crazily. He'd been hit on the head enough times to know the symptoms of a concussion when he felt them. Man, this was bad. He hadn't felt this bad since…. He hoped he couldn't remember feeling worse because he hadn't, not because he couldn't remember. All this thinking's giving me a headache. He was pretty sure that he had one before, but he was sure that it now had to be worse. With that, he slowly pushed himself up, fought the wave of nausea that accompanied his ascent and shuffled off down the street.
The bright lights from the convenience store sign seemed to burn holes into his eyeballs. He blinked back tears that sprang up of their own volition. His hand slid into the back pocket of his jeans and he contacted only an empty pocket. No wallet, no money, and no identification. Great, I must've been robbed when I was out cold on the sidewalk. He just hoped that he could find a phone that worked. He needed to call Blair and let him know that he was okay. Then he needed to call Simon and tell him…tell him what? He couldn't seem to wrap his brain around that one for now, so he gave up and opened the door. He was immediately assailed with the bright lights, odors, and sounds of the establishment. God, he could even smell the rat droppings on top of the ceiling tiles and hear them scrabbling across the metal drop ceiling supports. He swallowed very deliberately, trying very hard not to throw up in the middle of the store. The clerk eyed him warily and then went back to the tabloid he was reading. Jim swallowed again and walked up to the clerk.
"Do you have a pay phone?" He realized that he must look like hell, but he hoped he looked normal enough for the clerk to direct him to the phone.
"Yeah, uh, man. It's behind the store, around back." The man gain looked at him a bit longer than normal etiquette would direct, but then again his eyes wandered back to his tabloid.
Jim shuffled back outside and around the back of the store. He crumpled to the ground, as his knees no longer had the strength to hold him up.
Section 49:
He immediately fell on his knees in the middle of the street and the rest of his body continued in its downward direction. Another bullet whine flew by and his head connected with the asphalt and bounced slightly. He could almost feel his brain bouncing inside of his skull. He saw spots but willed himself not to black out. He decided to play dead and bit his lip hard for effect. The dripping blood from the corner of his mouth might convince someone that he was hit. He tried desperately to slow his frantic breathing. Hopefully he would get away with that until he could think of something else to do. It was dark now and all could think about was getting out of this so he could get to Jim. Max must be out of her mind by now. He closed his eyes and thought it shouldn't be too hard to pretend to be unconscious as his head felt kind of fuzzy anyway. Somewhere off in the distance he would swear later that he heard a wolf howling…
Section 50:
By the time the Captain's car pulled up to the corner where I was standing, I had a steely cold feeling in the pit of my stomach that I just couldn't shake. The light rain that had begun to fall earlier in the evening had now begun sputtering into a real shower. A raindrop caught the back of my shirt and ran down my back, leaving an icy cold trail in its wake. The feel of death seemed to be all around me as I opened the door to his car and sat down.
"Are you okay?" the Captain asked as I looked at him, as if he would have all the answers wrapped up.
"I don't think so…..Captain, what do you know about things that most people can't see, hear, or touch, but yet are still there?" I spoke softly, half afraid that he would just kick me out of the car outright. I paused for his reaction. Nothing. So I continued, "Sometimes I just know things. Things that I shouldn't, couldn't know by all the ways that most people learn things. Sometimes I get what I call "flashes", where I can touch someone and pick up a little bit about something that happened to them in the past. Usually it has to be something very powerful in that person's life, like a major event or trauma. But with Jim and Blair, it's been different. I can't explain it to myself, so I certainly can't even begin to explain it to you." I paused again to look out the window and give the Captain a minute to absorb what I told him. For some reason he didn't seem at all surprised.
"You mean like ESP or something?" He said it like he was asking if I had a good day at work or something. Like it was something that he dealt with all the time and it didn't faze him for a second.
"I guess you could call it that. Captain, may I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Why aren't you calling me a wacko and kicking me out of your car by now?"
"You might say that I have some experience with what you're talking about."
Section 51:
"911. What is the nature of your emergency?"
"Uh…(fast breathing). There's been shooting here. I….don't feel so good. Can't…can't concentra…te."
"Sir, what is your name?"
"Blair..ssssss…(unintelligible garble)." The 911 operator put her hand over the receiver of her headpiece and motioned to the operator next to her. She scribbled a message on his pad. "Call Captain Simon Banks at the 57th precinct."
"Blair, can you hear me?"
"Yesssss…" It sounded more like the sound of air escaping than an answer, but the operator pressed on.
"Do you know what happened?"
"Dunno. I hit my head pretty hard…."
"Do you know where you are?"
"So…tired."
"I know you're tired, but I need you to stay with me. Do you understand?"
"Hmmm.."
"Blair. Stay awake. You need to stay awake until the paramedics come to get you. Okay? Do you think that you can do that for me, Blair?"
"Okay….What time is it?"
"It's 10:15 pm. Do you know where you are?"
"Wha….? What? I'm in the street, I think. Someone's after me. I have to get away from here."
"Blair. Blair, I need you to stay focused for me, okay? Do you see any street signs?"
"Man,…I don't know...Watson, I think. I lost my glasses. I can't see the sign too good."
"That's okay. Blair? You stay put. Try not to move too much, but if you're in the middle of the street, you need to move to the curb. Do you think you can do that?"
"I…I think so."
"Blair. Make sure that you don't hang up. I'm sending EMT out to you now. Stay on the line and don't hang up. Do you understand, Blair?" The operator shook her head in frustration. She felt like she was losing his concentration.
"Yeah?…..(groaning noises)"
"How are you feeling?"
"Dizzy. My head's all fuzzy."
"Blair. I want you to sit down on the curb, okay? Sit down and wait for the EMT. Is anyone else around?"
"My car. They shot up my car. Man, Jim's going to yell at me."
"Jim Ellison?" She read the APB notice that had gone out to all the operators earlier that evening. They had met once or twice at a police function.
"Yeah. Jim's my partner. Do you know him?"
"We've met. Nice guy." The operator was glad that Blair was sounding a bit more coherent now.
"Yeah, he's a good guy. I really should get going home now. Jim'll be worried."
"Uh, Blair? Jim said it would be okay of you stayed to wait for the EMT. Okay? Will you do that?"
"Jim said that? Will he come get me now?"
"He told me that he'll be there soon. Could you stay awake until he gets there?"
"I'll just wait until Jim comes…."
"Good….good…." The operator hoped that he would keep that promise.
Section 52:
The shrill ring of a cell phone woke me from a light doze in the passenger seat of the Captain's car. My head began to ache as if I hadn't slept in three days. I felt a little nauseous and disoriented.
"Banks……Hmmm. I'll be right there." He slapped the cell phone closed on his leg and slid it into his pocket. He swung the car around in a U-turn and switched on the flashing lights on the car's visor.
"They found Blair." The Captain faced me briefly.
"He's hurt. His head, I think. Are we going to meet him at the hospital?"
"Uh, yeah. How did you know?…..Wait, on second thought, I don't want to know. They said that he should be okay. He has a concussion. Somebody was shooting at him."
I shivered at the idea that Blair was being targeted the same as Jim. "Captain, don't you think it's strange that whoever is shooting at Blair and Jim knew where they were going to be even when they didn't? Is there some way that Jim and Blair are being tracked? I think that Jim would've noticed a tail. He never said anything about that, did he?" I was rambling, but I didn't care. Sometimes the stream of consciousness thinking helped me solve problems.
We pulled onto the hospital campus and we followed the signs to Emergency. "Jim didn't say anything about it to me at the hospital. I need to call the precinct and let them know what's going on. I'll meet you inside." He pulled up to the Emergency entrance to Cascade General. This was getting to be a regular routine. Not one that I'd care to continue.
I wandered around the Emergency area, careful not to extend myself too far, until I heard the now familiar strains of Blair's voice, complaining. "Look, doctor. I'm fine, really. Everything works. I don't need to stay overnight for observation. I know the procedure already. I just have a headache. You can all back off." He swiped his hand in their general direction to emphasize his feelings as I peeked around the edge of a partially-closed curtain.
I walked into the examination area and was met by Blair's strained smile. "See, Max'll take care of me, won't you? I can go home now."
"Blair! Jeez, are you okay? I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't find you. Captain Banks drove me here. He should be here in a minute." I hugged him, genuinely glad that he was okay.
"I'm fine, fine. Did they find Jim yet? Nobody'll tell me anything." Panic flared up in his voice and in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Blair. No news yet, as far as I know."
"I need to get out of here, with or against medical advice. I need to go find Jim."
"Blair, you've just been through a lot. Don't you think that you should go home and rest?"
"That's the best advice I've heard all day." Captain Banks came striding up to the pair of us. "The whole department is looking for Jim. We'll find him."
"Simon…"
"Don't Simon me! That's an order. I will drop you and Max at the loft and you will stay there until I tell you otherwise. No questions. No backtalk. Do you understand?"
Blair shrugged and looked at the floor. He knew when he was beat.
Section 53:
"Sir? Sir, are you alright?"
"Maybe we should call the cops. He's probably just drunk."
"I don't know…..You know, you could be right." Jim could hear each button on the guy's cell phone being depressed as he called 9-1-1, the sound of his skin as it was compressed onto the plastic button, the beating of his heart, his breathing, and the slight breeze ruffling his jacket. He prayed fervently that the buzzing sound wouldn't start up again. He tried to remember what Blair taught him about "dialing down his senses", but those lessons seemed so far away now. Everything seemed so far away….
"Sir, can you tell me your name?" Somebody in a blue uniform was leaning over him. Lights from an ambulance flashed off the buildings and the ground. They reverberated from behind his eyes and he blinked to try and focus. Tears streamed down his face unabated in reaction to the bright lights and multitude of other sensory input. "Sir? Can you hear me?" Somebody was asking him questions and somebody had their hand around his wrist. He pulled his arm away from them and tried to get up.
"Leave me alone!" He backed up and pushed his back up against the side of the building. The brick felt rough and cold and prickled like sandpaper on his skin. Disorientation came over him like a wave and he gave into it. He slid down to the pavement in a heap. The warm blanket of darkness again descended over his consciousness. Enough.
Section 54:
Blair could feel the dizziness just pushing on the edges of his brain, wanting to keep him from thinking clearly. He leaned a little more onto the Captain's shoulder as he and Max helped him to the car.
"Simon…"
"What, Sandburg? You are in no condition to look for Jim. I repeat, no condition. We will find Jim."
"Captain Banks, I will make sure that he stays where he is supposed to stay. I promise." Max smiled lightly and helped Blair into the Captain's sedan. She slid in next to him and held his hand. Blair squeezed her hand and fervently hoped that Jim would be waiting at the loft when he got there. The Captain remained on his cell phone for most of the drive back to the loft getting updates on the crime scene where Blair was attacked and the status of the search for Jim. Blair could barely keep his thoughts coherent and wondered fleetingly if he should have stayed for observation. He turned his head gently to avoid a searing pain flare-up and looked at Max. She had fallen asleep again and seemed to be peaceful. Well, we haven't let her have a decent night's sleep since she came here.
Blair's brain couldn't seem to manage to stay awake after watching her sleep, so he gave in as well. Next thing he knew, the Captain was shaking him awake and telling him to get upstairs to bed.
Section 55:
I felt so groggy from being woken up but felt a little relieved at the same time. I couldn't quite place why, but I was glad for it. There was entirely too much tension in my life lately. I hoped enthusiastically that this feeling meant that Jim was safe. I wanted to tell Blair, but decided not to get him too excited. I was being herded up some stairs and into Blair's loft again. Did I have a place to stay myself? I wasn't even sure anymore. I crumpled onto the couch and slipped back into the warm cocoon of sleep and wished that the morning would bring good news and a little more relief.
A grating and persistent ringing in the darkness brought me back from nowhere.
"Yes, this is Blair Sandburg. You have Jim? He's okay? Man, thank God. Thanks, Simon. I will be over at the hospital as soon as the visiting hours start. I know, I know, not before. Thanks again. See you soon." Blair put the phone back on its cradle and rushed over to me on the couch. He gave me such a crushing hug that I was a little afraid he was going to crack my ribs.
"Blair. Thank God that Jim's been found."
"Simon's at the hospital now. Jim was unconscious when they brought him in, but they could find no other injuries than the ones he had when he was brought in before. It might just be exhaustion. They'll know more in the morning when the tests come back."
"Speaking of exhaustion, you'll collapse yourself if you don't get some sleep. Come here." I gestured next to me and he slid closer to me on the couch cushion. "Let me give you a little scalp massage, it always works for me."
I had Blair lay down with his head near me. I placed my fingers on his temples and started to rub in very small circles. Before I could make three revolutions, Blair's breathing had become regular and slow. He was asleep. I must have fallen asleep myself, because I became very aware that I was dreaming.
Dark figures weaving in and out of dark trees, no sounds, no other movements. Stillness…the stillness of death. I even realized how melodramatic that seemed. Like someone was trying really hard to scare me. I looked around and saw myself in a jungle and it felt like a long time ago….
Section 56:
The antiseptic odor that pervaded everything told him instantly where he was. For once, he was glad. At least his mind felt more coherent. He slowly opened his eyes and was relieved when he felt no shooting pains. The buzzing in his ears seemed to have subsided for now. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep, but he had to know if Blair was okay. He moved his hand over to the call button and depressed it.
The nurse strode in a few minutes later. "Detective Ellison. You're awake. How do you feel?" the nurse asked while adjusting his IV site.
"Okay, I guess. What time is it?"
"Three a.m., Thursday morning." Holy shit. What the hell happened to yesterday? He didn't remember much of anything about it. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"
"Water would be good, thanks." After she left to fill up the pink plastic pitcher that had been sitting on his nightstand, Jim reached for the phone and dialed his familiar home number.
"Hello?" An achingly familiar, but sleepy, voice answered the phone. Thank God he was all right.
"Hey, Chief. It's Jim. Are you okay?"
"Jim!!!? Man, am I glad to hear your voice. The question is are you okay? We had a hell of a time finding you. Where have you been?…." Blair asked about a half dozen more questions before he stopped to take a breath.
"Whoa, Blair. I'm fine, I think. I have no idea where I've been, I don't remember much from the last day or so."
"I'm coming over to see you in about….4 hours. Okay? Simon won't let me come over until visiting hours. Something about getting sleep. I did get into a little scrape earlier this past evening. I'll tell you about it when I see you. It's nothing. As long as you're safe. Get some rest and I'll see you soon. We'll figure all of this out in the morning. "
"Sounds good, Chief. See you soon."
"Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're okay."
"Me, too."
Jim could hear the sigh of relief that escaped his partner's lips as he was hanging up the phone. He heard the nurse return with the water as he drifted back off to sleep.
He found himself in the jungle, talking with one of his Special Ops teammates, whom everyone called "Boss", who died in the helo crash. Jim thought it was strange that he was talking to him when he knew that his fellow officer was supposed to be dead. Maybe there was a mistake. But Jim knew there wasn't.
What was he talking about? He could barely hear what he was saying over the din of the helicopter warming up. Things seemed to be too loud.
"Ellison, you with me here? If this operation doesn't go smoothly, I want you to give this to my brother, okay? His name's Michael. He's in Los Angeles." Boss pushed a small pocket watch into Jim's hands. "Promise me."
"I promise…"
Section 57:
Blair had sincerely hoped that it had been one hell of a party because his head felt like it could explode if he were to cough or sneeze or something. Memories of the past few days came flooding back as well as the realization that Jim was okay and that he was okay. Okay? Okay. Everyone's okay. Enough of that. Need to call Simon and find out what the hell was going on around here.
Before he could pick up the phone, it rang.
"Hello?"
"Blair, this is Simon."
"Wow, how did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Know that I was just about to call you and beat me to it?"
"Blair, nothing mystical about it, I guess I've just been hanging around the two of you for too long."
"Any news about who did this to Jim?"
"Forensics just got done with the scene. The suspect had to have been a sharpshooter, no one else could have made the shot form where we think the shooter was standing. We were able to trace the bullets to a specialty outfit in California. We're trying to reach the owner now. If it were anyone else but Jim, they would've been killed. I'm in the process of convincing the lab staff that Jim must've dropped something on the floor of the truck at the time of the shooting, leaned over to get it and was extremely lucky. How else could he have avoided being shot?" The anxiety from having to cover for the pair crept subtly into the Captain's voice.
"It seems weird, though, that the shooter knew where Jim was going to be, when I don't think Jim even knew where he was going." Blair paused for a moment to consider that thought.
"Is that the route that Jim usually takes home?"
"Not often, but once in awhile when he's coming from the University and there's traffic on Green Street, I guess. It would've been a long shot, no pun intended, if they were waiting for him to drive past."
"You're right. We need to take a closer look at Jim's car. Maybe the shooter had help in tracking Jim's movements." Simon wished he had asked the forensic team to do a more thorough check when he had been at the garage earlier that evening. Would've saved some time and trouble.
"Like some kind of electronic surveillance?"
"Yeah. I need to talk to Forensics again and I'll get back to you. Oh, by the way, how are you holding up?"
"Okay, considering. I'm getting used to living through concussions, you know. I'll talk to you later, Simon. Thanks for everything."
"Don't mention it." With those words, the Captain hit the 'End' button on his phone to dial the Forensics lab. Both of the men knew how much looking out for the other meant. Keeping it light just helped the both of them deal with the situation.
Blair hung up the phone and tried not to think about the oppressive pain that was encircling his brain right now. He was saving his pain pills until he really needed them. Until then, he needed to be able to think straight.
Section 58:
During the night I continually had dreams about the donut shop. Thinking about what I should have done. Those piercing eyes and the hatred that flowed from the masked shooter like lava. That poor girl who never had a chance. The terrified patrons on the floor. No, this wasn't just a random act of violence. There was a deliberate-ness about it. And the fact that Jim and Blair were involved did not seem to be surprising to the shooter…… It was expected.
I woke up with a mission in mind. I quickly got dressed in the last remaining tee shirt that I had with me and pulled on the same jeans I had been wearing for days now. God, it seemed like months. I padded out to the living room and saw Blair sitting on the couch with his eyes closed and a hand placed on his forehead, as if he were trying to hold his brain in his skull. His head must be killing him. I sat down next to him and started rubbing his temples. It seemed to work last time. He groaned in what I hoped was relief.
"Blair, this is going to seem weird to you…."
"You know every time you start a sentence with that, I know you're going to tell me something that neither Jim or the Captain would appreciate. Am I right?
"Um, yeah. I guess so. I dreamt about the donut shop. The shooter knew that you and Jim were going to be involved in the case. It was if he set it up to force you to become involved."
"I think you may be right. There were a lot of little things that didn't make sense. Killing that girl for no reason. For such a small amount of money. They left enough forensic evidence to show their prowess, but not enough to track them down exactly. Make us work for it. Professionals, that's for sure. Jim probably had a lot of this worked out already, he usually does. I'm going to see Jim and talk with Simon. Do you want to come?" Blair started to get up, but faltered. "I guess my balance hasn't returned yet."
"I should make sure that you don't fall flat on your face."
"That would be most appreciated."
Section 59:
Jim's body protested only slightly less than the past few days as he attempted to get out of bed. He had to get out and do something. Anything. All of this sitting around was getting him nowhere. The terrorists from the donut shop are still out there, not to mention the shooter who tried to kill me. And what was this "scrape" Blair had eluded to in their conversation last night. That kid always seemed to manage to get into trouble. Being in the hospital and leaving Blair vulnerable… Jim swallowed down the shudder that ran through his body. He couldn't let that go on. He stood up and waited for the wave of vertigo to pass. Anything that was wrong with him would have to wait until he figured out what the hell was going on. He carefully removed his IV with the practiced hand of a medic and an on-again-off-again patient. He shuffled over to the closet and found the remainder of the clothes that he had left from his previous attempt at escape.
As he pulled on a long-sleeve button down shirt, he paused. The familiar footfalls of his Captain echoed in his ears. He finished his task and waited for the man to appear and launch into his "What the hell do you think you're doing?" speech. Jim sat down on the edge of the bed as he tried to pull on his white sport socks without setting off waves of pain in his head.
"Ellison! What the hell?!…." Simon started to bellow as he entered the hospital room.
"Simon, don't bother. I already know what you're going to say. I have to figure all of this out, and then I'll take some time off and recover, okay? I'm the only one who can do this."
"Jim, getting yourself more injured is not going to help anyone. Not you and not Blair. Do you understand me, Ellison?" He glared at Jim, but knew that no matter what he said the stubborn detective was going to do what he wanted anyway.
Jim got up from the bed very deliberately and walked slowly to the door. "I'll figure this out and then I'll rest, I promise."
"Yeah, I bet you will." Simon knew better than to waste his breath on the Sentinel. His protective instincts overruled all other reason.
Section 60:
By the time that Blair and Max had arrived at the hospital, Simon had been there for close to an hour. Blair found him sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs that only hospitals have, glaring at the wall in Jim's empty room.
"Um, Simon? Is there something you want to tell me?"
"Your partner has decided to sign himself out AMA. Something about wanting to find out about what's going on, something about how he was the only one who could." Simon hissed the words out.
"Simon, tell me you're not surprised. Do you know where he went?…Ohhh." Blair sat down as a wave of dizziness fuzzed his vision.
"Don't tell me that you still feel like shit."
"Umm, okay, I won't. But, I, of course, will not let that stop me." His head was starting to pound again. Maybe he should've stayed in bed.
"You shouldn't be encouraging him in this." The Captain spoke towards Max.
"Sir, I am just following orders. I intend to at least keep him out of trouble." Max said as straight as she could manage.
"Good luck with that. Trouble follows him around like a lost puppy, only not as cute." With those words, the Captain stood up and strode out of the room. If he ran into Jim or Blair again anytime soon, he would have to scream.
"Okay, then. To the Batmobile, Robin." He was definitely not feeling like himself. But this wasn't unpleasant, so he decided to follow this giddy line of thought.
"Holy headaches, Batman. Whatever you say."
Blair heard himself laughing hysterically. He definitely should have stayed in bed.
Section 61:
Jim found himself back at the donut shop, feeling like he was attending a funeral of sorts. Everything was still and quiet. He took down the yellow "Police Line- Do not cross." tape from across the front entrance, opened the door and entered. The pervasive sweet smell of sugar and filling swirled around him, but he filtered that out. He was looking for something more, something out of place. He was able to pick up the gunpowder residue odor again, and the familiarity of it tugged at the back of his mind. He flashed to a dream.
He could barely hear what he was saying over the din of the helicopter warming up. Things seemed to be too loud. He knew he should be doing something to stop it. Something bad was about to happen.
"Ellison, you with me here? If this operation doesn't go smoothly, I want you to give this to my brother, okay? His name's Michael. He's in Los Angeles." The Captain pushed a small pocket watch into Jim's hands. "Promise me."
"I promise…"
So, it was Army issued firepower. Or at the very least, something very similar. Blair had been right. Holleran. Captain Brian Holleran. What did he have to do with this? He was the munitions expert and a sharpshooter from his Black Ops team. But he died with the rest of them in the crash. He wasn't sure what to do with that thought now, but filed it away in his mind for future reference.
He walked into the back room where that kid, Daniel Waters, was hiding when his co-worker, Gail Herman, was shot. He saw faint scuffmarks where Daniel must have crouched under the work counter. Fingerprints where he held onto the table. The ridges stood up like little mountains in the flour on the tabletop. He heard the high-pitched whine of electronics and traced it back to a phone line, not five feet away from where Daniel was hiding. The phone unit itself was missing. He looked around for any surveillance cameras, anything that could possibly tell him what had happened out of the immediate line of sight from the cash register's camera. No such luck. He would have to get Claire to release the surveillance tape of what they had and see if he could get anything from that.
He looked down at the floor and perceived a footpath that seemed to suggest pacing. He wasn't sure if that would be the necessary work path the bakers made everyday, or it was from another reason. The line traveled from just inside the door to just in front of the work counter. It seemed to be one set of footfalls, but it was hard to tell. Only one person may have been on-duty that morning as the baker. There was a bit of a swirl into where the footprints from Daniel were located under the counter. Interesting. He would have to talk to the manager to find out what the standard procedures were for baking at the restaurant.
Jim decided he would try another sense to see if he could determine anything else from the scene. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and blew out slowly, trying to center himself as Blair had taught him countless times before. He drew air in equally as slow and opened up hi senses to pick up anything out of the ordinary. He let his instincts guide him. They were rarely wrong.
Section 62:
Knowing Jim's motives, we both knew where we could find him. I pulled into the parking lot of the donut shop and nodded as I saw Jim's truck parked nearby.
"Looks like we found our man."
"Oh man, oh man, my head hurts. Hurts. We need to see what the hell's going on." Blair pitched drunkenly out of the car and staggered to his feet. I ran around to the other side of the car and helped him out.
"Blair, you really should be at home resting. You look terrible."
"Well, that's okay then, because I feel terrible. Need to find Jim. C'mon." He started pulling me towards the shop. The yellow police line tape was flapping in the slight breeze that swirled around us. I could feel the death in the shop like it was a tangible thing. It surrounded all of us, as if challenging us to dispel it.
I deposited Blair on a nearby chair and made my way into the kitchen area where I heard Jim scratching around. I looked through the porthole in the door and saw Jim crouched down on the floor, head cocked, staring into space. I put my hand on the door to open it and I received a very strong flash.
"He said that all they were going to do was rob the place, wave the guns around a little bit. That's all. How am I going to get out of this?" The boy that I saw at the shop earlier was pacing around the back room murmuring to himself. I stood quietly and waited for something else to happen. I instinctively knew in order to stay in the vision that I could not react emotionally to what I was seeing. I had to remain detached. I could figure it all out later.
The boy and I both flinched when we heard the gunshot. I ducked at the same time that he did. He reached for the phone just as the door swung open and crashed against the side of the preparation table.
"Ah, there you are, Danny boy. Ever the courageous one, aren't we? I took care of your problem. Don't ever, ever, let that happen again." The man in black with those intense eyes poked Danny in the leg with the butt of his automatic weapon. "What we do is our business, not your girlfriends, not your neighbor's, not anyone's. You understand? Next time, it'll be you. You are only allowed one mistake."
"I understand, Michael. I'm sorry. Really, I am. Never happen again." Danny whimpered as he slowly stood up with his hands up, palms facing the man in black.
"Stay here. We're almost done here." Michael ripped the phone out of the wall and took it with him. "You won't be needing this."
"Whatever you say."
Michael crashed back out into the main store area.
"Max? Max, you alright?"
"Holy, shit. I saw what happened back here. The man in black is named Michael. He knew that kid Daniel. Michael killed the girl on purpose. Because she knew something." I sat down hard on the floor. Somehow it made me feel a little better.
Blair turned and looked at his partner. "Jim, you okay? I come in here and find the both of you zoned out."
Jim blinked and slowly rose from his crouched position. "Blair? Blair. Good to see you. Feeling okay? You don't look so good."
"You don't look so hot either, Jim. Looks like we're the walking wounded." Blair cracked a smile and squeezed Jim's shoulder. Jim responded by nodding and smiling back.
"I think we may have just found our missing link." Jim turned to me. "What did you say about the guys you saw?"
"That kid, Daniel, was back here when everything went down. He is a friend of that poor girl who was killed. He may have been something more. He knew to come back here, like he knew what was going to happen. At least partly. He seemed pretty upset about the whole thing. Like it wasn't going the way he thought it was. One of the guys in black, whom I get the impression was in charge of this operation, is named Michael. Michael said something about a girlfriend knowing something and that he'd taken care of it." I drew in a breath and looked over at the two men. Blair was starting to waver on his feet so he leaned against the wall.
"There were a few other things that I noticed. Maybe you could help explain them, too. The phone jack there had a phone attached to it recently. The line still has service. The swirl marks on the floor here", he pointed to faint flour marks on the floor, "….seem to indicate someone was pacing. Those marks on the floor would support someone in here waiting for the activity in the shop to occur." Jim told us. He took a second and stared back at the phone jack. He nodded to himself and then was quiet as looked back at Blair and me.
I relayed the whole flash that I had seen and it seemed to support what Jim had observed. Although as hard as I looked, I couldn't see any swirl marks on the floor. He must have really good eyesight.
"I wish that I could've seen him. Maybe it would spark something else to look into. Style of dress, type of weapon, stance, something like that. He does sound military, maybe a wanna-be. Maybe we should go down to the station and check the database for matches, maybe meet with the sketch artist. We couldn't use any of this for evidence, but at least we'd have something to work from." Jim pushed open the door back into the main area of the store. I nodded and followed him out.
Why would Jim be zoned out?
Section 63:
Blair was feeling definitely tipsy and was fighting very hard to stay vertical and conscious. He should've stayed in bed. Maybe Max would come with him. He smiled slightly at that thought. He knew he's have to come up with some sort of cover story for Jim's behavior in the store, but somehow he knew that Max would understand. He and Jim had accepted her abilities relatively easily, hadn't they? That would certainly count for something. He knew that he was starting to babble, so he tried to focus on something else. He followed Jim and Max out into the main area of the store and looked around. It was eerie, being there with no one else. Death hanging in the air.
"Let's get out of here, Chief."
Blair nodded and followed Jim and Max out to the car.
Section 64:
Jim's mind was reeling after everything that he has experienced at the donut shop. It virtually smacked of familiarity, but he couldn't put his finger on it, so to speak. A surge of relief washed over him as Blair opened the door to the loft. He filed right upstairs to lie down on his bed. He kicked his shoes off onto the floor, which he normally wouldn't do, but he really didn't seem to care at that moment. He didn't bother to change into sweats before he fell asleep, his military precision lost in exhaustion.
He kept coming back to the jungle, where everything in his life changed. Incacha was there, but he wasn't talking or even looking at Jim. Everything was quiet and still, unnaturally so. His teammates were moaning in pain and asking for help. Jim found that he couldn't move from where he was in the clearing. Blair walked into the scene. He walked by Incacha and the helicopter wreckage and straight towards Jim.
"Jim, what are you doing here? Can't you see that they need help? Why don't you help them?"
"I can't move, Chief. I don't think I can save them."
"Remember him, Jim."
Section 65:
I sat at the kitchen table with a mug of hot coffee in my hands, enjoying the warmth that it was spreading into my palms and fingers. God, everything hurt. I tried really hard not to think about the damned donut shop anymore. My brain was fried about the whole thing, from trying to figure out what happened to the flashes and the headaches. Blair was conked out on the couch. It seemed all of us go from crisis to crashing to crisis again, no middle ground. Rainier U. seemed to be a million miles away right now. I didn't even care about the classes I would be responsible for in just a few weeks. I had to, needed to, get this whole thing resolved before I could move on. I looked over at Blair. He seemed to have a peaceful expression on his face and I was glad. I hoped he was getting a little reprieve from all of this.
What had happened to me, to us, in the space of one week was nothing short of amazing. I was pulled into another world of which I knew nothing. It did feel kind of good that I was able to help someone with my abilities. I was never able to do that before. Because what difference did it make to someone about something that happened in the past? Things had changed so much in my thinking about my life. On top of that, I was falling for Blair. I fervently hoped that it wasn't only because we've been through hell together. I knew that it was more than that for me, but what about him? I just didn't know how he felt about me. And now, of course, was not the time to ask. I will need to know.
Section 66:
Jim woke with a start and sat upright. He knew what he needed to do. He ran down the stairs and started pulling drawers open in every cabinet and desk, looking for it. The watch. Where the hell did he put that damned watch? It was the key to everything and he had it the whole time. A snatch of another dream came back to him.
"Ellison, are you with me? If this operation doesn't go smoothly, I want you to give this to my brother, okay? His name's Michael. In Los Angeles." Boss pushed a small pocket watch into Jim's hands. "Promise me."
"I promise…"
Was that the connection he was looking for? It was connected to him the whole time. The sniper attacks had to be connected to the donut shop murder. They were too deliberate and perfect not to be. Just then, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small scrap of cloth enclosing a badly tarnished pocket watch. He laid it gently in the palm of his hand as he slowly unwrapped it. Blair and Max stood quietly behind him. Jim ran his sensitive fingertips over the front case of the watch and felt the detailed engravings. This was quality work. He heard a small snick as he depressed the button on the side of the case that exposed the watch face. It was unscathed, even after all this time. He turned the watch slightly to read the inscription on the inside of the front cover. "To Lieutenant Charles Holleran for Outstanding Bravery, U.S. Army, Special Forces, Alpha Company, August 4, 1952"
"We're looking for a Michael Holleran. We need to start a search in Los Angeles from 1975."
Section 67:
An hour later, Jim and Blair were sitting at the computer searching the NCIC database for any matches to a Michael Holleran or a Charles Holleran in Los Angeles and vicinity since 1970, the furthest back the computer had records in the database.
"Damn this computer! It's so slow." Jim burst out as he slammed his hand down on the top of his desk.
"Jim, relax. It's going as fast as it usually does. It has to search through millions of files. And please don't make so much noise. My head still kind of hurts, you know."
"Sandburg, you're not the only one in pain, here." He started to raise his voice, then stopped. "Sorry. I'll express my frustration a little bit quieter next time. " He sat in silence again for a few seconds.
Blair unconsciously chewed on the end of his pen as he waited for the computer to produce some leads. Finally, a listing of all matches showed up on the screen. He depressed the "Print Screen" button and waited for the printer to produce the means by which they would catch their killer.
As Blair started to review the list, Jim snatched it out of his hands and began his frenetic search for a particular match. "Hey! I was reading that."
"You can read it in a second, Chief. I know what I'm looking for." He quickly scanned the list for anyone connected to a Captain Brian "Boss" Holleran, U.S. Army. He couldn't suppress a thought that rose unbidden from the back of this mind. This was all because of me.
One name. Lt. Michael James Holleran, 32, dishonorably discharged from the U.S. Army, September 23, 2002 for assaulting a superior officer. Brother to Brian Holleran, son of Charles Holleran. Connected to Jim by death. The cashier's death and Boss's death in the jungle eight years ago.
"We've found our man. Let's go." Jim stood up, printout in hand, and strode purposefully out of the bullpen.
Section 68:
"Jim, don't you think we should let the Captain in on this? Get a little backup? We're in no shape to have a run-in with this guy." Man, do I sound like Simon or what?
"This was all because of me. Calculated, deliberate, specifically for me to see and understand. It just took so long for me to see it." Jim stopped in front of the elevator and depressed the 'Down' button.
"What are you talking about? How can that be?" Blair could tell that the heavy mantel of guilt was again around the Sentinel's shoulders.
"He's been watching me, looking for patterns and ways to get at me, subtly. I didn't even pick up on it until a little while ago. I think everything is connected to him. The donut shop, the sniper attack on me and you, everything."
"Why?" Blair asked quietly, as he looked at the floor of the elevator.
"I guess he thinks that I shouldn't have been the one to survive in the crash. Hell if I know what's going on in this lunatic's head. He holds me responsible for his brother's death. How the hell should I know?" Jim clenched his jaw as he stared at the changing floor numbers on the panel while the elevator continued its descent.
"Jim, you know that you couldn't have saved anyone in that crash. You were lucky to have survived yourself. It's not your fault. It's some crazy militant who thinks that exacting revenge will somehow make him feel better." He put his hand on Jim's shoulder in a vain effort to comfort the taller man.
"I should have caught on to this sooner. He was leaving clues all over the place. Ones that I should have seen."
"C'mon, Jim. The crash was eight years ago. Why would you think that it would be showing up now?"
"Because it always seems to come back."
Section 69:
Jim and Blair had dragged me into the police station with them this morning and forced me to sit down with a sketch artist and work out the man I saw in my original flash in the coffee shop. The man we now knew as Michael Holleran. Jim said he just wanted to confirm things. He had already pulled a few strings to get a copy of Holleran's Army personnel file.
When I had finished with the artist, I went up to the seventh floor in an attempt to find Jim and Blair. The receptionist told me that they had just left. Great. Well, I probably should go to the University anyway and pick up my books and slides for my upcoming class.
I took a taxi over the University and had the driver drop me at the bookstore. The clerk said that my materials had been delivered to Hargrove Hall, B-12. Blair's office. I guess he made arrangements to pick up all of our materials together. That was nice. I wandered slowly down the hallway to Blair's office, wondering if this would all get resolved soon. I needed to wrap my mind around other things. Namely my class, my research, my grant, and important things like the rest of my life. I tried the door handle of Blair's office and found it was unlocked. I opened the door slowly and peeked in. The room was dark and quiet. I flipped on the light switch and sucked in my breath as I saw a figure sitting at Blair's desk!
I backed out of the room and turned to run down the hallway when the person had impossibly made it around the desk and close enough to me to grab my shoulders. I opened my mouth to scream but was assailed by a flash.
"Report!" The now familiar intense flashing eyes glared at a younger man, dressed in black fatigues. They were both standing in a nearly dark warehouse. Large storage boxes and skids were strewn about. The air was oppressive with humidity.
"Sir, our intelligence shows that Ellison has a roommate, a Blair Sandburg, who works at Rainier University in the Anthropology department. Sandburg also works with Ellison in Major Crimes."
"Good work. Anyone else?"
"Ellison is seen with the Captain of his division, Simon Banks. He has a son who is in his sophomore year at Cascade Senior High School."
"Possibilities there. Anything else?"
"There's a girl, we haven't yet been able to find out her name. She's staying with Ellison and Sandburg. The neighbors didn't know anything. We're still investigating."
"Good work, soldier. I expect a status report in twelve hours."
"Yes, sir!" The younger soldier saluted, spun around on his heels in military precision and strode away from the older man.
Oh god, it was him! I'm screwed! I tried to struggle but I began to fade out as I felt a sharp prick on my upper arm. Shit!
"You'll do…." was the last thing I heard before I slid into the darkness….