It Only Hurts When I Laugh
Chapter 3 – One Down and Two To Go
"Do you have any children, Mike?" Mark asked. Mark found the change in Mike's expression was startling. His face softened and the hardened look in his eyes disappeared.
"Yes," Mike responded quietly. "I have a ten year old son."
Finally a common bond! Mark exclaimed to himself.
"Do you get to see him often?" Mark questioned.
"No, his mother doesn't really approve of me," Mike responded sadly. "The last time I was in prison, she went to court and got full custody. I had always said I would be a better dad than my father was, but obviously that hasn't happened."
"My dad was never around when I was growing up," Jesse added. "I would have given anything for things to have been different."
Mark nodded his appreciation for Jesse's help then spoke again to Mike. "There is still a chance for you to play a role in his life."
"How do you figure that? This is my third felony, if I go away this time it's for a long time. I figure I might as well go out in a blaze of glory," he replied coldly.
Disconcerted by Mike's last statement Mark proceeded with caution. "Mike, as long as you are alive there are options. He might have to visit you in prison but you would still get the opportunity to get to know him. I can speak from experience as to what a blessing a child can be in your life."
"Mark's right," Jesse said. "Though I regret not having my dad around when I was younger, things have gotten better in recent years. I appreciate that opportunity."
Mike looked at each of them and wondered if what they said was true. Could he really have a future with his son? Further contemplation was halted by the sound of gunfire from the kitchen.
~~****~~
Steve swam back to consciousness like a swimmer through rough and choppy waters. It felt as if a brass band had taken up residence in his head. He willed himself to further alertness and became aware of the sounds around him. He heard what sounded like a struggle and muffled shrieks. In that moment his memory returned with such force that it was painful. He opened his eyes and through his blurry vision he saw Jay across the room straddling Amanda. All he could see were her legs and they were bound. With a determination born of necessity he righted himself as quietly as possible and began the task of bracing his back against the wall to help him stand. That accomplished he paused for a moment before lowering his shoulder and running towards Jay. His approach was not silent and as he approached them Jay turned and grabbed his gun which lay beside him on the floor. He fired at the figure hurtling towards him. Steve felt the burning pain slice across his abdomen, but his momentum continued to carry him forward. He hit Jay with full force knocking him back towards the wall which his head and neck impacted with a sickening crunch. Steve stood slightly above him panting and took note of the odd angle of Jay's head. He then glanced back towards Amanda to see blood streaming from her head and tears filling her eyes. The rush of adrenaline that had propelled him began to fade and his vision became tunneled. His next view of Amanda was a sideward glance as he lay on the floor beside her. He heard the sounds of running feet and then allowed the oblivion to claim him once again.
~~****~~
The occupants of the dining area had all reacted to the gunshot in the same way. Startled glances, and quick movements towards the kitchen. Despite his age Mark arrived first and took in the scene before him. "No," he cried before continuing across the room to his fallen son and Amanda. Jesse was quickly by his side and joined him on the floor to examine them. Mike and Stan had stopped just inside the door and were observing the scene that was playing out in front of them.
"Jay don't look so good," Stan said.
"You're right…, you there…, Jesse, right? Check on Jay," Mike ordered.
"I will NOT," Jesse exclaimed. "When I get through with my friends I will take a look at him, but not before."
"Jesse, you will do as I say or I will put a bullet in the cop's head and eliminate the need for further care," Mike replied succinctly.
After a nod from Mark, Jesse rose to his feet and moved towards Jay. He placed two fingers on the pulse in his neck and waited patiently. "I don't have a pulse." He then examined the back of the neck and head. The bottom part of the head felt mushy and when Jesse pulled his hand away it was covered in blood and another substance that Jesse recognized immediately. The impact of Jay's head with the wall had caused it to bust open like a watermelon dropped from a truck. His skull had been fractured and pressed into the brain. There was no need for a further examination. "He's dead," Jesse said in an emotionless voice.
"Then I need you here Jesse," Mark responded. Mark had lifted Steve's shirt to reveal a bleeding wound on Steve's left side. The bullet had carved a deep trough. He had been trying to apply pressure to the wound as well as release Amanda from her restraints. He had pulled her rumpled clothing down as best he could under the circumstances. When he had gotten the dirty dishrag that Jay had shoved in her mouth out, he had quietly asked her if she was ok. Through her sobs she had told him that Steve had gotten to her in time. Jay had been unable to do her any harm. Mark took note of the nasty gash on her forehead, the bruising around her neck and the tear filled eyes and realized that her statement was not completely true. Harm had been done. Both physical, and mental. He released her to Jesse's tender care and concentrated his efforts on his still unresponsive son. He had been quietly calling his name as he evaluated the latest assault on his already beleaguered body. "Steve," he called once again. This time his efforts were rewarded by a slight twitch. "Steve," he tried softly. A tongue flicked out to moisten dry bloody lips and Mark could see the beginnings of blue in the slightly cracked eyelids. "Come on, Son," Mark encouraged. His coaxing finally succeeded in bringing Steve back to awareness.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Son, I'm right here," Mark responded.
"Amanda?" Steve gasped.
"Is fine," Mark replied reassuringly.
The shock and residual pain from his previous injuries, coupled with the latest insult to his body was making it difficult to talk, but he persisted. "Good, I was afraid I was too late." Steve flinched slightly as his father continued to probe his side. "How bad is it?"
"All things considered, not that bad," Mark replied. Mark rose from his son's side. "I'm going to try and find some towels to clean you up." As Mark moved away he left his son unprotected and Stan got the opportunity he had been waiting for. He moved quickly towards Steve and drew back his foot and cruelly kicked Steve in his wounded side. Steve gasped in pain as he felt something in his side give with the impact. Jesse and Amanda jumped up in an effort to protect Steve but they were both surprised by the figure that came flying by them with a frying pan in his hand. Mark descended upon Stan, knocking the gun from his hand and continued to beat him about the hands, arms and upper body.
"Stop!" screamed Mike. "Stop now or I'll kill him."
Mark stopped and turned to find Mike had dragged Steve to his knees and now held him by the hair with the point of his gun grinding into Steve's temple. One look at his son and the target for Mark's rage changed. "Let him go," Mark demanded.
"Look, old man, you seem like a decent guy and I really don't want to hurt you, but I have no qualms about making your son's life miserable. Do you understand?" Mike explained. "Anything else that anyone tries, the cop is responsible for, and he will pay the consequences."
"I understand, just let me take care of him," Mark responded. Mike nodded his agreement and released his grip on Steve's hair. Without that support Steve dropped heavily to the ground with a grunt. Mark quickly moved back to his side. "Steve, stay awake for me, ok?"
"I'll try," was Steve's weak response. "Dad, my side really hurts and I can't feel my hands."
"Jesse, help me lean him forward," Mark requested. As he sat Steve up and moved to look at his hands he winced at what he saw. The cuffs had ground deeply into his wrists and they were raw and bleeding. Mark turned pleading eyes towards Mike. "Can you please take these off so that we can bandage his wrists?" Mark asked.
"The cuffs stay on; the last time we took them off he attacked me. I won't make that mistake again," Mike responded.
Knowing he would be unable to persuade him to change his mind, Mark turned his attention back to the care of his son. "Steve, we are going to lay you on your right side to relieve the pressure on your hands." With a nod to Jesse, they slowly moved Steve down and over to his side. Mark then began to inspect the damage to Steve's left side. The bullet wound though deep did not appear serious. With gentle fingers he felt for evidence of broken or cracked ribs. The brief examination confirmed his fear that the kick Stan had inflicted had broken a rib. He momentarily moved his gaze towards that figure and noticed with a small amount of joy that he was nursing a few wounds of his own.
~~****~~
Cheryl was frustrated. The curtains on the windows of Bob's had been closed tightly right after this whole stand-off had started. The sound of a second gunshot had sent her stomach plummeting towards her feet. She had barely stopped herself from rushing towards the door. Only the fear of Simon Ward really sending her home as he had threatened halted her. "Should we call his cell phone again?" Cheryl inquired.
Simon Ward looked up from the file he was reading. "In a minute."
"What have you got there?" Cheryl inquired.
"I had the plates from any cars left around the bank run. I had the DMV get me the pictures of the owners. Then we compared those pictures to the security film at the bank and I think we have identified one of our friends inside. His name is Mike Brightman. He has been in trouble most of his life. This will be his third strike." Simon completed.
"So he has nothing to lose," Cheryl stated.
"I would agree with that Detective Banks, now let's make that call."
~~****~~
Steve found himself once again nestled in the comforting warmth of Amanda's lap. With a feather-like touch she caressed his hair and whispered soft words of encouragement as his father and Jesse bandaged his side and did the best they could with his wrists. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
"Sorry for what," she inquired affectionately.
"For letting him hurt you, I should have let it happen," he responded with more than a touch of guilt.
The smile that appeared on Amanda's face was a combination of sorrow and affection. "Steve, you saved me, I don't know where you found the strength to do it, but I love you for it."
The way he was lying in her lap prevented him from seeing her eyes but he instinctively knew that he would see the sincerity of her words reflected in their deep brown depths. He sighed lightly and allowed his head to sink more deeply into the comforting softness of her lap. The moment was quickly broken by the sound of his phone ringing.
"What?" Mike barked.
"Mike?" Simon Ward inquired.
'Well, aren't you the smart one?" Mike responded.
"Is everyone alright in there?" Simon asked.
"For the most part, Lieutenant Sloan seems to be a bit clumsy and keeps banging himself up," Mike replied with a slight smile.
"Does he need medical assistance?" Simon asked.
Mike's laughter was loud and boisterous. "He's in here with three doctors, how many do you think we need?"
"Ok, what about some medical supplies?" Simon inquired.
"Nope, Doctor Sloan seems to be real good at making do with what he has," Mike answered.
"Can I talk with Lieutenant Sloan?" Simon requested.
Mike considered his request for a moment. "No, but I'll let you talk to his father."
Mark rubbed his hands on his pants to clean the residual blood from them and then reached for the phone. "Mark Sloan," he identified himself.
"Doctor Sloan, Lieutenant Simon Ward here, how are things in there?"
"Steve is in pretty bad shape, Doctor Bentley has a head wound and these two guys seem to be intent on their demands being met," Mark responded.
A brief smile touched Steve's lips as he realized what his father had done. Way to go Dad.
"You said two Doctor Sloan, has something happened to one of the robbers?" Simon asked.
"You're dead on with that thought Lieutenant Ward," Mark responded.
Again the smile graced Steve's lips.
"Ok, enough," Mike stated as he took the phone from Mark. "In one hour we are walking out of here. There had better be a car waiting by the front door, and it better have a full tank of gas. We will be taking a couple of guests with us. If these demands aren't met I will kill one of the hostages, every fifteen minutes after that another hostage will die. Do I make myself clear?"
Simon Ward took a deep breath before responding. "Yes, I understand."
"What?" Cheryl barked as he hung up the phone.
"I'm afraid we are about to start losing hostages," he responded.
