Part 14 Finding them.
The small part of Jesse's mind that registered the orange flash for what it was, was forever lost in the sea of connections that were made when the shock wave of heat and debris hit him, picking him up and flinging him backwards across the street. He landed hard on his back and the world phased out.
--
Nathan wasn't sure how long it was between Jesse's shouted warning and the point at which he shook his head and pushed himself, somewhat awkwardly, to a sitting position. It couldn't have been long because their was still a rolling coil of fine dust that seemed to curl endlessly in the air before settling in waves across the tarmac. He blinked the dust from his eyes, taking in first the sight of the flames that licked up the wall from one of the windows of the apartment block, then he focussed on the patches of burning debris on the sidewalk. along with lumps of stone. He pushed himself to his knees and then to a shaking standing position as he caught sight of the dark uniformed body lying sprawled across the steps that led up into the building. Coughing he started to move forward, his attention on the still figure. He turned and tried not to wretch when he got close enough to see that the young officer was beyond help. Damn, he had only spoken to him moments earlier.
He looked up into the doorway, black smoke still billowed out. To enter the building would be foolhardy, even if he were at his best, he looked down at his grimy and bloodied clothing, he definitely wasn't at his best.
He turned his attention to his immediate surroundings. He looked up and down the street and realised that there was an almost eerie lack of movement, not that there had been much happening before. At this time of the day most people would be at work or school, and it wasn't the sort of neighbourhood where you ventured outside without a goal in mind. It seemed strange though that there wasn't more reaction to the blast.
He looked for his car, if the radio was still working he needed to call this in, he took a stumbling step forward, belatedly beginning to take stock of how he was feeling, a thundering roar in his ears powered a growing headache His clothes were torn and his arm was bleeding from a large gash. There were dull aches from every part of his body, coughing again, he made it as far as the curb before sinking down.
--
Steve took the printed out sheets from Amanda and dropped them onto the bed in front of him, picking up the first one with his good hand, so that he could read it more easily. He spoke without looking at her. "I need you to get a list of all hospital admissions in the last 24 hours, including the private patients."
Amanda's mind worked rapidly, connecting Steve's requests, she picked up the phone, calling for the information, before asking him about them. "Surely you don't think they're keeping Mark here in the hospital? He'd have been recognised, everyone knows him."
Steve looked up from the sheets he was speed reading through. "Everything else that has happened so far has been written into the story, right?"
Amanda nodded at the question.
"Even when she had to repost parts of a chapter to get the order of events to match what was happening here?"
Amanda nodded again.
"Then why not put something in about kidnapping a doctor if you were going to, or already had done it? I mean she posted a chapter about your attack. Why not change the existing chapter or put something in the new chapter?"
Amanda couldn't come up with an answer.
Steve waited only a moment before dropping his attention back to the sheets in front of him, discarding one to pick up the next.
"Here it is," he stated, about half way down the third page. "After the explosion, Dr. Romano is admitted through the ER to the burns unit." Steve swallowed before continuing, "Suffering from first and second degree burns to his arms chest and face." Suddenly a part of him wanted to be wrong about the whereabouts of his father. If the killer was sticking rigidly to what was written then they would have had to. . . He didn't even want to think about the pain that may have been inflicted, instead he focussed on the fact that they would find his father, that he was alive and somewhere in the hospital.
Amanda saw the muscle twitch in Steve's jaw as he fought for and regained his control, not sure that there was anything that she could say that would comfort him. If Steve was wrong then that meant that Mark would still be missing, but she too understood the possible implications if he was right.
There was a knock at the door and a nurse entered. "The admission lists that you wanted." She said handing a file over.
--
Nathan sat on the tailgate of the ambulance, he had been vaguely aware of the EMT's arrival and of still being seated on the curb when they had, for a while things phased in and out of his consciousness.
The fire crews and police back up had arrived at almost exactly the same time and the quiet street had descended into a chaos of activity. There was a fire to put out, buildings to be evacuated, the apartment block to check and the injured to deal with. Along with the growing army of rescue workers, and the displaced residents, curiosity finally overpowered the wariness of those who lived nearby and they were drawn out onto the sidewalks to watch the action. A trickle of news crews arrived to add to the mix as the street and sidewalks filled with vehicles and people.
Nathan was only peripherally aware of this and of his injuries being assessed and treated. It was like watching the world through a cotton wool haze. Nothing made sense until he heard the familiar tones of his Captain. Suddenly the world snapped back into focus and he pushed himself to standing.
"Captain," he shouted, ignoring the protests of the young paramedic who had been trying to complete treatment of a cut above his eye, as he moved over to join his superior.
"Detective Turner," Captain Newman turned from his briefing with the fire chief to greet his detective, studying him critically and noticing the many bandages and abrasions.
"Do we know what happened?" Nathan asked, his own memories still a little hazy.
"I was hoping that you could tell me detective," Newman supplied.
Nathan filled in the details that he could remember, Captain Newman listening quietly until he got to the part about Jesse's shouted warning.
"Dr. Travis was with you?" Newman asked, a note of tension in his voice.
Nathan looked at him slightly confused. "Yes, if it hadn't been for him I would have been inside," he swallowed, at the thought, "with the others when the explosion hit."
Newman looked around. "So he was where when the blast hit?"
Nathan's confusion was growing, he looked round and pointed to the place he had last seen the young doctor. "He was about there," He looked back to Newman, "but I don't understand, didn't the EMTs. . ."
Newman was busy summoning over some of the uniformed officers with hand gestures. "I'll get some people to check," he said, turning his attention back to Nathan briefly "but I've spoken to the people who were first on the scene, they found you and." he paused momentarily before pointing to the now covered body of the fallen officer, " and officer Brown there," he continued, " but there was no one else." He paused again before adding. "There was no sign of Dr. Travis."
--
Steve put his hand out for the file at the same time as Amanda, and the nurse looked hesitantly between them before Amanda, seeing her confusion, indicated that she should give the file to Steve.
Steve took it gratefully, wincing from the movement, but ignoring the pain in his eagerness to test his theory. He put the file into the hand of his injured arm, resting it across his chest and flicked through the pages. It was only a few moments before he grabbed one of the sheets and pulled it from the file letting the rest fall away. "Here it is," he said, triumphantly. "A patient called Romano was admitted to a private room, attended by his own nurse and doctor, late yesterday evening." He looked up from the sheet into Amanda's eyes, "He supposedly has burns to his arms, face, neck and upper chest. That would mean those areas were covered by dressings, yes?" he questioned.
Amanda nodded. "And if he was admitted as a private patient, none of the staff would have cause to check them or question his identity."
Steve pushed himself to a sitting position, clenching his jaw against the pain, and started to swing his legs round.
"Whoa," Amanda said, moving to block him. "Just where do you think you're going?"
Steve held up the piece of paper that was still tightly gripped in the hand of his good arm. "There's every possibility that this tells us where my father is, I need to find out." The determination in his tone was clear.
"Steve you're in no shape to go anywhere, not even in the hospital. You still have a chest drain in and excessive movement could dislodge that or tear the stitches in your shoulder." She fixed her gaze with his. "Let me go I'll call straight down as soon as I know anything, you won't have to wait."
Steve did not move as he considered her statement, the compulsion to go to find his father, to confirm it was him, to find out if he had been hurt, was so strong that for a moment he wasn't sure that he had conscious control over it, however bad his own injuries were.
Amanda saw that his resolve was not weakening, she tried again. "Please Steve, if it is Mark you don't want him to be greeted by the news that we've had to take you back into surgery."
Steve looked away for a moment, it was a low blow but it had the desired effect, Amanda was right, he did not need to be there, if it was his father he could need medical attention, but there would be nothing that he could do. In this instance he would be risking further injury for nothing, there was no immediate threat to Mark.
He closed his eyes, letting the inner war rage a little longer as he accepted the wisdom of his friend's advice. He just wanted to be there, to see him, to touch him, to know irrefutably that he was alive. His fists clenched screwing up the paper in his hand a little more, and causing another spasm in his shoulder which he ignored. He nodded slightly as he reopened his eyes, handing the sheet over to her as he spoke. "OK, but I need to know as soon as you do."
Amanda let out the breath that she had been holding and gratefully took the sheet. She turned and unhooked the phone from the wall placing it on Steve's lap. "I'll be as quick as I can," she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before she turned and ran from the room.
--
Nathan stared at Captain Newman for a moment as the EMT came up on his shoulder "Please," the young paramedic said, "I need to take you to the hospital, get you checked for a possible concussion, and your arm needs checking to make sure there's no glass left in the wound."
Nathan continued to stare at his superior for a moment before the use of his name caused him to turn and look blankly at the paramedic. "I'm sorry?" he questioned forcing the young man to repeat his request.
"No," Nathan shook his head, "I'm sorry, I can't, there's something I need to do."
"But. . ." the young man began to protest.
"No! Thanks for all you've done, but I'm not going to the hospital."
"Fine, I'll just get the paperwork for you to sign to say you refused transport."
"OK," Nathan nodded, doing his best to look apologetic as the paramedic turned, making no attempt to hide his frustration as he headed back to the ambulance.
Newman waited until Nathan made eye contact again. "Detective, you need to go with them to the hospital, department procedure states. . ."
"I know what procedure says sir, but I can't leave until I've found Dr. Travis. It was my call to bring him here, I was supposed to be protecting him, instead he saves my life and now he's missing." He paused, drawing in a deep breath. "I have to help find him."
Newman knew that he could order the detective to go to the hospital, but looking at the determined set of the young man's face, he knew that the order was unlikely to be obeyed, he sighed, "Alright, you can stay and help with the search but at the first sign of any problems I'll have you taken to the hospital, no arguments."
"Yes sir," Nathan replied, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He took the proffered clipboard and pen from the returning paramedic and began to sign his name.
"I've been letting you spend far too much time with Sloan," Newman muttered under his breath as he turned to organise a search for the young doctor.
--
Jesse stared at the fruit in boxes, just inside the door of the store, and tried to make sense of his thoughts. Fruit. . . apples. . . oranges . . . lots of it, sitting there. He looked up and around, his eyes flitting on to other things. Shelves. . . packets. . . boxes. . . store, it was a store, a place where they sold things. He had a tiny recollection that that was what he had been looking for, if only he could remember why.
He stepped forward, not really aware of how awkward his gait was, one foot dragging behind the other as instinct made him favour his injured leg, but he was beyond noticing any pain.
A small child came out through the doorway and stared at him, his expression first curious and then concerned. "Hey mister are you all right?" The boy asked, moving forward.
"Yes, I'm fine," Jesse stated, almost automatically, "I'm fine," he repeated, confused by the way the sound of his own voice seemed to reverberate in his head.
The boy took another step forward. "But you look like you've been hurt, there's blood." He pointed at Jesse's leg. "There was blood when I fell off my bike, I cut my arm." He looked up at Jesse innocently. "Did you fall off your bike?"
Jesse considered the question, he didn't think he had a bike, hadn't for a long time. He looked down at his clothes, they were very dirty, he wiped ineffectually at his shirt a couple of times to try to remove some of the dust, not noticing how jerky and uncoordinated his actions were. At that point a woman walked out of the store and called to her son.
"Steve," she shouted, the boy turned to look at her. "Come on we need to get home." She barely noticed the figure standing a few feet from her son as she tried to rearrange the grocery bags in her arms so that she did not drop them.
The name had an instant effect on Jesse, he took a step back as images flooded his senses, instinctively trying to move away from the onslaught of light and colour, the bright flash of an explosion, Steve falling, Steve lying covered in blood, blood on his hands, another explosion, he backed away further, shaking his head as his heart began to pound rapidly, his eyes widening at the horror of it all.
"Steve," the voice penetrated his consciousness and the images faded, his vision clearing.
"Steve, come on," the woman shouted again, the growing irritation showing in her voice.
Jesse's watched as the small boy reluctantly dragged his gaze away, turning to run back to his mother. the boy must be called Steve, somehow the name seemed familiar but he couldn't quite connect it. His heart was pounding and he was sweating, he looked around for the danger, but there was none, the street was quiet. Had he been running? If only he could remember.
He stared straight ahead. Fruit. . . apples. . . oranges . . . lots of it, sitting there. He looked up and around, his eyes flitting on to other things. Shelves. . . packets. . . boxes. . . store, it was a store, a place where they sold things. He had a tiny recollection that that was what he had been looking for, if only he could remember why.
--
Steve fought to keep himself calm, if he could have got up and started pacing the room, he would have done, but it was not an option, so he tried hard to think of a mental equivalent. The only thing that presented itself was the clock on the wall opposite. He focussed on the second hand and watched it make it's perpetual journey round. The harder he stared at it, the slower the hand seemed to move. It was as though his concentration slowed time itself. There were occasions in his life when that would have been an advantage, this was not one of them. He watched the second hand hang on the brink of it's jerky path forwards, willing it to click on, the tension in his muscles growing, the pause a gap in time itself, and then it clicked forward, only to hang again, in a capsule of ever increasing length that should still only be a second. The pattern repeated until he could take it no longer. He dragged his gaze away before time stopped altogether, and drew in a deep breath, redirecting his attention to the phone in front of him as he said a silent prayer for it to ring. His fingers began a subconscious rhythmic tapping on the cover next to it as he waited.
--
"Can I help you?"
The gruff voice startled Jesse and he turned to look at the speaker. The man had gray hair and a moustache and for a moment the face morphed in Jesse's vision to that of his friend. "Mark?" he asked tentatively.
"Hey, I don't know no one called Mark," The store owner stared at the disheveled young man more intently, not quite sure what to make of his appearance, nor the way that he had stumbled into the store. He was disconcerted by the blank look that Jesse now gave him, the dirt and blood spoke of violence. "Now I don't want no trouble bringing in here, so you get what you need and be on your way." It wasn't that he was by nature unkind or unhelpful, but years of experience had taught him not to get involved. 'No good deed goes unpunished,' he reminded himself, and in this neighbourhood that was certainly true. In his younger days he might have tried to help the young man in front of him who was clearly in some kind of distress, now he just wanted a peaceful existence.
Jesse's expression turned to one of confusion, as the friendly face he knew so well melted away to be replaced by the unfamiliar features of the owner of the store. "I'm sorry I. . ."
"Look you wanna buy something?" The man asked gruffly.
"No, I. . ." Jesse was confused, he still couldn't remember why he had come in here.
"Then I'm sorry but there's the door, be on your way," The owner gestured towards the open door.
Jesse looked at the doorway then back to the store owner, then to the door again. He couldn't remember what he was doing there and the man who was glaring at him wanted him to leave. He nodded reluctantly and turned and shuffled back on to the sidewalk.
The store owner looked down and saw the drops of blood on his floor and went to get his mop, shaking his head, there was too much violence these days, he just wished they'd keep it away from his store.
--
Amanda walked tentatively into the room and stared at the heavily bandaged figure lying on the bed. She gasped as she realised that she had no need to wait for the bandages to be removed, it was Mark. She wasn't sure how she knew, she just knew that it was him.
She moved forward and picked up the chart, reading quickly through the cocktail of drugs that he was on. She gasped again at the heavy doses of narcotics that would keep a man twice Mark's size, immobile and unconscious. She moved quickly to remove the IV that was delivering them to his system, but then she had to wait. If there was even the remote chance that the burns detailed on his chart were real then she was not going to remove the bandages without a burns specialist there. She had paged Dr. Roberts to meet her, now all she had to do was wait for him.
She debated ringing Steve but knew that he would demand more information than she had. Instead, she contented herself with placing her palm under Mark's. "It's Okay," she said softly, more for her own benefit than for his, she doubted he could hear her. "We'll look after you now."
Dr. Roberts entered the room with a nurse in tow and Amanda filled him in on her suspicions about the patient in front of them. As quickly as they dared they began to remove the dressings, both uttering sighs of relief as the bandages and gauze pulled away to reveal healthy skin beneath. They had started on his face and neck and Amanda felt herself relaxing more and more as Mark's familiar features were revealed. He was in a heavily drugged sleep but otherwise he seemed unharmed. She left Dr. Roberts and the nurse to work and picked up the phone. It didn't even have time to ring once before Steve's terse voice greeted her "Amanda?"
"It's him Steve," she said without preamble, "He's been heavily sedated but otherwise he's fine."
--
The killer watched silently as Jesse stumbled from the store, this really was an unexpected bonus. Dr. Travis wasn't supposed to be anywhere near the explosion, it wasn't in the plan, but watching him suffer like this, she almost wished it had been. It would be so easy to finish things here, now. He was alone and so, so vulnerable
--
Newman lowered his radio and looked round, eventually locating Nathan a few yards behind him. "Detective Turner," he shouted, waiting for the young man to come across. "We have a sighting of Dr. Travis, in a store about four blocks from here."
Nathan had already organised for a uniformed officer to drive him, he had been about to start his own search pattern, so it didn't take long before he was headed for the store.
He climbed out of the cruiser and moved to speak to the officer who was standing on the sidewalk waiting for him. His face broke into a smile of recognition as he greeted the older man, a sergeant in the division he had done his probation in. "Nick, good to see you what have you got?"
Sergeant Nick Thompson looked him up and down. "Thought you were working homicide now, not undercover as an extra on the Mummy 3." The comment covered a genuine concern, there wasn't a single officer on the street unaware of what had happened, nor the fact that they had lost four of their own to some maniac bomber. His smile dropped slightly, "You OK?"
Nathan smiled, looking down at the bandages. "It's not as bad as it looks."
Thompson nodded, flipping his notebook open. "According to the store owner, a man fitting Dr. Travis's description was in there," he checked his watch, "around ten minutes ago now. He said he was covered in dirt and appeared to be bleeding."
"And he didn't try to help him," Nathan said, feeling his anger build.
Thompson shrugged. "You've worked this neighbourhood, people are afraid to get involved. He said he figured the guy had been in a fight."
"Didn't he hear the explosion?"
"Said he had his TV on turned up loud. He was watching the game in between serving customers. He figures the less he sees and hears, the less trouble he can get into."
"I'm surprised he even answered your questions." Nathan tried to get a view of the store owner past the signs plastered on the window.
"I'm not sure that he would have, except we caught him mopping blood off the floor."
That comment reinforced the urgent need to find the young doctor. "So what else?" Nathan asked.
Thompson shut his notebook. "Owner said the doctor seemed confused, out of it," he pointed down the sidewalk. "He headed East."
"OK," Nathan said, "He's not that far ahead of us, let's take it on foot from here. I'll take this side of the street you take the other."
Thompson nodded calling to his partner and they swiftly crossed to the opposite side. Nathan was joined by the officer who had driven him there and they moved as quickly as they could, whilst scanning the streets and alleys for any signs of the young doctor.
--
Steve looked over to where his father lay sleeping in the bed next to him and finally allowed the last vestiges of tension, to drain away. "How long will he sleep for?" he asked. He had only awoken himself a few minutes earlier to find both Amanda and his father in the room, Mark in the second bed and Amanda on the chair between them.
She smiled at him. "Well I was debating which one of you would wake first. You were pretty out for the count yourself you know."
Steve nodded, smiling back, "I still can't believe I fell asleep." Steve had tried his best to remain awake after Amanda's phonecall, confirming that Mark was safe, but as the relief washed over him, so did a blanket of exhaustion, as his stressed system protested the amount he was pushing it. Without the adrenaline that came from fear for his father's safety, he had no means to fight it and he had drifted into a deep sleep.
"Imagine," Amanda said, unable to resist a gentle gibe, "a whole day after a near fatal knife wound and you can't stay awake. What kind of wimp are you?"
Steve laughed, recognising the sentiment, from many a conversation with his father and Jesse. "OK, so maybe I needed the rest," he admitted. His tone became a little more serious as he looked across at his father again. "So you think he could wake up at any time then."
Amanda followed his gaze before turning back to him and giving a slight shrug. "It's hard to tell, the sedation was pretty heavy, it could take a while to work it's way out of his system."
"But there will be no lasting effects?" Steve asked anxiously.
"No, the dose was high, but not enough to cause any permanent damage, he'll just feel groggy for a while."
For the next couple of minutes neither of them spoke, each lost in their own thoughts, comfortable with the lack of conversation as only old friends could be. It was Steve who finally broke the silence "He's going to find it hard," he said softly.
Amanda's gaze had drifted back to Mark's bed but she turned at the softly spoken comment. "Hard?"
Steve's gaze similarly moved from his father up to meet hers. "The killer forced him to leave me there, bleeding to death." His voice was still quiet, but cracked with emotion. "He probably doesn't even know that I'm still alive."
--
Nathan was becoming more disillusioned with each step, he looked across the street to see Sergeant Thompson and his partner roughly keeping pace with him on the opposite side of the street. They had covered about four blocks, stopping at each intersection to check for signs of the doctor down the various alleys and backstreets that lead off the main route they were on, but there was nothing. Nathan had called for reinforcements and they were checking further down the side streets, spreading the search, but he knew that he couldn't rely on this kind of manpower for long. If they didn't find Dr. Travis soon then they may not find him at all.
"Over here," Sergeant Thompson yelled, before moving to investigate the figure he had seen halfway down the alley, hoping that he hadn't just called for help with some vagrant..
Nathan ran across the street barely stopping to check for traffic, as he reached the mouth of the alley he swallowed hard. Nick Thompson was about thirty yards down kneeling next to the unmistakable prone form of Dr. Jesse Travis.
TO BE CONTINUED...
The small part of Jesse's mind that registered the orange flash for what it was, was forever lost in the sea of connections that were made when the shock wave of heat and debris hit him, picking him up and flinging him backwards across the street. He landed hard on his back and the world phased out.
--
Nathan wasn't sure how long it was between Jesse's shouted warning and the point at which he shook his head and pushed himself, somewhat awkwardly, to a sitting position. It couldn't have been long because their was still a rolling coil of fine dust that seemed to curl endlessly in the air before settling in waves across the tarmac. He blinked the dust from his eyes, taking in first the sight of the flames that licked up the wall from one of the windows of the apartment block, then he focussed on the patches of burning debris on the sidewalk. along with lumps of stone. He pushed himself to his knees and then to a shaking standing position as he caught sight of the dark uniformed body lying sprawled across the steps that led up into the building. Coughing he started to move forward, his attention on the still figure. He turned and tried not to wretch when he got close enough to see that the young officer was beyond help. Damn, he had only spoken to him moments earlier.
He looked up into the doorway, black smoke still billowed out. To enter the building would be foolhardy, even if he were at his best, he looked down at his grimy and bloodied clothing, he definitely wasn't at his best.
He turned his attention to his immediate surroundings. He looked up and down the street and realised that there was an almost eerie lack of movement, not that there had been much happening before. At this time of the day most people would be at work or school, and it wasn't the sort of neighbourhood where you ventured outside without a goal in mind. It seemed strange though that there wasn't more reaction to the blast.
He looked for his car, if the radio was still working he needed to call this in, he took a stumbling step forward, belatedly beginning to take stock of how he was feeling, a thundering roar in his ears powered a growing headache His clothes were torn and his arm was bleeding from a large gash. There were dull aches from every part of his body, coughing again, he made it as far as the curb before sinking down.
--
Steve took the printed out sheets from Amanda and dropped them onto the bed in front of him, picking up the first one with his good hand, so that he could read it more easily. He spoke without looking at her. "I need you to get a list of all hospital admissions in the last 24 hours, including the private patients."
Amanda's mind worked rapidly, connecting Steve's requests, she picked up the phone, calling for the information, before asking him about them. "Surely you don't think they're keeping Mark here in the hospital? He'd have been recognised, everyone knows him."
Steve looked up from the sheets he was speed reading through. "Everything else that has happened so far has been written into the story, right?"
Amanda nodded at the question.
"Even when she had to repost parts of a chapter to get the order of events to match what was happening here?"
Amanda nodded again.
"Then why not put something in about kidnapping a doctor if you were going to, or already had done it? I mean she posted a chapter about your attack. Why not change the existing chapter or put something in the new chapter?"
Amanda couldn't come up with an answer.
Steve waited only a moment before dropping his attention back to the sheets in front of him, discarding one to pick up the next.
"Here it is," he stated, about half way down the third page. "After the explosion, Dr. Romano is admitted through the ER to the burns unit." Steve swallowed before continuing, "Suffering from first and second degree burns to his arms chest and face." Suddenly a part of him wanted to be wrong about the whereabouts of his father. If the killer was sticking rigidly to what was written then they would have had to. . . He didn't even want to think about the pain that may have been inflicted, instead he focussed on the fact that they would find his father, that he was alive and somewhere in the hospital.
Amanda saw the muscle twitch in Steve's jaw as he fought for and regained his control, not sure that there was anything that she could say that would comfort him. If Steve was wrong then that meant that Mark would still be missing, but she too understood the possible implications if he was right.
There was a knock at the door and a nurse entered. "The admission lists that you wanted." She said handing a file over.
--
Nathan sat on the tailgate of the ambulance, he had been vaguely aware of the EMT's arrival and of still being seated on the curb when they had, for a while things phased in and out of his consciousness.
The fire crews and police back up had arrived at almost exactly the same time and the quiet street had descended into a chaos of activity. There was a fire to put out, buildings to be evacuated, the apartment block to check and the injured to deal with. Along with the growing army of rescue workers, and the displaced residents, curiosity finally overpowered the wariness of those who lived nearby and they were drawn out onto the sidewalks to watch the action. A trickle of news crews arrived to add to the mix as the street and sidewalks filled with vehicles and people.
Nathan was only peripherally aware of this and of his injuries being assessed and treated. It was like watching the world through a cotton wool haze. Nothing made sense until he heard the familiar tones of his Captain. Suddenly the world snapped back into focus and he pushed himself to standing.
"Captain," he shouted, ignoring the protests of the young paramedic who had been trying to complete treatment of a cut above his eye, as he moved over to join his superior.
"Detective Turner," Captain Newman turned from his briefing with the fire chief to greet his detective, studying him critically and noticing the many bandages and abrasions.
"Do we know what happened?" Nathan asked, his own memories still a little hazy.
"I was hoping that you could tell me detective," Newman supplied.
Nathan filled in the details that he could remember, Captain Newman listening quietly until he got to the part about Jesse's shouted warning.
"Dr. Travis was with you?" Newman asked, a note of tension in his voice.
Nathan looked at him slightly confused. "Yes, if it hadn't been for him I would have been inside," he swallowed, at the thought, "with the others when the explosion hit."
Newman looked around. "So he was where when the blast hit?"
Nathan's confusion was growing, he looked round and pointed to the place he had last seen the young doctor. "He was about there," He looked back to Newman, "but I don't understand, didn't the EMTs. . ."
Newman was busy summoning over some of the uniformed officers with hand gestures. "I'll get some people to check," he said, turning his attention back to Nathan briefly "but I've spoken to the people who were first on the scene, they found you and." he paused momentarily before pointing to the now covered body of the fallen officer, " and officer Brown there," he continued, " but there was no one else." He paused again before adding. "There was no sign of Dr. Travis."
--
Steve put his hand out for the file at the same time as Amanda, and the nurse looked hesitantly between them before Amanda, seeing her confusion, indicated that she should give the file to Steve.
Steve took it gratefully, wincing from the movement, but ignoring the pain in his eagerness to test his theory. He put the file into the hand of his injured arm, resting it across his chest and flicked through the pages. It was only a few moments before he grabbed one of the sheets and pulled it from the file letting the rest fall away. "Here it is," he said, triumphantly. "A patient called Romano was admitted to a private room, attended by his own nurse and doctor, late yesterday evening." He looked up from the sheet into Amanda's eyes, "He supposedly has burns to his arms, face, neck and upper chest. That would mean those areas were covered by dressings, yes?" he questioned.
Amanda nodded. "And if he was admitted as a private patient, none of the staff would have cause to check them or question his identity."
Steve pushed himself to a sitting position, clenching his jaw against the pain, and started to swing his legs round.
"Whoa," Amanda said, moving to block him. "Just where do you think you're going?"
Steve held up the piece of paper that was still tightly gripped in the hand of his good arm. "There's every possibility that this tells us where my father is, I need to find out." The determination in his tone was clear.
"Steve you're in no shape to go anywhere, not even in the hospital. You still have a chest drain in and excessive movement could dislodge that or tear the stitches in your shoulder." She fixed her gaze with his. "Let me go I'll call straight down as soon as I know anything, you won't have to wait."
Steve did not move as he considered her statement, the compulsion to go to find his father, to confirm it was him, to find out if he had been hurt, was so strong that for a moment he wasn't sure that he had conscious control over it, however bad his own injuries were.
Amanda saw that his resolve was not weakening, she tried again. "Please Steve, if it is Mark you don't want him to be greeted by the news that we've had to take you back into surgery."
Steve looked away for a moment, it was a low blow but it had the desired effect, Amanda was right, he did not need to be there, if it was his father he could need medical attention, but there would be nothing that he could do. In this instance he would be risking further injury for nothing, there was no immediate threat to Mark.
He closed his eyes, letting the inner war rage a little longer as he accepted the wisdom of his friend's advice. He just wanted to be there, to see him, to touch him, to know irrefutably that he was alive. His fists clenched screwing up the paper in his hand a little more, and causing another spasm in his shoulder which he ignored. He nodded slightly as he reopened his eyes, handing the sheet over to her as he spoke. "OK, but I need to know as soon as you do."
Amanda let out the breath that she had been holding and gratefully took the sheet. She turned and unhooked the phone from the wall placing it on Steve's lap. "I'll be as quick as I can," she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before she turned and ran from the room.
--
Nathan stared at Captain Newman for a moment as the EMT came up on his shoulder "Please," the young paramedic said, "I need to take you to the hospital, get you checked for a possible concussion, and your arm needs checking to make sure there's no glass left in the wound."
Nathan continued to stare at his superior for a moment before the use of his name caused him to turn and look blankly at the paramedic. "I'm sorry?" he questioned forcing the young man to repeat his request.
"No," Nathan shook his head, "I'm sorry, I can't, there's something I need to do."
"But. . ." the young man began to protest.
"No! Thanks for all you've done, but I'm not going to the hospital."
"Fine, I'll just get the paperwork for you to sign to say you refused transport."
"OK," Nathan nodded, doing his best to look apologetic as the paramedic turned, making no attempt to hide his frustration as he headed back to the ambulance.
Newman waited until Nathan made eye contact again. "Detective, you need to go with them to the hospital, department procedure states. . ."
"I know what procedure says sir, but I can't leave until I've found Dr. Travis. It was my call to bring him here, I was supposed to be protecting him, instead he saves my life and now he's missing." He paused, drawing in a deep breath. "I have to help find him."
Newman knew that he could order the detective to go to the hospital, but looking at the determined set of the young man's face, he knew that the order was unlikely to be obeyed, he sighed, "Alright, you can stay and help with the search but at the first sign of any problems I'll have you taken to the hospital, no arguments."
"Yes sir," Nathan replied, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He took the proffered clipboard and pen from the returning paramedic and began to sign his name.
"I've been letting you spend far too much time with Sloan," Newman muttered under his breath as he turned to organise a search for the young doctor.
--
Jesse stared at the fruit in boxes, just inside the door of the store, and tried to make sense of his thoughts. Fruit. . . apples. . . oranges . . . lots of it, sitting there. He looked up and around, his eyes flitting on to other things. Shelves. . . packets. . . boxes. . . store, it was a store, a place where they sold things. He had a tiny recollection that that was what he had been looking for, if only he could remember why.
He stepped forward, not really aware of how awkward his gait was, one foot dragging behind the other as instinct made him favour his injured leg, but he was beyond noticing any pain.
A small child came out through the doorway and stared at him, his expression first curious and then concerned. "Hey mister are you all right?" The boy asked, moving forward.
"Yes, I'm fine," Jesse stated, almost automatically, "I'm fine," he repeated, confused by the way the sound of his own voice seemed to reverberate in his head.
The boy took another step forward. "But you look like you've been hurt, there's blood." He pointed at Jesse's leg. "There was blood when I fell off my bike, I cut my arm." He looked up at Jesse innocently. "Did you fall off your bike?"
Jesse considered the question, he didn't think he had a bike, hadn't for a long time. He looked down at his clothes, they were very dirty, he wiped ineffectually at his shirt a couple of times to try to remove some of the dust, not noticing how jerky and uncoordinated his actions were. At that point a woman walked out of the store and called to her son.
"Steve," she shouted, the boy turned to look at her. "Come on we need to get home." She barely noticed the figure standing a few feet from her son as she tried to rearrange the grocery bags in her arms so that she did not drop them.
The name had an instant effect on Jesse, he took a step back as images flooded his senses, instinctively trying to move away from the onslaught of light and colour, the bright flash of an explosion, Steve falling, Steve lying covered in blood, blood on his hands, another explosion, he backed away further, shaking his head as his heart began to pound rapidly, his eyes widening at the horror of it all.
"Steve," the voice penetrated his consciousness and the images faded, his vision clearing.
"Steve, come on," the woman shouted again, the growing irritation showing in her voice.
Jesse's watched as the small boy reluctantly dragged his gaze away, turning to run back to his mother. the boy must be called Steve, somehow the name seemed familiar but he couldn't quite connect it. His heart was pounding and he was sweating, he looked around for the danger, but there was none, the street was quiet. Had he been running? If only he could remember.
He stared straight ahead. Fruit. . . apples. . . oranges . . . lots of it, sitting there. He looked up and around, his eyes flitting on to other things. Shelves. . . packets. . . boxes. . . store, it was a store, a place where they sold things. He had a tiny recollection that that was what he had been looking for, if only he could remember why.
--
Steve fought to keep himself calm, if he could have got up and started pacing the room, he would have done, but it was not an option, so he tried hard to think of a mental equivalent. The only thing that presented itself was the clock on the wall opposite. He focussed on the second hand and watched it make it's perpetual journey round. The harder he stared at it, the slower the hand seemed to move. It was as though his concentration slowed time itself. There were occasions in his life when that would have been an advantage, this was not one of them. He watched the second hand hang on the brink of it's jerky path forwards, willing it to click on, the tension in his muscles growing, the pause a gap in time itself, and then it clicked forward, only to hang again, in a capsule of ever increasing length that should still only be a second. The pattern repeated until he could take it no longer. He dragged his gaze away before time stopped altogether, and drew in a deep breath, redirecting his attention to the phone in front of him as he said a silent prayer for it to ring. His fingers began a subconscious rhythmic tapping on the cover next to it as he waited.
--
"Can I help you?"
The gruff voice startled Jesse and he turned to look at the speaker. The man had gray hair and a moustache and for a moment the face morphed in Jesse's vision to that of his friend. "Mark?" he asked tentatively.
"Hey, I don't know no one called Mark," The store owner stared at the disheveled young man more intently, not quite sure what to make of his appearance, nor the way that he had stumbled into the store. He was disconcerted by the blank look that Jesse now gave him, the dirt and blood spoke of violence. "Now I don't want no trouble bringing in here, so you get what you need and be on your way." It wasn't that he was by nature unkind or unhelpful, but years of experience had taught him not to get involved. 'No good deed goes unpunished,' he reminded himself, and in this neighbourhood that was certainly true. In his younger days he might have tried to help the young man in front of him who was clearly in some kind of distress, now he just wanted a peaceful existence.
Jesse's expression turned to one of confusion, as the friendly face he knew so well melted away to be replaced by the unfamiliar features of the owner of the store. "I'm sorry I. . ."
"Look you wanna buy something?" The man asked gruffly.
"No, I. . ." Jesse was confused, he still couldn't remember why he had come in here.
"Then I'm sorry but there's the door, be on your way," The owner gestured towards the open door.
Jesse looked at the doorway then back to the store owner, then to the door again. He couldn't remember what he was doing there and the man who was glaring at him wanted him to leave. He nodded reluctantly and turned and shuffled back on to the sidewalk.
The store owner looked down and saw the drops of blood on his floor and went to get his mop, shaking his head, there was too much violence these days, he just wished they'd keep it away from his store.
--
Amanda walked tentatively into the room and stared at the heavily bandaged figure lying on the bed. She gasped as she realised that she had no need to wait for the bandages to be removed, it was Mark. She wasn't sure how she knew, she just knew that it was him.
She moved forward and picked up the chart, reading quickly through the cocktail of drugs that he was on. She gasped again at the heavy doses of narcotics that would keep a man twice Mark's size, immobile and unconscious. She moved quickly to remove the IV that was delivering them to his system, but then she had to wait. If there was even the remote chance that the burns detailed on his chart were real then she was not going to remove the bandages without a burns specialist there. She had paged Dr. Roberts to meet her, now all she had to do was wait for him.
She debated ringing Steve but knew that he would demand more information than she had. Instead, she contented herself with placing her palm under Mark's. "It's Okay," she said softly, more for her own benefit than for his, she doubted he could hear her. "We'll look after you now."
Dr. Roberts entered the room with a nurse in tow and Amanda filled him in on her suspicions about the patient in front of them. As quickly as they dared they began to remove the dressings, both uttering sighs of relief as the bandages and gauze pulled away to reveal healthy skin beneath. They had started on his face and neck and Amanda felt herself relaxing more and more as Mark's familiar features were revealed. He was in a heavily drugged sleep but otherwise he seemed unharmed. She left Dr. Roberts and the nurse to work and picked up the phone. It didn't even have time to ring once before Steve's terse voice greeted her "Amanda?"
"It's him Steve," she said without preamble, "He's been heavily sedated but otherwise he's fine."
--
The killer watched silently as Jesse stumbled from the store, this really was an unexpected bonus. Dr. Travis wasn't supposed to be anywhere near the explosion, it wasn't in the plan, but watching him suffer like this, she almost wished it had been. It would be so easy to finish things here, now. He was alone and so, so vulnerable
--
Newman lowered his radio and looked round, eventually locating Nathan a few yards behind him. "Detective Turner," he shouted, waiting for the young man to come across. "We have a sighting of Dr. Travis, in a store about four blocks from here."
Nathan had already organised for a uniformed officer to drive him, he had been about to start his own search pattern, so it didn't take long before he was headed for the store.
He climbed out of the cruiser and moved to speak to the officer who was standing on the sidewalk waiting for him. His face broke into a smile of recognition as he greeted the older man, a sergeant in the division he had done his probation in. "Nick, good to see you what have you got?"
Sergeant Nick Thompson looked him up and down. "Thought you were working homicide now, not undercover as an extra on the Mummy 3." The comment covered a genuine concern, there wasn't a single officer on the street unaware of what had happened, nor the fact that they had lost four of their own to some maniac bomber. His smile dropped slightly, "You OK?"
Nathan smiled, looking down at the bandages. "It's not as bad as it looks."
Thompson nodded, flipping his notebook open. "According to the store owner, a man fitting Dr. Travis's description was in there," he checked his watch, "around ten minutes ago now. He said he was covered in dirt and appeared to be bleeding."
"And he didn't try to help him," Nathan said, feeling his anger build.
Thompson shrugged. "You've worked this neighbourhood, people are afraid to get involved. He said he figured the guy had been in a fight."
"Didn't he hear the explosion?"
"Said he had his TV on turned up loud. He was watching the game in between serving customers. He figures the less he sees and hears, the less trouble he can get into."
"I'm surprised he even answered your questions." Nathan tried to get a view of the store owner past the signs plastered on the window.
"I'm not sure that he would have, except we caught him mopping blood off the floor."
That comment reinforced the urgent need to find the young doctor. "So what else?" Nathan asked.
Thompson shut his notebook. "Owner said the doctor seemed confused, out of it," he pointed down the sidewalk. "He headed East."
"OK," Nathan said, "He's not that far ahead of us, let's take it on foot from here. I'll take this side of the street you take the other."
Thompson nodded calling to his partner and they swiftly crossed to the opposite side. Nathan was joined by the officer who had driven him there and they moved as quickly as they could, whilst scanning the streets and alleys for any signs of the young doctor.
--
Steve looked over to where his father lay sleeping in the bed next to him and finally allowed the last vestiges of tension, to drain away. "How long will he sleep for?" he asked. He had only awoken himself a few minutes earlier to find both Amanda and his father in the room, Mark in the second bed and Amanda on the chair between them.
She smiled at him. "Well I was debating which one of you would wake first. You were pretty out for the count yourself you know."
Steve nodded, smiling back, "I still can't believe I fell asleep." Steve had tried his best to remain awake after Amanda's phonecall, confirming that Mark was safe, but as the relief washed over him, so did a blanket of exhaustion, as his stressed system protested the amount he was pushing it. Without the adrenaline that came from fear for his father's safety, he had no means to fight it and he had drifted into a deep sleep.
"Imagine," Amanda said, unable to resist a gentle gibe, "a whole day after a near fatal knife wound and you can't stay awake. What kind of wimp are you?"
Steve laughed, recognising the sentiment, from many a conversation with his father and Jesse. "OK, so maybe I needed the rest," he admitted. His tone became a little more serious as he looked across at his father again. "So you think he could wake up at any time then."
Amanda followed his gaze before turning back to him and giving a slight shrug. "It's hard to tell, the sedation was pretty heavy, it could take a while to work it's way out of his system."
"But there will be no lasting effects?" Steve asked anxiously.
"No, the dose was high, but not enough to cause any permanent damage, he'll just feel groggy for a while."
For the next couple of minutes neither of them spoke, each lost in their own thoughts, comfortable with the lack of conversation as only old friends could be. It was Steve who finally broke the silence "He's going to find it hard," he said softly.
Amanda's gaze had drifted back to Mark's bed but she turned at the softly spoken comment. "Hard?"
Steve's gaze similarly moved from his father up to meet hers. "The killer forced him to leave me there, bleeding to death." His voice was still quiet, but cracked with emotion. "He probably doesn't even know that I'm still alive."
--
Nathan was becoming more disillusioned with each step, he looked across the street to see Sergeant Thompson and his partner roughly keeping pace with him on the opposite side of the street. They had covered about four blocks, stopping at each intersection to check for signs of the doctor down the various alleys and backstreets that lead off the main route they were on, but there was nothing. Nathan had called for reinforcements and they were checking further down the side streets, spreading the search, but he knew that he couldn't rely on this kind of manpower for long. If they didn't find Dr. Travis soon then they may not find him at all.
"Over here," Sergeant Thompson yelled, before moving to investigate the figure he had seen halfway down the alley, hoping that he hadn't just called for help with some vagrant..
Nathan ran across the street barely stopping to check for traffic, as he reached the mouth of the alley he swallowed hard. Nick Thompson was about thirty yards down kneeling next to the unmistakable prone form of Dr. Jesse Travis.
TO BE CONTINUED...