Here's the next part, I will have this whole story posted by Wednesday
(because I'm leaving for British Columbia), including the newly written
conclusion. That way I won't leave you guys hanging. Enjoy!
XxXxXxXx
"Mark!" Haleh yelled at the sleeping doctor. "Mark! Get up, GSW at the back door!"
"What?" he slurred.
"Trauma 2, now!"
Mark jerked himself awake and stumbled into the trauma room as a gurney rushed in carrying a cop who had been shot. Doug ran in right after the gurney.
"GSW to the abdomen..." Doris gave the bullet as Mark gloved up. The cop was mumbling as Mark gave orders to the various staff members.
"What's his name?" Doug asked Doris.
"Carl Rudy. He's pretty out of it. Keeps mumbling about some big plan gone awry, wants to talk to his partner," Doris reported as she turned to leave.
"Do I dare ask what happened to his partner?" Doug inquired.
"He's still at the scene. He was knocked out, but nothing serious." The paramedics collected their stuff and left the trauma room.
"Officer Rudy? Carl?" Mark leant over and asked him. "Do you know where you are?"
"...hospital..," he breathed. "Messed up.....big time."
"We're sending you up to surgery to remove the bullet. You're stable right now, the wound wasn't too serious. Do you understand?"
Benton bounded into the room before Carl could answer, ready to take him up to surgery, when words slipped out of his mouth that made Peter stop in his tracks.
"Dr. Carter....dead, right?"
The whole room froze for a brief second.
"What?!" Peter gasped, incredulous. He leaned closer to the cop to see if he could get more information out of him. He was delirious, he wasn't thinking straight. But how could he know about Carter?"
"..howdy partner, that you?" the officer mumbled.
"Yeah, I'm here," Peter answered, receiving warning glares from most of the people in the trauma room.
"We're.. in deep shit...you know. Couldn't do the job," Carl paused for a minute to collect his breath. "Couldn't even do the job.... we weren't supposed to do in the first place."
"What do you mean?" Peter asked, getting frantic. "What happened to Dr. Carter?"
"Dead. Maybe. Kidnapped, I have no clue..."
"Where.." Peter was about to ask but was sharply cut off by Mark.
"That's enough Peter! This man needs to go to surgery. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"I.." Peter protested.
"Now! I'll call Andersen and see what's going on."
The patient was wheeled down the hall and into the elevator with a very upset looking Peter Benton beside it. It had been days since he'd seen Carter, and he was starting to worry. What was it the cop had said? Couldn't do the job he wasn't supposed to do? He tried to calm his roiling stomach. Carter was at a safe house under police protection. He was actually safe. Right?
XxXxXxXx
Consciousness slowly descended upon Carter, jerking away the bliss he had felt while unconscious. Behind his eyelids he could see a rhythm of light. He'd see it coming. At first he'd see darkness, then a light would appear and slowly grow brighter and brighter before it would suddenly disappear. Another light would quickly arrive after though. This soothing pattern was relaxing and he was starting to fall asleep again.
Carter was about to drift off again when he felt a quick jerking movement come from the bed he was lying on. No, not a bed. Something didn't seem quite right. He felt like he was moving. Another jolt forced him to briefly open his eyes and he was momentarily blinded by that light. A streetlight. He was in a car.
He slowly moved his head and took in his surroundings. He was in the back seat of a car with his hands tied behind his back. From what he could tell, there was only the driver in the car with him.
As Carter tried to sit up he elicited a groan as his previous injuries protested. The driver of the car looked into the rearview mirror and saw a pair of confused brown eyes looking back.
"You're awake," he mumbled, his voice hoarse.
Carter groaned again, although this time he wasn't sure if it was from pain, or this guy's propensity at stating the obvious.
"Who are you?" Carter asked, after clearing his throat.
"Oh I don't think I'm going to tell you that quite yet. But you can refer to me as, well, how 'bout Mike. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out where that name come from," the driver said, then chuckled at his own bad joke.
"What do you want with me?" Carter decided this guy was definitely off his hinges.
"It's not a matter of what I want with you. It's what I want from you."
"Which would be? I don't even know you."
"Don't be so naive Dr. Carter. It doesn't matter if you know me or not, I know more about you. I also know about your, shall we say, well-to- do background."
"You want money," Carter simply stated. He couldn't say he was surprised.
"Score one for the absent minded doctor," the driver chuckled.
"I'm not giving you anything."
Before Carter could react, he was thrown forward with such force the impact with the back of the passenger seat almost knocked him out again. The driver had hit the brakes.
A large hand came from the drivers seat and roughly grabbed his shirt.
"Don't tell me what you're going to be doing," he growled. "Don't think you're going to get away. Everyone pays their debts to me, no matter what the cost. Got it?"
Carter weakly nodded. He got a good whiff of alcohol on the guys breath and decided that despite the earlier act, this guy was definitely dangerous.
XxXxXxXx
"Mark!" Haleh yelled at the sleeping doctor. "Mark! Get up, GSW at the back door!"
"What?" he slurred.
"Trauma 2, now!"
Mark jerked himself awake and stumbled into the trauma room as a gurney rushed in carrying a cop who had been shot. Doug ran in right after the gurney.
"GSW to the abdomen..." Doris gave the bullet as Mark gloved up. The cop was mumbling as Mark gave orders to the various staff members.
"What's his name?" Doug asked Doris.
"Carl Rudy. He's pretty out of it. Keeps mumbling about some big plan gone awry, wants to talk to his partner," Doris reported as she turned to leave.
"Do I dare ask what happened to his partner?" Doug inquired.
"He's still at the scene. He was knocked out, but nothing serious." The paramedics collected their stuff and left the trauma room.
"Officer Rudy? Carl?" Mark leant over and asked him. "Do you know where you are?"
"...hospital..," he breathed. "Messed up.....big time."
"We're sending you up to surgery to remove the bullet. You're stable right now, the wound wasn't too serious. Do you understand?"
Benton bounded into the room before Carl could answer, ready to take him up to surgery, when words slipped out of his mouth that made Peter stop in his tracks.
"Dr. Carter....dead, right?"
The whole room froze for a brief second.
"What?!" Peter gasped, incredulous. He leaned closer to the cop to see if he could get more information out of him. He was delirious, he wasn't thinking straight. But how could he know about Carter?"
"..howdy partner, that you?" the officer mumbled.
"Yeah, I'm here," Peter answered, receiving warning glares from most of the people in the trauma room.
"We're.. in deep shit...you know. Couldn't do the job," Carl paused for a minute to collect his breath. "Couldn't even do the job.... we weren't supposed to do in the first place."
"What do you mean?" Peter asked, getting frantic. "What happened to Dr. Carter?"
"Dead. Maybe. Kidnapped, I have no clue..."
"Where.." Peter was about to ask but was sharply cut off by Mark.
"That's enough Peter! This man needs to go to surgery. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"I.." Peter protested.
"Now! I'll call Andersen and see what's going on."
The patient was wheeled down the hall and into the elevator with a very upset looking Peter Benton beside it. It had been days since he'd seen Carter, and he was starting to worry. What was it the cop had said? Couldn't do the job he wasn't supposed to do? He tried to calm his roiling stomach. Carter was at a safe house under police protection. He was actually safe. Right?
XxXxXxXx
Consciousness slowly descended upon Carter, jerking away the bliss he had felt while unconscious. Behind his eyelids he could see a rhythm of light. He'd see it coming. At first he'd see darkness, then a light would appear and slowly grow brighter and brighter before it would suddenly disappear. Another light would quickly arrive after though. This soothing pattern was relaxing and he was starting to fall asleep again.
Carter was about to drift off again when he felt a quick jerking movement come from the bed he was lying on. No, not a bed. Something didn't seem quite right. He felt like he was moving. Another jolt forced him to briefly open his eyes and he was momentarily blinded by that light. A streetlight. He was in a car.
He slowly moved his head and took in his surroundings. He was in the back seat of a car with his hands tied behind his back. From what he could tell, there was only the driver in the car with him.
As Carter tried to sit up he elicited a groan as his previous injuries protested. The driver of the car looked into the rearview mirror and saw a pair of confused brown eyes looking back.
"You're awake," he mumbled, his voice hoarse.
Carter groaned again, although this time he wasn't sure if it was from pain, or this guy's propensity at stating the obvious.
"Who are you?" Carter asked, after clearing his throat.
"Oh I don't think I'm going to tell you that quite yet. But you can refer to me as, well, how 'bout Mike. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out where that name come from," the driver said, then chuckled at his own bad joke.
"What do you want with me?" Carter decided this guy was definitely off his hinges.
"It's not a matter of what I want with you. It's what I want from you."
"Which would be? I don't even know you."
"Don't be so naive Dr. Carter. It doesn't matter if you know me or not, I know more about you. I also know about your, shall we say, well-to- do background."
"You want money," Carter simply stated. He couldn't say he was surprised.
"Score one for the absent minded doctor," the driver chuckled.
"I'm not giving you anything."
Before Carter could react, he was thrown forward with such force the impact with the back of the passenger seat almost knocked him out again. The driver had hit the brakes.
A large hand came from the drivers seat and roughly grabbed his shirt.
"Don't tell me what you're going to be doing," he growled. "Don't think you're going to get away. Everyone pays their debts to me, no matter what the cost. Got it?"
Carter weakly nodded. He got a good whiff of alcohol on the guys breath and decided that despite the earlier act, this guy was definitely dangerous.