AN: And now we come to the end. Thanks for reading, you good-hearted
people. Your messages made me very happy.
Tuesday 5:48 pm
Screwdriver dropped Kiff off at the intersection of RR 9 and Sanderson Road with a promise to send any passing motorists back her way and apologies that he couldn't hang around to take her back (his daughter's school play due to begin in less than an hour).
Alone in the deserted area, Kiff examined the building before her. Tamzarian Auto-Parts looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Its doors were chained shut with rusty padlocks and tall grass growing up through the cracks in the parking lot. Maybe she was wrong after all. Wouldn't that be nice?
She made it across the empty parking lot with the unhurried steps of someone not worth bothering, her collar turned up to her ears and the taps of her rubber soles carried off on the gray wind. She eyed the dilapidated building as it loomed closer, and the closer she got, the more ominous it looked: Its broken windows were like jagged teeth and the cracks in the brick exterior like forbidding battle scars.
She dropped her medical bag at the threshold of the fire exit, whose ancient padlock gave easily to the crowbar Screwdriver had lent her. The door swung outwards with a drawn-out whine. With a deep breath, Kiff picked up her slow, deliberate walk into the murky gloom.
A maze of canvas piles and wood scraps draped in cobwebs greeted her when she stepped inside. About ten paces out onto the floor, she managed to trip over one of the stacks of canvas tarps and land on hands and knees. Cursing her clumsiness, she sat back and rubbed her shin at the point of impact.
Except that it shouldn't have hurt to run into a pile of canvas.
Frowning, she looked back at the obstacle and found that what she had actually tripped over was not the tarps, but what was hidden under them: A metal box about the size of a watermelon, which was now tipped on its side with its contents spilling over the floor.
The box was full of sealed syringes. Picking one up, Kiff read the label and found it was a pre-filled syringe of morphine.
Kiff's heart kicked up into her throat. There were hundreds of those syringes in that box alone, and there was room to hide a lot of containers just like it.
Kiff pocketed the evidence and stood, only then realizing that her shoes were sticking to the floor. Peering down at it, she found a trail of reddish brown that at first glance could've been half-dry paint. That is, it could have if she weren't an EMT and quite familiar with the look of blood.
The trail led from the building's side door to an office door that was pinned shut by a folding chair that somebody had jammed under the knob. Once she had the chair cleared away, the door opened easily and a dusty shaft of light spilled into the office...
... directly onto the girl on the floor.
"Oh, no..."
Kiff had found Tru Davies, alive albeit barely. She lay on her side at Kiff's feet, trussed with duct tape. Kind of moot, Kiff couldn't help noticing: She didn't look like she could stand, much less break down the door and escape. A very rough bandage about her leg was soaked with blood. Her eyes fluttered as though she were trying to wake up but couldn't.
Kiff dropped to a knee beside Tru. Gingerly, she peeled the tape from the inert girl's mouth.
"Davies?" Kiff whispered. "Davies, can you hear me?"
Eyes still closed, Tru nodded.
Kiff sighed in relief and began sawing at the rest of the tape with her leatherman.
"Listen. I'm going to get you out of here, but you have to be real quiet, understand? I'll take you someplace safe."
"No..."
Tru hadn't said it so much as breathed it. She might as well have stuck a bull horn in Kiff's ear as far as shock value.
"What do you mean 'no'? You want to wait around for Senor Psychopath to come back?"
"No... No hospital... Hafta... Hafta save Kiff..."
Kiff swallowed hard and cradled Tru's face in her hands. "You already have."
Tru managed to force her eyes open halfway and met Kiff's for the barest instant before she passed out completely, going slack under the other woman's hands.
Kiff whipped off her coat and wrapped it around Tru's body. Then she lifted her in her thin, strong arms and began to put as much distance between them and Tamzarian Auto-Parts as humanly possible.
Tuesday Later
The sun was setting when Tru awoke, although all her perceptions were so fuzzy that she was sure it was a dream. The only thing to negate that theory was the thudding pain in her leg that was exacerbated with every bump in the road.
Bump in the road?
Tru blinked until her vision focused somewhat and found the situation to be a far cry from anything she'd expected: She was lying in the flat bed of a pickup truck, which was sailing down an unpaved country road. Her head was cushioned on a sack of seed. She was covered to the chin with a long gray coat, but her left arm felt strangely cold. Glancing down at it, she was even more surprised to find it attached to a running bag of IV fluids. Her leg, which was elevated on another grain sack, sported a thick gauze bandage and was no longer bleeding. She even had oxygen flowing into her nose from a cannula on a tank in a large bag on her right that was emblazoned with a reflective star of life. Also on her right was Kiff.
Kiff, despite the chill in the air, seemed untouched in her undershirt and jeans. She was sitting with her elbows planted on her drawn-up knees and her forehead bowed against her clasped hands. With her eyes closed, she looked like she was praying.
"Kiff?" Tru whispered.
Kiff opened her eyes and looked down at her, as though waiting for a question. Tru was more than ready to oblige.
"What's going on? Where are we?"
"Rural Rout Nine."
"But how did I... Did you..?"
Kiff just looked at her with those weary eyes, and Tru knew the answer. Yes, Kiff was the one who'd rescued her and hitched this ride to God-knows-where.
"How'd you find me?"
Kiff opened one of her hands and out dropped a shiny object that dangled from a thin cord. When she held it closer for Tru to see, Tru found that it was a small gold cross. Her cross. The one her mother had given her.
"You told me," Kiff said.
She dropped the cross into Tru's hand. Tru was suddenly in mental shock as well as physical. It had worked. It had actually worked! She closed her hand around the cross and held it like an ember that meant the difference between living and freezing to death.
Kiff offered a gentle look that she hoped was more reassuring than she felt.
"Rest, my friend."
Thursday Early
Tamzarian slammed Andy against his office wall and held him there, the smaller man's feet actually dangling some inches off the floor.
"You've got stones to come here now, boy," he rumbled. "Thought you could just leave me hanging when the shit storm hit, did you? HUH???"
Andy tried to draw a decent breath into his constricted chest and failed. He'd avoided coming here thus far for exactly this reason, scouring the city streets up and down on his own. The only trace he'd found of Kiff was her distorted bicycle. Promising, but not concrete.
He'd finally resigned himself to come here and take his medicine from Tamzarian. So far, it was going pretty well (At least he still had all his bits attached).
"I'm sorry!" Andy coughed. "We thought we could find her before –"
"What? Before I found out what a fucking screw-up you are?"
"Hey, I wasn't the one who almost let the chick from the morgue get away!"
"Oh, don't even get me started on those two. It was some of MY ambulances had to haul their sorry asses to County General. Now I've got everyone asking me how my guys were out getting messed up when they were still on the city's clock."
"I'm sorry, okay? It was that damn Davies. She must've put some idea in Kiff's head before we got to her."
Tamzarian dropped him, but didn't back off.
"You've got about three seconds to tell me why I shouldn't feed you to the cops."
Holding the rapidly forming bruises on his chest, Andy looked slyly up at his supervisor.
"Because if I go down, you go down. And because of this." He held up a post-it leaf. "It was on my locker door when I got here."
Tamzarian took the small yellow paper and read the note.
DEAR ANDY – THOUGHT IT MIGHT INTEREST YOU TO KNOW THAT YOU CAN FIND THE MS.'S DAVIES AND FRINK AT THE RESIDENCE OF MRS. BEATRICE MULGREW. PLEASE FIND DIRECTIONS BELOW. YOURS, JACK. P.S.- THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE, ASSHOLE. TRY NOT TO SCREW IT UP, AND HAVE A NICE DAY.
Thursday Late
The second time Tru woke up, she felt a deal more clear-headed, more like she was waking up after too little sleep than like she was actually STILL asleep. Despite the fact that it felt like she had an anvil hanging from each limb and a strip of tar over her eyes, she immediately had the impression that things had gotten better. Her leg was throbbing rather than burning. The sickly chill was gone. Best of all, she was no longer in a farm truck that smelled like wet hay.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a twin-size bed, under a comforter with many small pictures of Daffy Duck on it. A new IV bag hung from a floor lamp that was shaped like Gandalf. In fact, the entire décor of the room – Xena posters, action figures, Star Trek models – made Tru think of Davis and his permanent status as a bachelor.
Speaking of her boss, the blur looming over her was looking more and more like him.
"Tru?" it said.
Tru squinted. It was him all right, but he looked different. He looked as exhausted as she felt. His stocky body slumped in the beanbag chair by the bed as though he lacked the energy to square his shoulders. His beard was untrimmed, his hair mussed, and his eyes blood-shot.
"Davis," Tru managed to say.
A smile of intense relief broke over his face.
"Oh Tru, thank God. I thought... I mean, I was afraid that... How do you feel?"
"Tired. Really tired. Davis, where are we? How'd I get here?"
Davis cleared his throat. "My... Aunt's house."
"Your what?" Tru said.
"Tru, we don't know who all was in on the drug-skimming, but all of them have free access to hospitals. If we took you there while you were still unconscious, it would've been pretty easy for one of them to –"
"But your AUNT's house? What did you tell her?"
Just then, the room's door opened and a white-haired woman with skin like a prune and the thickest glasses Tru had ever seen poked her head inside.
"Davis, did you call your mommy to let her know you're still over here?" she said.
"Yes, Aunt Bea."
"Davis, do you and your little friends want some grilled-cheese sandwiches? I can make some grilled-cheese sandwiches."
"No thanks, Aunt Bea."
"I'll make some grilled-cheese sandwiches."
Aunt Bea then disappeared. Davis gave Tru a look.
"Oh," said Tru.
"Anyway, Kiff brought you here. Said she found you in some old factory in the boondocks. You were shot."
"Yeah. I remember that part."
"Well, you lost enough blood. You've also been running a fever."
He peeled away the damp cloth that had been resting on Tru's forehead and felt her face with the back of his hand. The light tough brought a series of dream-like memories to Tru: Bright lights. Soothing voices. Gentle hands doing rude things to her leg. Boiling heat. Freezing cold. Reassurances. Soft touches. A stubby hand holding hers.
That was when she noticed a few other things, like the metal tray of vials, syringes, medical instruments, suture and bandages on the nightstand. The wastebasket was overflowing with bloody gauze.
"Davis, did you do all this?
Davis took his hand away, suddenly looking self-conscious.
"Your, uh, fever's breaking. That's terrific."
"Dee..."
"What?" he said, trying to sound haughty. "I did my ER rotations in med school just like everybody else."
"Dee."
"I got the bullet out. It was all soft-tissue damage. You really should've had antibiotics, but I don't have a lot of that at the morgue –"
"Dee, you're babbling."
Davis stopped yammering and looked away.
"I, um... I was really scared, Tru."
Tru pulled a hand out from under the comforter and took one of Davis's, squeezing until he met her steady eyes.
"Thank you," she said.
Davis allowed a small smile. "It was nothing."
It didn't look like it had been nothing. It looked like he hadn't slept for... Jesus, how long?
"How long've I been here?"
"Two days."
Two days. Why was that important..?
"Kiff!" Tru gasped, sitting bolt upright and instantly regretting it. The room tilted like a roller coaster and a gray curtain closed in on her vision with every pulse of agony that the movement had awakened in her leg. It was only Davis catching her by the shoulders that kept her from falling out of bed.
"Easy!" Davis said, easing her back down. "Kiff's fine. She's been helping me take care of you. Er, by the way, she's the one who put you in those scrubs you're wearing, not me."
As if cued by the mention of her name, the door opened and Kiff appeared in the frame.
"Davis, your aunt's trying to make me eat sandwiches ag-... Oh." Her cloudy eyes perked up when she saw Tru looking at her.
Davis cleared his throat and stood. "I, uh, should go and help Aunt Bea. Why don't you two... Yeah."
He slid past Kiff and disappeared into the hallway, leaving Kiff and Tru alone. Kiff lingered in the doorway, eying Tru as if she were a wolf that Kiff wasn't sure was docile. She looked as tired and unkempt as Davis – Pale, thin, and slouched.
Kiff came in. Ignoring the beanbag chair, she sat instead on the edge of the bed, careful not to jar Tru's leg. She sat for what seemed a long time, not speaking, just staring down at her hands. Tru however didn't have time to interpret body language.
"Kiff, you were right. About the narc-skimming, the cover-up. It was four of your co-workers who... Are you all right?"
When Kiff spoke, it was very quiet.
"Did... um... Did I die?"
Tru felt herself go even paler than she already was. In her months of saving the recently dead, trying to convince them that their lives were in danger with nothing but herself as evidence, she'd never had one of them just come out and guess her secret. Still, there was no accusation in Kiff's eyes. There was only fear.
"What do you think?" Tru finally said.
"I think... the only reason I'm alive now is because I went looking for you instead of to work." She looked up from her hands then, and her eyes were shining with despair. "I'm sorry I didn't listen."
"It's all right. If I were you, I probably wouldn't have either."
"Listen... I don't really understand how our paths came to cross. But I do know that you saved me." Slowly, an ironic smile appeared. "Funny how things work out, eh?"
Tru had to smile back. Actually, it was kind of funny. In saving Kiff's life, she'd ultimately saved her own.
"Yeah," she said. "Funny how."
Friday 7:31 am
"Are you sure you're up to this?" Davis asked for the sixth time.
Tru, who was taking a moment to catch her breath from the considerable strain of putting on her shoes, gave him an exasperated look.
"I'm conscious, aren't I? Davis, we've waited too long already. If Tamzarian skips town, we'll lose him."
"Then let's call the cops and have them meet us at the hospital, where you should be."
"Already tried calling the cops," Tru reminded him. "They didn't believe you the first time, and I think they'll be even less inclined to after that wild goose chase Jack sent them on. No, I have to go to them."
"But what if someone intercepts us before we get into town? What if Jack traced me here? What if..."
Kiff watched the ongoing exchange from the corner of Aunt Bea's living room, her arms folded and her shoulder leaning against the wall. The discussion had started when Tru pulled herself out of bed despite Davis's protests that she was still too weak to go anywhere. Maybe that was true (it had taken about forty minutes just for Tru to make it here to the living room couch), but Kiff could see how anyone could get tired of this over protectiveness the ewok-looking fellow was engaging in. The fact that they were both so opaque was funny in a tragic sort of way.
Shaking her head, she slipped outside to warm up the Studebaker Aunt Bea had so graciously lent them for the day. Engrossed in finding the right key on a ring of dozens, she barely noticed the approach of the car with the busted muffler until it was almost too late.
Looking up, she saw the green Subaru, its radiator caved in, its headlights broken, and its windshield sporting a bullet hole. It pulled to a screeching halt at the foot of the driveway, blocking the Studebaker. Andy jumped out and jogged up to her, waving wildly as he went.
"Kiff!" he yelled. "Oh Kiff, thank God I found you! I've been looking everywhere. I was so afraid Tamzarian would find you before I did."
"Andy," Kiff said numbly. "How did you –"
"It's a long story and we don't have the time. Tamzarian's on his way here. We need to get out of here now. Are Tru and Davis inside?"
He made to go up the walkway to the front door. Kiff moved to block him.
"Kiff, what are you doing? Tamzarian'll be here any –"
Kiff blocked his attempt to go around her, staring hard up into his face. Slowly, Andy sighed, dropping the guise.
"Davies told you."
"No."
"Then how'd you know?"
"Those aren't cat scratches, Andy. We're paramedics. Don't you think I know the difference?"
"Well, I didn't mean to insult you. I didn't have time to think of anything better."
"You should've," said Kiff. "You should've done a lot of things."
A vicious back-hand sent her to the concrete. Andy stood over her, hands balled in rage.
"I should've??? All you had to do was stay out of it. All you had to do was trust me and I would've helped you fit in. But you couldn't even do that, could you, you little weasel? Nobody had to get hurt except a bunch of rich junkies. Now I've got to take care of that bitch from the morgue and her boss and the poor old lady who lives here. And you. Hope you're damn proud of yourself."
He headed for the front door again and made it a total of two steps before Kiff was on her feet and in his way again.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" he said, shaking his head.
Kiff stared him down through a rapidly swelling eye socket.
"I know that everybody thinks I'm weak, but I'm not weak. I'm right. I didn't let our peers or Tamzarian beat that out of me and I'm not going to let you. And I'm not going to let you kill her."
Andy hit her again. She stumbled back, managing to stay on her feet and holding a bloody nose.
"Get out of the way, Kiff."
"No."
He slapped her, reddening half her face. "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
She squared her shoulders and stayed cemented in place. He punched her with a savage right hook and she went down again. Dazedly, she blinked her vision back to focus as she reconsidered this strategy. She supposed she ought to be swinging back, but the closest she'd ever really been to a fight was a Tae Bo video and Andy had about eighty pounds on her. She just hoped she could stall him long enough for Davis and Tru to notice what was going on and escape.
"I was going to make it quick, Kiff. I don't want to do it this way."
Kiff got up again and spat out an amount of blood. "Then don't do it, Andy. They might go easy on you. You're a good paramedic."
"Wish I could say the same for you. You're not tough enough; you never were."
He punched her in the stomach. She doubled over as her knees buckled and she landed kneeling on the ground. Andy stepped over her and went for the door again. Kiff lurched after him, managing to grab his ankle, and sank her teeth into his lower leg.
"OW!"
Andy spun back and kicked Kiff in the jaw, drawing the Colt from his waistband in the same move. Aiming it down at her, he stood with one boot planted on Kiff's chest.
"There are four bullets left in this thing, Kiff. That's one for each of you. I don't want to use any of them outside like this, but if you don't knock it off, I'm going to plug you with all of them right now and then kill the others with my bare hands. Is that what you want?"
Kiff spat the blood from her split lip clear up to Andy's face and began to wrestle with his foot. Andy leaned forward, nearly crushing her.
"Guess I was wrong," he mused. "You are pretty tough. Too bad."
He raised the gun. Kiff squeezed her eyes shut.
A loud crack rang through the quiet neighborhood.
And Andy collapsed on top of Kiff.
Kiff blinked at him. He was sprawled over her with his bleeding head on her stomach, and as still as a corpse. Confused beyond words, Kiff looked up, and there was Tru.
Tru was balanced on her good leg, gasping with the exertion of hopping all the way down the walkway, and brandishing the garden shovel she'd just used to bash Andy's head in. She glared down at him.
"Not so tough without your car, are you?"
EPILOGUE... Later
Don died of post-surgical complications at about the same time Kiff and Davis brought Tru to the precinct house. Andy and Mike R. both survived to be served with warrants for their arrests. By the end of Friday morning, the two of them plus Tamzarian had been indicted on a long list of charges – Assault, false imprisonment, illegal distribution of controlled substances, reckless driving, and attempted murder, to name a few. Five minutes later, their lawyers were negotiating plea bargains in exchange for names, which included a medical intern, three receptionists, two fire lieutenants, and Jack. All but one of them were found and charged.
Tru spent a day and a night in the hospital. The idea was that she needed IV antibiotics for the last of the infection in her wound. It seemed to her however that the hospital staff was simply so skeptical over the success of Davis's improvised treatment that they needed to bother her every ten minutes until they found something wrong with it.
Failing that, they released her on Saturday morning with a plan for physical therapy, a prescription for vicodin (which she promptly tossed), and a pair of crutches. Harrison, in an almost eerie turn of events, picked her up from the hospital. However, before he was allowed to even think of taking her home, he was ordered to make one stop.
Harrison pulled Tru's car up to the curb outside the fire station and turned to Tru, who was gathering her crutches in the passenger seat.
"I know you're the pre-med student and all, but are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you just got out of the hospital with a gunshot wound and all. Shouldn't you be, like, resting?"
Tru hid a smile. It was refreshing to have her little brother worry about her for a change.
"For the last time, Harry. I can handle a ten-minute visit to a fire station. If I pass out, what better place to be than a building full of EMT's?"
"Fine. I'll be back to get you in a little while. Just stay away from the ones with guns."
"Will do."
"Oh, and Tru? Tell her I said hello, will you? Maybe drop her my number?"
So much for a turn of events.
"My God. You really are a pig."
"What?" Harrison said defensively. "I know you're a girl and all, but don't tell me you didn't notice what a cute little butt she has."
"Good bye, Harrison."
Tru found Kiff in the ambulance bay, checking the oil in one of the rigs. When she heard Tru's tri-legged approach, she looked up from her work through the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.
"Hello," she said brightly when she saw Tru.
"Hi," Tru smiled back. "I just came to check on you. This isn't more penance, is it?"
Kiff laughed a little, and it was a surprisingly musical sound.
"No, no. Actually, I got a formal apology from the department. And a new bike. This is light duty until I can see out of both eyes again. And... until I get a new partner. What about you? How's the leg?"
"It's getting there. I'll be chasing Harrison around town again in no time."
There was another subtle shift in Kiff's expression.
"How's the rest of you?"
"I... still get tired pretty fast," Tru admitted.
"I'll bet. You, uh, want some coffee?"
"Yeah, I do."
Tru hobbled after Kiff to the kitchenette, where three firemen were having a laugh over a bag of Fritos. One glance at Kiff and they broke off their conversation and left the room. Tru settled onto a stool at the island counter and looked from the retreating men to Kiff, who was stiffly pouring thick black joe into two identical mugs.
"What was that?" asked Tru.
Kiff sighed. "You know, I like to pretend they're avoiding me because they feel guilty and don't know how to say it yet. But I know they wish it'd been me that wound up in the shit. I may've been right. That doesn't change the fact that I'm a tiny female Jew and a company full of church- going he-men."
"But you're still here."
Kiff shrugged. "I love my job."
Tru smiled again.
"Anyway, is everything kosher now? I mean, Jack hasn't..?"
"No," said Tru. "No, he won't come after me. It's not his style to get his own hands dirty, and with all his puppets either in the hospital or jail, I think he'll cut his losses with this one."
"Good." Kiff cleared her throat. "You know, I don't know what this... THING that you do is. I don't really want to. But a very wise person once said that the only time wasted is the time you spend thinking you're alone." She fixed Tru with a meaningful look. "Now I know in my heart that I'm not. And I hope you know it too."
Tru considered that. She thought of how happy she'd been at first to learn that Jack shared her ability, and how crushing his betrayal was. But in the end, when she'd needed help, it had come from Davis and Harrison and even a couple of strangers. Kiff was right: You don't need people who are exactly like you as long as you've got the ones who catch you when you fall.
"Yeah," said Tru. "I do."
"Frink? Kiff, are you in h- Oh!" Mike O. stopped just inside the kitchenette and politely removed his hat when he saw Tru. "Excuse me, Miss."
"What can I do for you, Mike?" Kiff asked.
Mike twisted his hat in his hands.
"Well, uh... It's just that some of the other Mikes and me were uh... Well, we got to talking about... you know, stuff. And we just thought maybe we could buy you a beer after shift today. I mean, if you should want."
Kiff was dumbstruck, staring agape at Mike O. She probably would've been less surprised if the man had pulled a bazooka on her.
"She'd love to," Tru answered for her. "Wouldn't you, Kiff?"
Kiff snapped out of her stupor and answered quickly. "Um, sure!"
Mike O. smiled in relief. "Good. We'll see you then. Kiff. Miss."
Tru stifled a laugh at Kiff's shock as she watched Mike go. She lifted her mug.
"Here's to well-earned better times."
Grinning, Kiff clinked her own mug against Tru's. "I don't even like beer."
"You should take Harrison. He loves it."
"Oh, yeah. Speaking of your brother..." Kiff leaned forward across the counter and spoke quietly. "In case I ever meet him again, could you please ask him to quit staring at my ass?"
Elsewhere...
It wasn't a total loss, Jack reasoned as he stood some distance from the morgue, watching a couple of funeral home attendants load Don's remains into their vehicle. Someone had died in the end after all. True, it wasn't the right someone, but still...
Still, he hated losing. Still, he was tired of being thwarted by crafty little girls.
Next time. Next time, there would be no mistakes, no sloppiness. And if Tru got in the way again, which she certainly would, he'd be ready.
With that resolve more firmly in his mind than ever, he donned his sunglasses and strolled away.
THE END
This one is for everyone who, despite every reason not to, does the right thing. Yours in peace, Turtle
Tuesday 5:48 pm
Screwdriver dropped Kiff off at the intersection of RR 9 and Sanderson Road with a promise to send any passing motorists back her way and apologies that he couldn't hang around to take her back (his daughter's school play due to begin in less than an hour).
Alone in the deserted area, Kiff examined the building before her. Tamzarian Auto-Parts looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Its doors were chained shut with rusty padlocks and tall grass growing up through the cracks in the parking lot. Maybe she was wrong after all. Wouldn't that be nice?
She made it across the empty parking lot with the unhurried steps of someone not worth bothering, her collar turned up to her ears and the taps of her rubber soles carried off on the gray wind. She eyed the dilapidated building as it loomed closer, and the closer she got, the more ominous it looked: Its broken windows were like jagged teeth and the cracks in the brick exterior like forbidding battle scars.
She dropped her medical bag at the threshold of the fire exit, whose ancient padlock gave easily to the crowbar Screwdriver had lent her. The door swung outwards with a drawn-out whine. With a deep breath, Kiff picked up her slow, deliberate walk into the murky gloom.
A maze of canvas piles and wood scraps draped in cobwebs greeted her when she stepped inside. About ten paces out onto the floor, she managed to trip over one of the stacks of canvas tarps and land on hands and knees. Cursing her clumsiness, she sat back and rubbed her shin at the point of impact.
Except that it shouldn't have hurt to run into a pile of canvas.
Frowning, she looked back at the obstacle and found that what she had actually tripped over was not the tarps, but what was hidden under them: A metal box about the size of a watermelon, which was now tipped on its side with its contents spilling over the floor.
The box was full of sealed syringes. Picking one up, Kiff read the label and found it was a pre-filled syringe of morphine.
Kiff's heart kicked up into her throat. There were hundreds of those syringes in that box alone, and there was room to hide a lot of containers just like it.
Kiff pocketed the evidence and stood, only then realizing that her shoes were sticking to the floor. Peering down at it, she found a trail of reddish brown that at first glance could've been half-dry paint. That is, it could have if she weren't an EMT and quite familiar with the look of blood.
The trail led from the building's side door to an office door that was pinned shut by a folding chair that somebody had jammed under the knob. Once she had the chair cleared away, the door opened easily and a dusty shaft of light spilled into the office...
... directly onto the girl on the floor.
"Oh, no..."
Kiff had found Tru Davies, alive albeit barely. She lay on her side at Kiff's feet, trussed with duct tape. Kind of moot, Kiff couldn't help noticing: She didn't look like she could stand, much less break down the door and escape. A very rough bandage about her leg was soaked with blood. Her eyes fluttered as though she were trying to wake up but couldn't.
Kiff dropped to a knee beside Tru. Gingerly, she peeled the tape from the inert girl's mouth.
"Davies?" Kiff whispered. "Davies, can you hear me?"
Eyes still closed, Tru nodded.
Kiff sighed in relief and began sawing at the rest of the tape with her leatherman.
"Listen. I'm going to get you out of here, but you have to be real quiet, understand? I'll take you someplace safe."
"No..."
Tru hadn't said it so much as breathed it. She might as well have stuck a bull horn in Kiff's ear as far as shock value.
"What do you mean 'no'? You want to wait around for Senor Psychopath to come back?"
"No... No hospital... Hafta... Hafta save Kiff..."
Kiff swallowed hard and cradled Tru's face in her hands. "You already have."
Tru managed to force her eyes open halfway and met Kiff's for the barest instant before she passed out completely, going slack under the other woman's hands.
Kiff whipped off her coat and wrapped it around Tru's body. Then she lifted her in her thin, strong arms and began to put as much distance between them and Tamzarian Auto-Parts as humanly possible.
Tuesday Later
The sun was setting when Tru awoke, although all her perceptions were so fuzzy that she was sure it was a dream. The only thing to negate that theory was the thudding pain in her leg that was exacerbated with every bump in the road.
Bump in the road?
Tru blinked until her vision focused somewhat and found the situation to be a far cry from anything she'd expected: She was lying in the flat bed of a pickup truck, which was sailing down an unpaved country road. Her head was cushioned on a sack of seed. She was covered to the chin with a long gray coat, but her left arm felt strangely cold. Glancing down at it, she was even more surprised to find it attached to a running bag of IV fluids. Her leg, which was elevated on another grain sack, sported a thick gauze bandage and was no longer bleeding. She even had oxygen flowing into her nose from a cannula on a tank in a large bag on her right that was emblazoned with a reflective star of life. Also on her right was Kiff.
Kiff, despite the chill in the air, seemed untouched in her undershirt and jeans. She was sitting with her elbows planted on her drawn-up knees and her forehead bowed against her clasped hands. With her eyes closed, she looked like she was praying.
"Kiff?" Tru whispered.
Kiff opened her eyes and looked down at her, as though waiting for a question. Tru was more than ready to oblige.
"What's going on? Where are we?"
"Rural Rout Nine."
"But how did I... Did you..?"
Kiff just looked at her with those weary eyes, and Tru knew the answer. Yes, Kiff was the one who'd rescued her and hitched this ride to God-knows-where.
"How'd you find me?"
Kiff opened one of her hands and out dropped a shiny object that dangled from a thin cord. When she held it closer for Tru to see, Tru found that it was a small gold cross. Her cross. The one her mother had given her.
"You told me," Kiff said.
She dropped the cross into Tru's hand. Tru was suddenly in mental shock as well as physical. It had worked. It had actually worked! She closed her hand around the cross and held it like an ember that meant the difference between living and freezing to death.
Kiff offered a gentle look that she hoped was more reassuring than she felt.
"Rest, my friend."
Thursday Early
Tamzarian slammed Andy against his office wall and held him there, the smaller man's feet actually dangling some inches off the floor.
"You've got stones to come here now, boy," he rumbled. "Thought you could just leave me hanging when the shit storm hit, did you? HUH???"
Andy tried to draw a decent breath into his constricted chest and failed. He'd avoided coming here thus far for exactly this reason, scouring the city streets up and down on his own. The only trace he'd found of Kiff was her distorted bicycle. Promising, but not concrete.
He'd finally resigned himself to come here and take his medicine from Tamzarian. So far, it was going pretty well (At least he still had all his bits attached).
"I'm sorry!" Andy coughed. "We thought we could find her before –"
"What? Before I found out what a fucking screw-up you are?"
"Hey, I wasn't the one who almost let the chick from the morgue get away!"
"Oh, don't even get me started on those two. It was some of MY ambulances had to haul their sorry asses to County General. Now I've got everyone asking me how my guys were out getting messed up when they were still on the city's clock."
"I'm sorry, okay? It was that damn Davies. She must've put some idea in Kiff's head before we got to her."
Tamzarian dropped him, but didn't back off.
"You've got about three seconds to tell me why I shouldn't feed you to the cops."
Holding the rapidly forming bruises on his chest, Andy looked slyly up at his supervisor.
"Because if I go down, you go down. And because of this." He held up a post-it leaf. "It was on my locker door when I got here."
Tamzarian took the small yellow paper and read the note.
DEAR ANDY – THOUGHT IT MIGHT INTEREST YOU TO KNOW THAT YOU CAN FIND THE MS.'S DAVIES AND FRINK AT THE RESIDENCE OF MRS. BEATRICE MULGREW. PLEASE FIND DIRECTIONS BELOW. YOURS, JACK. P.S.- THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE, ASSHOLE. TRY NOT TO SCREW IT UP, AND HAVE A NICE DAY.
Thursday Late
The second time Tru woke up, she felt a deal more clear-headed, more like she was waking up after too little sleep than like she was actually STILL asleep. Despite the fact that it felt like she had an anvil hanging from each limb and a strip of tar over her eyes, she immediately had the impression that things had gotten better. Her leg was throbbing rather than burning. The sickly chill was gone. Best of all, she was no longer in a farm truck that smelled like wet hay.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a twin-size bed, under a comforter with many small pictures of Daffy Duck on it. A new IV bag hung from a floor lamp that was shaped like Gandalf. In fact, the entire décor of the room – Xena posters, action figures, Star Trek models – made Tru think of Davis and his permanent status as a bachelor.
Speaking of her boss, the blur looming over her was looking more and more like him.
"Tru?" it said.
Tru squinted. It was him all right, but he looked different. He looked as exhausted as she felt. His stocky body slumped in the beanbag chair by the bed as though he lacked the energy to square his shoulders. His beard was untrimmed, his hair mussed, and his eyes blood-shot.
"Davis," Tru managed to say.
A smile of intense relief broke over his face.
"Oh Tru, thank God. I thought... I mean, I was afraid that... How do you feel?"
"Tired. Really tired. Davis, where are we? How'd I get here?"
Davis cleared his throat. "My... Aunt's house."
"Your what?" Tru said.
"Tru, we don't know who all was in on the drug-skimming, but all of them have free access to hospitals. If we took you there while you were still unconscious, it would've been pretty easy for one of them to –"
"But your AUNT's house? What did you tell her?"
Just then, the room's door opened and a white-haired woman with skin like a prune and the thickest glasses Tru had ever seen poked her head inside.
"Davis, did you call your mommy to let her know you're still over here?" she said.
"Yes, Aunt Bea."
"Davis, do you and your little friends want some grilled-cheese sandwiches? I can make some grilled-cheese sandwiches."
"No thanks, Aunt Bea."
"I'll make some grilled-cheese sandwiches."
Aunt Bea then disappeared. Davis gave Tru a look.
"Oh," said Tru.
"Anyway, Kiff brought you here. Said she found you in some old factory in the boondocks. You were shot."
"Yeah. I remember that part."
"Well, you lost enough blood. You've also been running a fever."
He peeled away the damp cloth that had been resting on Tru's forehead and felt her face with the back of his hand. The light tough brought a series of dream-like memories to Tru: Bright lights. Soothing voices. Gentle hands doing rude things to her leg. Boiling heat. Freezing cold. Reassurances. Soft touches. A stubby hand holding hers.
That was when she noticed a few other things, like the metal tray of vials, syringes, medical instruments, suture and bandages on the nightstand. The wastebasket was overflowing with bloody gauze.
"Davis, did you do all this?
Davis took his hand away, suddenly looking self-conscious.
"Your, uh, fever's breaking. That's terrific."
"Dee..."
"What?" he said, trying to sound haughty. "I did my ER rotations in med school just like everybody else."
"Dee."
"I got the bullet out. It was all soft-tissue damage. You really should've had antibiotics, but I don't have a lot of that at the morgue –"
"Dee, you're babbling."
Davis stopped yammering and looked away.
"I, um... I was really scared, Tru."
Tru pulled a hand out from under the comforter and took one of Davis's, squeezing until he met her steady eyes.
"Thank you," she said.
Davis allowed a small smile. "It was nothing."
It didn't look like it had been nothing. It looked like he hadn't slept for... Jesus, how long?
"How long've I been here?"
"Two days."
Two days. Why was that important..?
"Kiff!" Tru gasped, sitting bolt upright and instantly regretting it. The room tilted like a roller coaster and a gray curtain closed in on her vision with every pulse of agony that the movement had awakened in her leg. It was only Davis catching her by the shoulders that kept her from falling out of bed.
"Easy!" Davis said, easing her back down. "Kiff's fine. She's been helping me take care of you. Er, by the way, she's the one who put you in those scrubs you're wearing, not me."
As if cued by the mention of her name, the door opened and Kiff appeared in the frame.
"Davis, your aunt's trying to make me eat sandwiches ag-... Oh." Her cloudy eyes perked up when she saw Tru looking at her.
Davis cleared his throat and stood. "I, uh, should go and help Aunt Bea. Why don't you two... Yeah."
He slid past Kiff and disappeared into the hallway, leaving Kiff and Tru alone. Kiff lingered in the doorway, eying Tru as if she were a wolf that Kiff wasn't sure was docile. She looked as tired and unkempt as Davis – Pale, thin, and slouched.
Kiff came in. Ignoring the beanbag chair, she sat instead on the edge of the bed, careful not to jar Tru's leg. She sat for what seemed a long time, not speaking, just staring down at her hands. Tru however didn't have time to interpret body language.
"Kiff, you were right. About the narc-skimming, the cover-up. It was four of your co-workers who... Are you all right?"
When Kiff spoke, it was very quiet.
"Did... um... Did I die?"
Tru felt herself go even paler than she already was. In her months of saving the recently dead, trying to convince them that their lives were in danger with nothing but herself as evidence, she'd never had one of them just come out and guess her secret. Still, there was no accusation in Kiff's eyes. There was only fear.
"What do you think?" Tru finally said.
"I think... the only reason I'm alive now is because I went looking for you instead of to work." She looked up from her hands then, and her eyes were shining with despair. "I'm sorry I didn't listen."
"It's all right. If I were you, I probably wouldn't have either."
"Listen... I don't really understand how our paths came to cross. But I do know that you saved me." Slowly, an ironic smile appeared. "Funny how things work out, eh?"
Tru had to smile back. Actually, it was kind of funny. In saving Kiff's life, she'd ultimately saved her own.
"Yeah," she said. "Funny how."
Friday 7:31 am
"Are you sure you're up to this?" Davis asked for the sixth time.
Tru, who was taking a moment to catch her breath from the considerable strain of putting on her shoes, gave him an exasperated look.
"I'm conscious, aren't I? Davis, we've waited too long already. If Tamzarian skips town, we'll lose him."
"Then let's call the cops and have them meet us at the hospital, where you should be."
"Already tried calling the cops," Tru reminded him. "They didn't believe you the first time, and I think they'll be even less inclined to after that wild goose chase Jack sent them on. No, I have to go to them."
"But what if someone intercepts us before we get into town? What if Jack traced me here? What if..."
Kiff watched the ongoing exchange from the corner of Aunt Bea's living room, her arms folded and her shoulder leaning against the wall. The discussion had started when Tru pulled herself out of bed despite Davis's protests that she was still too weak to go anywhere. Maybe that was true (it had taken about forty minutes just for Tru to make it here to the living room couch), but Kiff could see how anyone could get tired of this over protectiveness the ewok-looking fellow was engaging in. The fact that they were both so opaque was funny in a tragic sort of way.
Shaking her head, she slipped outside to warm up the Studebaker Aunt Bea had so graciously lent them for the day. Engrossed in finding the right key on a ring of dozens, she barely noticed the approach of the car with the busted muffler until it was almost too late.
Looking up, she saw the green Subaru, its radiator caved in, its headlights broken, and its windshield sporting a bullet hole. It pulled to a screeching halt at the foot of the driveway, blocking the Studebaker. Andy jumped out and jogged up to her, waving wildly as he went.
"Kiff!" he yelled. "Oh Kiff, thank God I found you! I've been looking everywhere. I was so afraid Tamzarian would find you before I did."
"Andy," Kiff said numbly. "How did you –"
"It's a long story and we don't have the time. Tamzarian's on his way here. We need to get out of here now. Are Tru and Davis inside?"
He made to go up the walkway to the front door. Kiff moved to block him.
"Kiff, what are you doing? Tamzarian'll be here any –"
Kiff blocked his attempt to go around her, staring hard up into his face. Slowly, Andy sighed, dropping the guise.
"Davies told you."
"No."
"Then how'd you know?"
"Those aren't cat scratches, Andy. We're paramedics. Don't you think I know the difference?"
"Well, I didn't mean to insult you. I didn't have time to think of anything better."
"You should've," said Kiff. "You should've done a lot of things."
A vicious back-hand sent her to the concrete. Andy stood over her, hands balled in rage.
"I should've??? All you had to do was stay out of it. All you had to do was trust me and I would've helped you fit in. But you couldn't even do that, could you, you little weasel? Nobody had to get hurt except a bunch of rich junkies. Now I've got to take care of that bitch from the morgue and her boss and the poor old lady who lives here. And you. Hope you're damn proud of yourself."
He headed for the front door again and made it a total of two steps before Kiff was on her feet and in his way again.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" he said, shaking his head.
Kiff stared him down through a rapidly swelling eye socket.
"I know that everybody thinks I'm weak, but I'm not weak. I'm right. I didn't let our peers or Tamzarian beat that out of me and I'm not going to let you. And I'm not going to let you kill her."
Andy hit her again. She stumbled back, managing to stay on her feet and holding a bloody nose.
"Get out of the way, Kiff."
"No."
He slapped her, reddening half her face. "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
She squared her shoulders and stayed cemented in place. He punched her with a savage right hook and she went down again. Dazedly, she blinked her vision back to focus as she reconsidered this strategy. She supposed she ought to be swinging back, but the closest she'd ever really been to a fight was a Tae Bo video and Andy had about eighty pounds on her. She just hoped she could stall him long enough for Davis and Tru to notice what was going on and escape.
"I was going to make it quick, Kiff. I don't want to do it this way."
Kiff got up again and spat out an amount of blood. "Then don't do it, Andy. They might go easy on you. You're a good paramedic."
"Wish I could say the same for you. You're not tough enough; you never were."
He punched her in the stomach. She doubled over as her knees buckled and she landed kneeling on the ground. Andy stepped over her and went for the door again. Kiff lurched after him, managing to grab his ankle, and sank her teeth into his lower leg.
"OW!"
Andy spun back and kicked Kiff in the jaw, drawing the Colt from his waistband in the same move. Aiming it down at her, he stood with one boot planted on Kiff's chest.
"There are four bullets left in this thing, Kiff. That's one for each of you. I don't want to use any of them outside like this, but if you don't knock it off, I'm going to plug you with all of them right now and then kill the others with my bare hands. Is that what you want?"
Kiff spat the blood from her split lip clear up to Andy's face and began to wrestle with his foot. Andy leaned forward, nearly crushing her.
"Guess I was wrong," he mused. "You are pretty tough. Too bad."
He raised the gun. Kiff squeezed her eyes shut.
A loud crack rang through the quiet neighborhood.
And Andy collapsed on top of Kiff.
Kiff blinked at him. He was sprawled over her with his bleeding head on her stomach, and as still as a corpse. Confused beyond words, Kiff looked up, and there was Tru.
Tru was balanced on her good leg, gasping with the exertion of hopping all the way down the walkway, and brandishing the garden shovel she'd just used to bash Andy's head in. She glared down at him.
"Not so tough without your car, are you?"
EPILOGUE... Later
Don died of post-surgical complications at about the same time Kiff and Davis brought Tru to the precinct house. Andy and Mike R. both survived to be served with warrants for their arrests. By the end of Friday morning, the two of them plus Tamzarian had been indicted on a long list of charges – Assault, false imprisonment, illegal distribution of controlled substances, reckless driving, and attempted murder, to name a few. Five minutes later, their lawyers were negotiating plea bargains in exchange for names, which included a medical intern, three receptionists, two fire lieutenants, and Jack. All but one of them were found and charged.
Tru spent a day and a night in the hospital. The idea was that she needed IV antibiotics for the last of the infection in her wound. It seemed to her however that the hospital staff was simply so skeptical over the success of Davis's improvised treatment that they needed to bother her every ten minutes until they found something wrong with it.
Failing that, they released her on Saturday morning with a plan for physical therapy, a prescription for vicodin (which she promptly tossed), and a pair of crutches. Harrison, in an almost eerie turn of events, picked her up from the hospital. However, before he was allowed to even think of taking her home, he was ordered to make one stop.
Harrison pulled Tru's car up to the curb outside the fire station and turned to Tru, who was gathering her crutches in the passenger seat.
"I know you're the pre-med student and all, but are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you just got out of the hospital with a gunshot wound and all. Shouldn't you be, like, resting?"
Tru hid a smile. It was refreshing to have her little brother worry about her for a change.
"For the last time, Harry. I can handle a ten-minute visit to a fire station. If I pass out, what better place to be than a building full of EMT's?"
"Fine. I'll be back to get you in a little while. Just stay away from the ones with guns."
"Will do."
"Oh, and Tru? Tell her I said hello, will you? Maybe drop her my number?"
So much for a turn of events.
"My God. You really are a pig."
"What?" Harrison said defensively. "I know you're a girl and all, but don't tell me you didn't notice what a cute little butt she has."
"Good bye, Harrison."
Tru found Kiff in the ambulance bay, checking the oil in one of the rigs. When she heard Tru's tri-legged approach, she looked up from her work through the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.
"Hello," she said brightly when she saw Tru.
"Hi," Tru smiled back. "I just came to check on you. This isn't more penance, is it?"
Kiff laughed a little, and it was a surprisingly musical sound.
"No, no. Actually, I got a formal apology from the department. And a new bike. This is light duty until I can see out of both eyes again. And... until I get a new partner. What about you? How's the leg?"
"It's getting there. I'll be chasing Harrison around town again in no time."
There was another subtle shift in Kiff's expression.
"How's the rest of you?"
"I... still get tired pretty fast," Tru admitted.
"I'll bet. You, uh, want some coffee?"
"Yeah, I do."
Tru hobbled after Kiff to the kitchenette, where three firemen were having a laugh over a bag of Fritos. One glance at Kiff and they broke off their conversation and left the room. Tru settled onto a stool at the island counter and looked from the retreating men to Kiff, who was stiffly pouring thick black joe into two identical mugs.
"What was that?" asked Tru.
Kiff sighed. "You know, I like to pretend they're avoiding me because they feel guilty and don't know how to say it yet. But I know they wish it'd been me that wound up in the shit. I may've been right. That doesn't change the fact that I'm a tiny female Jew and a company full of church- going he-men."
"But you're still here."
Kiff shrugged. "I love my job."
Tru smiled again.
"Anyway, is everything kosher now? I mean, Jack hasn't..?"
"No," said Tru. "No, he won't come after me. It's not his style to get his own hands dirty, and with all his puppets either in the hospital or jail, I think he'll cut his losses with this one."
"Good." Kiff cleared her throat. "You know, I don't know what this... THING that you do is. I don't really want to. But a very wise person once said that the only time wasted is the time you spend thinking you're alone." She fixed Tru with a meaningful look. "Now I know in my heart that I'm not. And I hope you know it too."
Tru considered that. She thought of how happy she'd been at first to learn that Jack shared her ability, and how crushing his betrayal was. But in the end, when she'd needed help, it had come from Davis and Harrison and even a couple of strangers. Kiff was right: You don't need people who are exactly like you as long as you've got the ones who catch you when you fall.
"Yeah," said Tru. "I do."
"Frink? Kiff, are you in h- Oh!" Mike O. stopped just inside the kitchenette and politely removed his hat when he saw Tru. "Excuse me, Miss."
"What can I do for you, Mike?" Kiff asked.
Mike twisted his hat in his hands.
"Well, uh... It's just that some of the other Mikes and me were uh... Well, we got to talking about... you know, stuff. And we just thought maybe we could buy you a beer after shift today. I mean, if you should want."
Kiff was dumbstruck, staring agape at Mike O. She probably would've been less surprised if the man had pulled a bazooka on her.
"She'd love to," Tru answered for her. "Wouldn't you, Kiff?"
Kiff snapped out of her stupor and answered quickly. "Um, sure!"
Mike O. smiled in relief. "Good. We'll see you then. Kiff. Miss."
Tru stifled a laugh at Kiff's shock as she watched Mike go. She lifted her mug.
"Here's to well-earned better times."
Grinning, Kiff clinked her own mug against Tru's. "I don't even like beer."
"You should take Harrison. He loves it."
"Oh, yeah. Speaking of your brother..." Kiff leaned forward across the counter and spoke quietly. "In case I ever meet him again, could you please ask him to quit staring at my ass?"
Elsewhere...
It wasn't a total loss, Jack reasoned as he stood some distance from the morgue, watching a couple of funeral home attendants load Don's remains into their vehicle. Someone had died in the end after all. True, it wasn't the right someone, but still...
Still, he hated losing. Still, he was tired of being thwarted by crafty little girls.
Next time. Next time, there would be no mistakes, no sloppiness. And if Tru got in the way again, which she certainly would, he'd be ready.
With that resolve more firmly in his mind than ever, he donned his sunglasses and strolled away.
THE END
This one is for everyone who, despite every reason not to, does the right thing. Yours in peace, Turtle