***Thanks for waiting, I got sunburned pretty bad, and I've just now beaten
my evil computer into submission, so here we go!***
CHAPTER 8:
((This chapter has most of the characters, and lots of Woody/Jordan action in it! And it's the next day from chapter 7))
~~Woody~~ Today's the big day...Sarge has been making us all be extra careful in preparation for the sting...so I'll be fine. We've got lines tapped, camera's set up, and plenty of backup ready to roll in. I feel kinda bad for telling Jordan I was just being backup for this thing. She was really concerned, even at that. She doesn't need to know...she'd just freak out more. I pulled on a pair of jeans, and then an undershirt. I eyed the bulletproof vest sitting on the bench next to me. Sarge wants us all to wear them...but the damn things are so uncomfortable.
"Hey Hoyt."
I looked up to see Eric standing over me. "Yeah Johnson?"
"You gonna wear your vest?"
"I was thinking about it. You wearing yours?"
"Of course Woody..." he tapped his chest. "...I've got Lisa and the girls at home...daddy can't get hurt."
"Yeah. I suppose I will wear it..." I eyed the vest and sighed. "I can't get hurt either."
"You got a girl yet? Is it that hot M.E.?" He pretended to sock me on the shoulder. "Make a move on her man...she's a fine piece of girl...if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know what you mean, Eric." I pulled the vest over my head, and strapped it into place. "You ready?"
"Ready to catch that bastard? Hell yeah I am!" He grabbed his gun and slid it into the shoulder holster. "We've got a brief in 5 minutes."
"Alright. I'll be there." I watched as we walked out of the locker room, then I buttoned a shirt up over the vest, grabbed my gun, and followed him into the briefing room. This was gonna be a piece of cake.
~~Jordan~~
"Bug? I need those prints in my box as soon as you can get them. Have you seen Nigel around?"
"No, I don't think he's here yet. Garret's about to hit the roof--Rene's trying to get evidence that we still should have rights to."
"She's messing with him this early?!" I glared at him. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Nope, the Wicked Witch still lives on." He grabbed a file of my desk and started flipping through it. "What have we got to do today?"
I took it back. "I'm going to be doing paperwork on the woman we got last week. Missing Persons called, and we got an ID. Next of kin's gonna pick her up this afternoon."
"Great! Need me to sign anything?" He looked around for a pen.
"Yeah, just sign her off when the daughter gets here will ya?" I handed him a stack of papers. "You're so eager, you can do these."
"Alright Jordan. You win." Bug grabbed the papers from me, then walked off towards his office.
I sat around for about 15 minutes until Nigel poked his head in the door, holding a brown paper bag.
"Got a minute Jordan?"
I looked up at him. "For breakfast? Nope."
He came in and put the bag in front of me on my desk, then sat in the rolling chair and came over next to me. "Not breakfast Love..." He nudged the bag towards me. "Open it."
"Is this some kind of joke?" I looked in the bag and saw a half-smoked cigar lying in the bottom. "Why do you have this?"
"I went back to where they found that kid, and I looked over the scene again, and I found this." He grinned at me. "And you want to know the best part?"
"What?"
"It's got DNA that matches two sources on it."
"Who's is it?"
"One of them matches the kid, and one strain is an unknown. Whoever's that is...they were with the kid the night he died." He took the bag back, then nodded. "I'm gonna find him. You just watch."
~~Woody~~ I looked at the house out of the back of the surveilance van windows. The guy was home alright--lights on, TV blaring. We'd been sitting in front of the house down the street for about three hours, just watching to make sure he didn't leave. Now was our chance to make our move...someone had just pulled up and entered the house from the side door. I readjusted the earpiece I had on and listened to the quiet converstation being whispered back and forth between the vans we had surrounding the house. I heard the call to be ready to move in at the signal, so I checked to be sure my gun was loaded, then I sat nervously, ready to jump out of the van and bust this guy for good.
Suddenly, the radio crackled to life, with a clear-cut order to move in on the house. We busted out of the van and raced up to the door, kicking through the screen door, and busting into the house. Everyone was yelling, and I heard gunshots from the back room of the house. I ran towards the back, and saw someone go running downstairs into the basement, so I followed him, jumping down the wooden stairs, straight into the darkness. It took about a minute for my eyes to adjust, and my nose cringed at the smell of gas and chemicals that hit my nose. My eyes started watering, and I yelled for someone to call a HAZ-MAT truck in here. I saw a shadow dart across the room, follwed by the flash and crack of a gunshot, which I felt fly by my head. I naturally ducked, and then I was hit in the back of the head with what felt like a piece of a hockey stick. I reeled around to find myself face to face with a guy pointing a gun at my chest, grinning evily.
I tightened my grip on my gun. "Put it down buddy. I'm not afraid to shoot you."
"Neither am I." He aimed down at my leg and fired, sending a bullet tearing through my thigh. I dropped to the floor in pain, clutching my gun while doing so.
I screamed into my radio. "SOMEONE GET THEIR ASS DOWN HERE AND HELP ME!!!"
The suspect only laughed, then pistol-whipped me across my face. I tasted blood in my mouth, then I managed to pull myself up by clinging to a box that was covered in gasoline. I don't know how it hadn't exploded yet. I grabbed my gun and raised it at him, my hand shaking.
"You think you're gonna be able to shoot me?" He fired five or six shots into my chest, knocking the wind out of me, then he grabbed my gun. "I think we should use your gun for the kill shot...don't you think?"
"Go to Hell!" I rolled over and tried to breathe, spitting out blood.
"Alright." He grabbed several tubes that he had running to a meth kit and pulled them out, sending gasoline and chemicals spraying everywhere, including on himself. "We'll go to hell." He grabbed the hockey stick again and brought it down, hard, on the side of my head. I instantly blacked out, and was sent flying into a vivid whirlwind of memories.
You've done it now...farmboy... I heard that haunting voice come into my head, followed by an image of Jordan, clutching a gun, aimed straight at me. "Jordan...what did I do?" She grinned at me. "You made me think that I loved you, then you leave me here to live in this Hell..." I grabbed up towards her, then she fired the gun straight at me. I screamed out, not knowing what else to do.
I felt a blast of flame sear across my body, and I glanced up to see the suspect shoot himself dead. He had shot the tank of gasoline, and I tried to pull myself up and get out of the basement, but I couldn't. My legs were pinned under a heavy tank that had fallen across them. My radio was dead, and I could hear shouting from above: "Everyone out! Get out now! The place is going to explode!" It was silent for about 30 seconds, and I looked up to see a can of nitroglycerine teetering towards the edge of the flames. I watched and held my breath as it leaned closer, and closer, and closer, and then I saw it fall into the flames, sending a huge explosion ripping through the house, sending me flying into a concrete wall. I felt and heard bones snap like twigs, and then I glanced up to see a wall of fire collapse the floor above, sending it crashing down towards me. I tried to scream, but I couldn't. The last thing I saw was fire, then--nothing.
~~Garret~~ I was sitting on the phone, listening to this bitch complain about the morgue's policy's, when Nigel came bursting into my office.
"Mate, turn on the TV!"
"Nigel...I'm on the phone...can't this wait?"
He grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV in the corner of the room, where the screen was filled with the image of a burning building, surrounded by squad cars, fire trucks, HAZ-MAT vehicles, and helicopters hovering overhead. He turned up the volume, and sat staring at the screen.
"Reports are indicating that this house was the site of a heroin dealing site and a lab where methanphetamines were being produced. No word yet on any injuries, but police were in the middle of a raid on this house when an explosion in the basement triggered a complete collapse of the building. We'll continue coverage and pass on details as we get them." The news cut to a commercial, and we both turned around to see Bug, Lily, Peter, and Jordan standing in the doorway staring at the TV. Jordan was holding onto the doorway to keep herself standing, so I jumped up and grabbed her, before she fell.
"Jordan--what's wrong?" I grabbed her, and Nigel pushed a chair in my direction.
She stared and the screen and started shaking. "Woody..."
Nigel glanced back at the screen, and let out a low gasp. "Oh my God."
TO BE CONTINUED:
***I KNOW, I KNOW, the lynch mobs are going to be running rampant tonight! I have some support on this, so be prepared to fend off a wild steer with his owner who is very handy with a shovel!***
CHAPTER 8:
((This chapter has most of the characters, and lots of Woody/Jordan action in it! And it's the next day from chapter 7))
~~Woody~~ Today's the big day...Sarge has been making us all be extra careful in preparation for the sting...so I'll be fine. We've got lines tapped, camera's set up, and plenty of backup ready to roll in. I feel kinda bad for telling Jordan I was just being backup for this thing. She was really concerned, even at that. She doesn't need to know...she'd just freak out more. I pulled on a pair of jeans, and then an undershirt. I eyed the bulletproof vest sitting on the bench next to me. Sarge wants us all to wear them...but the damn things are so uncomfortable.
"Hey Hoyt."
I looked up to see Eric standing over me. "Yeah Johnson?"
"You gonna wear your vest?"
"I was thinking about it. You wearing yours?"
"Of course Woody..." he tapped his chest. "...I've got Lisa and the girls at home...daddy can't get hurt."
"Yeah. I suppose I will wear it..." I eyed the vest and sighed. "I can't get hurt either."
"You got a girl yet? Is it that hot M.E.?" He pretended to sock me on the shoulder. "Make a move on her man...she's a fine piece of girl...if you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know what you mean, Eric." I pulled the vest over my head, and strapped it into place. "You ready?"
"Ready to catch that bastard? Hell yeah I am!" He grabbed his gun and slid it into the shoulder holster. "We've got a brief in 5 minutes."
"Alright. I'll be there." I watched as we walked out of the locker room, then I buttoned a shirt up over the vest, grabbed my gun, and followed him into the briefing room. This was gonna be a piece of cake.
~~Jordan~~
"Bug? I need those prints in my box as soon as you can get them. Have you seen Nigel around?"
"No, I don't think he's here yet. Garret's about to hit the roof--Rene's trying to get evidence that we still should have rights to."
"She's messing with him this early?!" I glared at him. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Nope, the Wicked Witch still lives on." He grabbed a file of my desk and started flipping through it. "What have we got to do today?"
I took it back. "I'm going to be doing paperwork on the woman we got last week. Missing Persons called, and we got an ID. Next of kin's gonna pick her up this afternoon."
"Great! Need me to sign anything?" He looked around for a pen.
"Yeah, just sign her off when the daughter gets here will ya?" I handed him a stack of papers. "You're so eager, you can do these."
"Alright Jordan. You win." Bug grabbed the papers from me, then walked off towards his office.
I sat around for about 15 minutes until Nigel poked his head in the door, holding a brown paper bag.
"Got a minute Jordan?"
I looked up at him. "For breakfast? Nope."
He came in and put the bag in front of me on my desk, then sat in the rolling chair and came over next to me. "Not breakfast Love..." He nudged the bag towards me. "Open it."
"Is this some kind of joke?" I looked in the bag and saw a half-smoked cigar lying in the bottom. "Why do you have this?"
"I went back to where they found that kid, and I looked over the scene again, and I found this." He grinned at me. "And you want to know the best part?"
"What?"
"It's got DNA that matches two sources on it."
"Who's is it?"
"One of them matches the kid, and one strain is an unknown. Whoever's that is...they were with the kid the night he died." He took the bag back, then nodded. "I'm gonna find him. You just watch."
~~Woody~~ I looked at the house out of the back of the surveilance van windows. The guy was home alright--lights on, TV blaring. We'd been sitting in front of the house down the street for about three hours, just watching to make sure he didn't leave. Now was our chance to make our move...someone had just pulled up and entered the house from the side door. I readjusted the earpiece I had on and listened to the quiet converstation being whispered back and forth between the vans we had surrounding the house. I heard the call to be ready to move in at the signal, so I checked to be sure my gun was loaded, then I sat nervously, ready to jump out of the van and bust this guy for good.
Suddenly, the radio crackled to life, with a clear-cut order to move in on the house. We busted out of the van and raced up to the door, kicking through the screen door, and busting into the house. Everyone was yelling, and I heard gunshots from the back room of the house. I ran towards the back, and saw someone go running downstairs into the basement, so I followed him, jumping down the wooden stairs, straight into the darkness. It took about a minute for my eyes to adjust, and my nose cringed at the smell of gas and chemicals that hit my nose. My eyes started watering, and I yelled for someone to call a HAZ-MAT truck in here. I saw a shadow dart across the room, follwed by the flash and crack of a gunshot, which I felt fly by my head. I naturally ducked, and then I was hit in the back of the head with what felt like a piece of a hockey stick. I reeled around to find myself face to face with a guy pointing a gun at my chest, grinning evily.
I tightened my grip on my gun. "Put it down buddy. I'm not afraid to shoot you."
"Neither am I." He aimed down at my leg and fired, sending a bullet tearing through my thigh. I dropped to the floor in pain, clutching my gun while doing so.
I screamed into my radio. "SOMEONE GET THEIR ASS DOWN HERE AND HELP ME!!!"
The suspect only laughed, then pistol-whipped me across my face. I tasted blood in my mouth, then I managed to pull myself up by clinging to a box that was covered in gasoline. I don't know how it hadn't exploded yet. I grabbed my gun and raised it at him, my hand shaking.
"You think you're gonna be able to shoot me?" He fired five or six shots into my chest, knocking the wind out of me, then he grabbed my gun. "I think we should use your gun for the kill shot...don't you think?"
"Go to Hell!" I rolled over and tried to breathe, spitting out blood.
"Alright." He grabbed several tubes that he had running to a meth kit and pulled them out, sending gasoline and chemicals spraying everywhere, including on himself. "We'll go to hell." He grabbed the hockey stick again and brought it down, hard, on the side of my head. I instantly blacked out, and was sent flying into a vivid whirlwind of memories.
You've done it now...farmboy... I heard that haunting voice come into my head, followed by an image of Jordan, clutching a gun, aimed straight at me. "Jordan...what did I do?" She grinned at me. "You made me think that I loved you, then you leave me here to live in this Hell..." I grabbed up towards her, then she fired the gun straight at me. I screamed out, not knowing what else to do.
I felt a blast of flame sear across my body, and I glanced up to see the suspect shoot himself dead. He had shot the tank of gasoline, and I tried to pull myself up and get out of the basement, but I couldn't. My legs were pinned under a heavy tank that had fallen across them. My radio was dead, and I could hear shouting from above: "Everyone out! Get out now! The place is going to explode!" It was silent for about 30 seconds, and I looked up to see a can of nitroglycerine teetering towards the edge of the flames. I watched and held my breath as it leaned closer, and closer, and closer, and then I saw it fall into the flames, sending a huge explosion ripping through the house, sending me flying into a concrete wall. I felt and heard bones snap like twigs, and then I glanced up to see a wall of fire collapse the floor above, sending it crashing down towards me. I tried to scream, but I couldn't. The last thing I saw was fire, then--nothing.
~~Garret~~ I was sitting on the phone, listening to this bitch complain about the morgue's policy's, when Nigel came bursting into my office.
"Mate, turn on the TV!"
"Nigel...I'm on the phone...can't this wait?"
He grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV in the corner of the room, where the screen was filled with the image of a burning building, surrounded by squad cars, fire trucks, HAZ-MAT vehicles, and helicopters hovering overhead. He turned up the volume, and sat staring at the screen.
"Reports are indicating that this house was the site of a heroin dealing site and a lab where methanphetamines were being produced. No word yet on any injuries, but police were in the middle of a raid on this house when an explosion in the basement triggered a complete collapse of the building. We'll continue coverage and pass on details as we get them." The news cut to a commercial, and we both turned around to see Bug, Lily, Peter, and Jordan standing in the doorway staring at the TV. Jordan was holding onto the doorway to keep herself standing, so I jumped up and grabbed her, before she fell.
"Jordan--what's wrong?" I grabbed her, and Nigel pushed a chair in my direction.
She stared and the screen and started shaking. "Woody..."
Nigel glanced back at the screen, and let out a low gasp. "Oh my God."
TO BE CONTINUED:
***I KNOW, I KNOW, the lynch mobs are going to be running rampant tonight! I have some support on this, so be prepared to fend off a wild steer with his owner who is very handy with a shovel!***