Thanks once more for reviewing, gives me the boost I need!
The first thing Greg knew was the sound of humming, a distant, continues hum. The next thing he knew was a pain at the side of his head and a pain in his back. The last thing he knew was that he was tied to something while sitting on a chair, before he opened his eyes and looked around the dim room.
"Just in time Greg!" Carl laughed. "I was tempted to slap you so you to wake you. Want to make sure you'll still be here when I come back." He continued as he opened the door to the large room. Greg caught a glimpse of outside and saw a stretch of desert and some warehouses stretched in rows along the dirt road. He spotted a dark Jeep reflecting the dawn into the warehouse.
"Wha…" he coughed round his dry mouth. "What are you doing?" he asked hoarsely.
"I'm going to move the car so your friends will have to check every warehouse." His father explained dragging a wooden table into the middle of the large room in front of the tied Greg. "Then, the fun will begin." He finished, going to the doorway and stepping out, closing the large rolling door back into place.
Greg frantically began pulling at the ropes, he felt the rough material chafing his wrist, but continued with aggression. Gritting his teeth he pulled both arms apart and tugged, feeling the rope fray and split. With a final grunt it broke apart and Greg hissed in pain as his back stung with the last action.
He pushed himself from the chair and room span in circles, he felt like he was being tossed at sea. Reaching out he latched onto the table and waited till the room came back to him. Looking down on the table he spotted a gun, picking it he pointed it at the door, and blinked away the darkness that pocked fingers across his vision.
"This is too easy." He whispered to himself after a few minutes of leaning against the table, keeping the gun trained on the door.
On pure instinct as opposed to something he heard or saw he jumped forward and spun round. Him father had jumped down from the roof and was aiming for him when he moved.
Carl lunged forward after the hard landing and latched onto Greg's arm, pulling the gun and struck out with his free hand. Carl's fist connected with the bridge of Greg's nose, splitting the skin and drawing blood.
The force of the blow knocked Greg back, but he held onto the gun and fell back, ripping his arm free of his father. As he landed the gun flew out of his grasp. Carl jumped over his son for the weapon, but Greg grabbed his leg and tripped him over. The older man fell heavily to the ground, but reached out for weapon. Greg grabbed his fathers head and smashed it off the concrete ground, breaking the skin over the man's eye.
"There's so many to search!" Catherine yelled, jumping out the car and heading over to Brass.
"The best we can do is split into teams and search each one, there might be tracks somewhere!" he yelled back over the noise of approaching vans.
"Eight in total!" Grissom explained. "I'll take one team, Brass another, Warrick take another and Catherine you another." He ordered. Jim nodded and began splitting the cops and swat teams into four.
When that was done they went off to separate ends, Brass' team at the front, Warrick's at the back, Catherine's to the left and his team to the right. There was a perfect crossroad of warehouses and each team was to work to the middle section.
Grissom signalled to his team and did a count down. With a shake of his head two officers broke the door down and two swats ran in with a back up of a swat and officer, guns raised.
Greg leapt over at grasped the gun with one hand while pushing his father down. A growl issued from the man and he grabbed at the hunting knife in the back of his trousers. In a fluid motion he swept the knife up and smacked Greg across the cheek, slicing it open and throwing him off Carl.
Greg rolled with the momentum and stumbled to his feet. He looked up and came face to face with his father, raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
"Clear!" The SWAT shouted before moving back out. Grissom growled under his breath and ran after the team to the next warehouse. Not waiting Grissom pushed open the door with a flanking officer and froze.
Greg heard the door to his side open, but it was too late as the trigger clamped down and the bullet shot out the muzzle and into his father's throat. The man stopped and inch away from his son's face, eyes wide with shock, before he collapsed to the side and lay there, still.
Greg went white with horror, dropped the gun, and stared off to the side at his father and then up to the open door. Grissom stood in the doorway, gun raised, frozen in shock at the spectacle in front of him.
Greg stumbled back slightly, his dizziness increasing. Grissom sprang forward and caught him, shoving his own gun back in its holster.
"Greg? Are you okay?" he asked, taking in the bloody face, fat lip, bleeding bride of his nose and all other pains.
"Grissom…" Greg gasped, staring up past the haze as the man lowered him down. Greg gripped Grissom with both hands, one arm across his body. "Make it stop hurting." He pleaded dimly as another wave of dizziness swept over him.
"Greg, are you hurt?" Grissom asked, panicking slightly at the paling face beneath the bloody mask.
Greg blinked and moved his arm from across his body to his side, letting his hand hover over the handle of the knife that was sticking out of his stomach. Grissom's eyes widened, before ripping off his jacket and applying pressure around the object, afraid to move it for fear of increasing the blood flow.
"Grissom!" Brass ran into the room and skidded to a halt. "Call an ambulance!" he screamed out the door, causing the CSI team to come sprinting across to the warehouse.
"Greg!" Catherine screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Catherine?" Greg whispered, turning is head to the side and watched with unfocused eyes as the woman slide in and knelt down beside him.
"Oh God! Greg?" she whispered in horror. Warrick came in next, running round to his other side, his hand hovering over the wound in shock. Snapping out of his daze, he too ripped off his jacket and put it over the already soaked make shift bandage.
"Hold on buddy." Warrick whispered. Greg rolled his head over to look at Warrick as the tear formed in the young mans eyes. "Please hold on." His voice breaking.
He felt someone grab his hand and looked back over to see Catherine, tears running free, squeezing his hand. The colours around her faded and became a grey haze, he blinked in confusion as the grey fog entered his brain, slowing everyone's movements and slowing their voices. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that the loss of blood was shutting his brain down so that his senses where becoming less and less. He also noticed that his stomach seemed to be going numb, spreading from the wound outwards.
Brass stood by the door, unsure as to what to do. He noticed that look on the kids face, he'd seen it plenty of times with the people he had seen dying a slow and painful death. He silently sent out a prayer to Greg, telling him to hang in there, and not to leave his friends behind.
"The ambulance is here." He stated to the room. Hold on.
The last thing Greg knew was the darkness that crept further into his vision, finally changing it to a single spot of white in the centre. He had subconsciously felt himself being moved and heard the ambulance siren and had seen a brief red light. He guessed he was in the ambulance and wondered if this white light was just the ceiling of the inside of the ambulance.
I wonder what they'll do if I'm gone? He pondered before the light extended out, blinding him and sending him to oblivion.