Part VI
Chapter 1
After that Jack's recovery from pneumonia was uneventful. In another week he was again able to go to Kim and Chase's house, and he was steadily regaining his strength without most of the pain that he'd previously experienced. He was eating better and put back some of the weight he'd lost in the hospital. He wasn't yet able to work out, of course, and he looked forward to the time when he could, but if he'd learned one thing with his 'advancing age' (he refused to think of himself as 'getting old'), it was that some things couldn't be rushed.
Melanie and Lee had brought little Jack to see his great-grandfather as soon as Jack was out of the hospital. He was thrilled to hold the baby, marveling again at how something so tiny could take over others' lives so completely, without even trying. Again he thought of how the baby was a continuation of Teri. That was the best part of all.
After two weeks at Kim's he pronounced himself ready to go home. He was able to walk the length of her house without stopping, and it was much bigger than his own small townhouse. There were no stairs at his place, either, and he promised to let Kim and Chase do the grocery shopping and other errands for him, at first at least. So reluctantly Chase drove him home.
Although he wouldn't admit it Jack was tired when he walked into his house, and he sat down heavily while Chase put some groceries away for him. With milk, juice, bread, cereal, some chicken Kim had prepared and other things that only had to be heated or 'nuked' Jack would be okay on his own, although Kim wished he hadn't insisted on going home so soon. She would check in with him daily, of course, and one or more of her kids would be sure to stop by from time to time. Jack should be okay on his own, so long as he took it easy.
Jack was glad when Chase was satisfied that he was comfortable and left. It's good to be alone, he thought, and then was surprised. It had been a long time since he'd felt that way. In fact, he didn't remember the last time. But after the tumult of the hospital and Kim's house, where, despite their best intentions he had no privacy, Jack really was glad to have some time to himself. As long as it doesn't last too long, he thought ruefully. I don't want to have to go through that again just to get some attention. He smiled to himself at his poor attempt at humor.
He knew better than to fight his recuperation. He took things slowly, letting Kim do the shopping for him at first, then accompanying her to the supermarket before going alone. He accepted the doctors' caveat that he couldn't do laps yet, and he contented himself for the time being with walking across the shallow end of the pool a few times. He didn't berate himself for the stops he had to make when he took slow walks around his townhouse complex. He knew that there was no point in being impatient, for who would he be impatient towards? It was his body, and it was doing as well as it could. He accepted that it wouldn't be rushed. God, he thought. I've finally grown up.
He was still bothered by the accident. In the more than a month since the other driver had not been found. Jack was disquieted by the thought that they might never find the man who'd driven the van, and he tried to convince himself that it might have been just an accident. He had been out of CTU for awhile now. There was no reason for anyone to want a piece of him after all this time. Still, his gut told him that it hadn't been unintentional.
He'd never seen the van coming, and he knew he had been alert behind the wheel. With the many driving courses Jack had taken during his years at CTU, not just the defensive driving classes available to the public, but others, more specialized, for agents who might be followed, or who might even at times need to call attention to themselves, he'd become a superb driver. He knew what had happened that night. He admitted to himself that his had not been a simple accident. There was more involved.
Tony told him that the CTU investigation had come up empty. The marks the van had left on Jack's SUV were from paint that was standard manufacturer's white, nothing that could be traced. And there were thousands of white vans in LA with dents.
Chapter 2
His recuperation continued, although certainly not at a pace Jack liked, but he was smart enough not to fight it. As six weeks passed he felt his strength returning and he slowly resumed greater activity. He could walk around his neighborhood with only a few stops on the benches placed around the complex, and he had started driving again. A couple of laps in the pool at a far slower pace than before left him only slightly winded. His mood improved with his returning independence, and he let himself believe that he might someday recover his strength. He knew not to let his hopes get too high, but being Jack it was hard for him to accept limitations of any kind. Still, he was grateful for his recovery. He would take what he could get. That in itself was different from any attitude he'd had before.
The knocking on the door woke Jack. God, it's early, he thought, and was surprised to see that it was already 8:30. I didn't realize it was so late, he said to himself as he slowly pulled on his jeans over the boxers he had slept in. He walked barefoot to the door and was careful to look out the peephole before opening it. Whoever drove the van was still out there someplace, possibly still after him..
The woman standing outside had half-turned from the door and seemed to be looking up the street. Jack didn't recognize her so he put the chain on the door before he opened it, thinking ruefully that in the 'old days' he would never have bothered with such a thing when there was 'just' a woman on his doorstep. He'd never been sexist, but he was a realist. A woman alone had never been a threat to him.
"Yes?" he said. "May I help you?"
She turned back and faced him. "Mr. Bauer? My name is Laura Gaines. May I speak to you?"
"Gaines?" Jack asked. He guessed her to be about thirty-five. "Are you related to Ira Gaines?"
"He was my father," she said. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about him."
"I don't know what I can tell you about him, Ms. Gaines. It was a long time ago, and everything I knew was in the official reports. The CTU ones have been declassified by now."
"I know, Mr. Bauer, but may I please come in? I really need to speak with you."
Jack had long ago learned to trust his instincts and go with his gut, although he hadn't always heeded it, often to his regret, and it was giving him a message now, loud and clear. The message was: No! For once Jack chose to be cautious.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Gaines. There's nothing for us to talk about."
He closed the door but didn't walk away. Through the peephole he saw her remain on the step, and noticed that she was carrying a tote bag. Sticking out of the top were what looked like knitting needles. She looked at the door for a full minute before walking to a car parked across the street. Then she drove away.
Chapter 3
The newspaper didn't hold his interest over breakfast, for he was too distracted by the visit from Laura Gaines. He hadn't thought of Ira Gaines in years, decades, really; it was a part of the awful day when Teri died, and it was a day Jack chose not to re-live.
As he sipped his coffee he tried to concentrate on the editorials and the op-ed page of the LA Times. He had never been politically minded as a younger man because that simply hadn't been his inclination; his interest was in English literature, and politics just wasn't something he'd particularly cared about. Since retiring he found himself more interested, though, and while he had always taken the time to vote (he had never understood how some people said they 'couldn't be bothered;' what else had he risked his life for, anyway?) he now found the subject more absorbing.
When he had dinner with his tennis friends they sometimes talked politics, but they always managed to keep it light. Two of the men had very strong political beliefs, and they had all realized early on that if they wanted to maintain their budding friendship they couldn't get into arguments. So more often than not, after discussing something in the headlines the talk shifted to sports, and they all inwardly relaxed. Still, Jack wanted someone with whom he could talk about more substantive things.
He didn't know how to go about widening his circle of friends, although he knew it was necessary to deal with his loneliness. He'd never had close friends, except in the army, when their shared experiences had led to a natural, easy camaraderie. But because as a mature man he'd never been socially outgoing, his friends had largely been the husbands of Teri's friends, men he would watch baseball with while their wives talked. They had things in common, all being in the same basic stage of life, kids around the same age, similar education and economic backgrounds, yet there was no real closeness there, no feeling of connection. After Teri died he had rarely seen these people, their visits over time tapering off to nothing.
He put on his running clothes although he knew he was only cleared by the doctors for a brisk walk. After checking the batteries in his walkman he set off, going at a leisurely pace just to let his muscles get used to the idea. He had a new Thelonious Monk tape in the deck, and he began to settle into a quicker rhythm. He walked over a mile before he found himself at the strip mall. He went into the convenience store and bought a bottle of water before he started for home.
He was still absorbed in the tape, his mind keeping the beat with the drums, when a white van pulled up beside him. He only started to look up when the door opened, and it was too late when the men reached out to grab him.
Chapter 4
He was surprised to see Laura Gaines standing over him when he came to. "You could have made this easier, Mr. Bauer, if you'd just talked to me this morning. In fact, when the van hit you we hadn't meant to hurt you. We just wanted you to come with us. But unfortunately things got out of control and we put you in the hospital. Sorry about that," she said, obviously not sorry at all.
Jack tried to put it together but things didn't fit, and he knew it wasn't just because whatever sedative they'd given him hadn't yet fully worn off. After all these years, why would anyone kidnap him to ask about Ira Gaines?
"What do you want?" he asked the woman. "I told you I don't know anything else about your father. All that happened a long time ago. It's what - thirty-two years? You must have been a baby then. Is that what this is about? You want to know about your father? Everything's in the police report, I told you that. But you're so desperate you'd grab me off the street? What's really going on?"
"There's more than that, Mr. Bauer. Obviously. But since you've made me go to all this trouble now you'll just have to wait. I have other things to tend to. So I'll see you later, Mr. Bauer. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day."
When the metal door slammed shut and he heard the lock turn Jack looked around the gray windowless room. It was completely, utterly bare. There was nothing there with which he could try to get out. No wonder they didn't bother to restrain me, he thought. There's no need.
Sitting with his back against the cold wall, his still-healing ribs sending him a strong message of discomfort, he pulled his knees to him to try to ease the pain. He concentrated on trying to figure out what was going on. What information could he possibly have that would warrant this? Why would this woman go to these lengths just to ask about something that had happened more than thirty years ago? With this question repeating through his mind the remains of the sedative took over, and again he fell asleep.
The stiffness in his body when he awoke made it almost impossible for him to stand. Each movement was a reminder that he was sixty-seven and still recovering from a near-fatal injury. His heart wasn't what it had been, and his breathing was still somewhat labored. Years ago he had developed arthritis in his shoulders and knees, the result, the doctors said, of all of the injuries he'd experienced over his career. He'd refused to let it stop him, had fought against it even slowing him down, and his fervent devotion to working out was not just the result of years of habit but of an utter unwillingness to give in to something that was so draining him, and a fear of not being able to care for himself. That was his greatest fear of all, unspoken, but always in the back of his mind. He worked to keep his body as strong as possible so he would never lose his self-reliance. But his present situation showed that it was fruitless to even try to ignore the physical limitations his body was imposing on him.
All of this went through his mind as he tried to get to his feet. He couldn't overwhelm anyone who came through the door, probably not even the thirty-five-year-old woman, he acknowledged ruefully. He had to wait and see what was going to happen, and try to find a way to exploit any opening. He was used to planning, not just waiting to see what developed, and it went against the grain of everything he'd ever done. The feeling was depressing as hell, but Jack had always been a realist, something that had helped him survive so many near-impossible situations.
He was fully alert when he heard the lock open and Laura Gaines again entered. "I see you're awake, Mr. Bauer. I hope you had a good nap."
Jack was concerned by her statement. Had she been in before, and it hadn't awakened him? How else would she know that he had been sleeping? Or was there a camera he'd overlooked? A glance around told him that wasn't the case. Unless they're using one of the new microscopic ones, he thought. He knew that cameras had been developed with a lens that was no bigger than a spot in the paint, the body of the camera, also miniaturized, placed on the other side of the wall or ceiling. Had he missed that? They were almost impossible to spot. Perhaps he had been under surveillance all along?
That thought hadn't occurred to him before, and it further disheartened him. He knew that his sharpness was gone, but to that extent? If he was that out of it now, his chances of extricating himself from the situation were far less. His hopes plummeted. No one would know where to look for him. Hell, no one even knew he was gone.
Chapter 5
"I still don't know what you want, Ms. Gaines. Tell me and I'll give you all the information I have so you can let me go. No hard feelings. Just let me go and we'll forget about all of this."
"How nice of you, Mr. Bauer," she said, her sarcasm unmistakable. "You killed my father, yet you say 'no hard feelings?'"
"That was thirty-two years ago, Ms. Gaines. Why now?"
She looked at him with not quite a smile, more a look of...disdain? No, that wasn't it, he thought. She's playing with me. She's enjoying this. She knows she's calling the shots. That's what that look is – satisfaction.
"All in due time, Jack." He noticed the increased familiarity. No more formality, no more 'Mr. Bauer.' He didn't know what that meant, but somehow it sounded taunting. "We'll bring you something to eat soon. And if you have to use the men's room tell me. I know you older men seem to need to use it more often."
Definitely taunting, Jack thought. "Yes, I'd appreciate it," he said, thinking that not only could he relieve himself but he could get a look around.
She noticed how stiffly he rose and started for the door and her satisfaction increased. He's definitely having a hard time, she thought. Good.
As Jack walked a man appeared, holding a pistol. Jack had known that there was more than one person involved in his abduction, so he wasn't surprised to see him. Nor was he surprised by the gun. People weren't snatched off the street by unarmed thugs.
As he walked through the door Jack saw that he was in some sort of warehouse. There were large boxes stacked well over his head, with pallets holding more. The goods seemed to be electronics, with some boxes labeled 'television' and others saying 'plasma screen.' Very upscale, he thought, but he didn't see how it mattered. It certainly didn't help tell him where he was.
There were large windows, but they were also above his head, way too high for him to reach even if he was able to jump, which he was all too aware he couldn't do. He didn't see anything that would help him escape.
The man with the pistol poked him in the back, and Jack walked down an aisle of boxes, realizing that the warehouse was far larger than he'd thought. Room to hide, he saw, but just getting away was useless unless he knew where to head, not to mention try to run to. And so far he hadn't seen anything that looked like a way out.
At the end of the aisle the man poked him again, and Jack turned towards what looked like an office. It was glass-walled, but there didn't appear to be anyone inside. There has to be a phone there, he thought, but he didn't see any way to get to it. Another poke and he was directed to a door that said 'washroom.' "Leave the door open," the man ordered. He went in and availed himself of the facility, and after Jack washed his hands the man indicated with the gun that he was to leave.
As they reversed the route from the men's room Jack spotted a possible way out. A hi-lo, the machine used to stack pallets of boxes, stood at the end of the next aisle, the key in it. Now or never, he thought, and lunged at the man with the gun. The surprise of the attack enabled Jack to knock the man down despite his terribly weakened condition, and although he couldn't pick up the gun he was at least able to kick it away. He then headed for the hi-lo, which fortunately started as soon as he turned the key. As he put the machine in gear he adjusted the lever to put the prongs that lifted the pallets to chest level. He drove straight for the man and pinned him to the wall between the prongs. Jack jumped out, taking the key, and ran towards the office. The office door was locked, and he had no time to look for something to break it with. He knew that the outside door had to be near there. As he ran towards the adjacent loading dock he saw that he was right. To the side of the office, next to the dock, was a door, and Jack went straight through it. An alarm sounded as he pushed the door open, but Jack kept going. He jumped down from the dock, the jarring of the landing sending pain through his body, but he took off. He had no idea where he was going, he didn't even know where he was, but he had started this and he wasn't about to stop.
Chapter 6
He heard footsteps behind him but he didn't take the time to turn around. His experience kicked in and he moved along; running impossible, he kept as low as he could, ignoring the agony the crouching caused in his knees. He wouldn't let the pain in his chest stop him, either.
He got to a fence and saw with dismay that the gate was padlocked. His days of scaling fences were long over, and he realized that he had to use his wiles to get away. His body would be of no assistance. But as he looked around he saw a tear in the fence, maybe eighteen inches long. How the hell can I get through that? he asked himself. On these knees? But he ran to it nonetheless, realizing that there was most likely no other way.
He again heard footsteps, but as distant as they sounded they were still there, so he concentrated on what he had to do. He dropped to the ground and pulled the fence back, then started to crawl through it. It was taking forever; his knees weren't strong enough to propel him through, and with his not-yet-healed ribs he couldn't use his arms to move himself. He cursed his condition but didn't stop. As he slowly managed to wiggle through on his stomach he started to sigh with relief, but it turned to a moan when he tried to stand on the other side and found that his knees wouldn't support him. Time was running out, he knew, and he fought through the pain to lean on his hands to help him push up. He rested for a moment by leaning back against the fence, but he knew he couldn't take more time than that. Dammit! he thought to himself. Goddamn body! Just a little longer. Just this once.
He pushed away from the fence and forced himself to stand. He limped through a yard filled with more pallets, and gradually was able to break into what he could only think of as a slow walk. Anything more was beyond him, he knew, and after cursing again he concentrated on figuring out which way to go.
He followed an aisle that seemed to go through the pallets until he saw a street. He was clearly in a warehouse district and the area seemed deserted, but he hoped that if he could get away he could at least hide long enough to figure out something else. With that goal he moved faster, likening himself to a speeding turtle, and passed two more warehouses. He didn't want to try to hide in the first, or even the second. Those would be the first places they'd look. The third was small, too easily searched, so he headed for the fourth. Beyond it he saw railroad tracks, and for the first time he let himself feel some optimism. Tracks had to lead to somewhere with people, at least eventually, although following them would put him out in the open. He cursed the lack of a weapon. Nevertheless his gut told him to go with the tracks, and when he'd been smart enough to listen to it his gut had rarely in the past let him down. So he headed for the back of the warehouse, and the tracks.
He hadn't yet been able to stand up straight so the bullet whizzed over his head and he dove for the ground, knowing as he did so that he wouldn't be able to get up. Just that little exertion had exhausted him, and he knew he had no options. He tried to wiggle on his stomach to get off the path but the pain in his chest was so intense that he couldn't breathe. He couldn't get away.
Chapter 7
I never even realized that they took my gun, he berated himself as he prayed for strength to get out of his exposed position. I never noticed. He couldn't recall ever being as angry at himself for something he'd done. He'd blamed himself for everything, he always had, but those were always regrets. This was something he could have controlled, and it hadn't even occurred to him. He felt more helpless than ever.
The voices seemed to surround him, and he girded himself mentally for his upcoming re-capture. Instead, no one appeared. The voices seemed to be moving off to his left, away from where he lay.
No, someone was still there. More than one. He strained to hear, but the words were indistinct. Then the volume increased.
"Laura'll kill us," one male voice said. "She'll never believe that he was able to escape. She'll think we set him free."
"And it'll be bad enough if she does think he escapes. How the hell could that old dude get away from us?" That was from a second man.
"C'mon, Luke, you're cool with her," came a third voice. "If you explain it to her she'll get over it."
"Yeah, right," 'Luke' replied. "She's one tight-ased btch. She's a great lay, but that don't mean she's the forgivin' type. We gotta get outta here."
Jack had frozen in place, frustrated as hell with his inability to do anything about his situation. All I can do is stay put, he berated himself. And hope they stop searching.
The men started walking again, and Jack thought their footsteps were coming closer. He made himself push off from the ground and onto his side, and then he rolled slowly under a bush. It was the best he could do, and he knew it would never be good enough.
He heard two more gun shots, and felt his heart jump. That was the last thing he could afford, and he well knew it. The shots stopped, but Jack didn't know what they'd been aimed at, or even if there were others searching for him. There were no more voices.
The strain on his stomach as he lay under the bush for what seemed like hours was becoming unbearable. The pressure in his chest was tightening perceptibly, and his weakness had grown along with it. But he'd never let himself die like that. There had to be enough left in him for one last stand. God, he thought. Please let me make that literal.
He inched forward, propelled by wriggling his hips, slower even than he was as he squeezed through the fence, but at least it was progress. He dug in his toes and gained more speed as he pushed off with alternating feet, and he was able to hide himself under a box of abandoned chicken cages. The old feathers made his nose tickle, and he reached up to stifle a sneeze just as he heard another shot.
"Well, look at that," Voice Number One said. "Look who we found."
Jack knew the man was behind him, but he delayed turning around. He was surprised when he heard the second man say, "He's dead."
Chapter 8
He couldn't do anything but lie there as the darkness increased. He didn't understand what he had heard, but it didn't matter. The Voices, Luke and the other men, were still out there, and he could no longer hear what they were saying. He was cold lying there, the dust was unbearable, for he'd jogged the cages when he hid beneath them and the caked-on feathers and dirt had been dislodged. He was fighting constant urges to sneeze, ruing the day he'd stopped his allergy shots, reminding himself that the shots had only been for hay fever and pollens, wondering why his mind was wandering like that. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the pain, but he had to keep his wits about him, even if he couldn't do more than that to save himself. He wasn't going to die with his last moment of alertness filled with thoughts of chicken.
Luke's voice became louder. "Damn!" he said, "it's Ned, the guy who was guarding Bauer. Who the hell shot him? How the hell did he get over here? I thought Bauer trapped him. And where is Bauer?"
"He'da never made it this far," Number Three said. "We gotta search those warehouses we passed."
Number Two was still thinking about Ned. He said, "Ya musta hit him with one of your shots, Luke. Laura'll kill you."
There was a pause. "No, it wasn't me. And it wasn't you neither. This guy was hit with a shotgun. We only got handguns. I don't know who shot him. Somebody else is out here."
There was more silence, and the men's discomfort seemed palpable. The thought of another armed man out there was decidedly unsettling.
"It's too dark to look now. We gotta wait, unless we hear somethin'. But Jeez, we should be the only ones out here. Noone else was supposed to be here, 'cept us and Ned. Do ya think someone's in the warehouse? Maybe someone heard the shots and the cops is comin'. We gotta get outta here."
"No, we can't leave," Luke decided. "We gotta find Bauer. If we don't someone else will, and our goose'll be cooked. Like them chickens that was in the cages." He had seen the stack, but it didn't occur to him that someone could be hiding there. He paused. "That old man couldn't gotten outta here. Didn't ya see he couldn't hardly stand? Even if he got to the warehouse he'd never be able ta get out. He'll be there in the mornin.'"
"What if Laura comes back?" 'One' wanted to know. "She'll be mad as hell."
"She's not comin' back, Jerk. She said she's goin' back to town."
'Town' has to be LA, Jack thought. But where the hell am I?
The rain fell harder after it started with just a drizzle, and Jack felt the chills start to make his teeth chatter. He knew he couldn't survive a night outside like this. Pneumonia was something he was now very well aware of, and the thought of it made him feel even more helpless. Even doing nothing, I'm dead, he thought. I'll die of exposure.
The sound of beer cans being popped open was unmistakable, as was the smell of the smoke from the fire the men had lit under an overhang. Why they weren't just going back to the warmth and dryness of the warehouse where Jack had been held was something he couldn't fathom. He'd just have to lie there, and take his chances in the morning. He hoped they wouldn't decide to look around in the meantime.
He was awakened by footsteps, although he couldn't make out any figures. It was still the middle of the night, he realized, and he couldn't understand why someone was roaming around. Then he heard drunken giggles following a stumble, and then the soft sound of urination. Jack's discomfort increased as his need to relieve himself entered his mind.
The opening of more cans brought him back to full wakefulness. He supposed that the men must have also fallen asleep, but their drunken comrade had reminded them that there was beer they still hadn't drunk. Jack cursed himself for dozing off, for he might have missed a chance to get away, after they'd passed out. He resolved to stay up, but the chill and the pain, together with his age, made him unable to keep that promise.
He awoke int he dim of rainy daylight which made things somewhat visible, but there was nothing Jack wanted to see. He was convinced that he'd never move again, for the stiffness that had increased from the cold and the damp now seemed total. He tried to stretch himself, conscious of the need to do so silently, but it didn't matter anyhow. He couldn't get his muscles to respond.
"Hey, Doofus, get up!" Luke said. "We gotta start lookin' for the old guy." The sound of a body being kicked was followed by a "What the fck?"
"You, too, Curt, get up!" Luke commanded. "We gotta find him. Get the fck up!"
Number One and Number Two grumbled loudly, and Luke yelped when he was hit with something. The sound of a full beer can hitting the floor brought a slight sense of satisfaction to Jack. He could hear one of the men shake the can and aim it at the other, who ran away from them, in Jack's direction.
"C'mon, guys, we don't have time for this. We gotta go find him!" Luke whined.
Jack continued to try to flex his joints, hoping for an opportunity to get away, praying that his body would cooperate if such a chance presented itself. He wasn't happy to hear more gun shots.
"There's somebody there," 'Curt' said. "I saw him when I was runnin'. He's over there, near that stack a cages."
"Yeah, another 'guard'"? Luke sneered. "Like the one someone shot last night? There wasn't no more guards, just Ned. C'mon, if there was really someone there he woulda come after us. Let's go. Or do you want Laura to get us, Curt?"
"I'm not afraid a her, Jackass. If you don' wanna check it out and it's Bauer, Laura'll be after you."
"Yeah, like I'm afraid, right? And it wasn't Bauer. He didn't have no shotgun. Let's go."
The relief Jack was starting to feel ended with another gun shot. "What the fck are you doin', man? D'ya want people to come lookin'?" Luke was clearly getting mad.
"Just makin' sure, that's all," Curt said, and the footsteps started to recede.
Chapter 9
Jack didn't even try to move for what seemed like hours, other than to flex his muscles and joints, which were slowly starting to respond. As the dim light brightened a little he crawled out from under the mound of cages and got to all-fours. He had to stay like that for awhile, trying to control his ragged breathing and willing more blood to circulate to his arms and legs. After still more time he put a hand on the stack and pushed up, ignoring the dizziness, and he was eventually able to stand. He forced his knees into a crouch and went into the abandoned warehouse, which provided at least some relief from the rain, and he leaned against its bare wall while he tried to figure out his next move.
He saw no alternative, praying that the men had really left, and slowly walked outside the building to the back, where he had seen the tracks the day before. There were bushes along the side and between the ties; obviously this spur wasn't used frequently, but still it headed somewhere, and the bushes gave him some cover. Going along the side was also easier than trying to run - hell, walk, he admitted - on the ties and gravel between them.
Each step was harder than the one before, for his exhaustion was increasing beyond anything Jack thought it could, and rather than moving faster he was barely making any progress at all. Still, he was surprised that no one seemed to be coming after him, but he couldn't let his guard down. Although Luke and his gang had moved off, he knew they were right: there was still someone out there, armed with a shotgun. Where he was, Jack had not idea. Caution was required. He hadn't expected to be abducted in the first place, and he wasn't going to relax until he was safe.
As he rounded a bend he saw that he was coming towards a train yard. More room to hide, he thought. It'll be a lot harder for them to find me here. He crossed over other tracks and ducked behind a box car. He had to rest.
He knew he couldn't stay there long, but he had to get air into his lungs. The pain in his chest was unbearable. If he didn't get some respite soon he knew he'd collapse. Dammit! he cursed again, once more feeling betrayed by his body. That it was rebelling against all the battering inflicted upon it during his long career didn't excuse its letting him down now. One more time, he repeated to himself. Just this once.
When he heard voices he didn't know if they came from the men after him or potential saviors. He forced himself to move forward to hear what they were saying, trying not to give his position away. He crossed over more tracks, taking cover behind a tanker car. He could hear the men speaking. "They're cutting back the overtime again," one complained to the other. "And my kid is starting college next year."
"Yeah," his companion agreed. "We've been counting on that money, too." Jack exhaled, not even having realized that he'd been holding his breath. He stepped out from behind the car.
"Please," he said, limping to the men. "I need help."
"You sure do, buddy," the first man said. "Can you walk? Do you want an ambulance?"
Jack realized that he must look as bad as he felt. "Yeah," he said. "And please call the cops. Tell them there are people after me. Then get out of here. You may be in danger."
The second man pulled out a cell and dialed 911 while the first man came towards Jack. "Here, sit down," he said, indicating a platform behind him. "Do you want some water?"
"I mean it. Thanks for your help, but get out of here. These guys mean business."
"Nah, we can take care of ourselves. And the cops are on their way." The second man had put his cell away and was walking towards Jack. "Who are these guys? Why're they after you?"
"I work for the government," Jack said, not thinking details were necessary. He hoped Luke and his men wouldn't pursue the matter, especially since he had no idea why anyone was after him. All of a sudden an even greater pain gripped his chest and he grabbed at it, at the same time he slumped down on the platform. No, he thought. No! Not again! Not now! But his body won out, and he lost consciousness.
Chapter 10
He was relieved to see that he was in the hospital when he came to, but he felt overwhelmingly tired, and frightened. A nurse saw his eyes open and walked to him. "How are you feeling, Mr. Bauer? You've been asleep for quite awhile now. I'll get the doctor."
Jack looked around and realized he was back in the ICU. He'd spent enough time there lately to recognize it. He didn't know what hospital he was in, but all intensive care units seemed to look pretty much the same. But this wasn't where he'd been before.
A doctor walked towards him. "Mr. Bauer? I'm Dr. Walks. I'm a cardiologist. You've had another heart attack, but we think you're through the worst of it. I have the records from your prior hospitalizations, and I've spoken with the doctors who treated you last month. You've had more heart damage, Mr. Bauer. You're going to have to take it very easy from now on. But we think you'll make it."
Jack was relieved, very relieved at the last part; the succession of heart attacks wasn't good, he knew, and the cumulative damage would eventually kill him, but he had a chance to survive, at least for awhile. He acknowledged the information at the same time he cursed it. The thought of being an invalid made him think of the gun in his bedside table at home. Sitting in a wheelchair with a blanket over his lap would not be his future. He was sure of that.
He was pleased to see Kim walk towards him. "Dad, oh, Dad, you scared the hell out of me," she said. "What happened? Why are you in Oxnard?"
He knew how he'd gotten there, they'd abducted him in that white van, but he had no idea that he was in Oxnard, why he'd been taken fifty miles away. There were a lot, a hell of a lot, of warehouses closer to home. What was in Oxnard? Why there? And why had they grabbed him in he first place?
"I don't know, Baby," he said.
"What do you mean 'you don't know,' Dad? How did you get here?"
"I was grabbed, Kim. Some men grabbed me and pulled me into a white van. Probably the same one that hit me."
Kim's look of concern changed to one of fear. "My God, Dad, then that was no accident." She paused to think. "I'm calling Tony. He's got to find out what's going on, and get agents to protect you. And how did you get away? Oh, never mind, that'll wait. Let me call Tony first."
The nurse saw Kim pull her cellphone from her bag and reminded her that she couldn't use it in the hospital. Kim was momentarily annoyed, then asked the nurse to let her use the phone in the ICU. She explained that it was an emergency, that her father's life was in danger, but the nurse was dubious. Only Kim's earnestness convinced her.
"All right," she said, "but keep it short. We can't have the phone here tied up."
"All right," Kim echoed. "I'll be quick." She followed the nurse to the central station and quickly called CTU. She told Tony what had happened, and he said he would send agents to guard Jack right away. He also told Kim that he would come there himself.
Kim returned to Jack's bedside and repeated her conversation with Tony. "Better call hospital security in the meantime, Kim," Jack instructed, each breath an effort. He wasn't going to kid himself that he could defend himself if he was attacked, and he didn't want to jeopardize the other patients either.
"Right away, Dad," she responded, and headed back to the phone. Jack watched her go and was upset that his daughter was once again worried about him, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Realism was still the name of the game for Jack, as it had always been. Except when it came to guilt. Although his daughter's safety was always more important to him than his own, he still had to accept that he couldn't always protect her, despite his need. Not everything was within his control. He realized that it never had been.
Chapter 11
He had finally gotten home after another ten days in the hospital and two more weeks again at Kim's to recuperate. He was more tired than ever, it seemed, and with each new episode (he hated the words 'heart attack') recovery took longer, and was less complete. He believed the doctors when they told him that his heart couldn't take much more.
The thought of life as an invalid still made him think of his gun. As much as he believed that suicide was the ultimate act of weakness and selfishness, he couldn't bear the idea of being totally dependent on others for his care. He resolved not to think about it, to concentrate instead on getting well, but accepting that he would always have such limits was so hard on him as to border on the impossible. He didn't 'feel his age,' whatever that was, at least mentally, because he didn't know how sixty-seven was supposed to feel, but he couldn't give up the image of himself as active.
He stood slowly from his recliner and walked to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. Staying hydrated was important, his doctors had told him, it helped the body function better.
He took his copy of "Ulysses" from the bookshelf, thinking that some Joyce was just what he was in the mood for. He'd always loved to lose himself in that book, and that was precisely what he needed. There were still CTU agents outside, he knew, and Tony's said they would be until they found out who had abducted him, and why. Jack had been able to direct them to the warehouse where he'd been held and they were searching for Laura Gaines, but so far they'd had no luck. Nor had they learned why she was after him. So Jack was still under guard and he chafed at it, but he was also glad. The days when he could protect himself were over and he was forced to acknowledge it. There was no point in being bullheaded about it. He wanted to live, and protection had to come from others. There was no way around it.
He covered himself with a comforter as he settled back in his chair to ward off the chill that he'd felt ever since his night outside the factory, and put on his glasses to read the book he'd propped in his lap. Fatigue came over him, and as he lay in the recliner his eyes closed. He hadn't really slept well since the abduction for he hadn't been able to relax; his mind kept going over the why of the situation, and he couldn't let it go. But exhaustion took over, and he finally fell into a deep sleep. The kind that lets you dream.
