AN: I'd just like to clarify that I didn't lie. I was just wrong. I sincerely thought that this would be the last chapter. However, it's already almost 3000 words long and several key things still need to happen. So yes, barring my untimely demise, there will be one more after this. Thanks for baring with me, folks.
Side-note to BregoBeauty: How'd you know?
Saturday 11:35 pm
The uniform at the rear of the established perimeter shivered and stomped his feet in the dim light of the street lamp. It had finally stopped snowing about an hour ago, but that did little to lighten his mood. Timmons had been on the force less than a year, but he was already starting to think his old boy scout troop had seen more action than he ever would. Now was quite possibly his only chance to ever respond to a proven bomb threat, and was he anywhere near it? No, he didn't even have a decent view. He was stuck being a road block in the alley, his feet frozen in the shin-deep snow and his coffee rapidly being processed by his system. The commish' was sure to pin a medal on him for this one.
Due to his brooding, he didn't hear the sound of the approaching diesel engine until it came into view. He squinted in the harsh light of the ambulance's high beams. The red and white leviathan rolled slowly through the unplowed alley, the snow crunching under its great tires until the officer held up a hand in a 'halt' gesture. He made his way around to the driver's side door. There, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Kiff, is that you?" he said when the window was down.
Kiff set the ambulance in park and leaned out the window. "How's it going, Timmons?"
"Slow. Real slow. Thank God for overtime or I'd have half a mind to go in there put this thing to bed myself. What are you doing here?"
"They told me to stage back here. Guess they're worried about the idiot blowing up the alley by accident."
Timmons nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that's the line they fed me too. Say, Rickles told me you went home sick."
"Nah, I just needed a few hours after Fielding, you know?"
"Oh yeah! You heard about him, right? That was good news, huh?"
"Yeah, real good."
"Hope your liver's in one piece. There's not a cop in town doesn't want to buy you a beer now." Timmons peered past Kiff to the passenger seat, where a small figure sat in shadow. "That ain't Rickles. Where's Rickles?"
"I don't know. They'd already paired him off with someone when I got back on, so they stuck me with the new girl."
"New girl, huh?" Rickles stuck his head further into the cab to get a look. The 'new girl' was thin and fair, with long dark hair pulled back in a pony tail. Her face was largely hidden by the visor of a navy ball-cap emblazoned with a caduceus and the letters E.M.S. in gold. Had the light been a little better, he may have noticed that the name embroidered on the peck of her jumpsuit was 'K. Frink' and the pant cuffs were so long on her that she'd had to tuck them into her boots. Instead, he touched the brim of his hat.
"Howya doin'!"
"Say hello, New Girl," said Kiff.
"Hello, New Girl," said the new girl.
Timmons laughed the giddy laugh of the sleep-deprived (or very easily amused) and stood back to wave them through.
"Go on, you two. Drop me a line if anything good happens."
"Ten-four."
Kiff pushed the ambulance through the check point and rolled up to a nook some distance down the alley that was more or less obscured from view by a row of dumpsters and recycling bins. Before them was a service door to the bank building. Kiff parked and cut the engine.
Tru released the breath she'd been holding and took off the cap, hissing as it slid over the gauze pad on her forehead. That had been close. Thankfully, close didn't count any more now than it had three months ago.
"Well done, Kiff. Well done. If I ever need someone to sneak me through customs, I'll know who to call." She noticed Kiff was frowning at her through the gloom. "What?"
"You look better in my spare uniform than I do. Not sure how I feel about that."
"I think you've been hanging around Harrison too much."
"I think I'm not-so-slowly going insane. Have you got everything?"
"I think so. Now as soon as I'm inside, I want you to get as far away from here as possible. And for God's sakes, return the ambulance before you get fired."
"Are you sure about this?"
Tru sighed. Kiff was getting to be worse than Davis.
"For the third time, if it's between going in there to face him or letting Jack blow up half a city block, I'm inclined to the former."
"Tru."
Tru stopped gathering herself to leave and looked up at Kiff. There was a quiet intensity in her eyes that made Tru take pause.
"Are you sure?" Kiff asked again.
Tru put a hand on Kiff's shoulder. "I'm sure. And you've been wonderful."
Tru slid out of the ambulance with a fire extinguisher in hand. At the service door, she planted herself, raised the tank, and clubbed it down on the doorknob. The knob and its lock broke and the door fell open.
Inside, the building was dark as the seventh circle of hell, its power having been cut by order of the police. Tru snapped on her maglite and shone it down the unkempt hallway to the stairwell entrance. It was like being inside a recently unsealed tomb, windowless and hung with cobwebs. This part of the building didn't need to be polished for customers. Tru supposed the super didn't plan for situations like this. The stairwell itself wasn't much better. As Tru descended, she felt more and more claustrophobic, farther and farther from the light of day.
STOP, TRU.
Tru froze. The whisper on the stale air had seemed to float across the back of her neck, but when she whirled around, no one was there. Tru's heart pounded. This had never happened before. She'd only heard her mother's warning when asleep, meditating, or unconscious. This was a plane where she was supposed to be more or less safe.
"It's not real," she whispered aloud. "It's not real."
She continued down the stairs.
STOP.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Tru's voice echoed in the stairwell and thundered in her aching head. Biting back tears, Tru clamped down on the urge to scream some more.
"Mom, please. Don't do this. Not now."
She waited, breathing slowly until her heartbeat slowed. Nothing. She kept going, now more focused than ever. If there were more whispers, she didn't hear them.
Saturday 11:46 pm
Kiff dialed the ambulance cell phone and waited for the other end to pick up.
"Hi, Ma..? Yeah... Boy, I don't know. About six months, I guess... Yeah, sorry about that... Yeah, I know... I know I should... No, no, nothing's wrong. I just... Of course I'm not pregnant..! What do you mean 'why not'..? Ma, I just wanted to... I-I love you, Ma. And... I'm sorry if I don't say that enough... Ma, you still there..? Yeah. Say, I've got to go... Yeah, I know but... Okay... Okay. And Ma? Tell Pop I'm thinking about him, huh...? No, nothing's wrong, I promise... No, I don't have a brain tumor..! Okay, talk to you soon. Bye."
Kiff hung up and sighed at the service door to the bank building, having moved the ambulance just far enough away that it could be mostly concealed by a high fence and still she could keep an eye on the building. She'd long since stopped asking herself why, when she knew she should take Tru's advice and run while she still could. Actually, every instinct she had told her to run and not stop until she got back to Minnesota. In the ambulance, she could make pretty decent time...
Movement at the service door made Kiff frown. A man was digging through the recycling bins. At first she thought it was a homeless fellow looking for supper, but he obviously wasn't homeless. He wasn't a service worker either. He was well-dressed in a charcoal suit and trench coat, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly cut and gelled. He pulled something resembling an anti-theft device for steering wheels from the bin and applied it to the service door, effectively sealing it. Then he turned and walked away.
Kiff blinked.
Meanwhile, Richard Davies stomped the snow casings off of his Italian shoes as he snuck down the alley and dialed his cell.
"Jack?"
"Richard," came the darkly cheery voice on the other end. "How nice of you to give me a final phone call. I was just thinking about you, or at least your DNA."
"The only door not guarded by SWAT is sealed. Tru's already inside."
"About flipping time. My flask is empty, my feet are asleep, and there's this nasty smell down here that I don't think I can stand for much longer."
"Jack, could you please be serious for once?"
"Oh lighten up, Dick. It's not like you haven't done this before."
"That was my wife. This is my daughter. There's a difference."
"Right, right: That whole divine animal right to protect the offspring thing. Come on. Don't tell me you didn't always know it was going to come to this."
"Just tell me you'll get it done fast."
"Oh, trust me. It'll be over in a split second. Afraid I won't be able to vouch for the aftereffects, but that'll hardly be my problem, will it."
Richard hesitated, and then said "Right... Right."
"Good. Hey, and Richard?"
"What?"
"Watch the sunrise for both of us tomorrow. Ciao."
Jack shut his flip-phone and was just checking his watch again when he heard the boiler room door behind him whine in protest as it was pushed open.
Not bothering to look back, he said "I knew you wouldn't let me down, Tru."
Tru surveyed the room from the doorframe. The only light came from a neon camping lantern on a dusty card table, where Jack sat in a folding chair with his feet propped on its surface. The boiler stood in the corner, and wedged next to it was a shadowy bundle the size of a shoebox. In the dark, the digital face of the bomb's timer glowed an alien green. It read 0010:06... 0010:05... 0010:04...
She took a deep breath.
"All right, Jack. I'm here. Now stop the countdown and we'll talk."
Jack emitted a strange, giddy laugh.
"Talk. What happens when we talk, Tru? I make snide comments, you get angry, I make more snide comments, you tell me how mad you still are about Luke. My feelings get hurt, you go to bed angry. It's getting to the point that I can lip-sync to your side of the conversation. By the way, I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Tru froze in her creeping toward the boiler and looked at the object Jack was brandishing for her to see. It looked like a remote control, with a tiny light that was blinking in time to the countdown.
"All right, just relax. If you don't want to talk, then what do you want?"
"You can start by coming over here where I can see you."
Slowly, Tru complied, coming to a stop next to the table. Jack looked her over. She examined him back. He looked tired: His eyes were bloodshot and stubble bristled over his face and neck. The weariness did nothing to dull his cocky smile.
"Changing careers, Tru? Looks good on you."
"That's what they all say. Are we going to make small talk until a bomb goes off and vaporizes us both?"
"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
"You set me up."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Don't take it so personally. I didn't think those idiots would actually try to kill you. Just lock you away where you couldn't obstruct the natural order anymore. Cops make the perfect stooges in theory. But in practice, it's all uphill."
"The robbery at the Fifth Street bank. Fielding's shooting. Making the cops think he was dead. That was all you?"
"Of course it was me. Frankly, I'm a little hurt that it took you so long to identify the mastermind behind it all."
"Why'd you tell the police Fielding was dead?"
"Just a little extra incentive to make sure my pets were committed to your case."
"I see," said Tru, already way past incredulous. "And the reason you've lured me into a building with a live bomb is..?"
"Plan B. No matter what, it's ending tonight."
Tru shook her head. "I don't get it, Jack. All this time, and you've never come after me before. I'd assumed that was because Fate never wanted me before, and as far as I know, it still doesn't. Why now?"
Jack sighed. "Ever hear the story of Demona and Macbeth? They were cursed with immortality, impervious to the dangers of the world and locked in an eternal struggle until they destroyed each other. The more I've dealt with you Tru, the more I've gotten used to the idea that that was the only way this was ever going to end."
"You've got to be... Wait a minute. Demona and Macbeth? Wasn't that on that 'Gargoyles' cartoon?"
"Damn. I was hoping you wouldn't know that. Doesn't make it any less true anyway."
"So you did all this to get me. My God, Jack! All those people."
"You're so sensitive. All those people are fine."
"What about all those people outside right now?"
"Well... That'll be too bad. I think Fate will forgive me if it means not having to put up with your shenanigans anymore."
"I take it I don't have to explain why that's a lousy deal for both of us."
Jack sighed, and Tru knew he was fully aware of the consequences of his plan.
"Tru, did you notice any similarities between plans A and B? Either way, I get what I want: No one to interfere. You didn't really think I'd make sure other people died for the sake of preserving Fate if I wasn't willing to do it myself, did you? What kind of guy do you think I am?"
An amazed laugh escaped from Tru.
"You know Jack, that was what always drove me nuts about you. More than the fact that you've made a very hard job even harder and even more than the fact that you're committed to making sure people die young, it's this mentality that you speak for the universe. You're so arrogant that you actually think the world will stop turning without you to manipulate everyone in it."
"Isn't that what you're doing?"
"No. I'm not trying to save the world, just a handful of people who asked me to."
"Come on, Tru. Don't spoil all my planning for our final showdown. I even got drunk out of consideration for your head injury so we'd be even."
Tru checked the timer. Seven minutes.
"I'm not going to let you do this, Jack."
"Tru," Jack said, as though scolding a difficult child. "You know that even if you survive, you're still going straight to jail."
A hint of triumph lit Tru's eyes, making Jack frown. She put a hand to the shoulder mike' of Kiff's portable radio and peeled away a piece of clear tape that had kept the button depressed and the radio keyed. She spoke into it.
"Got all that, Davis?"
From the city's 911 dispatch center where he'd been admitted on credentials, Davis's voice crackled over the frequency. "Every word, Tru. So does every dispatcher in the county."
While he was still considering how to respond while still saving face, Tru lashed out a foot and kicked the remote detonator from Jack's hand. Jack shot to his feet, but his glare quickly melted into a laugh.
"Even now you're finding ways to make it hard. I've got to hand it to you, Tru. If I've lost a few for Fate, at least I had a good excuse."
From her practiced fighting stance, Tru threw a hook punch at his face. It connected but he took it well, even nodding his approval as a bruise formed on his cheek bone.
"I forgot you've been taking karate classes. Not bad for three months. I'm sure your teacher will remember you fondly."
Tru was through listening to him. She was already at a disadvantage: Aside from the effects of her head injury, she had to actually win. All Jack had to do was last.
She hit him again, twice this time. He stumbled backwards toward the boiler and flexed his jaw under the blood seeping from his nose. Tru settled into her stance, hands up and ready. She had to get past Jack to get to the bomb. Jack had to get past her to get to the detonator.
"Come on, Jack. Scared of a girl?"
"Any guy who tells you differently is a dirty liar."
Tru threw another punch at his chin. He blocked this time and followed up by shoving her hard. She relaxed her knees and rolled over backwards. When she did this maneuver in class, she was always able to end nimbly on her feet. Now however, the already precarious equilibrium in her head was off-set and the only thing that kept her from falling over once she was back on her feet was the wall that she faltered against. Jack's wicked grin swam in her vision.
"Sure you want to do this, Tru? We could be spending our last moments engaged in pleasant reminiscences rather than unarmed combat."
Tru shook her head to clear it and made a mental note to stay upright just before she flew at him. Surprised by the bonsai charge, Jack felt his nose flattened before he could react.
The fight was on. And the clock ticked.
TBC...
Again, all apologies for drawing out the conclusion. I'll try to make it worth the wait, and hope to hear from you all.
Stay cool!