Two more chapters after this one...

Chapter Six

Code Blue

An alarm began beeping loudly. The surgeon looked up at the heart monitor and announced, "He's going into cardiac arrest. Get me the defibrillator."

A nurse grabbed the machine and set it beside the operating table. She prepped the patient and called out, "Clear!" before delivering the first shock.

Tony Almeida's heart rhythm jumped and scattered, but did not stabilize.

"Again!"

The second shock had the same result.

The doctor gave rapid compressions in between shocks. His sterile cap lapped up the sweat in his hairline, hiding his stress. He tried not to think about Mrs. Almeida, who had been calling the hospital repeatedly for an update. He didn't want to have to give her the worst news.

"C'mon," he muttered. "They need you, Almeida!"

The nurse adjusted the paddles on Tony's chest. "Clear!"

On the screen, the heart rhythm spiked, as if running a deadly race.

— — —

Tony felt like passing out, but he pressed on. He held on tightly to Richard, afraid of dropping him in his unsteady run. He couldn't hear Miguel and Hector behind him, but he knew they were still on his tail. He didn't dare stop to look back.

Just ahead, he saw the metal balcony and platform of an L station. The train was about to depart. Tony pushed past the few people on the steps and tumbled into the nearest car just as the doors shut. A couple people glanced up, but nobody reacted to the sight of them.

He barely made it to a seat before collapsing. Richard sat uneasily at his side. The pain shot through Tony's shoulder with every beat of his heart, tearing at nerves and muscle.

Richard looked at him with wide, worried eyes. "Did he want to kill you?" he whispered.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry I put you in danger too. I should have come straight to you instead of trying to please Miguel."

"Are you dying?" Richard's voice shrunk almost to nothing.

"What?" Tony quickly shook his head. "No, no. It's just... urgh, it just hurts like hell."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "Rich, can you help me? See if you can tie this around my shoulder."

Gingerly, the little boy got on his knees on the seat and reached up to wrap the cloth around Tony's bloodsoaked shirt. Tony winced, trying to help him but finding that his arm didn't want to move at all.

He heard Richard sniffle and looked over his shoulder at him. "You alright?"

Richard wiped his eyes, smearing Tony's blood across his face. "You'll die," he whispered. "I know you will."

"No, it's okay. I'll be alright. We got away from them."

Richard shook his head. "No, they're coming. You're going to die."

Tony looked the other way and saw the next car through the door at the end. Sure enough, Miguel and Hector pushed their way through the car, making their way quickly toward the door.

Tony sprang to his feet, too fast, making himself dizzy. He caught a handbar for support. "Come on, Rich. We're getting off."

Crying, Richard clung to his protector's hanging arm. Tony stumbled across the car, to the door, and prayed that they would make it in time.

The door opened at the next station just as Miguel burst into the car. Tony jumped to the platform, followed immediately by Richard.

"You have to run like you've never run before," he told the boy, taking his wrist with his good hand. "Run like you've just hit a home run. Make this one count."

Together they bolted through the station, Tony now struggling to keep up with Richard. They heard Miguel shout, but they did not stop. They dodged pillars and archways and signposts, hurtled down metal stairs, crossed under the elevated track, hurried past bus stops and store fronts. Curtis lived nearby, Tony realized, but he couldn't think clearly enough to find the way. So he simply kept running.

"I'll kill you, Tony!" Miguel shouted. "You and the brat!" As if to prove it, he let off another shot.

Tony felt the heat of the passing bullet singe his ear. "Run, Richard!" he cried.

Richard panted, arms swinging, chugging just ahead of Tony. Tony felt his head swim, his vision blur. He misstepped, nearly tripped, caught himself on a streetlamp. Richard didn't even notice. Tony ran to catch up with him, covering his head instinctively as another shot rang out.

"This way!" He grabbed Richard's arm and directed him down a narrower side street. He didn't know this area, and people glared at him from back doorways and slatted windows. A rat squealed and darted away as they passed, their feet churning up charry gray slush. Tony felt as though he was being shot again and again, the way the pain kept stabbing him.

Tony directed Richard to a deep, shadowy doorway, where they hunched together out of sight. He had to catch his breath, just to breathe through the crippling pain. He heard footsteps crushing the snow, then a shout from Hector: "Which way did they go?"

"Go that way!" Miguel ordered. "We'll corner them."

Suddenly the door opened beside the fugitives. A man stood in the dull lamplight, broom in his hand, glaring down at Tony and Richard. "Go on, get out of here!" he yelled.

Tony tried to get up, and the man took a jab at him with the broom handle.

"Alright! I'm going," said Tony, but when he rose to his feet, he felt no blood in his head. He almost fell over, but Richard grabbed his good arm and pulled.

"Help me!" he pleaded.

"I will," grunted Tony. "I'll do what I can."

He didn't see Miguel down the dark alley. Still they couldn't stop. Tony led Richard further down the street, to a brick church in need of repairs.

"We can hide here," he said, willing it to be true. He held the front door open for Richard, then slipped inside after him. Candlelit darkness welcomed them with a hush.

The boys walked unsteadily into the sanctuary and looked around at the empty pews. The sudden stillness bothered Tony, but he couldn't let his fear show.

"Get under this bench," he told Richard, kneeling at a pew, "and pray. That's all we can do."

Richard obeyed. "Will God save us?" he whispered.

"That's up to Him. If He wants to take us tonight, we'll go together."

"Tony, I'm scared."

"Don't worry." Tony squeezed Richard's hand, all out of assurances. "I am too." He tried to smile, tried to hide the pain. He wanted to cry, but he had to be brave. "No matter what happens," he said, "do not get out from under there."

"Okay," whimpered Richard.

The front door creaked open. Tony pushed himself upright and walked away from the pews. He heard footsteps in the foyer, so he hurried to the back, past the pulpit, looking for an exit.

"Stop right there, hermano."

Miguel's voice chilled his blood. Tony turned slowly to see his brother walking up the aisle, gun extended. This was it.

"What do you want from me?" asked Tony weakly.

"I want to know what you did with one month's worth of cocaine," snapped Miguel.

"I'm not going to help you or your gang."

"Where is it?"

"Where you belong."

Miguel had reached him now. He landed a slap that dazed Tony, then steadied the gun against his forehead. "Alright then. Where's Richard? Maybe he can make you talk."

Tony spat blood. "I lost him."

"Do you lose everything, you moron?"

"Not my self-respect."

"You lost your family. What are you without that?"

"I have family," muttered Tony. "I have people I care about, who care about me. I have people I'd die for. Do you?"

"I don't need a family. I certainly don't need you." Miguel lowered the gun so it pointed toward the floor. "I'll ask you one more time. Where is the package?"

"It's gone," said Tony.

BAM! The shot punched through his leg.

He screamed, crumpling to the tired floorboards.

He barely heard the door open again, and he assumed Hector had caught up. Together they would kill him, and then they would search the church, find Richard, and kill him too. No witnesses.

"You should have joined me," said Miguel. He leveled the gun with Tony's eyes. His finger caressed the trigger.

Then suddenly he crashed against the wall. Another body had collided with his, and a bigger boy caught him in a headlock. The gun fell and skidded across the floor, landing near the pew where Richard still cowered, weeping with fear. Tony rubbed his eyes to see better: was that Curtis grappling his brother to the floor?

Yes, good old Curtis had the upper hand, as usual, and he levered his strength against Miguel. He held him down and then punched, two, three, four times until Miguel stopped struggling. Only then did Curtis get up and hurry to Tony's side. He looked sick at the sight of his beaten, bloodied friend.

"You alright?" he asked.

Tony nodded, vision spinning. "Yeah. How did you...?"

"I saw you come in here, looked like trouble. I live around the corner, you know."

Tony's eyes began to close. "Richard..."

"He's right here. Shaken, but he looks okay. Tony, hang on. We're going to get you to a hospital. Just hang on..."

Tony tried to nod again, but all awareness had left him. He welcomed it, finally tasting peace. Thank you, God, for saving us.

His heart rhythm finally stabilized.