Author's Note: alright, didn't quite get it done by the end of the month, but this was really close, right?
This was a great chapter to write, lots and lots of fun, really, really long, and you're all going to hate me by the end and that's always a plus. ;)
Go, read, flame, preferably in that order. :P
Author's thanks at the end as always.
I hit the floor, the air whooshing out of me as I landed half on top of the table. The glass top shattered into thousands of little pebbles that scraped at my palms but didn't break the skin. I extricated myself from the empty frame, watching both Sands and Price who each had a gun out and trained on each other. Where Sands was deadly calm, Price was smirking.
Find cover. I rose to a crouch and started to back away from the silent tableau before me. Be quiet, cause no distract–
The lights went out a frenzied heartbeat before a wave of sound woomphed through the room, the sound to low and intense to be heard but loud enough to make my heart stutter and send pain shooting through my ears. Almost simultaneously the east bank of windows wavered and exploded inwards. The north and south windows collapsed in a strange visual example of surround sound, followed by the west windows which spewed glass outward. A hellish orange light lit the room for the mere second it took for the destruction to happen, and then darkness ushered in hot air that was thick and soupy with the scent of burning chemicals. I'd dropped to the floor again with the first explosion, coving my head to protect it from any glass that might reach the middle of the room, but that protective huddle did nothing to block the scent of fire from reaching me. I gagged as I caught a whiff of what smelled like burning meat and clapped a trembling hand over my mouth. Whether it was to hold back a hysteric scream or the restlessness of my stomach, I'm not sure. All I knew was I had to get out; once again I forced fear-paralyzed muscles to support me in a low crouch.
"You bastard." All that icy cheerfulness was gone from Price's voice; rage and burning hate took its place, a perfect counterpoint to the screams that could now be heard outside. Against all odds, Sheldon's companions had managed to bring down his kingdom, leaving him more dangerous than ever. "You won't get everything."
"Lizzie?" Sheldon's query was cautious. When Price's eyes shot to me, the irises only visible because they reflected the fire outside, I understood that Sheldon hadn't wanted to draw any attention to me but had risked it to know where I was.
The answer was too far away.
I whispered his name, unable to look away from the eeriness of Price's eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sheldon shift his weight towards me, as if he were preparing to leap the four or five feet between us. That slight movement was what set Price off. I screamed as a small explosion of flame burst out of Price's gun, as I felt my hair move in a hot breeze that left a burning line of pain on my scalp.
"No!" Sheldon and I screamed at the same time as he leapt towards me and I saw him move. In that split second I'd somehow come to terms with the knowledge that my Jell-O-like limbs would never get me out of the building. But if he could move then had to get out, had to somehow beat the odds once again and get back to Virginia, to our children. Then my shoulder seemed to explode, splattering hot liquid over the side of my face. In that moment as I screamed with pain that seemed to rival that of childbirth, my brief flash of nobility died. To hell with everything and everyone else; I needed Sheldon.
I clung to him, not understanding as he demanded to know where I'd been shot, only speaking as he was ripped out of my hold and a painful hand ground my wound into the floor, eliciting another scream of pain as I instinctively arched to get away.
"My only regret is that you can't watch her die."
The words weaved in and out of my ears, lending a dreaminess to words of incredible violence. The words and the pain seemed totally disconnected to each other, Sheldon's gasping, placating words seemed to come from another room. I'd never dealt well with pain, only ever been able to hide it when my pride was at stake, but that wasn't an issue here. But even my whimpers and soft sobs didn't seem to be coming from me.
Somewhere another bomb went off, removing that terrible pressure from my chest. The pain drew back enough for my ears to capture more yelling, closer this time. Warm fingers brushed against mine and I tried to grip them but once again they disappeared.
They had known that a direct assault on Price's island kingdom would be too costly to them, never mind how impressive it would have looked. Price was no dummy; he would have planned around the premise that he'd be fending off angry agents. And angry people made stupid, glaring mistakes. Not that Price's personal trained force wasn't capable of altering their tactics to fit the need, but those first moments of surprise should have been enough to see the agents' strategy through…before Price got impatient and decided to blow this place sky high.
They knew about the auto-destruct system in place though Price thought it was still a secret known only to himself and the dead man who'd installed it. How they'd found out wasn't important; taking out the generators was. With no power, there'd be nothing running to intercept the command to not only destroy the building, but to level this island and its two closest neighbors.
Yet even when they had been clearly out-maneuvered, Price's men put up a good fight. From every approach, the rogue agents' progress slowed to a crawl. They tried to keep the battle quiet when they could, knowing that any noise would immediately draw reinforcements for their enemies. Considering one of their objectives was to blow up the barracks – with most of the guards still inside – there was a certain amount of desperation involved, not only to keep the silence but to keep their bombs from exploding prematurely. The weapons had been put together by experts, but even experts had to make do with what they could get their hands on at times. As a result the end products were…touchy.
The demolition expert who was carrying the bomb meant for the generator in a knapsack was sweating bullets. He was surrounded by five other agents carrying knives and guns equipped with silencers, but even they weren't enough protection as a sniper took the man out. Roberts, who'd joined the first unit he'd come across – which wasn't the one he'd been meant to join but in the mayhem he hadn't had much other choice – caught the knapsack before it could hit the ground along with its previous bearer and kill everyone in the immediate vicinity. The cowboy checked his watch and cursed. They had five minutes before the other team was – hopefully – within range to blow up the barracks. The attacks had to be carried out at the same time to produce their maximum effect.
"Hold them off!" he demanded before he scrambled down the near gully. The deep, swiftly flowing stream that powered Price's generator was hidden within the gully and further camouflaged by tall grass. Running along the narrow strip of mud that formed the bank while almost bent in half wasn't easy, but Roberts had no other choice even with the risk of falling into the water and ruining any chance they had of keeping Price of turning this place into a modern day Atlantis.
A body flew over his head, hitting the water with a splash that sent water five feet into the air. Since no one came to surface, Robbo didn't waste time worrying about a corpse, though it did put him in a kind of macabre race to the generator.
The metal walkway to the generator house was rusted and slick with water and algae, but again, Roberts didn't slow down. Though luck was with him when he found no guards anywhere near his objective, he had less than two minutes to set the bomb and get a safe distance away without getting killed by a fall from that damn unsafe walkway or an enemy.
The bomb was simple enough that though it'd been made by an expert, it could be set to detonate by an amateur. Roberts had always been fascinated by explosives, but even that line of work hadn't been reckless enough to suit him. Even though he could die at any moment, he had to admit that part of his was having the time of his life which was admittedly a good thing since his life expectancy was getting shorter by the moment.
There! It was in place. Roberts raced back the way he'd come, scrambling up the nearly vertical stairway that led from the gully to the back of Price's main building. He met a few more of their team as he went, and to save his breath, he just grabbed them and forced them to run in the direction he was going. Putting the main building between them and the generator should be enough distance to at least ensure they didn't die from the explosion.
Five…four…three…two…o–
WOOOMPH!
He couldn't even hear the second explosion over the ringing in his ears. Damnit! I better not be deaf, he thought as he let two other agents hoist him up to climb in a broken window. Sands should have Price neatly trapped on the top floor. With the power out, the elevators would be useless, leaving just two sets of stairs as an escape route. Well, there was that set of stairs that led up to the roof, but that wouldn't get Price far.
The agents split up, half taking the east stairs and half the north. Only the team who took the north stairs made it to the top floor. Roberts wasn't surprised; the east side of the building had taken the brunt of the explosion.
He and four other agents – when had Riley joined their little team? – burst into Price's office, flashlights on, guns at the ready, voices calling out and demanding information. Three dark figures were huddled together near the west windows. One bolted, taking the second with it as it leapt out the window.
They rushed forward en masse, no one even stopping to check on the still body. Six feet down there was a landing. In the darkness, it was hard to see but it looked as if both men were up and running.
"Lights!" Roberts demanded, thankful that he could hear his own voice in his ears rather than ringing hollowly in his head. That still didn't help them fix their aim. All they had was sound to follow, and since Sands was…
Their shots ricocheted off the metal grill steps. Once of the agents cursed as one of their bullets came back and clipped his arm right above his wrist. Roberts was just about to jump out the window and go after the fleeing men when Riley's voice broke through the turmoil. "Stop! One of them is ours! This isn't Sands."
The small team barely had enough time to absorb what had just happened before more people flooded the room, massive flashlights illuminating the room and revealing the body of a woman lying on the floor, her eyes dazed but shooting weak glares at the people in full body armor shouting, "Halt! CIA! You're all under arrest."
From above their heads came the sound of a helicopter starting up.
"Sheldon." As the room seemed to run in on her, Liz closed her eyes and let herself be buried.
He had tried. He was so incapable of letting anyone best him that he had actually tried. The moment I stood up and raised my weapon, Price had reached into his pocket and tried to blow us all into kingdom come. I know because I heard the click of the button, so high pitched over the sound of two bombs going off at the same time. The relays for the auto-destruct had barely been destroyed before they had a chance to get the signal. And he realized it. The moment the building did little more than tremble in the wake of the two explosions, he knew that somehow my emotionally – and at times physically – crippled colleagues had managed to outflank his guards.
I was surprised at that himself. As the minutes had slipped by and I'd heard and felt the evidence of just how prepared Price had been for this moment, I'd started making other plans. I'd started to be glad that I'd left that letter behind for Lizzie, though I wasn't sure how I was going to get her out of this so she would have a chance to read it. Now I just had to keep Price contained until backup could reach the upper floors. Of course, without knowing what kind of weaponry Price had at hand, I hadn't expected that to be an easy task.
"You bastard." The very fact that Price's curse wasn't all that severe was a warning. Whenever he was beyond pissed off, my former boss always found himself at a loss for words. It was a state I'd put him in often enough to recognize it even if I couldn't see his face. My mind inconveniently turned to Lizzie; Price was unpredictable in this temper, and he had nothing against killing women and children. "You won't get everything."
Oohh…that's not good. Those kind of threats – vague as they were – were usually all-inclusive. The "eliminate-your-entire-family-tree" kind of mad. The "hold-a-grudge-until-either-I-kill-every-member-of-your-family-or-see-the-fires-of-hell" kind of mad. The "slow-and-painful-you'll-be-begging-for-death," kind of mad.
"Lizzie?" I'd lost her position in the explosion. If she'd quietly and secretly tucked herself away somewhere and I didn't know, that could be deadly. Because I wouldn't know if Price had found her until it was too late. Because I could accidentally shoot her instead of the man in front of me. Where the hell was she?
The answer was too far away.
"Shel…" Her voice is so soft that I don't know if she whispered my whole name or just that little part, but it doesn't matter. I know where she is…or at least the general area. What with the gunfire and the yells drifting in the broken windows, her position got a little lost between her lips and my ear.
Uncertainty can't be admitted to, though. Knowing that any movement on my part will be seen as a direct challenge, I shift my foot so that I can place myself between Price and the general area I believe Liz to be in.
The shot comes almost before I can fully shift my weight. Braced for pain, I'm not at all prepared for the way my heart seizes as Lizzie screams.
"No!" I don't know which of us sounds more horrified, but at least I'm certain of where she is now. Despite the danger, I turn my back on Price and leap the few feet that separate me from Liz. This isn't her fight. It was my own stupidity that dragged her into this and made her a playing piece. And though it counters everything that's kept me alive in the past five years, I'm willing to risk my life for something other certain personal gain.
Another shot rings out as I stumble to my knees. Lizzie's blood-curdling scream informs me that Price's shot didn't miss its target…but I also find myself breathing easier. No one could scream like that if they were seriously injured. And my darling wife has never had a high tolerance for pain. Her screams are actually almost reassuring. As is the strength in her arms as she clings to me.
"It's alright," I murmur as I try to get enough space between us so that I can search for her wounds. "Where does it hurt, Lizzie? It's kind of dark if you haven't noticed." The pebbled glass on the floor is making me knees ache as I kneel. We don't have time for this. Already I can hear Price striding across the floor. "Com'on, Lizzie, stop your caterwauling. We –"
One of the most unpleasant sounds in the world is the sound of your own bones creaking, cracking, or snapping. And Price put enough force in his kick that I hear at least two snaps out of my ribs. I try to gasp quietly – gasping not at all would be better because inflating my lungs that far is torture – so that I'm not completely oblivious to what's going on in the room. Even then, it's almost impossible to hear anything over Liz's sobs.
Damn it, Lizzie! Shut up! Truly, I sympathize. Gunshot wounds are a bitch. But I swear on all that is holy that if she doesn't –
Her next scream is weaker, accompanied by the sound of thrashing bodies. He's hurting her.
"Leave her alone, Price."
"Why? Because you're the one I want?" he sneers. "You're the one that's hurting." Liz's whimpers increase in pitch. "My only regret is that you can't watch her die."
"Isn't that a little clichéd?" I cautiously roll to my feet. If my ribs really are broken, I'm courting a punctured lung.
"And you aren't? Is this where you offer yourself up in the role of a sacrificial lamb in her place? What is that if not clichéd?"
"You're the one setting the script."
Price's bark of laughter is harsh. "You make a piss poor hero, Sheldon. Even a tarnished one. We all know you're an arrogant prig. The only reason you want me to come after you instead of her is that you always think you can beat everyone at their own game. If out places were reversed, you'd never use a man's wife as human collateral." His mocking voice tears my already weak conscience to shreds. "But then we both know that's a lie, isn't it? You talk a good game about originality, but you use every trick in the handbook if it'll get you what you want. And so does your lovely wife. We had a nice long talk before you showed up." Whatever he's doing, he hasn't stopped; Liz is still sobbing and trying to get away. "She might use you to get out of this, but that's all you're going to be worth once she's had a chance to really think. Who in their right mind would want a man like you in their life?"
Even though I'd figured that our few good days together were nothing more than an attempt to capture the past, Price's version of Liz's future decision hurts. It hurts because there is so much truth in his words. Even I know that Liz doesn't really deserve to be saddled with a man like me, I'd planned to be selfish and stay with her anyway. But there was no telling how many more men like Price were out there, men I'd stepped on or thrown off the ladder in my climb towards reaching my own ambitions. Men whose lives I'd sabotaged or destroyed in my race towards my own goals. Men who were as ruthless as I was and who wouldn't hesitate to take it out on my family if I seemed the least bit connected to them.
And I am still just selfish enough to not want to be there if Liz or one of our children dies because of me. I'd much rather live in ignorance of their fate. Then only my dreams will haunt me with guilt.
I realize too late that he's gotten to me – to me, the master puppeteer. My paralysis is broken by the sound of the office doors bursting open, but he heard them coming. He was ready.
I threw myself towards Lizzie, determined at least to protect her from whoever has joined us, but Price catches me under the arm just as my fingers brush against hers. Jerked off balance, stumbling to keep my feet under me, I step into air and plummet…
…just far enough to make the landing hurt. Damn. Even a little warning would have been enough to keep me from landing hard on my shoulder.
"I'm getting to old for this," I grumble as I take my time pushing myself upright. The voices inside the room are too chaotic, too far away for me to easily identify them. I know I can't get back in the window without help, but I need to know that Liz hasn't found herself stranded in an even worse situation.
My efforts to stall apparently aren't appreciated. Rough hands help me to my feet, but this time I'm ready for them and I struggle. For my efforts, Priceclips me in the back of the hand with the fist that was wrapped around his gun. That, along with the fall, is enough to leave me totally disoriented and easy to herd up the steps. The shots ricocheting off the steps aren't exactly encouraging, even though it does sound like friendly fire. In the darkness and the haze of smoke, I can only assume I'm unidentifiable.
"Where are we going?" The roof doesn't offer much except for another floor to fall from.
"You're going to disappear like you were originally meant to."
I hope that's code for "we're going to play hide-and-seek," but as I hear rotors start up, I doubt it.
Being informed that her injury was nothing more than a flesh wound did nothing to placate Liz's building irritation. The last time these people came bursting onto the scene, she'd gotten kidnapped. And now Sheldon was who knew where, possibly alive, possibly bleeding, possibly dead –
"Please stay still, Mrs. Sands."
"Why? According to you it's nothing but a scratch." One that hurt like hell, but she was too mad to care. Why were they all just standing around looking at the surrounding devastation? Why didn't any of them have answers for her? She wanted to know what was being done to locate her husband!
"Now, take it easy, Mrs. Shep."
No, not even Sheldon's friends were exempt from her wrath. "Why? You're taking it easy enough for both of us you overgrown cowboy," she muttered as she sent to the window they'd all been gathered at a few minutes ago. She glanced down and winced at the thought of her unseeing husband being forced into that jump. The landing wasn't even that wide. He could have easily fallen to his death.
Could still end up falling to his death.
Roberts silently came up behind her and took her by the shoulders, leading her unresisting body away from the window. He wondered if she even noticed how her hands were balling into fists over and over. Her temper would stave off the pain and exhaustion from the blood loss for the time being – because no matter what everyone was saying to reassure her, she had been very lucky that neither the wound on her head or on her shoulder were life threatening. No matter how upset she was, they still needed attention.
Liz didn't notice until she was sitting down again that she'd been maneuvered like a tin soldier. "Just leave me alone," she whispered, the fight draining out of her. Her strength kept coming and going, and in the moments it was gone it left her without a single defense against the "what-if's" that crowded her mind. Years of wishing that she could kill Sands for leaving her were coming back to bite her in the ass. Now all she wanted was to be in the same room with him. Even earlier when death seemed certain was better than this because he'd been there. She hadn't been so alone.
Roberts stood by helplessly as two tears and a sniffle escaped Liz as she sat silently and let the official agents put field fixes on her wounds.
"I want a report and I want it now." The words were spoken in a gravely, authoritative voice that wouldn't have been out of place in a battle-scared veteran but seemed just bizarre coming out of the five-foot-nothing fading beauty that stepped into the ruined office but no one ever made the mistake at poking fun at the woman. She was a force to be dealt with contained in a body that had caused its share of damage despite its size. Not to mention that her mind was wickedly sharp…only the most foolhardy agents dared contradict her. Only those with a mind to match got away unscathed, usually because they knew when the line had been drawn between an exchange of ideas and questioning subtly couched orders.
Being totally unaware of Company politics however, Liz leapt to her feet, her anger back so fully that it was as if it'd never been gone.
"You don't know what's going on? Why am I not surprised? None of you people seem to have any idea of what's going on and from what I can tell it's a chronic case of cluelessness!" She shrugged off the restraining hand on her shoulder. "First you people order your agents to lie to their spouses about their true jobs, you rip them away from their families without warning, demand that they have no contact with those families over years and years, then accuse those same people who have jumped through every hoop you've pointed at of treason – because that was the charge, wasn't it!? No one's come right out and said it, but why else would they be so desperate to clear their names? And then you fumble about in the dark, trying to catch people who are victims and not criminals, breaking into people's houses and ignoring constitutional rights with impunity all because your security is too loose to keep a hold on the people you've caught! You leave innocent children with people who don't know the first thing about child-raising, you sweep into situations you know nothing about and expect full cooperation without giving any in return, and you don't even care that a man's life is in danger right now! You prefer standing around with your pants around your ankles looking like bumbling idiots! And I'm sick of it! I want my family back!" Trembling with emotion, Liz stood still in the midst of ranks of shocked agents, meeting the woman's steely gaze with her own fevered one. Any moment she was going to break into tears if she didn't get the answers she wanted, and that just made her madder. "I thought you people were the Central Intelligence Agency! If this is any example of your effectiveness, I can only assume that no one's actually interested in attacking the US because you people couldn't stop a five year old with an erector set!"
"Mrs. Sands, I presume," the older woman said dryly. When the hot edge of Liz's anger melted into confusion the woman explained, "Only Sands would marry a woman of such…definite opinions of US policies, ones that run against his own. I assume he gets off on arguing with you."
Whatever she'd expected, that wasn't it. Liz just stood there nearly slack-jawed. How had this woman known that Sheldon… Shaking her head, Liz folded her arms against her chest and tried to look as if she had some control over herself and the situation.
The woman came forward, the agent in charge of this mess following in her wake. "Inspector General Victoria Tymms," she introduced herself as she waited for Liz to shake her proffered hand.
Liz paled. She didn't know what an inspector general's job was, but it sounded important; sounded as if she probably had a great deal of say in Sands' fate should he be found. Sheldon is going to kill me, she thought as she dazed took the offered hand. After I get out of jail. I probably just broke a ton of laws. And even if I didn't, that doesn't mean a whole lot. This woman could probably order my disappearance and not lose a wink of sleep.
"Don't look at me like that," Tymms said sharply. "I don't bite. And I don't put my boot up civilian asses when they speak their minds."
"Yes ma'am," Liz said weakly. "It's just…been a very long night." The sun was tinting a thin strip of sky at the point where sky and water met. It was hard to believe that so much time had actually passed. "And I'm –"
"Worried for your husband." Tymms waved a hand as if that went without a saying and could be dismissed. "Barkley!" She didn't even look at the man as he came to attention so quickly it looked as if he'd had a needle poked in his butt. It was as if she expected his immediate attention as her due.
"Sir!"
"What's the status on finding agent Sands and Mr. Price?"
"We have three MH-60G Pave Hawks on an intercept course with orders to apprehend the agents and if that doesn't work, to search and destroy."
"Oh my god." Liz felt her knees give out as all the blood rushed from her head. It didn't matter that Roberts caught her before she hit the floor, that Tymms turned and started giving Barkley hell before immediately ordering him to contact the helicopters and countermand the destroy order. It didn't even matter that Liz heard the man get on the radio and give those orders. All she could think was, It might already be too late.
xxx xxx xxx
The silence in the chopper was tense and absolute. Nothing could be heard other than the constant whirring of the rotors. Sands knew he'd been fading in and out of consciousness for some time now thanks to that little "love tap" Price had given him. Frankly, he was surprised that he was still alive. There was little point in carrying a prisoner now…unless Price had a particularly gruesome and lingering death in mind. And if that was the case, Sands didn't want to know.
Still…his mouth was so very hard to control.
"Don't tell me I'm going to be swimming with the fishes," he muttered, not knowing if anyone was even around to hear him. When he received no acknowledgement, he assumed Price had other things to worry about, things that would account for the tension in the air. Since it was unlikely that his questions would be answered or even that he'd have time to do anything with the information, Sands leaned his head back against the headrest and let his thoughts drift.
"CIA?" She'd been so furious. It had made her eyes sparkle and brought color to her cheeks, making her look so alive. So many arguments in the past had been sparked out of my boredom and desire to see her light up like that. Arguments I usually ended up apologizing for with long, sweet, hot kisses that made her forget that she'd been upset with me. She always forgot her anger with me too easily. If I had a chance to do things over again, I would have given her one of those kisses that night and spent my last night at home in her arms.
"How long –"
"I've told you this, Liz." But I'd known that a simple kiss wouldn't have worked, that she would have rejected my advances and I wasn't willing to have that be my last memory of her. Better to remember the roses in her cheeks.
"They're sending you away?" How easy it would have been to let her anguish persuade me to stay. But I'd been young and had something to prove to myself. Or perhaps not so old. Thirty-three is barely youth, but that was the excuse I still use. But the responsibility to see my family happy chafed at me. I wanted one last adventure before I was bogged down in the every day minutiae of soccer practice and orthodontist's bills, had wanted one last fling for myself before I gave in to Liz's repeated requests for me to take a steady job so that she could focus on finishing her schooling. I was a coward.
"Yes. And no, I can't tell you where. It's for your own good. For the kids' own good."
"Bullshit," she'd growled at me, and her absolutely correct charge had goaded me into making guilty promises I knew I'd never be able to keep.
"It's not forever, Lizzie." It'd only be forever if I got myself killed. I refused to admit that the operation would likely take at least two years just to get things set up, perhaps more.
"You don't know that. You already said you didn't know how long you'd been gone."
Forever, Sands reflected. She'd been right. The man she'd married would be baked and grow hard in Mexico's hot sun like a clay brick. He'd be turned into something there was no coming back from, that only violent force could shape from then on out.
Or am I still being a coward? The past few days with Lizzie hadn't been so terrifying, but then again, she'd agreed to put aside her righteous anger at his abandonment. She was lonely and he was her husband; it wouldn't be so hard for her to rationalize to herself that it was alright to enjoy his company, to let him back into her bed. Why put energy into resisting from her husband what she needed from someone? She'd made it easy for him to let his guard down and try to be a more accommodating man. He had no hope that things would be so easy once he was truly back home. Winning back the full acceptance – he didn't dare hope for forgiveness – of his children would take years of constant work. But what else would he be good for? He couldn't deceive himself into believing that he'd be any help around the house. Liz would be saddled with two children and an invalid, one whose only talents lay in driving her insane and sating her physical needs. He'd be a kept man, and that was something his pride wouldn't let him accept. No matter how much Liz begged him to come home, it'd only be a half life for him.
Half was something he never settled for.
Of course, this was all purely for argument's sake since he was never going to have a chance to act on any of this. He was going to die sometime in the near future whether that was Price's intention or not. Sands no longer had any illusions about how long he could hold out against torture. Having his eyes drilled out had taught him that. And he wasn't about to beg for his life again. Once was more than enough.
If he knew where the door was, he'd take a very big step right now –
"Take evasive action, damn you!" Price's voice rang out in cheated anger.
Sands grabbed at anything he could find as the helicopter tilted suddenly and seemingly uncontrollably to the right. We must have company. Or is that Company? He didn't know how the CIA would have found them, but out of everyone else that could upset Price, that was the best bet.
If that was who'd scared Price off, then Liz is getting medical attention. A fear he hadn't known he had eased. Now he just had his own life to worry about. And even that was starting to look brighter. Perhaps he wouldn't take a short walk after all. After all, things are just getting interesting again.
Another sharp turn sent Sands jerking to the left. This time the helicopter didn't stabilize; it wobbled and shuddered and dropped a few feet in a way guaranteed to induce nausea in the strongest stomach.
"Are you trying to get us all killed!" Price's scream was hoarse. "Give me that!"
A wild burst of wind tore at Sands' hair, whipping it around his face. Damn, he pushed the pilot out.
Their flight suddenly became a series of uncontrolled falls, rolls, and climbs. The cold wind that tore at everything that wasn't part of a greater whole – including Sands' sunglasses – made it hard to breathe. Perhaps it'd be safer to take that walk after all if Price was out of his mind.
Just then the shock of one large object hitting another rippled through the aircraft. There was a scream that was lost in a blast of air and the earsplitting screech of rending metal as the front of the helicopter was torn from the body. Over his own bellow of pain as shrapnel embedded itself in his scalp and shoulders, Sands heard the sickly wet sound of a tomato going through a fan that could only mean one thing. Not that he had time to savor his enemy's death, not when he was strapped into a seat in the broken, plummeting shell of a helicopter, with no idea how to free himself, and no idea if he was going to crash into land or rock-hard water.
The impact of aircraft against water knocked the air from Sands' lungs. If not for the ergonomically correct headrest, it probably would have broken his neck. As it was, he wasted precious seconds in dumb shock, marveling at the fact that he wasn't dead. Fluid rushing into his lungs as he tried to get his protesting body to work again knocked him out of his stupor, and he started to struggle with the seatbelt while he also fought the desperate urge to cough.
The belt came free in those critical seconds when his muscles started to burn with hunger. He had another twenty seconds at the most to find the surface or he was going to go under…literally and figuratively. Except with his lungs filled with water he wasn't going to start automatically rising to the surface and he couldn't exactly look around to see the surface.
Being blind instead of stupid is going to be what gets me killed… It was his last clear thought as oxygen deprivation set in.
Lizzie…
HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S DAY! Or not. I suppose y'all are going to have to wait a few weeks to find out. After all, yes I am that evil, but yes, I do love Sands that much. Quite a dilemma, eh? ;)
Author's Thanks go out to…Mayorst (come on, the slipper thing was absolutely genius. looks proud Or at least, it was my favorite part. I had to get that arm in somehow. The chess part was difficult, I had to find a site that outlined different strategies play by play.); doctress (if you can't believe I left it off there, then you're probably dying now. Ahh…the perks of being the writer. .); Dawnie-7 (yeah, I'm afraid Price doesn't have much of an imagination, and he's not exactly seeing Liz at her best.); Rogue-Pirate (really? I thought that last chapter was a little dry. It was certainly hard to write though, so maybe that's why I feel that way. And Sands was in character? That's always great to hear. It's hard to keep track sometimes.); quick29 (I am back, and this time I'm back with a vengeance…and running away from all the angry reviewers with torches and pitchforks.); desperado1102 (I love your reviews, they're so long. ;) You liked the part about Masden's tombstone colored eyes? I was afraid it might be a little trite. Glad it wasn't. Hmm…I'm glad you put that part about fallen queens in your review…I can build off that…maybe…makes note); Enesvy (from start to finish? Really? I gotta do that one of these days. I've been writing this for over two years and I've kinda forgotten the beginning. As for the end, it's racing down upon us I'm afraid.); misc (when have you known me to stop any place that's not a cliffhanger? It's like my trademark.); Lynx (men, I agree. As for balance, we all know Sands is all about balance. ;) And Sands' plans are always crazy. Sands always needed that soft heart of Liz's. A woman without one never could have put up with him. And this chapter was out in much less than three months.); Merrie (if you thought that last chapter was excellent, I wonder what word you're going to use for this one. :D As for your going away, that happened, unfortunately…and again I posted…this is almost a depressing trend.)
Note the Second: as far as I know, the next chapter is the last one, and I'll try to have it out by the end of April at the latest.
