Linguistics warning. I used a naughty word. Not in English…but still.
Nothing you wouldn't hear in a PG-13 movie, English or otherwise...butI don't want to shock anyone without fair warning…
Chapter Three: Between There and Freedom
When they boarded the elevator, Don moved Marcus to the back, away from the doors.
"Who's your contact in building security?"
Rawlings grabbed his phone from his pocket as he replied.
"Anderson."
"Get him. Tell him to alert everybody we may have a……something going down."
Agent Snyder pushed the button for the 10th floor, where the courtroom was located, and the doors slid shut.
"A something, huh? Do you really think some gang is going to make a run on the Federal Courthouse just 'cause we've got four of their guys on trial for racketeering and murder?"
"I wouldn't put it past them. We're not talking about a common street gang here, Snyder. This gang is an international organization that's made it's way onto the DHS watch list. The federal government is trying to stick it to them with this trial and these guys have a history of taking things personally. Why do you think they had you fellas hanging out with these kids?"
Don leaned forward to look into Agent Snyder's ear for the telltale ear bud speaker.
"Are you wired?"
"Yeah, dispatch. It's standard procedure. What do you want me to tell them? What did you see?"
"Gang tat……the 13th. I don't know what they're planning, but……."
Agent Rawlings put his hand out to get their attention as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.
"You're right, Eppes. Something is going on…….."
They reached the 10th floor and the elevator's ding rang out as the doors slid open. Don took one step forward and found himself face to face with a man in an orange CDCR jumpsuit.
Shocked at the sight of the elevators passengers, the man took a step backwards.
"Verga!"
He cursed in his father's native tongue as he swung his still shackled arm around, a service revolver in his hand.
Even this moment of hesitation gave Don very little time to react. In the confined space, there wasn't much he could do and there was nowhere to go. The discharge from the weapon was deafening. Even as Don moved to un-holster his own sidearm, he felt something sear by his head. A brief memory of his last encounter with a bullet traveled across his consciousness and he brought his own gun up and pulled the trigger. A second shot rang through the elevator and the man in the orange jumpsuit fell. Another shot was fired from out in the hallway, and he heard Agent Rawlings cry out behind him. The bullet caught the younger agent in the throat and the force of the impact propelled him against the elevator wall.
Don grabbed Marcus from the back corner and shoved him in front of him, using the enclosed sides of the elevator as cover.
Agent Snyder followed his example and crouched down on the opposite side, pulling Agent Rawlings' body along with him. He quickly spoke into his headset.
"FBI VWS unit one, agent down! South wing…we're in the elevator and we are taking fire!"
He glanced at Don.
"Holy Shit! How in the hell did they get guns?"
Several more shots were sent in their direction and Don pushed Marcus as far into the corner as he could.
The elevator door gave its ding indicating that the doors were closing. As they slid shut, Don reached up and pushed the button for the 9th floor.
He looked at Rawlings' still form.
"Get his phone, he was on with security, find out what's happening. Tell them about the man in the lobby."
Snyder nodded and obeyed.
From the massive puddle of blood that Rawlings was lying in, Don knew there was nothing he could do. Every possible sequence of events that could have put guns into the hands of these men systematically galloped through his mind. This had been planned, timed and carefully executed. The young man he had seen leaving the elevator….somehow he had gotten a weapon into the hands of four federal inmates. It was almost impossible to believe.
Once again, he was alerted to their arrival on the next floor by the ding. As the doors slid open, Don remained in a crouch, prepared for any scenario. However, he wasn't prepared for the blood curdling scream from a bleeding woman who immediately tried to board the elevator.
Her shriek lasted only a few moments, as she fell back into the hallway. A small group gathered there took a collective step backwards as they spotted the two armed men in the elevator. Quickly, Don lowered his weapon and lifted is left hand up in a peaceful gesture.
"We're FBI. I'm Agent Eppes. Did you come from upstairs? Can somebody tell me what happened?"
A man stepped forward.
"They had guns when they came out. They just started shooting people. The guards tried to stop them, but it all happened so fast…..We ran down the first flight of stairs, then some of us decided to wait here for help."
Don had headed for the door to the stairwell, when Agent Snyder grabbed his arm. He was still holding the phone up, while simultaneously listening to dispatch from the small speaker concealed in his other ear.
He kept his voice at a whisper.
"One of the prisoners somehow got a chiv in here and used that to overpower the guard. Used his gun to shoot their way out of holding. Took the passage to the courtroom and exited through there. FPS security teams are cover all exits for the south wing, and they've called in LAPD to assist. Our emergency response team is right behind them. The building is in lockdown….they're evacuating the lobby, then they're going to work their way up floor by floor. They've got security on eleven making sure they don't go up and they've just shut down the elevators. They want us to hold here….wait for backup."
He waited for Don to respond, but the senior agent acted as if he hadn't heard him.
"Agent Eppes?"
Don felt as if a two ton weight had dropped into the pit of his stomach. The prisoners had gotten out of the cellblocks through the courtroom. Robin would have already been in the courtroom and Charlie had taken Frankie up less than five minutes ago. Agent Travis had been with them, but if these men had made it into the hallway…………..?
Don focused his eyes on the group that had fled the 10th floor.
"Is there still anyone up there?"
The older man who was volunteering the information looked confused.
"What?"
Don raised his voice.
"Are there any survivors?"
"We are the survivors!"
The trauma in the older man's tone was apparent as he tried to explain.
"Any one left in that courtroom after we left were either dead or dying. They just shot people. They shot everybody."
A young man in the group supported the older man's elbow and a woman began to sob softly.
Don's mind was reeling. He started for the door to the stairs and then stopped himself. The implications of the man's statement had been an almost physical blow and he couldn't think straight. He felt as though he had had the wind knocked out of him. Backing himself into the elevator, Don leaned his head up against the wall. He lifted his eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to slow his breathing. His heart was pounding so hard he was certain it would beat out of his chest and make an attempt to get back upstairs and into that courtroom with or without the rest of his body. He inhaled deeply and tried to reestablish order in the thoughts and emotions that were threatening to tear his soul apart.
"Agent Eppes?
Marcus was still plastered against the wall next to the door, where Don had left him. He was staring at Agent Rawlings' body on the floor.
"Agent Eppes…..what's happened? What's going on? Where is Frankie?"
Don took a moment to attempt to conceal the terror that had just sucker punched him in the gut. He pulled his professional mask back over his face, then he lowered his head and met the young man's eyes.
"We're not sure what happened, Marcus. But Agent Travis is with your brother…….."
Under his breath, he added "……and mine too."
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Robin rushed to Charlie's side. Grabbing his arm just as his knees gave out, she was able to slow his decent to the ground.
"Charlie? Oh my God."
As tears sprang up in her eyes, she lifted her head and yelled as loudly as she could.
"Help! Somebody help me!"
Charlie reached up and grabbed her hand. The sight of his own blood had made him feel a substantially woozy, and for a second he'd felt faint…..he struggled to pull his thoughts back into place with little success. Robin's hand was shaking and despite the absolute terror he was feeling, and the upheaval of his cerebral processes, Charlie suddenly felt the need to console her.
"It's okay, Robin. I'm really okay. There isn't that much blood, see. I just think……"
As the mental and emotional shock of what he had just witnessed and what had just happened to them all began to sink in, Charlie stopped himself mid-sentence and squeezed his eyes shut.
He had just been shot.
The pain in his side was ebbing off a little now that he was back on the floor. It almost felt numb. But Charlie knew it was just his body's first reaction to the physical shock that would soon try to shut him down.
He struggled with his desire to react emotionally to what was happening, feeling as if he were being pushed and pulled at the same time.
A myriad of thoughts and feelings ran fleetingly though his mind. The notion that he could actually die sprouted up into his consciousness. When his eyes fluttered open and he found Robin's terrified face in front of his, Charlie fought valiantly to dismiss any display of his own fears.
"It's okay. It'll be okay."
He didn't know if he was trying to reassure her, or himself.
Robin sunk the rest of the way to the floor, kneeling down next to Charlie and they both were silent for a moment. Suddenly she reacted as if she had been yanked out of a trance. Pulling her suit jacket off, Robin wadded it up and shoved it into Charlie's side, pressing hard on the bullet wound. The sudden application of pressure to the hole in his upper abdomen put an end to any reprieve he had gotten from the pain. A new and excruciating agony shot through his body and he inhaled sharply, gasping to breath.
Robin winced in sympathy, but continued to apply pressure.
"I'm sorry, Charlie…I'm sorry. We've got to slow the bleeding."
She glanced up at the security cameras in the back corners of the gallery and hoped to God they were operational.
"I'm sure help is on the way."
Two young women were helping a slightly older matron up from the floor and a good looking blond in her mid forties was holding her bleeding arm tightly to her chest. Frankie had moved out into the walkway and was standing, horror stricken, next to Charlie. Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot echoing up the hallway made them all jump. It was followed almost instantly by a second shot. A few moments later several more shots rang out.
Suddenly, two of the men burst back into the room. They were conversing rapidly in a bastardized version of Spanish that Robin knew to be a form Salvadorian slang. She had heard them speak it numerous times when she had tried to get them to plead out for a life sentence before the trail had begun. Frankie dropped back between the benches and lowered himself to his knees next to Charlie, trying to make himself invisible. The four women, who had just started for the door, dropped back to the ground almost instantly.
The two men stopped abruptly and took in the seven people who had not yet fled the courtroom.
The older of the two escapees, stalked forward down the center isle and with a primal scream, he kicked a chair out from behind the defense attorney's table. He began to rant loudly, only reverting to English when he shouted out a string of curses and kicked the witness stand.
The other man elevated the pistol in his hand and hovered it between the two clusters of people on the floor. He interjected into his partner's bellows only occasionally, but whatever he did say only seemed to enrage the other man even more.
Every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on the two men as they began to pace, occasionally pointing their guns at the terrified hostages as they continued to converse in their own dialect. Charlie could feel Robin trembling as she continued to press her jacket over his upper abdomen. The pain was pulsating now in waves that almost physically pushed him against the bench he was propped against. He was starting to feel light headed and had to concentrate hard on not throwing up as nausea rushed over him with each ripple of pain. With his heart pounding in his ears, Charlie listened to the two men. The language they were speaking was completely foreign to him, but he didn't need to understand Salvadorian to know exactly what had happened.
Three went out, only two came back. That seemed pretty self explanatory.
They had lost their chance for escape. And from the way they continued to nervously pace the floor, it was obvious they both knew it.
As an amplified, overwhelming surge of pain washed over him, the edges of his vision went white and Charlie squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He couldn't pass out. He had to stay awake. For Robin. For Frankie. And for himself……because he felt certain that once he gave in, he might never wake up again.
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Thank you again for your comments.
….and your trust……
….and your patience…..
….and…..well, you get the idea.
Chapter Four: Circumstances Beyond Your Control