Part 16
Ezra moaned, lifting his heavy head from the headrest and shaking it to try to clear it. "Damn," he groaned again as a thousand jackhammers assaulted his skull. He reached trembling fingers up to his temple and they came away warm and sticky with his own blood. Forcing open his eyelids, Ezra slammed them closed again as the brilliant late afternoon sunlight exploded in the back of his skull like a supernova. He coughed painfully, his lungs stinging from black, acrid smoke. 'Smoke,' he thought dreamily. Something about the smoke, something urgent, but he just couldn't grasp what it was. He was so tired...sleep beckoned seductively.
'Just a little nap...' and then he'd get out of the car, do what he needed to do. Call the auto club...oh, the authorities. Damn, who owned that fence he'd slammed into? They were...someone's neighbors...he'd been on his way somewhere...oh yes, Chris' place. Chris's neighbors. Maybe Larabee could talk them out of suing him. More likely Chris would just kill him for annoying him...
The pounding in his head increased and he winced, turning away. There was a buzzing...a buzzing with a familiar cadence...no, not buzzing, words. Someone was talking-yelling at him.
Ezra forced open heavy eyelids to catch a glimpse of a face...wildly distorted by the shattered window. The pounding was coming from above him...the man must be pounding on the roof of the vehicle.
'What an unusual thing for someone to do...'
He strained to listen to the buzzing and suddenly the words made sense.
"Guy! Hey, man, the car is on fire! Unlock your damn door!"
Moving by reaction, no thought to it, Ezra fumbled with the handle until a 'snap!' sound told him the door had unlatched. Chill air blasted over him as the stranger jerked the door open and reached in to unbuckle his seat belt. "Come on, guy, a little help here?"
Ezra managed to open his eyes again to an image of lots of blond hair falling into blue eyes. His benefactor pushed back the hair with an impatient motion that reminded Ezra of JD. Somehow he managed to get his feet moving underneath him and with a heave, he was out of the car.
His head whirling with the movement and the shattering pain, it was several moments before he realized that the black smoke coming from under the Jaguar's hood was diminishing and there were no orange flames licking up from the engine. He tried to stop moving, to say something, only to realize that his blond rescuer was guiding him-dragging him, actually-away from his own car toward a white Mustang parked some yards away.
"No-" he protested, trying to pull away. He managed to get his balance and went on, his voice a little stronger. "I do appreciate your assistance, sir, but all I require is a cell-"
The man turned to face him full-on. Ezra stopped in mid-sentence, gripped by a sudden feeling of recognition. "Do I-I'm sorry, but you seem so familiar-"
"Probably am." The man's voice was quiet. His hand reached into his jacket pocket.
"We've met?" Ezra asked, closing his eyes against another wave of dizziness.
"Yeah. You killed my cousin."
Ezra's eyelids snapped open. He recognized the feral look on the man's face, tried to yell, to run, but it was too late. The blond had a strong grip on his upper arm. He raised his other hand; the sun glittered off something clutched in his palm. Then he stabbed downwards.
Ezra felt a sharp sting in his neck. The man let go of him and he stumbled back a few steps. "What-" he started.
Hiroshima detonated inside his skull.
Ezra was unconscious before he hit the ground.
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"Hey, JD," Buck said weakly. His tired eyes lit up.
Chris stood as JD took a hesitant step inside the room. The younger man glanced at him with a brief glare-as if he knew he was mad at Chris but couldn't quite remember why-and then his eyes darted around the room, taking in the monitors and equipment, the nurse administering something into the IV, and finally Buck's figure in the bed.
JD's face whitened by several shades and his eyes grew huge. "Buck?" he breathed, taking another step forward. He looked at Chris and the anger was gone, replaced by a desperate fear.
Chris opened his mouth to say something and then both of them turned around quickly as Dr. Culver came back in. He nodded at JD and then looked at Buck. "You about ready, Buck?" he asked gently.
"Ready for what?" JD blurted. He looked from the doctor to Chris to Buck, eyes wild although he was obviously trying to keep calm. "Buck? Ready for what?" His voice shook in spite of his attempts to steady it.
Buck looked pleadingly at Chris. His old friend nodded, coming forward to gently grip JD's arm. "JD, let's go talk for a minute."
JD jerked his arm free. The hostility had faded but he obviously didn't want to leave. "Buck?"
It was equally obvious that Buck-as much as it broke his heart to be unable to comfort JD-simply didn't have the strength to tell him what was wrong. "Go with Chris, kid. Please. He'll tell you."
JD looked from Buck to Chris and back again. He finally nodded and stepped out the door. Chris made to follow him, looking back over his shoulder. "We'll be right back." He was looking at the doctor but his words were directed at Buck and he knew his old friend would realize that.
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JD didn't want to leave Buck, but he wanted...no, he needed to know what was going on, and he knew the only way he'd find out was to go along with Chris. So he gently squeezed Buck's lax hand, forcing out a cheerful, "I'll be right back, Buck." He tried to say something else, make some joke about Buck making a play for the nurse, but his throat closed up on him. Chris was standing at the door watching them with a tired, sad look on his face. Somehow that scared JD more than anything. He kept his grip on Buck's hand, afraid to let go, even for a few minutes.
"JD?" Chris said gently.
"Go on, Kid," Buck prompted. "I'm not goin'...anywhere."
JD couldn't trust his voice to speak. He gave Buck's hand one last squeeze and then let go. He walked to the door carefully, gingerly, feeling like his legs were going to collapse under him any second.
Once out in the hall, he turned around to face Chris, who had followed him. "What happened? What's wrong with him?" He could hear his voice rising, panic covering the words.
"This way." Chris tried to take his arm to lead him down the hall but JD jerked away again.
"Just tell me, damn it!"
Nurses looked up at his near-shout. A middle-aged blonde woman stuck her head out of one of the cubicles. She started to say something but Chris' glare stopped her in mid-word. She prudently withdrew back into the room.
JD noticed none of this. He stood facing his boss, hands clenched.
"Come on," Chris growled, grabbing JD's arm again and this time not allowing him to pull free. He pulled the younger man several feet down the corridor to a tiny alcove barely large enough for two vinyl-covered chairs and a small table. A thriving plant on the table overwhelmed the space. Chris gently shoved JD into one chair and then dropped into the other one, facing him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" JD exploded.
Chris opened his mouth to fire off a response, then sighed and leaned back into the chair. His shoulders slumped and for the first time since JD had met him, the older man looked almost defeated. "Damn, Kid, you're not making this any easier," he muttered.
JD froze. His eyes widened as he searched Chris' face, seeing harsh lines of fear and exhaustion and grief that hadn't been there even two days before. "I'm sorry," JD whispered, not sure why he was whispering or even what he was apologizing for. "It's just...what's wrong, Chris? He looks terrible. He didn't look like that when we left." He heard his own voice break on the next words. "He's...it's real bad, isn't it?"
Chris closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, JD. It's bad."
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JD felt cold suddenly, as if he'd just been deluged with ice water. Unconsciously he crossed his arms in front of his body, hugging himself, trying to protect himself against what he knew was coming. "What is it?" His voice was barely a whisper.
Chris sighed again and as JD watched, the older man seemed to age before his eyes. Chris leaned forward, eyes on the floor. In the tiny cubicle their knees were almost touching.
Still looking down, Chris said, "Buck has pneumonia."
JD just stared at him. Pneumonia. Okay...that was bad. But surely not this bad. Dr. Culver had been worried about pneumonia all along, but after all, Buck was in a hospital, and they'd been monitoring him constantly. They had to have caught it early-hell, Buck was okay when Team Seven had left for Texas and that had just been a few days ago. The doctors would pump him full of miracle antibiotics-it just meant a couple days in ICU, that was all. Buck would gripe because he hated ICU with all its restrictions, but...it was just a little setback.
But looking at Chris Larabee, who appeared to have aged ten years in just a few hours, and JD knew with a chill certainty there was more-and worse-to come.
"What else?" He forced out the words through numb lips, not really wanting to hear an answer. He tried to remember he was mad at Chris, but the anger dissipated like fog in a breeze.
JD really didn't want to know what could make Chris look so tired, so strained, so old.
So scared.
Chris took in a deep breath, let it out. He looked up finally, his gimlet-green eyes locking with JD's hazel ones. He opened his mouth, started talking. Words flowed over JD's head; Chris' voice was cold, terse, emotionless. Only his eyes were alight with anguish.
He kept talking. JD blinked. He heard the words, an imposter therapist, something in the breathing treatment-something wrong in the breathing treatment. Something unknown, toxic. Something that affected Buck's lungs, damaged them, made them too vulnerable to the bacteria flooding his system.
"You're saying-" JD's voice seemed to come from somewhere far away. It was as if he were somewhere else, watching, like he'd watch a movie or a TV show. "You're saying...Buck was poisoned? Is that what you're saying, Chris?"
'Of course that's not it,' he tried to reassure himself. 'It can't be that. I misunderstood somehow. People don't get poisoned in a hospital. Couldn't have happened. There was a guard on the door. And Nathan! Nathan was with Buck. Nathan wouldn't let anyone poison him.'
Silence. Too long a silence. Finally, Chris said quietly, "Yeah, JD. Buck's been poisoned."
A scream of denial, of rage, started deep in JD's gut. He forced it back with a superhuman effort. Buck needed him. He had to hold it together, for Buck.
He didn't even notice the crescents of blood welling up as his nails dug into the unprotected skin of his arms.
"There's an antidote, right? He's going to be okay!" JD's voice was thin, high, strained. He knew the answer. He'd heard Chris earlier. But it couldn't be so. It couldn't be. He looked away from Chris sagging shoulders, fixed his eyes on the obscenely healthy potted plant. How could something grow that healthy in this world of recycled air and artificial light?
Chris was talking again. JD tried not to hear, tried to block out the words. In vain. They pounded into his head like blows from a hammer. Respirator. Life support. Maybe permanent damage...oh, no, God no... He closed his eyes, fighting dizziness.
"JD!" Chris' voice commanded attention.
JD blinked and opened his eyes again. Chris held his head, forcing him to look at him. "He wants to talk to you, JD. You going to be okay?"
Okay? Okay! How could anything be okay ever again? Was Chris insane?
JD took a deep breath, summoning up strength from somewhere inside, some deep secret reservoir. He met Chris' gaze, seeing-with a kind of vague surprise-the desperation there. A look he knew that matched his own.
He swallowed. "Yeah, Chris, I'll be okay." He forced himself to stand up on trembling knees, rubbing his hands fiercely over his face. He had to be okay. He had to pull it together. He had to. He had to be strong. For Buck.
His brother needed him.
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"I'm going to ache in places I didn't even remember I had tomorrow," Monica Hastings declared. "But it's been worth it!"
She flashed a sparkling smile at Vin as she unbuckled the cinch strap holding the saddle on Buck Wilmington's gentle gray mare, Paladin.
When they had reached Chris' ranch and met the horses, Vin had been struck by the longing in Monica's eyes and impulsively decided they could squeeze in a short ride before it got too dark. Vin had picked Pal for Monica to ride. For a couple of reasons, actually. By her own admission it had been years since she'd ridden. Of all the horses stabled at Chris' ranch, Paladin was the one most likely to tolerate a new rider. Plus Vin figured the mare was probably missing her master and might appreciate some individual attention. Which she did. She also relished the peppermint candies Monica conjured up from somewhere.
In the stall across the way, Chaucer, Ezra's spirited-and spoiled-gelding, snorted and kicked his stall door jealously.
"Now there, Chaucer, is that the way a gentleman behaves?" Vin rebuked. He burst into laughter at the astonished expression on Monica's face. "That's Ezra's horse," he said. "He's taught 'im all sorts of tricks. Tells him to be a 'gentleman' and Chaucer starts doin' some flashy high-steppin'."
Monica smiled and brought another peppermint into view. "Can he have it?" she asked, nodding toward Chaucer. The horse whinnied and craned his neck toward the treat.
"Sure," Vin smiled as the chestnut gelding gently lipped the candy from Monica's outstretched hand and then allowed her to rub his forehead. "Think you've made a friend."
"Well, it's the least I can do. I did almost get his owner killed."
Vin touched her face gently. "That wasn't your fault."
She looked up at him with huge blue eyes. For a moment Vin felt himself falling into their depths. Slowly, gently, he leaned down and covered her lips with his own.
A noisy explosion of wet air blew between them, startling both of them, sending both reeling backwards. "Damn it, Chaucer!" Vin exploded, wiping horse-slobber from his neck. He shot an embarrassed grin at Monica. "Think we've got a chaperone," he commented.
Monica was giggling so hard she had to lean against the wall. "More like seven chaperones!"
Vin looked around and she was right: all seven of the horses had their heads hanging over the half-doors of their stalls with what passed for equine interested looks on their faces. Vin looked back at Chaucer. "Damn mule."
Chaucer smirked. Vin shook his head. "You're too much like your daddy," he told the horse.
Monica, breathless from laughing, wiped tears from her eyes. "Well...Chaucer's timing for his little interruption could have been better, but I probably do need to get going." She looked at her watch and made a face. "I'm due at my uncle's for dinner in an hour. I'd better call and let him know I'll be late."
For the first time a prickle of uneasiness struck Vin as he glanced at his own watch and then at the deepening dusk outside. 'Kind of funny Chris ain't made it home yet.' "I need to go in the house a minute," he said abruptly.
She heard the change of his tone and frowned. "Something wrong?"
"Probably not. Just need to check something." Vin made sure the stable was secure before leading her to the back door of the house.
"Well, I could use a bathroom," she admitted.
Vin unlocked the door with his spare key. Reaching in, he flicked on the lights in the little service porch area Chris referred to as the "mudroom." He pointed to the door leading to the extra bedroom Ezra usually slept in when staying at the ranch. "There's one through that bedroom. I'm just going to use the phone in the kitchen."
He quickly punched in Chris' cell phone number, disconnecting when the voice mail engaged. The number of Buck's hospital room was posted on the refrigerator, secured by a boot-shaped magnet. Feeling uneasy, Vin dialed it. After three rings, a crisp voice answered, "Nurses' Station, Four West."
Vin frowned. 'That's supposed to ring directly into Buck's room...' "Uh...I'm trying to reach Buck Wilmington-"
"One moment," the voice said briskly. He heard a click, then ringing. This time the phone was answered promptly. "Intensive Care."
Vin felt the blood drain out of his face. 'Oh, shit.' He cleared his throat. "I'm trying to reach Chris Larabee. He'd be visiting a patient named Buck Wilmington..."
"May I ask who's calling?"
"Vin Tanner."
"One moment."
There was another click as he was put on hold. Vin turned as Monica came into the kitchen, looking concerned. "Vin...?"
He waved her to silence as the phone clicked again.
"Where are you?" Nathan demanded.
"Nathan?" Vin asked, confused. "Where's Chris?"
"He's with JD. How fast can you get here?"
"JD?" Vin repeated, confused. He could tell by the tone of Nathan's voice something was terribly wrong. "Nathan, what's happened? Is JD hurt?"
"No, not JD," Nathan answered with a catch in his voice. "It's Buck."
Vin gripped the phone tightly. "What's wrong?"
There was a pause, then Nathan's choked out, "God, Vin. Buck just went into cardiac arrest."
tbc...