Purgatory
Chapter 19 - Cavalry
Without warning the barrage of bullets pummelling the kitchen stopped. But gunshots still resounded outside, their intensity increasing. Shouts were louder and more frantic with several screams of pain as men were obviously being shot.
For the second time in the past several minutes EJ thought her mind was playing tricks on her as she listened to the gun fire. Answering the sporadic blasts of AK 47 assault rifles were the staccato bursts of automatic weapons fire that sounded too familiar. She looked at McGee.
"P-90's," he breathed.
She nodded. The high-pitched moan of the new weapons joining the fray outside had to belong to US military-issued, FN-P90 submachine guns. Hope surged through her as she realized they were no longer under fire and their enemies had engaged another force outside the house.
EJ and McGee continued to lay prone on the cold kitchen floor, listening to the fever pitch of the gun fight outside. Although the battle lasted for only a few minutes EJ felt as if they had been laying there for hours. Finally the gunfire stopped. Men still shouted outside, a frenzy of activity moving closer to the front of the house. Simultaneously she and McGee rose to their feet, crouching behind their island refuge, pistols at the ready, hoping beyond hope that the fight was over, but ready to engage the enemy if necessary.
She heard the front door slam open, frantic movement in the living room and someone shout, "Clear!"
Then another voice called out, "Barrett ... McGee!"
Glancing at McGee she saw the same shocked look she knew covered her own face. It was Bishop's voice calling their names - and she could hear no gunfire, anywhere.
"EJ ..., Tim," Bishop called again, his voice more urgent.
"Clear!" McGee shouted back.
Still not sure her senses were truthful she kept her gun ready, using the kitchen's island as cover incase this was a ruse. She heard footsteps walking down the hallway toward the kitchen and raised her pistol.
Christopher Bishop stepped through the doorway, dressed in full tactical assault gear, his P90 hanging on its sling across his chest. EJ lowered her pistol and released the breath she had been holding. For a moment she felt stunned, then confused ... and finally relieved.
"Man, are you a sight for sore eyes," McGee blurted out, exhaling and then dragging in a deep breath.
Bishop nodded at McGee, and looked at EJ. "You both OK?" he asked.
"Thanks to you we are," EJ sighed.
She walked over to Bishop, placing her hand on his arm. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I thought it was pretty obvious," he grinned back at her. "I brought the cavalry to the rescue."
"Geeze, Chris," she huffed out at him, shaking her head.
"By the way, I think these belong to you guys," he said, pulling out their badges and handing each to its owner.
"What's going on?" McGee said, confused.
"Thank Cozort," Bishop said. "Remember when Craig told Cozort we were all at his disposal? Well, Cozort decided he needed more intel from Rathburn's house if he was going to protect the base from any possible threat. That's when he sent us here to check it out," he paused, then continued, "and to back you up and get Gibbs out."
"Who is 'us'?" EJ asked.
"Me, Brogan, Andrews, our two MP friends," he paused, cracking a huge grin, "and as far as Craig is concerned, the two of you as well."
"Huh?" McGee said, confusion still in his voice.
"Craig doesn't know you guys turned in your badges. Cozort told him the seven of us were dispatched here to conduct recon and gather intel." He shrugged, "Anyway, as the Agent in Charge I never accepted anyone's resignation. So you're still reporting to me. Sorry," he said sarcastically, his grin widening.
"Thank you, Chris," EJ breathed out.
"Ditto," McGee said.
"What about Gibbs? Any luck?" Bishop asked, looking at EJ.
At his question she shuddered realizing that in the heat of their battle and the relief of their rescue she had forgotten why she had come in the first place.
"No," she said frantically, "but I didn't get a chance to look upstairs." She bolted from the room to the hallway, heading toward the stairs.
"EJ, wait," Bishop called after her, but she was already at the first step, her pistol drawn, moving up the stairs.
Both Bishop and McGee followed her to the second floor and within five minutes they had cleared each room, finding no sign of Gibbs.
EJ plopped down at the top of the stairs, hanging her head, tears attacking her eyes. She heard Bishop and McGee walk up behind her.
"I thought for sure he was here. I wanted him to be here," she choked out her words, struggling for air. "I needed him to be here."
"I can't figure out why he's not," Bishop said. "I thought for sure Rathburn wouldn't let him out of his sight."
EJ snapped her head up, glaring at Bishop. "What?" she barked. "Are you saying Rathburn is here?"
"Yeah," Bishop responded. "Andrews and Brogan have him and some of his goons cuffed in the living room. I recognized him from the photos in your case file on the guy. You know he wasn't ..." his voice trailed off as EJ jumped upright, bounding down the stairs.
Dashing into the living room she saw Brogan and Andrews, P90's in hand, guarding several men resting on their knees, their hands zip-cuffed behind them. Recognizing Rathburn she bolted over to him, pulled out her Sig and burrowed it into the side of his head before either agent could react. Everyone stared at her, speechless, as McGee and Bishop entered the room, hot on her heels.
"Where is he, you piece of shit?" she shouted at Rathburn. "Tell me where he is right now or I'll splatter your fucking brains all over the wall." She cocked the hammer of her pistol, pushing it harder into Rathburn's temple.
"EJ," Bishop shouted, "stand down!"
EJ felt her head swim. Months of anger, grief and fear crashed into each other as her body tensed, ready to explode, her mind its hair-trigger. "This bastard's got Gibbs, Chris. He's had him long enough and now he's gonna give him back. He's either gonna give him back or the bastard's gonna die, right here, right now!"
"Put the weapon down," Bishop's voice was calmer now. "Please, EJ."
She didn't look at Bishop, but instead glowered down at Rathburn who was glaring defiantly back at her. "You hear that, you son-of-a-bitch? I've got nothing to loose. Put-up, or die, right now!" she shoved the pistol hard into the side of his head. "Where is he?"
"EJ," McGee said. "He's not worth it. The boss ..., Gibbs ..., wouldn't want this. If you kill him, he wins. Don't let him win, EJ."
"Don't you see, Tim," she pushed out, her jaw so tight it almost ached, never taking her eyes off Rathburn, "there is no win or loose any more. There's just life and death. Gibbs is either alive, or they're BOTH dead!"
"I'm afraid, then, death it is," Rathburn hissed, his voice thick with disdain. "Like you, I also have nothing to loose." EJ stared down at him, shocked he had spoken.
"Alas, Agent Barrett, your lover was useless to me. Even after significant efforts to extract information from him he proved too stubborn. I decided to cut my losses. I am a businessman, after all."
Rage exploded in her. Her heart raced, the blood pounding in her temples made her head throb with pain. Tears spilled from her eyes and the ache in her chest was so deep she knew it would never leave. Gibbs was dead and this bastard had killed him. There was nothing left for her. She pushed the pistol harder into Rathburn's temple, her finger tightening on the trigger. Everything else disappeared as her senses dulled. The pleas from her colleagues were faded echoes in the back of her mind. She was aware of only her eyes as they bored into his, seeing the malice and evil behind them. She made her decision and closed her eyes, ready for the explosive shock of her pistol to kick her hand back as a bullet ploughed through Rathburn's skull.
With her eyes closed, hearing replaced sight as her primary sense. And out of the muffled chaos in the background she heard McGee shouting at her, his voice becoming clear.
"Wait! Wait! Listen. EJ, listen. Do you hear it? Do you hear the knocking? Someone is here. It has to be Gibbs. EJ, don't shoot!"
She paused, her eyes still closed, McGee still shouting at her. But over the din of his voice she heard it. A steady, rhythmic, metallic knocking. Not random, not passing, but steady and purposeful. Someone was alive somewhere in the house, trying to get their attention.
Against all odds her hope flared. She opened her eyes and looked toward McGee. She dropped her pistol to her side, exhaling as she collapsed to her knees, exhausted. McGee rushed over, took her gun and placed it in her holster, helped her rise and guided her to the side of the room. She grabbed at his waist, burrowing her head into his shoulder, allowing him to support her weight.
"Brogan," Bishop barked, "you're with me. Andrews, stay here with these pricks. Radio Mashiro and tell him to sit tight on the other guys we cuffed outside." He set off from the living room, listening and following the sound, Brogan right behind him.
As Bishop and Brogan searched for the source of the knocking, EJ continued to lean on McGee for support, her body trembling, struggling to regain her breath and gather her wits. Shame blanketed her as she forced herself to look up at him. "I'm sorry, Tim. Thanks. Thanks for not letting me cross that line."
McGee smiled back and said nothing, continuing to hold onto her, supporting her weight.
As she regained her strength and focus she tentatively stepped back from him, testing the stability of her legs, making sure she could stand on her own. Finding she could maintain her balance she stood straight and McGee relinquished his hold.
A few seconds later Bishop yelled out from the kitchen, "EJ, McGee, in here!"
Turning, she staggered on wobbly legs into the kitchen, her chest tight as she looked at Bishop anxiously. McGee followed behind her.
"Listen," Bishop said. "We've checked the entire house. We can't find anything, but it's loudest here. Sounds like it's coming from below."
"But there's no basement in this house," Brogan offered.
"Maybe there is," McGee said, as he cocked his head, a pensive look on his face.
"What are you thinking, McGee?" Brogan asked.
"This house was probably built in the 50's or 60's, right in the middle of the 'Cold War' era," McGee elaborated. "Back then the Puget Sound was considered a first strike target for Russian nuclear missiles."
"I don't follow you," Bishop said, his impatience easily detectable.
"With an Army, Air Force and two Naval bases located in the region, as well as the center of the US aerospace industry residing in Seattle with Boeing's headquarters and Lockheed-Martin major manufacturing facilities, this place would have been nuke central in the event of a nuclear attack," McGee continued.
"Is there a point to this," Bishop's impatience was unbridled now.
"Fall-out shelters!" McGee said.
"What?" EJ interjected.
"There probably wasn't a house built in this region at that time that didn't have a fall-out shelter either underneath or somewhere on the property," McGee was flustered as he tried to finish his explanation. "These weren't basements with regular entrances. They were survival shelters meant to be used only in an emergency. What if this house has one? What if that's where the noise is coming from?"
"That's pretty far fetched," Bishop said.
EJ turned to Bishop and could see the doubt in his eyes. But the knocking still assailed her ears, though it seemed to be getting weaker as minutes passed. It had to be coming from somewhere and she needed to find out where, and fast. Then a thought popped into her mind and she broke out into laughter.
Bishop, Brogan and McGee all gave her incredulous glares.
"Not again, EJ!" Bishop scowled. "What's so damn funny this time?"
"You are, Chris," she chirped out between breaths.
"EJ …," he growled at her.
"Chris, you're doubting the guy who figured out Rathburn's plan from the very beginning. How far fetched is that? My money's on McGee!"
She turned to McGee. "OK, Tim, how do we find the entrance to this shelter?"
McGee smiled from ear to ear as he clipped off directions. "OK, look for any type of opening, like trap doors in the floors, inside closets, somewhere you normally would not expect to find a door. Let's start in here because this is where the knocking is the loudest."
Minutes passed as the four agents frantically searched the kitchen. On her knees, EJ scrutinized the tile floor, looking for seams or splits in the tiles that might indicate the presence of a trap door. Bishop opened the walk-in pantry and started moving food aside, searching for some type of opening against the back wall or in the floor.
Finally Brogan shouted out, "I think I found it," and started to pull the refrigerator out from the wall.
Crowding around him they watched as he crouched down to where the appliance had sat. Embedded in the floor was a small handle. Brogan grabbed it and pulled. A three foot square piece of floor lifted up, hinged underneath on one side connected to the under-flooring. Leading down from the hole in the floor was a steep set of steps, light shining up from the depths. The knocking was clearly coming from down below.
In a flash EJ dropped to the floor and swung her legs over the edge, her feet hitting the second step before anyone could stop her. She stood up on the step and grabbed the left hand rail while her right hand pulled out her pistol.
"Damn it, EJ." Bishop complained, "Not again. Let one of us go first."
She glared up at him. "Get off my ass, Chris!" she growled. "You guys better hurry up and cover my six cause I'm going down there, with or without you." She started to maneuver down the treacherously steep steps.
Bishop moved first, coming up so close behind EJ his toes were clipping her heels. He turned back to Brogan, "Mike, you stay here. And stay sharp."
"Right, Boss," Brogan snapped back.
Bishop turned and disappeared down the steps, McGee following close behind.
The first thing EJ noticed when she reached the concrete floor was the cold, dank air. A shiver went right through to her bones, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She wasn't sure if the shiver was caused by the cold air, fear of attack, or anticipation that Gibbs may be alive and only a few feet away from her at that very moment.
Not only was the floor concrete, but so were the hallway walls. She looked down to the end of the hall, about 60 feet away. On either side were several metal doors. A dozen or so bare, glaring light bulbs hung from the ceiling every few feet the entire length of the hallway.
"Holy cow," she heard McGee mutter as he came up behind her. "This thing must be as long and wide as the house. It's not a shelter, it's a freakin' bunker."
"Shh!" she said, glaring back at McGee. "Listen," she whispered.
The knocking had become fainter and less frequent. EJ walked slowly down the hallway, stopping and listening at each door. As she passed a room McGee and Bishop would crack open the door and burst in, scanning each room for a few seconds to determine if any threat existed and then move back into the hallway, following EJ. Halfway down the hall she stopped at one door, pushing her ear up against it, McGee and Bishop close behind her.
"This is it," she breathed.
Her chest tightened and her pulse stared to pound. This was either a trap where she would meet her final demise, or this was Gibbs. She put her hand on the door knob and hesitated, looking over her shoulder at McGee and Bishop. Both had their pistols ready and nodded to her. She brought her Sig up, turned the door knob, slammed the door open and rushed inside the room, peeling off to the right while McGee and Bishop entered, moving to the left.
The light in the room was dim. Her eyes struggled to adjust from the blinding brightness of the hallway. Slowly her vision adapted and she saw a figure laying on the ground at the back of the room. The person's foot was kicking weakly at a steam heating pipe that ran along the baseboard of the back wall of the room, obviously the source of the knocking and why it resounded throughout the house.
EJ's stomach lurched. Her feet were glued to the floor and she had to consciously will them to move forward. Out of the corner of her eye she saw both Bishop and McGee frozen in place, weapons ready, but neither moving a muscle. Slowly approaching the figure on the floor she held her breath, hoping against hope it was Gibbs, but afraid of what she might do if it was not.
Stepping up to the barely moving body she leaned down to get a better look. On it's own accord her body took in a sharp breath and froze for an instant. Then she dropped her gun and collapsed to her knees, racking sobs pouring out deep from within her as she grabbed Gibbs' head and gently cradled it in her lap, rocking back and forth.
McGee and Bishop rushed over, staring down at EJ and the shell of a man she held.
"EJ," McGee, said, trying to get her attention, but her hysterical sobs blocked out any rational thought. He touched her shoulder. "EJ!" he said more forcefully. Still she didn't respond. He dropped to his knees in front of her and grabbed her face in both hands. "EJ!" he was almost shouting now, pulling her face up to meet his. Through her hysterical tears she recognized McGee's face and locked her eyes with his.
"He's in really bad shape. I mean really bad!" McGee's voice was tense, focused. "We've got to get him medical help, now!"
She shook her head forcing herself to focus on Gibbs. His eyes fluttered as he slipped in and out of consciousness. His breathing was shallow and ragged. Even covered by the jumpsuit his gauntness was striking; his frame frighteningly thin compared to normal. And his face, neck, hands and feet were covered with bruises, not boding well for the rest of his body hidden by the suit. Suddenly she realized the direness of his situation and she could taste the fear in her throat again. She had found him - alive. But there was still a chance she might loose him, forever.
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