"Hey!... hear me?... fella! Can you….?"
Words starting to coalesce as he struggled to regain consciousness, Steve felt a wave of pain wash over his entire body. Someone was pounding on the now perpendicular hood, lookng at him through the shattered windshield. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to focus on the face of the middle-aged man who was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"Are you okay?" The voice was urgent and concerned.
Very slowly, Steve shifted slightly, trying to straighten up. He was still behind the steering wheel, lying on his left side against the door; his head was resting on the dry sandy ground now abutting the open door window. He caught his breath in a sharp gasp as a stabbing pain shot through his chest, closing his eyes and moaning.
"Don't move, don't move!" the stranger ordered, trying to reach through the broken windshield to offer comfort and restraint. "I'll go get help!"
"No…!" Steve called out with as much strength as he could muster. The stranger stopped and looked back. "No… please… my partner…"
"There's more people in there?" Now there was almost panic in the man's voice.
Steve tried to nod. "Two…" came out in another gasp.
"Oh, geez… I gotta go get help." The stranger started to get up then looked back into the wreck again, meeting the pleading, pain-filled green eyes. "I'll be right back, I promise."
He disappeared from Steve's sight but his voice shouting, "Help! I need help down here! Help!" filled the air around him, followed by the diminishing sound of footsteps pounding up a dirt hill.
Wrapping his right arm around his protesting ribs, Steve tried to push himself up and away from the door. Breathing in short, sharp gasps, he managed to crawl out from under the steering wheel to kneel against the door. As he started to lean forward so he could see into the back seat, he heard a soft, pain-filled voice, "Get me outa here." He knew it was Lonsdale.
Grabbing the back of the seat, now more a doorframe than a wall, he looked into the back. Mike, his eyes closed, was lying on his left side against the buckled metal of the door, frighteningly still. Lonsdale's legs and lower torso were on top of the unconscious lieutenant, his arms and shoulders awkwardly suspended by the cuffs that still chained his hands to the back of the front seat. "Get me outa here," he repeated weakly as he met the cop's eyes, both of them obviously shocked that they were still alive.
"Are you hurt?" Steve managed to get out, continuing to stare at his unmoving partner, looking desperately for any sign of life.
Lonsdale moaned. "I think my wrist is broken…"
Almost reluctantly, Steve shifted his focus, slowly turning his head to look at the handcuffs. Despite everything he felt about their prisoner, he winced in sympathy. Lonsdale's left wrist was twice the size, the metal cuff digging into the swollen flesh.
"You gotta take 'em off," Lonsdale begged, pain lacing his voice.
Steve looked straight into his eyes but didn't move.
"Come on, man, we both gotta get outa here. Can't you smell the gas?" The middle-aged murderer sounded desperate, his startlingly grey eyes boring into the cop's impassive face.
Fighting the agonizing pain in his chest, Steve took a deep breath. Lonsdale was right; he could smell gas. They had left L.A. with almost a full tank.
"It's gonna blow."
Steve looked down at Mike and swallowed, weighing the few options he had, hoping that the man who had appeared in the broken windshield would return. "We gotta get him outa here too."
Lonsdale glanced down at the unconscious cop and nodded. "I'll help you… I promise… Just… just get us outa here…"
Steve straightened up as best he could, wincing and catching his breath. He took his right hand away from his ribs and reached into his front pants pocket, extracting a small key. Holding onto the passenger seat headrest with his left hand, trying to pull himself higher, he reached for the lock on the cuff encircling the swollen left wrist. He failed in his first two attempts to get the key in the small lock. "I need some slack."
Groaning, Lonsdale struggled to get his feet under him, trying to avoid stepping on the body beneath him. He was finally able to get onto his knees, gasping in pain as he lifted his hands a little higher.
On his second try, Steve got the tiny key into the lock and the cuff unsnapped with a click. Lonsdale moaned, closing his eyes and trying not to move; the cuff was still around his wrist. Putting the key between his teeth, and keeping his left hand on the headrest for stability, Steve gently pried the cuff away from the puffy flesh. Lonsdale sagged slightly, bringing his left arm down and against his stomach protectively. Steve undid the other cuff and Lonsdale fell back into the well of the shattered back window, groaning in agony and gasping for breath, his eyes squeezed shut.
"Is he alive?" Steve asked, his eyes once more glued to his partner as he slid back down to the door, attempting to reach over the seat back to touch the unconscious man who was slumped against the back of the seat against the buckled door.
Lonsdale opened his tear-filled eyes. "What?" he breathed.
"Is he alive?!" Steve almost shouted, grimacing in pain at the effort.
With a groan, Lonsdale shifted slightly so he could put his right hand on the older cop's neck. After a couple of seconds he nodded. "He has a pulse…"
Steve closed his eyes and sagged against the roof as a wave of relief flooded over him. After a couple of seconds he raised himself onto his knees again and looked into the back seat. "Can you get out through the back window?" Lonsdale opened his eyes again, looked over his shoulder briefly then nodded. "All right… I think I can get out the front. Then we can pull Mike out the back window…"
The grey eyes met his once more then, with a curt nod, the former fugitive repositioned himself slowly and started kicking at the jagged shards of glass that still rimmed the edges of the shattered rear window.
Wrapping his right arm around his chest again, Steve struggled to get to his feet and into a crouch. He had to step over the steering wheel to get out and he knew it was going to hurt like hell, but he had to get to Mike and fast. He was just about to take the first big step when he heard an urgent voice and thudding footsteps growing rapidly louder.
Suddenly the man in the windshield reappeared, squatting to peer into the front seat, surprised to see the injured young man half standing. "Good, good," he said quickly, sounding relieved, "yeah, you gotta get outa there. There's gas leaking from the tank." One hand on the hood to steady himself, he reached through the broken windshield and offered the other. He was just about to take Steve's hand when he hesitated, his eyes widening. "You're bleeding."
Frowning, the younger man hesitated. "What?"
Pointing at Steve's head, then his own, he said softly, "Your, ah, your forehead… there's blood running down your forehead… You musta hit the wheel."
Taking his left hand off the steering wheel, where he'd been steadying himself, he wiped it across his brow, frowning when it came away covered in blood. He stared at it, blinking blankly; he hadn't felt a thing. Then, slowly, he reached out to take windshield man's hand and stepped carefully over the steering column between the shards of glass onto the dirt.
Everything spun. His knees buckled and he sunk to the ground, feeling windshield man's arms quickly grab him and help him down.
"Easy, easy, easy…" he heard the soothing voice in his ears as he closed his eyes, trying to fight the nausea. "Mike… I gotta get to my… my partner…" He tried to climb back onto his feet but the strong hands held him down.
"You're in no condition, son, you better just stay here. The cops are comin'… and an ambulance… they should be here soon…"
Steve tried to get up again. "Lonsdale…"
"Is that your partner?"
Steve struggled against the older man's grip and managed to get to his knees, the pain in his chest almost overwhelming. "No…no, he's…" He sank back to the dirt, closing his eyes.
"The guy with the broken wrist?"
Licking his dry lips, the younger man nodded.
"He's okay… He's sitting against a tree over there. I think he's in a lot of pain."
A couple of shouts could be heard from above, and suddenly the frantic burble of a male and a female voice could be heard. "Oh my god," the woman almost shouted, "oh my god, what can we do to help?"
Steve felt more than heard her approach. He looked up, trying to focus on her face as he attempted to stand again. "My partner… he's still in the car… he's hurt…"
He could see her staring at him, see her short grey hair and her wide, concerned blue eyes. She turned to windshield man quickly. "We have to get him out," she said, urgency lacing her voice.
Windshield man pushed Steve back down onto the ground. "You stay here, we'll do it." They disappeared quickly around to the back of the car. He watched them go, then twisted slowly so he ended up on his knees and left hand, carefully pushing himself to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, black spots swimming before his eyes.
He staggered around the car, vaguely clocking an older man kneeling in front of Lonsdale, who was leaning against a small tree, cradling his broken wrist in his lap. In the bright sunshine, he noticed a patch of blood on the right side of Lonsdale's head.
The woman brushed past him on the run and charged back up the hill. Steve rounded the car, still stunned that it was lying on its side at the bottom of the ditch. Windshield man was kneeling just outside the rear window, carefully leaning into the back seat. He looked over his shoulder when he heard the stumbling footsteps, only mildly surprised it seemed to see the young man standing there.
Suppressing an almost sad sigh, he smiled encouragingly. "He's breathing. Don't you worry, we'll get him out… he'll be okay. She's, ah," he pointed vaguely up towards the road, "she's gone to get a blanket. We're worried about all this glass. We're gonna roll him onto the blanket so we can drag him out without having to worry about all the glass… Okay?"
After a beat of stunned silence, Steve nodded with a grateful smile.
"Got it," the woman gasped as she ran by him again then dropped quickly to her knees, starting to unfold the thick grey wool blanket. "Gary!" she called.
The older man hurried into view, glancing at Steve as he passed. "What do you need me to do?" He knelt beside his wife.
Steve watched as windshield man carefully stepped through the broken rear window with the blanket, and he could see them easing Mike away from the seat towards the door, sliding the blanket under him then rolling him back onto it. Then, with windshield man remaining in the car to keep the limp body on the blanket, the older couple began to slowly and carefully drag his partner through the narrow window opening, over the broken glass and onto the hard, sandy ground.
Relieved but worried, Steve stepped closer, his eyes raking his partner's body, looking for obvious injuries. There was blood on the left side of Mike's head and his breathing was rapid and shallow. Taking another step forward, Steve was just about to drop to his knees when he froze. The leather holster on Mike's right hip was unsnapped and empty.
Catching his breath, Steve took a couple of steps back and looked towards the small tree. Lonsdale was gone.