A Kick to the Head

Chapter 4

Notes: This is the last chapter. It ended up being shorter than expected. There is a sequel planned, but no guarantee when it will be up.

After Greg and General Braddock joined Ed, it took three more houses before they found something. A woman opened the door.

"A white van?" she asked, taking in their uniforms. "Yes, I saw it this morning. It was all over the road. I thought about calling the police, but it takes so long for them to get out here."

Greg nodded, trying to keep his impatience in check.

"Did you see where it was going?" he asked. The woman leaned, pointing up the road.

"It took the next turn. It must have been going to the abandoned slaughterhouse. That's the only thing up there."

Ed turned and took off for his car, already calling in the location to the rest of the team. Greg stayed a moment to thank the woman then followed him. He told Winnie to redirect EMS and climbed in next to General Braddock, following Ed's car onto the main road.

"When we get there, I need you to stay outside and let my team do their job," he said to Sam's father. "Donna will stay with you. I'm going to need you to make a call. It'll help distract Stavish while my team gets into position."

The general nodded.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked. Greg gripped the wheel and pressed the pedal into the floor.

"I want you to tell him to go to hell."

It was getting harder to stay awake. Sam had stopped shivering a while ago, but he didn't feel any warmer. A small part of his mind knew that wasn't a good sign, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. It would be nice, he thought, to close his eyes and just drift. Only Spike kept him clinging to consciousness. He found he couldn't watch Spike breathe anymore, but he checked in every couple of minutes— long enough to catch a breath and then his eyes slid away.

The man hadn't left the room. He sat on the table and swung his legs, a childish movement incongruous with the events of the day. Sam stared dully at the floor and felt himself slipping slowly into a warm, comforting dark.

The man's phone rang. Underneath the ringing, Sam heard a soft clinking sound against the window. The man didn't hear it. He didn't know what to listen for and the phone held his attention, but that small noise was enough to help Sam wrench himself into wakefulness one last time.

"Well?" the man demanded. "Do you love your son or not? You're time's up." As he listened to the response from Sam's father, Sam thought he heard a shuffling behind the closed door. Whatever his father said, the man didn't like it. He grabbed the gun from the table and strode towards Sam.

"Do you think I won't kill him? Because I will," he yelled at the phone. "I will kill him and it will be your fault!" He stopped in the middle of the room to listen again, and a stillness crept over him.

"Very well," he said. He pointed the gun at Sam's head. "Say goodbye to your son."

The window exploded, followed by the door crashing off its hinges. Two figures dropped from the window and five streamed through the door in a wave of gunfire and black fury. The man collapsed to the ground, blood welling from a hole in his head.

People flowed around and past him. Sam saw Ed rush to Spike and then Jules was in front of him. He could tell she was talking because her lips were moving, but Sam couldn't hear what she was saying. The whole world had gone strangely silent. Jules hovered in front of him, face creased with worry.

Sam looked up at her and smiled.

"You made it," he said. Then he closed his eyes and let himself surrender, finally, to the deep, welcoming void.

"Sam? Sam!"

Greg looked up from Stavish's dead body at Jules' call. Sam had slumped, head hanging. Jules felt his neck for a pulse.

"Oh god, he's frozen," she said. Suppressed tears made her voice unsteady. Wordy rushed to help her. He drew his tac knife and carefully began slicing through the cord around Sam's hands and feet.

On his other side, Ed plucked at Spike's bonds with his fingers, unable to get a purchase on the knot. Greg drew his own knife and pushed him aside, following Wordy's example.

"Ed, the keys," he said, indicating Stavish's body with a glance. Ed fell on the body, patting it down until he found the keys. He removed the cuffs from Spike's ankles. Under Greg's knife, the rope fell away. Ed reached for the IV, but Greg grabbed his hand, shaking his head. Then they both stopped, unable to do more for Spike without the medics present.

Without his hands tied, Sam had collapsed onto Jules, nearly taking her down. Wordy just barely managed to grab him and they eased him to the floor, as far from the spreading pool of blood as they could.

Team Three reported the building cleared and the medics came running in, splitting into two groups. The first group went to Sam, sliding him onto a stretcher and packing him with blankets. One peeled his eyes open to shine a light into them, while the others strapped him in and stabilized his head. Then they were gone, almost as quickly as they came, whisking Sam away with them.

"Jules, Wordy," Greg said. He jerked his head to indicate they should follow. "Make sure his father goes with him." They nodded and took off at a run.

The other group of medics swarmed Spike, pushing Ed and Greg to the side and out of the way. A woman examined the IV with a thin, worried frown. She slowed the drip, but didn't disconnect it. Instead, she pulled the bag from its stand and held it out of the way while two others gently pulled Spike out of his chair. He hung from their arms, limp as a rag doll, as they laid him on the stretcher.

It took longer to get Spike settled, since they couldn't strap him in across his chest. And just when they were finishing, one of the medics draped a blanket over his legs and the edge brushed his feet, causing Spike to squirm and cry out. Ed grabbed Greg by the shoulder, squeezing hard.

They followed the medics out of the building, into the clear air. It was like coming out of a cave, or waking up after a storm to a soft sunrise. Greg felt the weight of the day lift slightly. It was easier to breathe in the crisp cold air, now that he knew where his team was. Ed closed the ambulance doors and sent them off with a thump of his fist.

Greg went to Jules and slung an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, silent and exhausted. Ed and Wordy stood across from them, forming a little huddle. No one spoke. Outside their circle, controlled chaos swirled with the normal aftermath of a hot call. Finally, Ed took a deep breath.

"Hospital first," he said.

"Then coffee," Wordy agreed, finishing Ed's sentence for him. They turned, starting towards the SUVs. Greg started to join them, but Jules held him back. She looked up at him, eyes worried. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to.

"They'll be fine," Greg said. "We'll make sure of it."