Chapter 16

"I don't know if all members will be found in this country."

After a few weeks to let the bruises and few fractures to firm up, I was allowed to start swimming for exercise. Ranger had ended up breaking a few of my ribs in addition to the clavicle. The water was kinder to my body than the hard gym floor.

Since Rangeman did not have a pool, a municipal pool was rented by the hour. It was expensive to rent for two people, but it was private. I was uncomfortable getting in and out of a chair in a public location as well as having to share a swim lane with someone else. Without working legs to keep me straight, I tended to wobble in the lane.

Stephanie was my companion, driver, and since passing a lifesaver course, my guard, saving the cost of hiring a lifeguard. She would have preferred we swim in the ocean.

"Steph, how would I get into the ocean? Getting across the sand would be impossible. Were you planning to roll me down the pier and tip me in? These more northern Atlantic waters are cold!"

"We could go to Florida."

"I'm not feeding my toes to the sharks."

"But think of the tans!"

"Look at me. I come with a tan built in. Anyway, sunbathing is bad on your lily-white skin. It will cause all sorts of ugly keratosis skin bumps, wrinkles and worse within the next fifteen years. I'm willing to bet your grandmother spent her youth at the shore baking her Hungarian skin. You don't want to be wrinkled like her."

"Spoilsport," she said as she stuck her tongue out at me.

"Keep it up lady, and I'll kick you aside and tag the Rangemen who were SEALS or Para Rescues to join me here. I never tire of the flat abs and muscular shoulders and legs."

"You look?"

"I'm not dead. It's like Chippendales at the Rangeman gym. Guys in service are generally more slender. It's a freaking skin show."

She giggled, "I thought I was the only one who looked."

"Let's see, I count you, me, Ella, Hector and a few others who conceal their feelings."

"Who?" she gasped.

"Not for me to say. Stephanie, I really appreciate you volunteering to be my lifeguard. I know it is pool policy to have someone on the deck at all time when someone is in the pool area, but you could be working or shopping."

"Yeah, right. If I show up at Quaker Bridge, they will assume more disasters will follow."

Laughing I answered, "We really did upset a few people there didn't we? It was all planned. Pierre said you were great in delaying the investigation giving me time to vamoose."

"I didn't expect you'd be so beaten up, though. I don't understand why that had to happen."

"If I came back squeaky clean with a smile on my face, people would be suspicious. We are trying to keep the enemy confused and not trusting one another. Who kidnapped me, what scion of the gang is working on their own?"

"Tank said Ranger did all the damage."

"It was a diversion, much like what you do with FTAs. It was hard getting him to hit me in the beginning. He understood the necessity and actually went light on me. I got my own shots on him too to encourage him along," I said with a chuckle.

"But your nose was broken."

"Wasn't the first time it has been broken, but hopefully the last." I paused and asked, "Everything square between you and Pierre."

She flashed her hand, "Pfft, we were both playing our parts. I will admit he's pretty intimidating when he's mad at you. I almost wet my pants a few times."

The pool manager waved us through with a smile. His pool revenue was in the black thanks to our three- times-a-week rental. The pool was closed now. Noon swim was over and the high school teams wouldn't arrive for another three hours.

"Let's see, this is the day I sit on the side, not swim with you until Ram arrives," Stephanie said.

'Right, we always need someone on the deck. He'll be along in about 30 minutes then you can get in the water."

We went over to the bench to drop our bags when the pool door opened and two men came in. They were not dressed in swimsuits or even casual dress; they were in suits, Oxford shoes, and brandishing badges. I didn't recognize the badges.

"I take it you are not pool inspectors," I said.

Neither smiled.

"Since I don't recognize the badges, I'm frankly confused. Who are you?"

"You are to come with us."

I noticed Stephanie pressed the emergency button on her watch. Good girl. She quickly surmised this was likely a "situation."

My cell phone was still in my jacket's upper pocket. I pushed the button for Rangeman on my phone knowing the conversation would be recorded, hopefully clearly. "Excuse me? Sirs, you have not explained why you have barged into this pool area and flashed your badges. Nor have either of you identified yourself by name or agency. Now you insist we come with you. This is so far beyond procedure I have to seriously question you being on legitimate government business." I had to be verbose to stall as long as possible for the "cavalry" from Rangeman to arrive.

"We want you for questioning."

"You want us for questioning, but you haven't told us why. Gentlemen neither of you have given me your name, your affiliation, produced a warrant or any bit of legality. Until you do so, we are not going anywhere."

"We showed you our badges," one said.

"For all I know for $50 you had them made up with a fake agency name. You didn't give me time to read them and confirm your position with your employers."

"She doesn't have to come," one said referring to Stephanie.

"You don't want my driver? Now I'm confused. Ma'am, you can go while I speak to these men."

Stephanie blink confusedly and then started to leave. The other man, not the one who said Steph could leave countered my order, "No, she'd better stay."

"Gentlemen, please get your act together. In the meantime, I am waiting for the warrant."

"We don't need a warrant for questioning," the one who wouldn't let Stephanie leave said as he withdrew his gun from a shoulder holster. He was correct. Questioning was voluntary. If the court demanded information to be given, a subpoena was required. However we were not required to voluntarily go with them. Drawing the weapon eliminated their voluntary request.

"Sir," I continued, "Drawing your Sig Sauer P938 does not give you the legal bearing to drag us from this pool. As you said, questioning is voluntary, but not when we are coerced at gunpoint. Ask your questions here or get a warrant to take me someplace else." I was trying to be detailed and impress on Rangeman this was a serious situation. "We have the right to have attorneys present and once again, you have not given us your names or affiliations, but flashed your hand weapon. For all I know those are fake badges, but I suspect your Sig is real."

"You will ruin everything," said the second one who had yet to draw a weapon. He was almost whiney.

"What will I ruin?"

"You are one nosey bitch," said the one with the gun.

I noticed Stephanie was inching her way towards to the door. With luck she will escape. At least she knew better than to go after two men, one of whom was armed.

"Yes, I am a bitch. I've worn that moniker for some time and, I hope, with distinction. Why is an accomplished woman a threat to men so they resort to name calling? Women don't go around throwing out the term dickhead for accomplished men, just for incompetents. But back to your comment, what did I ruin?" I knew what they were upset about, but for the sake of time, I had to play dumb.

"You are getting in the way of our father's plans," he said.

"Shut up, Hugh," snapped the first man, the one with a gun and obviously leader of this little party.

"Ah, now I understand. You must be two of Arturo Estripe's sons. Or should I also say Aries Pretturo's sons?" I didn't dare call them bastards as one was holding a gun. Plus, I now had a name for the second man, Hugh Sanchez. The first one would remain Mr. Gun.

"You know about him?" the second man, Hugh, acted surprised.

"Him who? Arturo or Aries?"

"Aries."

"For all your father's planning, he really lacked an imagination. He was a good organizer, but creative? No. I take it his favorite board game was Scrabble, Jumble, and One World Domination? Was his favorite fictional reading Mein Kampf?"

The man with the gun flinched with the "Mein Kampf" reference. "We were bred, born, and groomed for our jobs. Each had a part play. We were going to run this country the way it should be run, correcting the problems and finally bringing law and order to society."

"I'm sorry, Hugh, but your being bred for a purpose is nothing new. In fact, there was a Eugenic movement in the US in the early 20th century. California began sterilizing undesirables so they would not reproduce. Adolf Hitler grasped the idea as an excuse to begin sterilizing then executing his own undesirables." Oh hell, did I surmise correctly that El Falcon was the son of an escaped Nazi? "Thanks to Hitler's horrors, Eugenics in this country died a quiet death after WWII.

"So you super-people were going to trot out again the same drivel the so-called 'modern thinkers' were expounding even before that bastard Austrian paper-hanger purposed it and what today's socialist agendas are pushing. Socialism didn't work before and is not working in other countries now. Venezuela used to be a prosperous country under capitalism but then it got all squishy feely and resorted to socialism and is now a poverty country. Well the wealthy are still wealthy, but the poor are far poorer. Why do you want it here?"

Did Arturo's social experiment begin in Venezuela? That was something to research if I survived this little party.

"Now, I admit, Hugh, we do need to pay more attention to enforcing existing laws. We don't need more and more laws curtailing people's liberty, we just need to follow what we have. But the socialists say it isn't fair yet propose new laws. If we aren't passing new laws, we could send Congress back home. Sometimes I think we need to scrap everything and go back to the original Constitution and reignite what made this country unique. Minds greater than ours drafted the Constitution. They believed in the intelligence of the people. Not in book learning, but in common and moral sense. The very thing they railed against was elitists running the country. Unfortunately, that's what we have today, elitists such as the wealthy, career politicians, and now some super-breed people."

"But we would solve the problems. Politicians just make a mess of things. There is a better chance of seeing a camel pass through the eye of a needle than of seeing a really great man 'discovered' through an election."

I gasped. "Where did you hear that, Hugh?"

"From my father. I think it is from the New Testament."

"Obviously you missed Sunday school. The 'camel and needle eye' metaphor is far older than the chapter in Matthew. It goes back to the Babylon Jews era. Adolf Hitler bastardized the saying to fit his political rhetoric. The camel passing through the eye of a needle doesn't refer to sewing, but the worthiness of a man's heart. Your quote is from Mein Kampf. Was that your Bible or Talmud, Hugh? Are you all in favor of One World Order, one group of elitists who believe they are smarter than the rest of us and need to tell us what to do to save the world, while they enrich their power and pocketbooks? These One World Government or One World Order elitists want to turn us into mind-numbed beings who no longer think for ourselves, but instead make our lives according to their ideals. There is a name for this hell, it is socialism or communism, or if you need an 'ocracy' suffix, try mediocracy. Have you ever read Ayn Rand?

Stephanie was starting to open the door when Mr. Gun saw her. "You, driver, sit down and put your hands on your head."

Drat, there goes her chance of escaping. If only she had dashed out the door, the chances of being fatally shot were low. Accuracy during emotional times falls off after six feet.

Stephanie sat down and put her hands up.

"But the troublemakers would be eliminated," Hugh shot back.

"Who are the troublemakers? Would you eliminate the free thinkers who advance society through art, literature, music, social change? Or are you going to eliminate those who don't think exactly like you? Where are you going to put all the miscreants? There are not enough jails or prisons. We don't have a Devil's Island to which we can send them. Maybe we should just kill them or send them to the ovens.

"I bet dear Daddy has said something along the lines of: 'If something is in danger of being oppressed or even exterminated, the question of legality is only of secondary importance. The established power may, in such a case, employ only those means which are recognized as 'legal'."

"Yeah, so?"

Dang I just quote more Mein Kampf and he didn't flinch. Hugh was whiney again, "Our problem is inequality. We have people who are desperately in need and, at the other end, wealthy beyond imagination."

Darn it, he has swallowed the Kool-Aid. "Like Aries, your father."

He ignored me. "We need to even the playing field, we need to make it fair."

I groaned, "Hugh, there's another over-used saying. It sounds so politically correct but it is impossible. The minute you try to level the playing field, innovation, inspiration, and people trying to better themselves stops. Why try to excel when there is no reward? There will always be the poor either through circumstances or laziness. We can help those who truly need help. What we lack are the balls to say to the others, 'get off your ass.' Some bleeding heart somewhere would say we are being mean. Which is worse: getting people a job where they can improve themselves or making them and their children slaves to the government through welfare, generation after generation? Hugh, if we took all the wealth in this country and redistributed it, the government's entitlements would blow through it all in short order...weeks, months. Take your father's billions, Bill Gates' billions, and Jeff Bezos' billions and you'd pay for less than a quarter of the welfare expenditure for one year. That doesn't include other social costs such as Social Security, Medicare and so on. Your 'stealing from the rich' would barely make a ripple. In fact, it would make things a whole lot worse. Where would the capital for new ideas and jobs come from after you've drained the thinkers and doers? The government? Heck, the government only knows how to spend money, not create more, except to print more which devalues everything."

"We are going to make things right," Hugh said out of frustration.

"Right? Who's right? Hitler thought he was right. Mussolini thought he was right. Lenin and Stalin had their own ideas. Pol Pot, Kim Il Sung, Mao Zedong, need I go on? In this country, we the people tell the government what to do, or used to until pussies like you came along and think the government can solve all the problems with new regulations to quell discontent. Instead, we should be looking deeper, determining what causes the unrest, not resorting to becoming a police state with more and more laws and restrictions. Take elections. People believe we have a democracy. It isn't, thank heavens. A pure democracy is nothing more than mob rule. Those incredible minds centuries ago foresaw exactly what is happening now. One hair-brained idea could catch fire and destroy the country. That's why we have a representative government: to keep the masses from going temporarily nuts.

"Hugh, was your father the son of a Nazi, a high-ranking official who escaped to Argentina and then came to the US? Was it his intention to mind-control his son into exacting revenge on the US for his defeat?" I had nothing to back up my assertion except the need to keep their attention on me and not what they originally came to do, take me to dear Daddy or a higher-ranking son.

"Money, power, and revenge are more often the driving forces, not for the good of the people. That's the same pile of horse poop used by despots around the world for seeking self-glory: We are doing it for the people or for the children. All the while, those spouting the platitudes are lining their pockets with money. Do you see any one of these reformers living like the people? Isn't it amazing even in this country, each term a congressman gets re-elected, he or she gets richer and richer while earning a measly $174,000 a year in one of the nation's most expensive cities to live in? You know one way they get rich? Taking bribes from people like your father. He realized he couldn't guarantee his offspring would get into elected or governing positions so he bought those who were already there. He's done well over the years: one former President, two presidential aides, two Supreme Court justices, several congressmen and senators, and a cabinet member. He couldn't wait for his children to move up in the ranks because very few have the brains to rise above a GS 13. Arturo/Aries was the brains. Too bad it didn't transfer to the next generation.

"Your father ran one of the biggest drugs, slaves and contraband businesses in the world, while camouflaging himself behind his position as a humble government worker with the FBI. He hid behind the name El Falcon or the do-gooder, Aries Pretturo, the reclusive multi-billionaire nobody has seen. Arturo pulled a modern day Howard Hughes."

"No, he is a great man."

"...who fathered nearly four dozen children in this country alone, heaven knows how many in South and Central America. He must have had women every hour. He wasn't great. He was a sex addict or sexual abuser. Ever wonder how he supported 47 children that I know about on a government salary? You were raised with drug money, slave money. He ran illegal arms to a dozen different countries, was paid bribes from countries and corporations to curry his favor. He paid each one of his women $40,000 a year in cash. That's just under $20 million dollars a year. Some lived off that money, some have married and enjoyed the bonus. Other women lived off welfare, often using their stipend on drugs. So, are you a welfare baby Hugh or do you have a stepfather?"

Anger flashed in Mr. Gun's eyes, but Hugh showed confusion. I continued wondering how long Rangeman would take to arrive. I was talking in circles, repeating myself in creative ways.

Hugh seemed overwhelmed, "Forty-seven…."

"All this baloney about cleaning up society is a joke. Arturo used his knowledge of government law enforcement and imported more than 60,000 illegals that we know about, many of whom run his drugs into this country without disturbing the Immigrations' watchdogs. His drug business alone was greater than the GDP of several European countries. All his money was kept in accounts all over the world. He was a major supplier of arms to insurgents on four continents to keep countries in turmoil. His investments in gemstones, minerals, petroleum, narcotics, real estate and heaven knows what else assured his sons and friends remained in power in several countries. What he was good at was keeping all this well-hidden, living a simple life while his children were shuffled into powerful positions. You were told from an early age what to be. Did you ever dare go against his wishes?"

They remained silent.

"Your own siblings were murdered because they dared to go against his madness."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mr. Gun sputtered.

"James Santiago was a police chief slain mysteriously while visiting New York City. It was ruled 'random mugging', but the investigating officers knew better but were forced to sign off on it from higher-ups. Santiago confronted his father regarding drug imports. Cheryl Cofferdam, assistant district attorney, mysteriously killed before she could prosecute a sex-slave ringleader who turned out to be her's and your unknown brother. The man was released on bond and disappeared back to Venezuela where he is hidden by another family member. Harriet Heffernan, the newspaper columnist who started investigating Aries Pretturo? She died from a 'fall' off a balcony. Adolfo Salvador , Brazilian gem merchant, thought he was entitled to his share of his father's gems. Martin Barco tried to take some of dear Daddy's drug business away. You are probably familiar with Jeanne Ellen Burrows, but not the child in her womb."

"She was killed by Carlos Manoso."

"No, he had a solid alibi, even captured on video. She was killed because she fell in love with a man who turned out to be her half-sibling and got pregnant by him. The murderer was one of your half-siblings from Colombia, an assassin who bears a resemblance to Manoso."

"Where's the proof?"

"Juan Diego Escalante /El Fantasma is sitting in a prison...somewhere you, and your family, cannot find him. You say I ruined everything. I'm just one person. There are many now involved in several countries, not just here. Your father's plan, El Falcon's plan, is dead."

"No, the plan continues, but you are the one who will soon be dead. He ordered your killing. You are obstructing our progress. We are so close to beginning the take-over." With that, the second one, Hugh, pulled his weapon from his back holster, though he looked hesitant.

"You say your father ordered my death. Did you talk to him personally?"

"No."

"I guess you haven't been listening to me. I keep referring to him in the past tense because he is dead, dead, dead. You don't read the Washington Post, do you?"

Both looked confused.

"He died several weeks ago."

"Liar!" Mr. Gun exploded.

"I'll wait patiently while you call up the obit on your cell phone. Or do you want me to try to quote the Washington Post? 'Arturo Estripe, a long-time employee of the FBI died apparently of natural causes. He was not married nor had any children.' What a joke. I wonder if his death was natural or did another of your siblings rebel? Since the old man is dead, who told you to kill me?"

"Steven..."

"Shut up, Hugh!"

"Steven Hampton, yes, we suspected he'd be the one to take over. Killing me is useless. I just lifted the lid to Arturo's stench. Many others are now digging through the filth."

"His work will continue."

"How? Your investment man, Gregory Simpson was skimming money from Adelante and numerous bank accounts throughout the world. To do so, he had to leave a backdoor for the transfers. A team of highly trained forensic accountants used the open door and emptied the banks. The coffers are dry. The banks in the Caymans, Hong Kong, and London, among others, had to scramble to cover their losses."

"The money is gone? All of it?" Mr. Gun gasped.

"Bye-bye trillions, not billions, but trillions. Yep, Arturo's and his alter-ego, Aries', money is gone, dispersed throughout the world to charitable organizations. You can at least be proud. Arturo Estripe, and Aries Pretturo were very philanthropic at the end. Before you think about going after the Simpsons, they killed each other probably arguing who was to blame for Adelante's demise. Each had multi-million dollar accounts. I stress 'had'. They were emptied as well."

"But there are other sources…"

"In mines, coca fields, oil production in the US, Russia and Turmenistan? Well, you see, there have been many title changes over the last few weeks. Adelante appeared to have been rearranging its assets, but before it was complete, the chairman, Aries, died. I don't know if Aries was losing his mind or one of your siblings is trying to run off with the larger holdings, or numerous countries decided to nationalize before Arturo/Aries died. Arturo's health was poor. No doubt someone, or many, thought it was time to disperse the holdings before the whole mess was caught in probate. Where would the assets go upon his death?" I had no idea how the assets were being disposed, but this sounded good.

These two were too low down on the family hierarchy to know how Adelante would continue. Actually it was well spelled out. I might as well hit them with more information. "The ultimate idiocy was thanks to your father, not only are birth records being scoured, but also DNA samples taken by the thousands. Everyone with high and moderate security clearances and an 'unknown' on their birth certificate will be tested. Have you spit in the test tube yet?

"Once the Justice Department is cleaned of Estripe contaminates, it will be prosecuting people for years those who have taken bribes or actively worked on the master plan. Names are known, your father was an excellent record keeper. The Guantanamo closing ordered by Obama will have to be reversed just for those who took his bribes. I don't know what will happen to his lower-level offspring like you two."

I hoped every last word I uttered was being recorded at Rangeman and they were rushing to the rescue...soon! Maybe they heard nothing after all. I was out of verbiage. Mr. Gun had run out of patience, not that he was overflowing from the start. He waved his handgun at Stephanie, indicating that she needed to stand. "Move away from your employer." Reaching behind his back, he produced a pair of handcuffs.

"Wow, are you some type of cop with your own handcuffs, weapon, and badge? I never did get your name. Your brother here is Hugh Sanchez, there is only one Hugh in the family album."

"My name doesn't matter", he said as he slipped one handcuff over my left wrist. "Now I think the two of you need to be a little closer. Yanking Stephanie, he grabbed her right wrist, passed the handcuff under the wheelchair's armrest and attached the cuff.

He wanted us in a situation from which we could not escape. The obvious answer lay in front of us: the pool. I was mentally calculating the buoyancy of the chair, Stephanie, and myself. It wasn't looking good for a quick sinking. Apparently, Mr. Gun was calculating too. "We need more weight," he said.

Looking around, all Hugh could find were items that float, lifesaving equipment. He spotted an old boom box radio used to play music during water aerobics and of course our gym bags.

He slid the radio into the pocket behind my chair and slid the gym bags up my arm. I let them slide off.

"Pick the fucking bags back up and put them on your arm," Mr. Gun sneered.

I had to warn Rangeman we were about to go off the air, "Do you really think the radio and our gym bags are enough added weight to sink us?"

"If not, we'll shoot you as you surface."

I was hoping Stephanie had access to her handcuff key. "Key?" I silently mouthed and looked at the cuffs. She nodded.

Pointing the gun at Stephanie, Mr. Gun ordered her to push me toward the pool.

When her back was turned to the gun, Steph swiftly put the key in my hand. In a very Houdini-like move, I placed the key in my mouth.

Grabbing Steph's left arm, Hugh swung around the back of the chair forcing her arm backward to meet my right arm with the bags. We were handcuffed back to back with the wheelchair back and radio between us.

"OK, sweetheart, walk backward," Mr. Gun said to Stephanie.

Stephanie shook her head 'no'.

The sound of the gun discharging was intense in the enclosed pool area. Stephanie screamed but I felt the burn in my abdomen. "If you don't want to be shot like the Colonel, MOVE," Mr. Gun ordered.

Steph pushed back until the front to the chair dipped into the water tipping forward. I fell forward and Stephanie was pulled back into the water over the top of the chair. I heard her scream out in pain and fear. The chair did a complete roll and sank. We were not weighted enough to sink to the bottom of the pool, yet. Mr. Gun rolled the lifeguard stand to the edge and pushed into onto the top of us. It too was semi-buoyant but tangled us into the ladder.

Our arms were turned in excruciatingly painful positions, but I was able to pull my left hand back towards me. Stephanie kicked out in obvious pain. It had been a long time since I tried to unlock handcuffs with the key in my mouth. This time the cuffs were not in front near my mouth but to the side. Bending I knew my shoulder was dislocated. Neither the bullet wound nor shoulder pain was as painful as the thought of drowning.

Carefully working the key around in my mouth, I slid down and tried to fit the key into the hole. I glanced at the slot and noticed Hugh had failed to double lock the cuffs. We might survive this after all. It didn't matter whose cuff I unlocked, both Stephanie and I would have an arm free. Thirty seconds. I twisted and reached; ignoring the searing pain as I tried to put the key in the impossibly small hole. The key slipped back into my mouth. Rolling it around I got it back out only to have the wrong end. I had to take precious seconds to roll the key around in my mouth. Finally, I had the correct end and tried to insert the key again and again. Sounds were muffled. I saw bullets' streaks in the water. The idiots were trying to shoot us even though we were below four feet. The bullet velocity was quickly eliminated by the water. El Falcon didn't breed mental giants.

My lungs were screaming. I had to release the carbon dioxide. The key went into the hole. To hell with chipped teeth. I finally got it turned and one cuff sprang loose. It was Stephanie's hand. Mine was still in the cuffs. With her hand free, I could pull the cuffs under the chair seat freeing my arm. Stephanie's movements were frantic. I knew she starting to go into spasms. I pulled myself out of the chair and reached for the key with my free hand. Carefully taking the key from my mouth I tried to find the second cuffs' keyhole. I found the hole and inserted the key but it fell out, through my fingers and down towards the pool bottom. My lungs were searing, head pounding. I had to get to the pool bottom to find the key, but the damn bags were floating in my face. Stephanie was under the chair and was no longer moving. I twisted around wrenching my shoulder further from the socket feeling for the radio to remove a little weight and get the chair off Stephanie. I thought I saw more bullets in the water. My eyesight was narrowing, I had only moments to get us to neutral buoyancy, find the key, open the other cuff, and push the lifeguard stand to the side so I could pull both of us to the surface to a hail of bullets.

My mind was confused from all I had to do. Without realizing, I gulped in air, except it was water. The shock cleared my vision for a moment allowing me to see the radio, but I had no strength. I inhaled more water but the pain didn't register this time, my body reacted on its own trying to force out the water, I began to spasm. I knew I was drowning and I couldn't stop it. The last thing I remembered before losing consciousness was something brushed my hand, maybe one of the bags.