Chapter 19
Number 1 raced over to the elevator shaft and ducked in, finding Number 4 slumped in the corner. Number 1 reached for Number 4's neck to check his pulse but his hand was caught by a strong left arm. Number 1, startled at the sudden motion, looked down into the wild and soot covered eyes of Number 4. His eyes were bloodshot and wild looking, obviously trying to hold back tears…but they were focused.
"The bullet hit my upper arm and passed through. I'm ok; let's just get out of here and we'll worry about it when we're airborne." He said gruffly, his Australian accent wheezing through the choked syllables.
Number 1 smiled at the tenacity of his team mate, "We'll need to wrap it and put pressure on it; you'll leave a blood trail, if you haven't bled out already."
Number 4 winced through a smile as he struggled to get to his feet and pull his orange hoodie off. His T-shirt was already becoming soaked in a crimson red hue as Number 1 helped him wrap the thick hoodie around his arm so he could hold it close to his body.
They emerged from the elevator to the wide eyes of Number 2 and Number 5 who had managed to wake Number 3 up and was trying to calm her. Number 3 wipe the tears away with her sleeves that were too long and grimaced as she nodded in response to the calm direction of Number 5. Arm around Number 4, Number 1 walked over to them and whispered low, his eyes cutting into Number 5's.
"How far are we to the large door that the trucks access? Did you see it when you were scoping out the scene?" he said.
"Yeah," Number 5 responded, "It's between this bay and the next, we should be able to sneak through undetected."
"Well," Number 1 said looking around, "I don't know if we have a choice about being detected or not at this rate. Number 4 isn't going to be able to repel back up. It will be a long walk between that door and the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. but I'd rather chance that then trying to get him up the elevator shaft and through the hallways. We may not have that much time."
Number 5 nodded and patted Number 3 on the back who was running her hand through Number 4's bowl cut blond hair, trying to console him.
"In that case," Number 5 whispered back, "Follow me."
She led the team through the plastic lined bay door and crept towards her left side, away from the busy manufacturing floor.
They hurried as fast as they could through the dark, careful not to let their footsteps echo on the hard concrete. There were large, military style, cargo trucks parked along the sides that the team had to navigate through. Number 5 led them skillfully through the dark as they climbed higher and higher up the steep drive towards the surface. Number 1 helped Number 4 move as fast as he could, he could tell that the wound was wearing on him harder as they continued; the blood loss increasing. They had to get to the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. fast, or he wasn't going to make it, he might end up losing the arm if they didn't get him stabilized. They had medical equipment stashed on their vehicle, but it was a race to see if they would get there in time.
As they approached the end of the long and wide tunnel, they could see the star light above indicating that he door had indeed been left open. They continued on the hard concrete, past the door, and into the sand littered floor of the entrance. The chilly desert air met them instantly as they emerged from the dark tunnel and into the sandy landscape.
"Hang on guys," Number 2 yelled as he pulled his pack off and sat it on the ground.
"Number 2!" Number 1 perked up, "With all due respect, we can't rest right now. If we don't get Number 4 to the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. he'll be in serious trouble. I know you are tired, we all are, but we need to keep pressing on."
Number 2 wasn't paying attention as he rifled through his pack.
"Hoagie!" Number 1 said sternly.
"That's what I'm trying to do," Number 2 said with a smile, "I'm trying to keep us from wasting any more time."
He successfully pulled his tablet out of the pack and began to type on it furiously. After a few seconds he began to use it like a steering wheel.
"What are you doing?" Number 5 asked irritated, "We've got to go!"
Number 2 simply smiled and nodded towards the sky.
They all turned to see the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. cruising low and silent; it barely missing the tops of the buildings. Its dark green hue was almost invisible against the skyline as it slipped up upon them like a vulture to its prey.
Number 2 smiled confidently as he tapped another button on the tablet and running lights ignited along the base of the craft, "Work smarter; not harder, people."
The team was in amazement as the dust kicked up around as the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. descended quietly onto the sandy floor. The team ran towards the door as it opened automatically, a ramp descending to meet them.
Number 1 pulled on a handle that was built into the wall and a cot, like a drawer, slid out from the edge. He laid Number 4 onto the cot and watched Number 3 as she rolled her sleeves up and turned a bright light on above the cot.
Number 5 was already getting the medical kit ready and was trying to carefully peel away the hoodie from Number 4's arm, the clot started to re-open.
Number 1 jumped into the cab area to see Number 2 throw the tablet to the passenger seat and race his fingers across the command console. His fingers found their usual places as his eyes analyzed each gauge and reading, hearing and reading every message that his beloved aircraft was sending him. The corner of his mouth perked in to a smile as he gripped the steering control and launched the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. up off of the ground. The desert dunes began to sink away through the windshield as the craft lurched forward and picked up speed.
"Impressive, Number 2," Number 1 smiled.
"Yeah," Number 2 smiled as he throttled the craft faster and faster, headed towards the distance in which he could switch to full power, "This is the Mark 7, my latest model, and it includes remote control."
Number 1 patted him on the shoulder and walked back into the cargo area, careful of the turbulence that shifted the craft every few minutes.
Number 1 noticed that Number 4 had passed out from exhaustion and lay still in the cot as Number 3's hands worked quickly and professionally over his arm. She had taken medical classes at Gallagher and that would certainly pay off now. There were small tears that fell from her face as she continued to patch Number 4 up.
"It's ok Kuki, its ok," Abigail whispered, consoling Number 3 as she worked.
"I know," Kuki said, "It's just so much at once. He had pushed me out of the way when he saw that guy raise the rifle; I was so scared I couldn't move. He took that bullet trying to save me from getting shot. I have to make sure he'll be ok."
Another solitary tear fell from Kuki's soft face and splashed onto Number 4's unconscious body.
Number 1 realized in that moment how compassionate of a person Kuki was. She was probably the kid in grade school that mothered over every lost kitten, rabbit and even skunk, if she had to. It was the kind of thing that Number 1 realized was such a vital part of their team. They had to have heart in everything that they did, or they would be disconnected from the very people that they were trying to save.
"Buckle up kiddos!" Hoagie's voice rang from the cabin, "I've cleared the safe distance and main engines are online. We're going to get back to the tree house in record time!"
Number 4 was successfully stabilized, so Number 3 and Number 5 sat in their respective seats along the wall and buckled up
There was a loud whine followed by a roar as the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. charged forward at a speed that would leave winged Pegasus in the dust.
As the trip lingered on, Number 1 heard a stir coming from the cot where Number 4 was sleeping. He had spent the last hour contemplating what he had seen at the missile site and what it might mean in their investigation. This new sound alerted him to the possibility that Number 4 might be coming around. He casually looked over to Number 5 and Number 3 who had fallen asleep, obviously exhausted from the journey's demands.
He got up from the bench seat he was sitting on and walked over to the cot, sitting on the seat next to it. The lights were turned off in the cabin and the only illumination came from Hoagie's instruments in the cockpit. The clouds were seen flying by the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. through the windshield.
Nigel reached down and turned on a small lamp above the cot, dimming it so that it wouldn't wake the others. Wally was wide awake and looked over at Nigel with a trying smile.
"How are you feeling?" Nigel asked quietly.
"My arm doesn't hurt a bit," Wally said grinning, "plus, I feel fine, after that little nappy nap nap."
"The morphine Kuki gave you must still be in your system," Nigel said with a smile, "That was quite brave, what you did. Kuki said that you covered her to save her from getting shot."
"Ah!" Wally said, turning slightly red, "I'm just trying to watch out for her. She's a silly girl that gets herself into trouble easily."
"Well," Nigel said, "In any case it takes guts to do what you did and that kind of unyielding spirit is what will save this team someday. It will get you pretty far in life."
"Yeah," Wally said with a smirk, "Better than that stupid college. I love being a part of this team but I'm going to drop out of college."
Nigel was taken aback, "Surely that is the morphine talking."
"No it aint," Wally continued, "I hate it there. Everyone is always telling me what I should do and why I should do it. True freedom is having no rules, everyone knows that! Besides, I'm only doing it because it's what my foster parents want. They're not even my real parents, so what do they care!"
"It takes courage to face the hardships," Nigel said strongly, "It's a coward's way out to run all of the time."
"That's just who I am though," Wally said, "Not the coward part; I'm not scared of anything. The running though, that describes me perfectly, no one can catch up to me!"
Nigel shook his head in disappointment that there would be a person on his team, someone that he had looked up to, that throw everything away for the unreachable lure of so called, "total freedom". It was a paradise that couldn't be reached; true freedom was living within limits.
"Let me tell you about a kid I knew about it grade school," Nigel started softly, "This kid was born with a rare form of blood cancer, similar to Leukemia. It didn't manifest until he was in kindergarten and by that time, it was too late to start any sort of preventative measures. This disease kept the body from forming a particular protein and it wouldn't be long until the blood would be rejected by the body, ultimately ending in his death."
Wally was staring at Nigel intently.
"I remember when he told the class that this was happening to and the whole class wrote 'get well' cards to encourage him; funny the things we do as children. At any rate, the doctor informed the parents that there was no particular course of treatment and that by the end of the year, the child would most likely be dead.
Of course, they took the kid to another doctor who informed them that there was one course that they could try but it was highly experimental, never proven to work every time, and it was excruciatingly painful to endure."
Wally was on pins and needles.
"So," Nigel continued, "The parents had a hard choice to make. Did they let the kid die in peace? It would certainly seem to be a better way to go then making the kid suffer through agonizing experimental gene treatment and radiation month after month, only to have him suffer and die at the end. Imagine, as the parents you want your kid to grow up and be successful and make something of themselves; to experience love, joy, happiness and satisfaction. Should they subject the kid to these treatments that he might live long enough to have some of these things only to lose them at the end? He sure didn't fit the societal mold being broken and genetically messed up. Was it even profitable to society to spend all that money and time on a chance? Or should they let him die peacefully and in ignorance."
Wally was silent at first and only looked at his feet at the end of the cot.
"What did they do?" he said at last.
"They made the tough decision and let the child endure the treatment because it was the right thing to do. They made the hard decision so that the child may have a fighting chance. That is where the real battle lines are drawn every day Wally, between giving up and fighting on. Sure, the treatments hurt and they had to endure the little child's screams of pain and tears of agony but in the end, the child lived and was able to have a fighting chance to make something of his self and make a really difference in the world. He never would have had that if it weren't for the pain; it was the journey that counted; the journey that made him who he would become."
Wally looked at his feet again, ashamed.
"So I tell you," Nigel said, looking Wally in the eye, "You need to stick in college and make something of yourself. It is the coward who runs because of the hard decisions, not the tough guy; it takes spirit to endure. If you start quitting now, you'll always be a quitter. Don't ever trade that fighting chance for the road easily travelled…ever."
Wally nodded, "Ok, Ok, Nigel. I'll stay in school; I'll make something of myself. I promise. You're right anyway, if I give up in school there will come a day where I'll give up the team and I don't want that."
"Good man," Nigel said with a smile, "You learn how to do that and you'll never quit at anything again, no matter how hot the fire gets. Now get some rest."
Nigel reached over to turn off the light and go back to his seat when Wally stopped him, "Wait Nigel, What happened to the kid? Where is he today? Did he live?"
Nigel smiled, "He lived. The only lasting side effect of the treatment was that all of his hair fell out and he had to endure his high school years being called names like, "Baldy", "Shiny" and "Cue-ball"."
Wally's eyes grew bigger as did Nigel's smile.
"You know though?" Nigel continued, "There's not a day that went by that I didn't smile in my heart every time someone called me "Baldy" in high school. They all lived comfortably in their little worlds with ease, not knowing what I had to endure, so they were ignorant of what they were saying. At the end of the day, I was just glad to be alive to hear them call me that. It was a subtle reminder of the cost of the journey and the great responsibility I have because of it."
Wally's eyes were tearing up as he turned over, turning his back towards Nigel.
Nigel smiled again, pretending not to notice, and pulled a sheet up and over Wally's shoulders, turning off the light afterward.
Nigel quietly snuck back to his seat and propped his feet up on the whole length of the bench seat. Everyone was breathing softly as they slept and the quiet roar of the engines droned on in the background. Nigel mused out of the window as he remembered everything in the story that he had told Wally. He thought about the organization, about Chad, about Rachel.
He thought about the awakening that had taken place in him and in his teammates as they continued along the path towards the inevitable conflict that awaited them in the shadow.
It was that journey that counted.
