Chapter 9: Dead End Rules are Meant to be Broken
Author's Note: Okay, so I'm trying to get back into writing after my trips around the U.S.
This one's short, but I accomplished a lot, I feel.
Is it bad that I really like writing for the killer?
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, the songs, the cities...all I own are the park rangers, the policeman, the killer and Justin.
Gibbs and McGee
The sun was high in the blue sky as Gibbs and McGee departed the hotel parking lot in their silver SUV, following Brice Talbot's dark green Parks' Service SUV.
The awkward silence in the vehicle had a knife's edge, mostly due to how seriously Gibbs was viewing this case. McGee had no idea what was so special about this case, they had handled dozens of kidnappings, hundreds of murders; cases didn't effect Gibbs like this.
Trying to stave off silence, but avoid uncomfortable conversation, McGee turned on the radio and stopped it at the first station that wasn't a garble of static.
London calling
To the faraway towns
Now war is declared and battle come down
McGee couldn't imagine living as isolated from society as the people of these hills did. Did they even have internet out here? He remembered a paper he had read where someone in Arkansas was proposing free wireless internet for people in extremely rural areas. This must be the area they were addressing.
London calling
To the underworld
Come out of the cupboards you boys and girls
The lives of people out here would usually be quiet, calm, a slower pace; but events like this were sure to consume the grapevine like wildfire. Even without telephones and news stories, it wouldn't have surprised McGee if the story wouldn't have reached as far as Texarkana, Bentonville, Jonesboro and...whatever's down in the southeast corner of the state, by nightfall the day it happened.
London calling
Now don't look to us
Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust
Of course, the story would be wildly exaggerated by the time it made its trek to the four corners of Arkansas. The people of the Ozarks are renowned storytellers. McGee's grandfather had traveled through the area when he was younger, Tim remembered the tales his grandfather retold of giant catfish and wampus cats, but McGee's favorite was the story of the Arkansas Traveler. He was in awe that the story was so popular that there was a minor league baseball team named after the tale.
London calling
See we ain't got no swing
'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing
McGee looked out his window and wondered where Tony and Ziva were and what they were doing; he hypothesized what Abby and Ducky might be doing with no one from the team there; most of all, he worried that someone might mess with his desk. What if someone spilled coffee on his keyboard? What if someone knocked his monitor off his desk? What if someone took all his custom-made ballpoint pens? What if someone messed with the settings of his ergonomic desk chair? Oh, man. What if someone found and read his handwritten copy of his novel's sequel? What if they sent copies to Abby, Tony and Ziva? ...Tony...Tony's here, in Arkansas... so is Ziva, the only two that would mess with his stuff like that. Just doing the little inconvenient things that bothered him most...Abby wouldn't...would she?
The ice age is coming
The sun's zooming in
Meltdown expected
The wheat is growing thin
Engines stop running
But I have no fear
London is drowning
And I live by the river
"You're thinking 'bout something, McGee," Gibbs said, more of a statement than a question.
"Uhh...yeah, boss. I was just thinking about my book," McGee replied, somewhat honestly.
"You're writing another one?" Gibbs said with a smirk and a head shake, "Didn't Tony ridicule you enough the first time around?"
"The money and pride more than compensate for what I have to put up with from Tony," McGee smiled.
"Ziva, too," Gibbs stated simply.
"...I'm not sure...she still scares me," McGee half-mumbled, Gibbs smiled.
"Maybe if you would lay off of them, they'd follow suit," Gibbs said, in almost a paternal advising voice.
"...You don't think they'll get together, boss?" McGee asked, in shock.
"Rule Number Twelve is there for a reason, McGee," Gibbs smirked.
"...But, boss, didn't you date a coworker?" McGee asked, knowing he was pushing the limits.
"How many rules do you know of me following, McGee?" Gibbs shook his head, amusedly frustrated with the young agent, "Rules are meant to be broken."
Someone told me long ago
'There's a calm before the storm'
I know
And it's been comin' for some time
They passed a Hector city limits sign and McGee drew in a sharp breath. He knew that it was going to be bad, there was no avoiding that.
When it's over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day
I know
Shinin' down like water
They pulled into the parking of the Ranger Station, he braced himself. He was ready to get in and get this over with. Everything would be so much better when this is behind them.
I wanna know
Have you ever seen the rain?
I wanna know
Have you ever seen the rain?
Comin' down on a sunny day?
As he climbed out of the SUV, McGee looked around. He was in awe of the natural beauty of the area. How could something so tragic happen somewhere so beautiful?
They followed Brice into the building, in the main room of the building there were three men.
A man was setting at a table, studying a topographic map. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, with graying hair partially hidden under a tan Parks' Service cap. He was wearing a forest green button-up shirt and neatly pressed khaki pants with meticulously shined hiking boots.
Another man stood behind the older man, looking over his shoulder. He was tall and lanky; with a long neck, arms and legs. He had sandy blond hair that was shoulder-length and tied back in a loose ponytail. His face was tanned and weathered, despite the fact that the man looked to be in his early twenties. The man was wearing a loose dark green windbreaker and Carhartt pants with broken in Timberlands hiking boots; a hat with a flat, wide brim sat on the table near him.
The last man was a tall, solidly built black man. His hair was shaved close to his head and he was standing against the wall, tall and proud. He wore a uniform that was easily identified as an Arkansas State Police uniform, complete with the hat. He monitored everything in the room with keen hazel eyes. His skin was very dark and his greenish-eyes stood out and were easily noticed from across the room. When he spoke his voice was a commanding boom that reminded McGee of Mufasa from The Lion King.
Brice took off his jacket and draped it over a chair.
"Welcome to search H.Q.," he said, motioning to the small room.
"Everyone, this is Special Agent Gibbs and Special Agent McGee, from NCIS," Brice introduced, motioning first to Gibbs, then McGee.
The older man made eye contact, and that was as much of a greeting as he gave them. The younger man gave a small wave and the policeman nodded in their direction.
"Gibbs, Tim, this is our head ranger, Gary Turner," Brice pointed to the older man, "Our search team leader, Owen Wright," the younger man, "And the state police officer who is assisting the case, Lieutenant Beau Sampson," the black police officer.
The Killer
He paced back and forth, wearing a smooth path in the exposed soil.
Justin wasn't hurt; he wasn't starving or dehydrated, he had bought him two egg salad sandwiches and a bottle of water at a quick stop when he stopped to get gas for his truck.
He hadn't gone much more than 50 miles from his starting point, but there was a lot of backtracking and avoiding the main roads involved.
After almost a full day on the road, he had found this. A perfect hideaway. It was an old, abandoned barn in a unkempt field at the base of a large hill. The wood of the building was old and parts of the wall were missing, but the tin roof would provide welcome protection from the Spring showers that had occurred frequently the past few weeks.
He opened the door into the cab of his truck, sat in the driver's seat and turned on the radio. He channel surfed for a moment, listening for news reports; finding none, he settled on music.
It's down to this
I've got to make this life make sense
Can anyone tell what I've done
I miss the life
I miss the colors of the world
Can anyone tell where I am?
A reoccurring thought came to him, he would never be able to go back to life as he knew it.
Neither could his brother, Justin, or Justin's family.
Hell, all of Judson Hill would be forever scarred by this.
What had he done?
'Cause now again I've found myself
So far down
Away from the sun
That shines into the darkest place
I'm so far down
Away from the sun again
There was no turning back now, he couldn't just go up to the police and tell them that he had killed a man and kidnapped a guy and not be punished for it.
He had turned 18 last October.
He was looking at life in prison...or worse, Arkansas had capital punishment...he could die for this.
He just wanted out. He wished this had never happened. All he wanted was to make his family proud. He thought that if he helped his brother, he could.
But look at what he had became. A murderer. A kidnapper.
He was no better than the terrorists that his brother longed to defend his country from.
And his brother, all the family he had left. His brother would probably never speak to him again. He would be left to die in prison. Alone.
But he knew that he didn't deserve any less than death.
I'm over this
I'm tired of living in the dark
Can anyone see me down here?
The feeling's gone
There's nothing left to lift me up
Back into the world I've known
He looked up at the sky through a hole in the roof and prayed that God would have mercy on him and let him die peacefully.
He was beyond scared. Petrified scarcely began to cover his emotions at the moment.
He was 18. Eighteen. He was still a kid. He should be playing baseball and working at Sonic, not on the run from the Feds, wanted for murder. He shouldn't have a guy locked up in a trailer.
He shouldn't be looking at a dead end.
But here he was.
Ends didn't get much deader than his.
A/N: So, it was short for me, but I liked it.
I find it hard to write for Gibbs, so my Gibbs/McGee storyline is mostly McGee.
But I really, really like writing for the killer. I like to make him human...He's so sad.
If you don't know what Sonic is, look it up. That's what I had for dinner tonight. Mmmm, tasty.
It's Summer Break here, so there will be more time for me to work on the story. But I've also got CPEP classes, band practice and a part-time job...but that's still more time than if school was still in!
Who wants you to review this time?
...All of The Clash, Dee Dee Ramone, and the state of Mississippi (if you're from Mississippi, you probably should review...it's what you really want...that and a Sonic burger)
Also, Kosuke Fukudome wants you to review because the Cubs are hot this year!
Sing it now! Go Cubs go! Go Cubs go! Hey Chicago whaddiya say?! The Cubs are gonna win today!
(Mufasa also DEMANDS that you review...I wouldn't anger Mufasa if I were you, he's got wicked cloud powers)