A/N: Oh, come on - you didn't really want some quick and dirty ending, did you? I hope not, because I don't know how to do that.
(tdei, please don't resist, I thought it was hysterical. Thanks so much to everybody for hanging in there with me.)
Chapter 19
"You reach Charlie yet?" Megan leaned into the turn as she navigated a corner.
"I'm trying!" David yelled back. "Maybe if you took even one corner on more than two wheels…"
"Oh, don't be such a sissy." Megan reached out a hand for the small phone. "You'd think you'd never been in a hot pursuit before. Here - give me the phone - "
"I'll do it!" Colby hastily intercepted the cell phone before she could grab it. "You just keep your hands on the wheel - I mean both hands."
Megan dodged deftly around a van, criss-crossing two lanes. "What's the matter with you guys? You've had high performance driving training."
"Yeah," Colby muttered, opening the phone. "And this is still scaring me. That should tell you something."
Megan opened her mouth to offer a sarcastic retort, closed it quickly to focus on a slow-moving vehicle in front of her that failed to pull over.
"Um - which button?" Colby asked faintly, trying to pretend he didn't notice Megan's hairpin maneuver.
"Number six." David's eyes were on Megan. "Did you just flip that guy the bird?"
"Federal Agents do not flip the bird, Sinclair," she insisted demurely. "I was merely offering a salute to remind him that the law demands that drivers pull over for emergency vehicles."
"Yeah, you'll have to teach me that particular salute." He glanced into the back seat, watching Colby as best he could in the swaying vehicle. "How about it, Colby? Any answer?"
Colby was frowning in concentration, the phone pressed tight against his ear. After a minute, he shook his head. "I'm not getting an answer - maybe he's busy with the cops? Do we know if the black and white is there yet?"
"Uh uh." Megan resisted the urge to look over into the back seat. "I just spoke to him a little while ago - how can there be no answer? Try again."
"I'll try mine." Colby pulled out his cell phone, found the number and waited.
David braced himself as they took another corner. "Well?"
Colby shrugged. "Voicemail." He closed the phone slowly. "I don't have a good feeling about this."
Megan's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I told him to go outside the building and wait - where could he be?"
There was an uncomfortable silence, then David pulled out his own phone. "I'm going to try mine - and then the LAPD." He paged through his numbers and shot a glance at Megan as the phone began to ring in his ear. "Come on, come on, Megan - what are you poking along for? Let's have a little speed here - move!"
000
This can't really be happening. It's just some…goofy…subliminal…what the hell am I supposed to…? Dad's gonna kill me. Bare hands. No questions asked. A dozen random thoughts pumped through Don's brain as he tried to wrap his mind around this newest development, heart crowding the back of his throat. Oh, God, Charlie - what do I do now? Might be a good time to give the praying another try…
He saw Charlie's glance brush over him and his eyes widen to fill half his face.
Don winced inwardly. That bad, huh? For a heart-stopping instant, it looked as though Charlie was going to drop the gun and run to him and Don went stiff with sheer terror, but one heartbeat later Charlie's eyes returned to Soames, his throat jerking in a convulsive swallow. The wave of relief that slammed through Don was so intense that for a moment his vision blackened. That's right - look where you're pointing the gun, Charlie. Focus on that, buddy…
"Baby brother, right?" Soames sounded half entertained, half wary, his eyes tracking the swaying gun muzzle pointed indefinitely in his direction. "Come to say good-bye?"
Don felt the shotgun rim, hard and cold, jab into his ear and stay there.
Charlie's mouth opened, but no sound came out; he tightened his death grip on the gun, arms trembling in front of him.
"Your timing's not bad."
Don was only half-listening to Soames, his attention fixed on Charlie. He had to get him out of here - get him out of this mess somehow.
Yeah, good luck, pal…because you can't even get yourself out. Well, we can cross that one when we get to it - first things first. Charlie.
"You're just in time to watch."
The gun jerked in Charlie's hands and Don had to resist the urge to duck. If Soames had half a brain, this would be making him a little nervous. "Easy, Charlie," he murmured before he could stop himself.
"Shut up." Soames jammed the gun barrel sharply against his skull with a crack that made the world slew.
"Stop it!" Charlie's cry sounded breathless through the ringing in his ears, and Don thought he could detect tears just beneath the surface. "Or - or - I swear to God - I swear to God - "
Don struggled frantically to clear the miasma that fogged his vision. You can pass out later, Don…for right now, just…he felt Soames broad hand on his scalp, almost smiled when he realized that Soames couldn't get any real grip on his short hair and had to settle for twisting his fingers in the tenuous fabric of his undershirt shoulder instead. Okay, that can't be providing much of a hold…might come in useful…the world looked a little flat through his one good eye and had an alarming tendency to split into twins, but he tried to bring Charlie into clear focus, concentrating on the gun. He shifted a little, frowning, and Soames ground the shotgun muzzle against his ear warningly.
Funny. His eyes were anything but reliable right now, but he knew that gun like the hand at the end of his arm, and he could almost swear…he squinted at it again. Yeah. He could almost swear. Now he had to decide if that was good news or bad. He lifted his gaze to Charlie's face. It was white and fixed. He wished he could decide if speaking to him would be calming, or just a fatal distraction.
"Come on - why don't you put that thing down before you hurt somebody? You know you don't want to hurt nobody. You shoot me, and I could jerk on the trigger - blow your brother's head right off his neck."
Don flinched. Yeah, thanks, Soames - that's my second favorite nightmare - my brains splattered all over the wall while Charlie watches. But Soames still sounded amused, so he must be feeling pretty confident. That could help too. On the other hand, he kind of had a lot to feel confident about. He wanted to warn Charlie not to lower the gun or give it up no matter what, but he was afraid of pulling his focus away from Soames. He watched the pistol tip quaver, but Charlie still kept it pointed straight ahead.
Good going, Charlie. That's good. Just hang tough. I'll think of something.
Yeah. Like…?
If Charlie made a run for it, what would happen? He might make it out of the apartment - he was smaller and quicker than Soames, but Soames was longer limbed and the thought of what could happen if he caught up with him…Don bit his lip. Okay - much too risky. Charlie was better off standing pat with the gun, but he wasn't going to be able to hold on forever. Keeping your arms in that position for an extended period of time was no mean feat, no one knew that better than him - a regular routine of push ups really helped. He didn't think Charlie was much of one for push ups, and besides, he looked like he could drop over at any minute.
Still, most of Soames' attention was fixed on the rocking pistol barrel, so Charlie had bought him a distraction - now it was up to him to make use of it. He tried to gather together the ragged remains of his strength, his gaze flitting from Soames to Charlie. Right now, Charlie was standing just far enough away - if Soames decided to make a grab for him, he'd have to let go of Don and lower the shotgun first. Good. That was something, too. All he needed now was an opening - even a sliver of one.
"Come on, professor," Soames sounded impatient, shifted a little closer. "Be nice if one of you stayed alive for your Papa, huh?"
Charlie flinched and fell back a step; Don swallowed the warning that would only draw Charlie's eyes away from Soames, clammy sweat from the effort sheening his skin.
"You just lower the gun, and I'll let you stay alive. That's fair, right?"
The gun quivered. Perspiration dotted Charlie's upper lip. "Don - " he stammered.
Christ, Charlie, don't listen to him! He's not going to let either of us live! He must have made some sound of protest, because Soames shook him like a dog with a rat, the shotgun still tight against his ear.
"You behave! I wasn't talking to you!"
"D - don't!" Charlie's voice rose, high and loud and laced with hysteria. "L-leave him alone, or I'll - I'll - " His hands flexed on the gun butt, finger slick on the trigger. "I swear, I will - I'll - "
Soames backed up a step, pulling Don with him like an unwieldy appendage. "Okay - no more Mr. Nice Guy, kid. Put it down, or I'll shoot right now and they'll be scraping what's left of him into a basket. Imagine explaining that to daddy, huh? How you stood right there and watched while - "
The desperate look in Charlie's eyes was about all that Don could take. The gun shivered and jumped and Don coughed to take a breath. "Charlie - "
"I said that's enough!" Soames yanked on him, grabbing for bicep as the undershirt tore in his grasp, jerked him upright so his knees barely rested on the floor. Don felt the iron fingers band bruisingly into his flesh, tried to maneuver his feet under himself to stand. He just made out Charlie's inarticulate moan of terror and despair, saw the gun in his hands inscribe a soaring arc, felt the shotgun barrel dig deeper into the battered skin over his ear. Then there was an odd noise - a homey, familiar trill that sounded completely out of place in the tense atmosphere. For an instant, everything seemed to stop.
He saw Charlie glance automatically down at his jacket and Soames twist, searching for this new adversary, his shotgun instinctively swinging away from Don to seek the fresh threat.
And that's about all the chance you're going to get…even as he thought it, he was moving - not a graceful, purposeful, tactical move, more of a clumsy fall from a badly depleted body, but he used his inertia to add to his weight, one leg finding the vulnerable spot behind Soames nearest knee and pushing.
"Charlie, get DOWN!" His voice sounded hoarse and foreign, but he was surprised at how much volume he got behind it. He didn't get a chance to see whether or not Charlie obeyed…you can think about that later…right now…right now…because he and Soames were hitting the floor once more, a bone-jarring thud that rattled the disjointed cartilage in is chest and made his eyes water. The thunder of the shotgun discharging tore at his ears and the smell of gunpowder filled his nose.
They'd been down here before, he and Soames, more than once, and Soames had always come out the winner, so he needed to act right away - stakes were higher, he had more than his own life to worry about now - he had Charlie's too…he could feel Soames under him, momentarily winded, his shoulder blade digging into Don's breastbone. Is that it, Eppes? That all you've got?
Not this time, Jericho - I've got one weapon left. He dragged himself forward an inch, trying to ignore the sparks of pain that ignited along his torso.
This is going to hurt, he thought irrelevantly - and slammed his forehead into the back of Soames' skull.
He thought he felt Soames go limp underneath him, couldn't be sure - maybe it was him going limp…
Then everything was sucked away into blackness.
TBC
PS I appreciate the patience - I usually don't post in progress and now I remember why - I really do hate to leave people hanging!