7.
The trip across the lawn was as nerve-wracking as any race Mark had participated in during his life. Relying only on the cane to keep his equilibrium was frightening. Pavement or grass, both had their dangers. One slip and it would be all over.
Nancy hovered alongside him as Mark carefully moved his feet, his eyes focused on the ground immediately in front of him. His face was set, his heart aching. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't forget the sight of the unconscious Hardcastle in the den.
Mark's arrival at the Gatehouse patio came as a surprise. He looked up to see the French doors and almost cried in relief. He lifted one foot, planting it securely on the concrete before stepping up with the other. Just before he opened the doors, the weary man turned to his ghostly companion. "Go to him."
"Mark, I can't do anything to help him, to stop them from hurting him."
"I know, but if…if he…"
"I refuse to accept that outcome, Mark McCormick. Now get in there and call the Cavalry. Move it or lose it, mister!"
A small smile appeared on Mark's pain-filled face and he pushed his way into the Gatehouse. Afraid to attract unwanted attention, he had to negotiate the living room in the dark. Extra careful due to his lack of balance, Mark felt his way around the couch and to the table against the far wall.
A lifetime later, his hand felt the cool plastic of his telephone. "Keep your fingers crossed, Mrs. H, if you have any." He picked the receiver up and pressed it to his ear. "Please, please, please."
-- H&McC --
"We're back, Judge." Guzman reached over and tipped Hardcastle's face up, his hand under the semi-conscious man's chin. "You should get more veggies, keep it healthy. You'll live longer."
Leo laughed, slurping at the glass of lemonade he carried with him. "That's a good one, boss."
"I don't think the Judge appreciates it, Leo," Guzman commented.
"Maybe he doesn't have a sense of humor."
"Yeah, maybe that's it." Guzman laughed before punching the bound man in the face. "Guess I'll just have to beat it into you."
After a few more punches, Guzman shook his hand in the air. "Gotta hand it to you, Judge. You've got a hell of a hard head. Might have to change to body shots. That old body can't be too tough." He turned to his associate. "Leo, go check on our young friend. While you're there, see if the bathroom has salve for my split knuckles."
Leo nodded and ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. He quickly returned with much less grace. "Boss, he's gone!"
"What? What the hell are you talking about? Hardcastle was right about him, he definitely has a skull fracture. There's no way he can have gone far. Search the house. I'll check outside." Guzman patted the Judge on his blood-streaked cheek. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Seems like your boy doesn't want to survive until morning. If I don't kill him, moving around with that kind of injury might. All it takes is one bone splinter and wham! He's done."
Guzman never saw Hardcastle lift his battered face, his bloody lips curving in a satisfied smile. Hide, kiddo, just hide.
-- H&McC --
"Are you out of your mind? You can't take them on, Mark, they'll kill you!" Nancy was frustrated by her young friend's intransigent manner.
"I can't just let them whale on the Judge. He could be dead before anyone gets here. Mrs. H, I can't do it!" They were making their way to the pool house where Hardcastle had stashed weapons and extra ammunition in a special storage place. Mark was in agony, every shuffled step sending spikes of sharp pain through his skull.
"And what will he say if you kill yourself with this quixotic quest?" Nancy's ghostly form was pulsating with anger. "You're just as pigheaded as Milt! Two of a kind, both of you."
"Don't know if I'm insulted or not, but I do know that I'm gonna do this, no matter what happens." He stopped, leaning heavily on the cane. "Will you still help me?"
"Argghh!" She disappeared, leaving Mark alone in the dark.
He sighed. "Guess I got my answer."
He continued on, carefully feeling his way with both his feet and the cane. Once he reached the steps, McCormick knew he was getting closer. He envisioned the area to orientate himself, then moved confidently, if slowly, to the brick wall. He let his fingers touch the rough surface at about chest level, trailing them along until he felt a change to cold metal. "Aha."
Needing both hands to remove a gun and load it, he leaned his shoulder against the brick and rested the cane near his leg so he could find it again. Then he pulled the cache door open and reached inside, his fingers closing familiarly around the butt of a pistol. He quickly loaded it, then stuck it in his waist. Let's hope that I don't trip and finish myself off before I make it back to the house.
"That Guzman character is on the other side of the house, so you'd better move."
"Jeez, Mrs. H, give a guy a heart attack, why doncha? Did you learn that from the Judge?" Mark pressed his hand against his chest.
"He learned it from me. Better not speak any more until we get inside."
"Got it. Okay, you keep an eye on Guzman and I'll make my way to the front door."
"Okay, I'll help. Stay close to the bushes. If I even think this person is heading in your direction, I'll be back to warn you. And you, mister, will crawl into them and hide. Are we clear?"
"Yeah, yeah," Mark whispered, making shooing motions with his hands before grabbing the cane and resuming his trip.