9.

Lieutenant Frank Harper directed his men to surround the house as he headed for the front door, bulletproof vest firmly in place. He reached for the door, planning to ease it open slowly and carefully. Before he could touch the knob, the door flew open, slamming against the wall. He felt an ice cold force at his back, driving him into the house.

The scene that greeted him was a horrific nightmare in the making. His old friend, Milt Hardcastle, was tied to an overturned chair. His newer friend, Mark McCormick, was feebly trying to shield Hardcastle. Guzman had a gun aimed at them, seemingly oblivious to Harper's presence.

"Police!" Harper shouted as he fired, aware there was no time to wait. His bullet hit Guzman low on the left side, the impact causing the other man's shot to veer off target. It shattered a lamp on a side table.

"Drop it," Harper ordered.

Guzman hesitated, gauging his chances to kill Hardcastle.

"Drop the gun or I'll drop you. This is my last warning."

With a heavy sigh, Carlos Guzman let the weapon tumble to the floor.

"Lieutenant?"

"In here, Haney. Cuff our friends and have Billings call for an ambulance." With a concerned look at the four men, he amended his order. "Better make that two ambulances and the paramedics."

"Got it."

Once Guzman and his associate were safely under guard, Frank moved to the two remaining men. He reached for Mark, only to flinch back when the other man swung at him. The blow didn't connect. "Easy, slugger. It's all over. We've got them."

Mark reached out, his hand weaving about until Frank grabbed his wrist.

"Mark? What is it? What's wrong?"

"How's the Judge?"

"I was just about to check him over. But you do it fi you want."

"I…I can't. I think I'm in trouble here, Frank."

"What kind of trouble?"

Mark cocked his head to one side. "Okay, Mrs. H." He smiled wearily in Frank's general direction. "Can you cut the Judge loose?"

Harper looked nervously around the room before complying. He carefully checked Hardcastle for hidden injuries, then carefully laid the older man on the floor. "As you can see, he's been worked over pretty good. How bad? I'm no doctor."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna tell him. Geez, what a nag!"

"Who are you talking to, Mark?"

"You'd never believe me."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, Frank. I don't mean to be mysterious. It's just, uh, I can't see you. Or the Judge."

"What?" Frank realized for the first time that blood matted Mark's curls, not sweat.

"Hardcase thought…" Mark paused, swallowed. "He thinks I might have a fractured skull."

"Jesus Christ! What are you doing moving around? And fighting? Are you out of your mind?"

"Stupid kid."

Mark and Frank turned at the familiar voice.

"Judge! Just take it easy, an ambulance is on the way. Right, Frank?" Mark reached out, trying to touch his friend. Harper helped by guiding Mark's hand to Hardcastle's shoulder.

"Milt, just stay still. That goes for you, too, Mark. I'll check on the ambulance."

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise," Mark said, a smile curling his expressive lips. He slumped back against the overturned chair, giving into the ever increasing pain in his skull.

"McCormick? Mark! Frank!"

-- H&McC --

Mark McCormick frowned, struggling to escape the cloying darkness. He felt enveloped in smothering cotton, lost and alone. His heart began racing, more so when he heard bells and alarms start shrilling. He was thrown back instantly to San Quentin and tried to move, to hide. His arms were grabbed and someone was pushing against his shoulders, pressing him deeper into the mattress. "No! Don't, don't! Not again," he sobbed.

"Shhh, calm down, Mark. You're safe, I've got you," a voice whispered in his ear. "No one is gonna hurt you. They'll let go if you stay still, okay? Can you do that?"

He panted, responding with a slight nod. The hands holding him down were removed, leaving just one resting on his forearm. Mark's eyelids felt as if they were glued shut, but with a Herculean effort he managed to open them. To his surprise, his surroundings were white, not gray. And the people were also dressed in white. Except for one.

"Judge? Judge!" Mark threw himself at the battered man standing beside his hospital bed, setting off more alarms. He tried to put his arms around Hardcastle only to find that his right arm was restricted by the presence of an intravenous tube.

"Hey, hey, what did I say about staying still?" Hardcastle asked gruffly, helping settle his young friend back against the pillows.

"Yeah, okay. I'm sorry, but it's just… Are you okay?"

Hardcastle snorted. "It takes more than a few punches to put me out for the count. How do you feel?"

"Muzzy. Dry-mouthed." Hardcastle didn't look right, but Mark couldn't put his finger on the reason.

"I can do something about that." The Judge spooned ice slivers into Mark's mouth, watching him savor the cool wetness.

"Good."

"That's enough until your doctor checks you over."

As he became more alert, Mark took stock of his surroundings. He nodded at the various machines. "This cause all the noise?"

"The alarms? Yeah."

Mark stared at Hardcastle's face. "You're almost healed."

The Judge didn't comment.

Reaching up with his free hand, Mark felt his head. "Bandages?" He narrowed his eyes. "Just how long have I been here? And what did they do to my hair?"

Before Hardcastle could answer, the younger man's eyes flew open. "Tell me they didn't shave my hair!"

Hardcastle harrumphed. "Listen, kiddo, it'll grow back."

Mark moaned, closing his eyes in pain, this time emotional. They quickly flew open again. "Hey, I can see!"

"Wondered how long it would take you to realize that," Hardcastle said dryly.

"Wow," he breathed, once more looking around the room before turning to gaze at the Judge. "You didn't answer me. How long?"

"A week."

"Tell me."

"The doctor will be here soon. He can explain everything."

"In doctor-speak mumbo-jumbo. You can tell me just as well and without the fifty dollar words. Stop stalling."

Hardcastle fidgeted a bit before nodding. "You definitely had a skull fracture. A few bone fragments meandered through that dopey brain of your, one of which affected your ability to see. The doctor can better explain why and how."

"You're doing just fine, Judge. Go on."

"The other fragment was more dangerous. I can't give you the details, but it was serious enough that almost as soon as you got here to the hospital, you were whisked off for emergency surgery." Hardcastle settled back in the plastic visitor's chair, his weary eyes giving McCormick more information than he probably would've been comfortable with. "Kiddo, you've been unconscious for almost a week. The doctors were beginning to get worried."

"But not you, huh?" Mark asked with a smile.

"Nah, just figured you were catching up on your sleep."

"Well, Mr. McCormick, you finally decided to join us."

Both men looked up to see that the doctor had arrived. Any personal conversation between McCormick and Hardcastle was over.

HahARC