Chapter Six
"You aren't going to shoot me, Michael," Jaime said in a clear, steady voice. "I know you could never shoot someone you love."
"You're wrong," he insisted. "I won't kill you, but I will hurt you, if that's what it takes to bring you to your senses. I will shoot you, Jaime, but only if I have to." He resumed a firm, painful grip on her left arm. "We have to go now," he told her. "We're taking the Medivac to the airport."
Jaime planted her feet firmly where she stood. "No."
"Excuse me?"
"No, Michael. I'm not going. Where are Steve and our friends?" Jaime demanded, looking past the gun barrel and directly into Michael's eyes. "I want you to take me to wherever you've put Steve. Now."
"Steve is just fine. He's cooling his heels in a nice little private room. We have to go now, Jaime."
"I said NO!" She tried to twist away from him again, but Michael dug his fingers into the flesh of her arm until he forced her to cry out. The hand that held the gun moved behind her head, twisting her long hair into a tightly-gripped ball around his fist as he pressed the gun to her head.
"This is how you're playing it? You need a little more persuasion?" Michael said through angrily-gritting teeth. "Fine. Just remember, this is all your fault." He forced Jaime down the hall, pulling her by her arm and her hair, until they reached the ICU, where he forced her into Oscar's cubicle. "Sit down, Jaime," he ordered, pushing her roughly into a chair. "You move, and you both die."
Michael stepped to Oscar's bedside. "He does look peaceful. He's doing well." He removed a syringe from his pocket. "At least, he was." Before Jaime could react, Michael had injected Oscar with the contents of the syringe and tossed the needle to the floor. Within seconds, Oscar's skin turned bluish-gray, and he started coughing, choking on the respirator tube. Michael turned to Jaime, his eyes glowing. "He has about an hour to live, Jaime. Do you see that door, on the other end of the unit?" Jaime stared in mute horror, nodding just slightly. "Rudy is behind that locked door, and he has the antidote. Do you want me to let him out? Jaime?"
"Let him out. Please. You...don't wanna do this, Michael." Give me courage, she pleaded to her own mind and soul. This has to work! "The Michael I...love isn't a killer."
She'd said it; he'd heard it! Michael smiled triumphantly, and pulled a small metal box from his other pocket. "I love you, too, Sunshine. Let's get going, and I'll open the door when we get on the Medivac; I've got a remote."
Jaime obediently rose from the chair, leaving her sling behind, where it slipped to the floor, unnoticed by Michael. She was trembling all over, and she'd decided to use that to her advantage, to play up her vulnerability and try to bring out any softness he might have left inside. The sway as she stood up was no act, either, but she forced herself to take his arm and lean into his body for support. It worked.
"I gotcha," he said softly, his attention now on helping her stay upright. "Let's go."
Jaime allowed him to lead her into the hallway, then let her body go completely limp. She slipped from his arm and fell to the floor in what appeared to be a dead faint. She could hear Oscar's body desperately struggling for life, and she forced herself to remain completely still and silent.
"Jaime?" Michael knelt down and leaned over her body, and when she felt his breath coming closer, Jaime swung her right arm up and caught him in the neck, slamming him into the wall, where he slid to the floor, barely semi-conscious. She grabbed the remote from his hand, pressed the button and watched to make sure the door did, indeed open. Yes, Rudy was behind it, and he ran to Oscar's side. Satisfied, Jaime removed her belt and used it to secure Michael's hands behind his back, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she pulled the bond tight. She removed the belt he wore and used that one to secure his legs, then leaned in close to his face as he began to regain awareness.
"I'm sorry, Michael," she said in a voice filled with quiet anger. "Just remember, this is all your fault."
- - - - - -
When Jaime joined Rudy, Oscar's condition had already drastically improved. Healthy color had returned to his face, and to Rudy's, as well. Rudy took Jaime's arm gently, alarmed by the new swelling in her shoulder.
"I'd better have a look at that, Honey."
Jaime smiled fondly at her doctor. "I'm ok; we have to get help."
"I've already made the call. There's a phone at the ICU desk."
"What about Steve and the others?" Jaime asked anxiously. "Where did Michael take them?"
Rudy took one more quick look at his patient in the bed, then took a key from his pocket. "Let's check the supply closets." He and Jaime worked their way through the ward and then down the hallway, and found Sam, Russ and Chris, each hand-cuffed to a shelf in a separate closet. No one had seen Steve.
Jaime thought hard, reluctantly replaying every detail of the day's ordeal in her mind. "Michael said Steve was 'cooling his heels in his own little private room'. Rudy, where are the freezers?"
They checked the freezer in the staff room and both huge walk-in freezers in the hospital kitchen – no Steve. Jaime began to grow frantic. Rudy had one more idea. It seemed to awful to contemplate, but...
"The morgue," he said quietly.
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