Chapter 8
Tim's first thought upon regaining consciousness was that the world appeared to have gone crazy. When had the clouds changed places with the ground? It was certainly odd. Then, he was conscious of an increasing ache in his head and his body registered distinct discomfort with its present position. He saw a hand, bloody and mangled, out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't his hand. His own hands were still miraculously gripping the steering wheel. So, whose was it? Reality reasserted itself in a flash of clarity. Tim looked around the car, wincing as he did so, and realized that his plan had succeeded. It looked like the would-be assassin was dead. Before he started to congratulate himself, however, he began to take in the noises from around the car. A babble of voices talking about different people.
"I can't get to her! She wedged. Can you see where her leg is caught?"
"We need an air lift for this one; otherwise, she won't make it."
"Unconscious, non-responsive."
"–a severed artery. We need to stabilize him."
"Hello? Ma'am, can you hear me?"
"There's too much blood! We're losing her."
"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?"
It took a moment for Tim to realize that the voice was talking to him. He turned his head and saw a concerned paramedic crouched upside down, looking at him.
For a long moment, the words she spoke to him had no meaning, and he stared blankly. Then, as his mind caught up to events that had just transpired, he understood her repeated question and answered,"Yes."
"Good. We need to get you out of the car. Can you help us do that?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now, I'm just going to check you out first, and then we'll get you out of the car, okay?"
"Okay." All the while she was talking to him, feeling his arms and legs, checking his neck and spine, Tim could hear the other voices. He suddenly remembered that he had hit other cars. "Oh, no," he whispered to himself. He had hurt other people.
"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"
"No. No." Tim knew that something very bad had just happened, and he had been the cause. "No."
There were urgent voices close by, but Tim didn't know what they were saying. In his desire to not hear the results of what he'd done, all his attention was on the EMT. She sounded extremely nervous as she said,"Okay, sir, what I want you to do is push the button to release your seatbelt, and I'll help you out of the car. Do you understand?"
"Yes. Now?"
"Now."
Tim took off his seatbelt and the paramedic quickly pulled him out of the car and away from the wreck. She didn't stop when he was clear but continued to pull him down the street, a far distance from his Porsche.
"What about the other man in the car, sir? Do you know if he is alive?"
Tim considered. "I don't think so." Please, let him be dead. It wasn't until the explosion, the blast of heat and smoke that washed over him, waking him to his surroundings, that he started to look around at the scene. Horrors met his eyes everywhere he looked. Blood, broken glass, broken bodies. All because of him. He had done this. He saw a little girl being loaded into an ambulance. He had chosen this.
"Come on! Come on! She's not responding!"
She looked about ten years old. He remembered when Sarah was that age. This little girl had probably been brimming with life, just like Sarah, but now she was dead. Tim could see it. He had killed her. The paramedic came back to him a few minutes later and started to ask him questions while checking his face and hands. He couldn't find the words to answer her. All he could do was look at what he had done and wonder how much suffering he had caused. However much it was, it was too much.
"McGee, snap out of it!" Gibbs smacked Tim's head, gently though.
Tim blinked, back in the present. "Yes, Boss?"
"Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning." Gibbs hadn't decided exactly how to approach Tim's problems. He was putting off dealing with that by getting information. He didn't feel he could make a decision without knowing the facts.
The only part of Tim's face that showed any emotion were his eyes. They roiled with suppressed emotions as he began to relate his experience.