Chapter 12
For two whole days Ken floated on a sea of pain and confusion. He had no idea where he was and no idea how he'd gotten there. His last real memory was of the fists and feet driving into his body like a freight train and then the icy cold water soaking through the sacking he was encased in.
It was the coldness of the lake that brought him around sufficiently to understand that far from being beaten to death, he was, in fact, going to drown. And that thought had filled him with terror. It had been bad enough to endure the beating with no hope of rescue, but this? This was more than he could bear. As the water soaked through the material hugging his body, Ken had tried to fight his way out of the sack, but the water rose higher and higher and the more he struggled, the more his chest hurt, stopping him from breathing. As the water got to his chin, he tried to take one final deep breath and he clamped his mouth shut as he felt himself slide beneath the choppy waves of the lake. He knew it was futile to hold his breath. It was merely putting off the evil moment when his oxygen starved body would force him to try and take another breath. And then all he would suck in would be water.
Someone had once told him that drowning was quite a peaceful way to die. At the time he'd snickered and said he'd believe that when someone came back to confirm it, and now he realised how untrue that really was. His lungs burned with the overriding need to suck in another lungful of air and he fought the urge to breathe deeply. His body trembled with the exertion of holding his breath until his limbs started to shake violently. His eyes shut, he felt the sensation of sinking and his legs wanted to jerk to kick him up to the surface again. But as he tried to move his limbs, the agonising pains from the breaks finally did what his brain had been unable to do. They caused his mouth to open in a silent scream and flood his lungs with the cold, dirty lake water.
There had been a moment of panic. A moment when every light seemed the brightest it had ever been, each gurgling noise in his ears the loudest he'd ever heard and then a feeling of serenity. His body was closing down and it no longer mattered. His pains were receding and he felt warm and comfortable and no longer afraid. In one of his last lucid moments he wondered how long he'd remain in the water before some unsuspecting person found his body. And then that no longer mattered either. He was settling into this calm headspace when suddenly, he felt his body being tugged upwards.
So, this is what it's like to die, he'd thought. Funny. He'd always believed it would feel more like flying. Now all he felt was something hard digging into his back, a set of hands around his middle squeezing his broken ribs and his body feeling heavier than he could ever recall. He tried to breathe in, but his waterlogged body refused to obey, but through his closed eyelids he could see a brighter light.
A being was running a warm hand over his face. An angel? The hand was replaced by tender lips that covered his mouth. Did angels kiss? He felt air flow into his lungs and coughed water up into his mouth. The kiss returned for a moment and Ken tried his best to open his eyes to look into the beautiful face of the heavenly being that had transported him to Nirvana. Slowly he forced his eyelids open and looked straight up into the worried, wrinkled face of an old man.
And silently he chuckled to himself. Great Hutchinson. Only with your luck would you be saved by the only geriatric angel in God's rescue squad!
After that there was more pain, more panic and finally a rest of sorts. For a while now he'd been conscious of lying on his back and of pains throughout his body. Surmising that he was not in heaven, Ken decided that he should probably try to open his eyes and find out exactly where he was. Although he was a little afraid of what he might find. What if he was still back in the byre at the farm? What if they hadn't finished with him and they were going to start all over again? That thought was enough to keep his eyes closed for a while longer. But eventually he felt the need to answer the questions floating around inside his head and very carefully he opened his eyes.
Hank Netter sat by the side of Chancita, chatting comfortably about homes, vacations, anything to while away the time spent by the side of the young man. The Mexican maid hadn't questioned why Hank, a near stranger, had seen fit to stand watch over her employer's son. At one point she did hint that she felt the blond had a certain magic to him and all those who came into contact with him fell immediately under his spell. And Netter agreed. Ken was young, tall, handsome, athletic and personable and despite the lack of affection he'd received in his family life, he was ready to give affection to others at the drop of a hat.
That morning the doctor had been back to see his patient and had declared Ken fit enough for him to start being roused from his coma. The respirator tube was taken away and one of the drips discontinued and the doctor told the two visitors that some time during the afternoon, he may begin to show signs of life.
Now both people heard a low, rasping groan from the young man in the bed. With Chancita on one side and Hank on the other, they both stood holding onto Ken's arms as he carefully cracked open crystal blue eyes and stared at the ceiling.
'Mom?' he rasped.
'No, I'm here Rayito de Luz. It's me Chancita'.
Ken carefully turned his head and a ghost of a smile flashed across his face. Much of the swelling had gone down over the past 48 hours and now he could at least open both eyes although there was still extensive bruising.
'Where?' the blond whispered.
'You're in the hospital. Senior Netter found you. You're going to be fine. Try to lie still and rest' the maid said softly, brushing a stray flaxen strand from Ken's forehead. His eyes closed and he slept again, exhausted but comforted that he was safe and with people he trusted.
oOo
Two days previously.
'What do you mean you ran him off the road?' Hillary French yelled at the two men. 'You ran him off the road and you didn't even check to see he was dead?'
'We shot him. How much deader can he be?' Johnny asked defensively. He was still shaken by the appearance of the other car on the road that afternoon although neither he nor Damon had mentioned that little titbit to the woman.
She crossed the room staring up into the big man's face and he cowered back from her. Her face was full of venom as she spat at him. 'I don't know how you could be so stupid! Fine you shot at him and great, his car swerved off the road. But you didn't stop. You didn't check! Now what do we do if someone found him?'
Johnny paled, thinking about the car. He was pretty damned sure that the driver would pull over to investigate the wreckage. And what if the cop wasn't dead? What then?
Over the next day, as they drove from motel room to motel room, Johnny and Damon listened to the radio and finally at the end of day two, they heard the news they'd been dreading. The room was quiet. Hillary had gone to buy provisions from the store across the street and the news headlines blared out.
'Good afternoon Duluth! This is KWB coming across the airwaves with the news at 3:00pm.
Police are still hunting the kidnappers of Ken Hutchinson, son of the eminent surgeon Dr Richard Hutchinson. Ken was found dumped in the Lake a little after noon two days ago and enquiries are still being made as to the group responsible. Police Sergeant Hank Netter, who is heading the investigation, asks that if anyone saw anything the feel may be important down by the lake front on Tuesday they should come forward. He's also asking for any information on a group calling themselves PACE. He can be contacted on 555 2845.
In other news…..'
Johnny turned the dial on the radio, switching it off. 'The fuckin' pig survived! Now what're we gonna do?'
Damon grinned and picked up the phone.
'I have a plan. If my gut feeling is right….'
He started ringing the numbers of the hospitals in the area, thumbing down the telephone directory pages as he picked out the locations he needed and had tried two before he telephoned Mercy Hospital. He asked to be put through to Ken Hutchinson's room saying he was a friend. In the other two hospitals, the answer had come back that there was no patient of that name. This time, however, he was told that Mr Hutchinson would be unable to take calls at the moment. Would he care to be put through to Detective Netter? Damon put the phone down.
'I got him. Mercy Hospital. He's staying with the kid. We can either wait outside and hope we catch him when he comes out. Or' an evil grin spread across his face 'We get him inside the hospital. Maybe finish the Hutchinson brat off at the same time huh?'
Johnny grinned. 'No time like the present. And I hate sloppy work. It pisses me off that they both survived. Must be losing my touch. C'mon. You got a plan?'
An hour later, Johnny and Damon found themselves in the linen store of the hospital. They'd parked their truck a way away and had simply walked into the ER and through into the main body of the hospital. Now, clad in dark blue scrubs and with masks dangling from their necks, the two men tucked their guns down the waistbands of their pants and walked out into the corridor. It didn't take them too long to discover from a vacant nurses' station that Ken Hutchinson was in room 502 on the fifth floor and they took the elevator, standing back as two doctors got in discussing a problem patient.
Exiting at floor five, Johnny pulled Damon to one side.
'Are ya sayin' we just go in there, shoot and get out?'
'We see who's around. If we're lucky they'll both be alone in the room. We get in quick and surprise 'em. Use a pillow to silence your gun. I'll go for the kid, you take out Mr Cop. Then we hightail it outa here and the boss will give us a bonus'.
Johnny grinned. 'What sort'a bonus do you want from our fiery little Hillary then?'
'Oh for fuck's sake. Get your mind outa your pants huh? Concentrate on the job. We fucked up once. It aint gonna happen again'.
They started to walk stealthily down the corridor, peeping into the various rooms left and right until finally they came to a stop outside a larger one at the end. Dressed in scrubs and with their masks now pulled up over their nose and mouths they attracted no extra attention and no-one challenged two orderlies going about their business.
'Just like a doctor's son. Always gets the biggest room and preferential treatment' Damon snickered. He poked his head round the door and saw Netter sitting by the bed bound blond. Ken was awake again and they were talking quietly.
'Is that it?' Johnny hissed.
Damon snapped his head back. 'Shuddup! Yeah, this is it. Got your gun? Ok. They're alone in there. Now's as good a time as any. Ready?'
They drew their guns and on the count of three, both men burst into the quiet side room, guns pointing at the cop and the injured blond in the bed.