A/N: Sorry I took so long with this one!! And thank you for the reads!
For this chapter alone, I'd like to move it M, so if anyone is uncomfortable, let me now, ok?
Horatio, Mac and his respective CSIs (c) CBS
19, Paralysis
The old Presbyterian Hospital was just as derelict and decomposed as Speedle had described it to Horatio; graffiti sprawled all over the outside walls, decaying wallpaper peeling off musty plaster support beams and menacing broken windows staring down upon the special response team. Calleigh could only imagine that just a short while ago this had been just like DADE Memorial; full of life and bustling activity.
"Theatrics always conceal incompetence." McGraw spat haughtily. Not the first time a perpetrator used a dramatic location to coop his or herself. Horatio forgave her remark; it wasn't theatrics that moved Marla Ruez. It was control and the abandoned sanitarium was just perfect to isolate her minions and satisfy her mandating streak.
"Ladies and gentlemen, she's not about to give herself up or make our job any easier so let's keep that in mind." The lieutenant stated while he grabbed a Kevlar jacket.
"The warrant tells me this is for Stuart Otis. You never mentioned a woman." Harriet discredited. She needed her reinforcement for something else and she was one to follow the rulebook to the letter.
"It still is; we're just getting an added bonus." Frank retorted, peering through a pair of binoculars. Harriet sighed rather unconvinced but Miami had jurisdiction or so the piece of state-awarded paper Calleigh Duquesne brought in. Watching the visitors suit up in protective gear made her cast doubt on the whole thing.
"Shifting movement on the contagious diseases ward," one of McGraw's subordinates informed.
"Probably one of Ruez's troops. This place is massive," Duquesne stated quickly surveying the scope. "Wouldn't be surprise if we encountered a few more of her associates."
Marla woke up to the startling sounds of rumbling earth. She slept only two and a half hours. Marla berated herself for killing Ruthy in such a public manner; her immediate satisfaction couldn't be worth the media attention. The seductress then sent a scout to relay the situation. He returned with an anxious state of mind; something was definitely up.
She quickly dressed herself with a bathing robe and threatened the lackey. "You better be telling the truth." Covering her eyes with a pair of Versace sunglasses to avoid becoming blind, Marla peered through the farthest window and saw what she was up against. Staring back at her was her fallen angel, fitted with black and a menacing defiance in his eyes.
Horatio Caine…Archimedes would kill to be here right now.
She quickly realized her situation and organized her priorities, ordering her legions in an offensive manner. Ruez then arranged her attack in the main lobby but not before rallying them. Marla had been an avid speaker and orator, her poisonous tongue rallying her undead foot soldiers in a bloodthirsty frenzy. She picked her words carefully as she calmly stated the situation in a frantic room. Her supposedly heartfelt speech ended with a simple but powerful statement.
"Let's show them how easily they break."
One Molotov cocktail to the middle ground set the scene in motion; bursting its shards on the humid ground and landing onto a scout's face. Already trigger happy, another special response member responded with a hail of AK-47 bullets, only to have his ear screamed off by Harriet. A riot ensued within the crumbling hospice wall, giving Caine and his team the cue to swoop in.
"Frank, you stay here and help Harriet. Eric, Calleigh; you're coming with me."
Horatio and Calleigh drew out their guns and clicked the safety measure off. Being personally attached to the damned parasite, they cautiously entered the perimeter. Just as the forces drew closer to the main gate, one soldier silently disappeared into the ground, never to be seen alive again. It would be another week until a clean up crew found him impaled. The lieutenant pinpointed with almost unnatural accuracy where those nasty plots after seen a couple more vanish just in front of him, careful to guide his CSIs.
She's going in guerilla style warfare; we're definitely in the right place.
Cracking the lock was the easiest part of the raid, just a quick twist of the pliers. Getting inside and facing an ambush was the hard part. Horatio sent a hand signal to Tripp back at base that they were ready to enter. Frank then replied with an OK and a godsend and watched Horatio, Eric, Calleigh and their support go into the former reception area.
Ryan had stayed behind due to two reasons; one, he had enough undead for the day and somehow was thankful he didn't have to head out the field. Lunchtime was drawing near and his stomach was growling, even after all the gore he had to sort out from. He wished he wasn't the only one left on the Felicity Thompson case but now he had the privilege of interviewing Doña Socorro Almídar.
"Great way to learn all about the underworld. Think of this interview as your own synopsis of Dante's Purgatorio." Kino had so poetically stated before punching out his time card and getting ready for his job in DADE Memorial. Just before he left the post, Wolfe picked up some of the bank account research he had done to strengthen his case against the Costa Rican reanimator and to tie her in to Marla Ruez.
Gee, thanks a lot you self-absorbed prick. Ryan quickly took back his insult as he spotted Ciél and Lambda Kino sitting on the waiting area. He sprinted to the holding cells and prayed that the kids would never hear him badmouth their father that way.
"You had a great operation, Ma'am. Making dolls for any provider, getting commissions like corporate big fish." he started the interview as he presented Socorro's credit history, revealing depositing ranging from $4,000 to nearly $10,000 all paid in cold hard cash. Almídar nodded nervously as she looked into Ryan's eyes. The investigator recognized that fear; she felt watched by an evil presence.
"Um…this building has blood spilling from that door." She pointed to the reinforced closet door just across the hall. Wolfe sighed and replied,
"Yes, we have a haunting problem here but now we're trying to find out where you got these huge deposits. The people over in Human Relations tell me you live alone with no spouse or breadwinning family member here in the US and there has been no mail sent for you from Costa Rica."
Socorro resisted opening her mouth so Ryan went on to say,
"Trust me when I say this: you're safer in here than your place right now. We can deal with Marla Ruez and her gang."
The name struck a chord with the woman. "No one's ever safe with her. That's why I kept my family back home where she has no power."
"If you keep opening up, I'll promise you that we'll put her in a wooden box and bury her alive." Ryan promised with a smile, provoking a much shyer response from Socorro. "So, you ready to talk?"
The peeling paint chips littered what used to be the reception area, making any sudden movements nearly impossible for the assault team. With a hand signal, Horatio ordered three to head towards the Contagious Diseases ward, where suspicious activity was first seen. He then sent two to head the front hall that was once the ER and finally commanded his own team to lead into the Surgical Area.
To see where Speed was born…Ironic.
From her makeshift station on top a squad car, Harriet heard the steps of her men skidding and sidestepping in the empty hallways. Frank found a bit disturbing that this was the second time he had heard this; the last one led up to a massacre that transmitted through a radio sequence. He too had heard the slaughter in Louisiana when Stetler had given the order. In his hands held the walkie-talkie that was complementary to Horatio's. Lead interference worsened the static, making intelligible messages downright near impossible. A quick disembodied growl filtered through the static, alerting Tripp.
They're going into a trap; he worried. The growl grew stronger with each step the team took until it became metallic and redundant. After clearing his head, he realized it was the creaking of a dying ventilation fan. Still freaking creepy.
In the impermeable darkness of the plaster and cement walls, the three armored men arrived at the Contagious Diseases without a hitch. The leader reported his position over the walkie-talkie while his two partners checked the perimeter. Around them were jars, sealed Pietri dishes and vials, all labeled with various afflictions.
"Any distinguishing information?" Harriet asked.
"Rubella, herpes, three types of flu; this place is a ticking biological disaster." The officer read out loud. At the same time, one of the group separated himself and wandered into the farthest corner of the ward. A door stood out from the decayed surrounding with a tab that "Experiments".
The other made mental notes of the room's state: rotting meat and blood covering the wall in a trail that ended with a withered corpse. Eyes and jaw both open; the individual was covered in boils and exposed sores on his bluish skin. The officer poked the body with the barrel of his state-awarded AK-47.
"Sir, we have a dead…" the next sound out of the officer was a gurgle and a loud thump sound. Almost simultaneously, the other opened the door and with a swift jab, had his face ripped cleanly off his mug. He dropped back-first onto the floor and convulsed violently, covering his bare head. The team leader rushed to his side, grabbed the receiver and dialed for help.
"This is team C-3, we've just been ambushed!" he yelled desperately, alerting McGraw almost instantly. Static interfered when the assault officer relayed his condition, now catching Tripp's attention.
"Where?! How?!" she screamed in response.
"Over at the…" a sickening crack resonated in Harriet's receiver and no more of team C-3 was heard. The woman's nerves tensed; she lost three men in one foul swoop. She looked at the Miami detective with open-eye shock, her expression reading; You weren't kidding about the perp, were you?
Not hesitating for a second, Frank quickly switched his radio transmitter and roared, "HORATIO GET OUT NOW!"
The commotion went unperceived by the lieutenant's team as they arrived at the basement. Like other previous hospitals, the Operating room was in the lowest floor of the hospital, a foolproof way to keep mistakes and mishaps under control and out of public view. Following the twisted tradition, the CSIs found themselves facing mounds of bones and decaying corpses, many mutilated beyond identification.
Eric quickly scanned the area for any outside movement. "We're good here." Both he and Calleigh lowered their guns while Horatio peered into the Viewing Theater. Apparently, the raid had interrupted something as he stared into a botched procedure; a female body covered in a simple white surgical napkin with obvious signs of struggle around her ankles and wrists.
"Take it easy. We're in their turf and I'd like to leave with all my limbs attached."
A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated