DETOUR
by ardavenport
- - - part 4
John Gage never imagined that he could get bored with being a hostage. But Jack wasn't holding a gun to his head. Sally and Chuck had retreated to a bedroom. Larry was doing better. Or at least he wasn't getting any worse. Jack mostly brooded, sitting beside the curtain so he could see the front of the house outside the front window. It was getting to be late afternoon.
Roy kept looking at him. After the IV bag emptied, they had him take the needle out and bandage Larry's arm. Then they tied his hands up. In front of him. With a cord. Obviously they expected him to treat Larry if he had complications.
Maybe an hour ago Sally emerged once to make sandwiches. Bologna on white bread, slathered with mayonnaise. She offered some to them. Roy declined and Sally apparently didn't see the nasty look he gave her over the duct tape. Jack took a half a sandwich and Larry took nothing.
Johnny caught his head nodding forward. He jerked it upright again, blinking.
"Johnny. . . ."
As soon as Roy spoke, Jack's attention was on them from where he sat by the front window. Roy sat back, his bound hands resting on the stained white cloth on the square dining table.
Jack got up, but instead of coming over to their end of the room, he sat down on the coffee table for a talk with Larry. The two of them had made some kind of plans earlier, but neither paramedic could hear what. Jack leaned close to Larry whenever they talked, their heads almost touching, their voices low.
Johnny and Roy exchanged looks, silent sympathy. Then Johnny winced. The rag filled his mouth, blocking his jaw open. It tasted like old soap scum and now it was soaked with his saliva which was only slightly better than how the cloth had been dry. The duct tape pulled on his hair. Not all of it, just individual hairs that stabbed at him every time he moved his head the wrong way. He didn't know how he was going to get the tape off without ripping half his hair out after they got out of this.
Johnny watched the two men by the sofa.
If they got out of this.
He hated Jack. There was a man who enjoyed his own personal power. He liked hurting people. Jack was one of the reasons why they invented prisons, which was obviously where these two characters came from. Jack had pushed the drug box off the coffee table, its contents, white packets scattered all over the floor next to the biophone. A radio that they could call for help with. But it was just as inaccessible as the phone.
Outside, the light had changed a lot. The house faced south, but he could see that the sun was a lot lower in the sky. It would be getting dark soon.
That must be what they were waiting for. Night. When it was dark and they hoped to sneak away. But then what? They couldn't all go in that white car.
What would happen to him and Roy?
Jack finished with Larry, patted him on the shoulder and went back to his spot by the curtains.
Johnny saw him tense, heard him swear.
"Chuck! Get out here! There's a cop outside!"
Chuck came running out, pulling his pants up. Larry pushed himself upright. His face contorted with pain, he tried to turn to see through the front window.
"Get back!"
Jack pushed Chuck out of the way to the front door, pulled it open and ran out.
Johnny heard shots.
"What? Are you crazy, Jack! Trying to kill a cop?" Chuck went after him but stopped just inside the doorway.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Johnny saw blue on his right. Roy ran froward and dove for the biophone. Larry pulled out a gun.
"Ooooooooiiyyyyyyy! OOOOIIYYYYYY!"
The gag choked off his cry, the sound hardly loud at all. Roy froze, staring up at Larry's pistol.
Bang! Bang! A car engine roared away from the gunfire outside.
"Drop that. Right now."
Roy let the receiver fall out of his hand. He held his bound hands up for Larry to see. Where did Larry get a gun? Did he have it under his shirt the whole time?
Jack came running back, Chuck stumbling after him.
"He got away. Plan's changed. We're going now."
"Going? Going? Where are we supposed to be going? We don't have any money, Jack!" Sally, wearing less make-up and no earrings, her hair displaced, stood in the doorway of the bedroom, clutching the jacket of her pantsuit over herself.
"We're going now!" Jack strode up to her with his gun. "We go now or we get trapped here."
"Chuck, help me up." Larry pushed his legs off the couch.
"Larry!" Chuck went to his injured brother. "You're not in any shape to go anywhere."
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere with you guys! I've had enough of this. I want you two out of my house, right now."
Jack grabbed Sally by the hair and shook her.
"Listen. Your boyfriend's brother and I have plans. We're not going back to prison. And we're leaving this craphole house of yours right now." He put the muzzle of his gun on her cheek. She gasped. "And you're going with us." He dragged her to the front door.
"Larry this is crazy." Chuck supported his brother on one side. Larry's right hand still held the gun on the other.
"We're not going back there, Chuck. No matter what." They edged around the coffee table together. "We'll let you and your girlfriend out as soon as we're away. You can tell them you were hostages. Get off clean." Larry grit his teeth in pain, trying to keep his weight off of his injured leg as much as possible.
Johnny saw real fear in Sally's eyes; Jack kept a tight grip on her. She and Chuck had become the new hostages.
"Well, what about them?" Chuck pointed at Roy, still kneeling over the biophone and looking up at them.
"Take care of them, Larry."
Larry scowled toward his partner at the front door. He cocked his gun.
"Get up. Turn around."
Roy hesitated. "Now, look, you don't want to do - - "
Larry pointed the gun at Roy's forehead.
"Get. Up. Turn. Around." His voice had gone hard again, like Jack's.
Roy got up slowly, clumsily with his hands still bound before him.
He turned around.
His blue eyes stared, wide, not really seeing anything in front of him. Johnny's arms strained against the duct tape. The arms of the chair creaked. It was cheap furniture. He breathed in and out loudly through his nose, over the tape and rag.
Larry flipped the gun around and struck Roy on the back of the head. He went down, falling face down over the mess on the floor.
"Ooooo-ooiiiiyyyyyy!" The chair creaked again, but it didn't give.
"Get me outta here, Chuck." The two brothers made it to the door where Jack sneered.
"You coward."
"They're not going anywhere and they didn't hear anything. Let's get out of here, now." They left. Johnny heard their footsteps receding down the front walk. Then a car door slammed. A car engine started.
"Oooooooo-oooiiiiiiiyyyyyy!"
Roy didn't move, his body stretched out on the floor, his head resting on his bound arms.
"Oooooooooo-oooiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyy!"
Johnny's arms strained. He thought he felt movement in the left arm of the chair, but only a little bit. He couldn't get any leverage with his legs, bound to the chair.
"Ooooooooooo-ooooiiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyy!"
Thump.
He pushed up with his body so the chair came down fractionally closer to Roy, about ten feet away.
"Oooooo-ooiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyy!"
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The chair caught on the carpet. Johnny teetered precariously before the chair tilted back again. And then almost overbalanced the other way before steadying. He was maybe an inch closer to Roy.
"Ooooo-ooiiiiiiiyyyyyyy!"
The soggy mass of the rag in his mouth muffled any sound he made and his tongue couldn't move to speak.
Had they gone? The front door was open, but he didn't hear anything. It was getting dark outside. There was a light on in the kitchen, but the rest of the room was getting dark.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
That got him maybe another two inches closer. Without tipping the chair.
"Oooooooo-oooiiiiiiiyyyyyyy!"
The chair's left arm was definitely loose now and he pushed and pulled on it, but it didn't feel like it was going to break. The skin on his arms hurt.
Johnny's head jerked upright. There was a car outside. The glow of flashing red lights on the curtain.
"Eeeeeeeerrrrrreeeee! Eeeeeeeeerrrrrreeeeee!"
Could they see the squad? Even covered up with bed sheets it was a pretty conspicuous shape. And was a bed sheet big enough to cover it anyway? Did the police know they were inside? Had Rampart sent them? He heard footsteps outside.
A dark shape appeared, moving just outside the open front door.
One police officer appeared. Then another. And another. Guns drawn, pointing straight out in front of them, scanning in all directions. One went to the back of the house. Another to the kitchen. Officer Vince Howard stealthily entered the living room, peering around the corner as he went.
"Iiiiiiiiiiiinnnnhhhhhhh! Eeeeeeeeerrrrrrreeeeeeeeee. Oooeeeerrrr eeeeeerrrrreeee!
Vince hardly glanced at him. He flicked on a lamp and then he deliberately walked around Roy's body as he crouched toward the bedrooms.
"Iiiiiiiinnnhhhhhhh! Uuuuhhh rrrrrrrr oooooohhh oooooohhhhnniiii?" The chair creaked.
Lights flicked on from other parts of the house and the bedrooms.
"All clear!"
"All clear! Sarge!"
Vince returned, standing tall and re-holstering his weapon. "All clear, Sarge!" Finally Vince bent down. "Roy?"
As soon as Vince touched him Roy lifted his head. Johnny started.
"Are they gone, Vince?"
"Yeah, they're gone. Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. One of them hit me, but I'm okay." Vince helped Roy to stand.
"Here let me try to get these off." Vince fumbled with the cord around Roy's wrists.
"Uuuuuhhh? Oooooooooooiiiiiiiyyyyyyy!"
"Johnny - - Vince can you help Johnny?"
"Tom, try to get that stuff off of him."
A younger officer tugged at the duct tape on one arm, then he tried to get his fingers under it on his face.
"Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwww!"
"Vince there are scissors in my hip pouch here. And Johnny's, too."
The policemen found the scissors and Roy was cut free and then he took the scissors from Vince and started on Johnny's gag while Tom severed the duct tape from the chair legs.
"Oooooooooiiiiiiiyyyyyyy!"
"Now hold still." Roy worked a finger under the upper edge of the tape on one side of the gag.
"They really made a job of that on him. Why didn't they tie you up like that?" Vince looked over Roy's shoulder.
"They needed me to treat the gunshot wound. And they had a gun to Johnny's head practically the whole time." The edge of the scissors slid in next under the tape. Cold pointed metal sliced downward through the tape and the edge of the gag.
"I'm going to call this in and tell the Fire Department we got their men back." The senior officer left with a cursory wave.
Roy slowly peeled the tape away. It tugged painfully at Johnny's face as it came away until his mouth was free. Roy pulled the rag out and tossed it aside.
"Aaaaacccckkk." Johnny bent forward, gagging and sputtering.
"Can you get him some water?"
"Sure." Tom went to the kitchen.
"Hang on, I'll get you out of this." Roy sliced the duct tape along the small gap between the curve of the Johnny's arm and the armrest of the chair. Johnny pulled his left arm up.
"Ow."
"Hang on." Roy snipped the other side of the duct tape from the armrest, freeing the arm completely. Then he did the same on Johnny's right arm.
"Roy! What are you doing?" Johnny waved his now free arms.
"I'm cutting you free!" Roy leaned back, surprised by the sudden outburst.
Johnny pushed himself up from the chair. "But - but - but - you were lying there - and - and - that guy hit you with his gun - and - and - you were just lying there!"
"I was playing dead, Johnny! Those guys had guns! If one of them hits me with the butt of his gun, I'm going to stay down," Roy pointed at his chest, "just in case he comes back, changes his mind and decides to use the other end of it!"
"But - but - you didn't get up when the cops came in!" Vince stepped back out of range of one widely waved gesture. The flap of duct tape still hanging off of Johnny face waved with each excited movement.
"I didn't want to get shot by the cops either! Haven't you ever heard of friendly fire? I was going to stay down until I was sure it was safe!"
Tom had returned from the kitchen with a glass of water. He looked with dismay at the two former hostages yelling at each other and put the glass down on the stained table cloth. But when the young officer opened his mouth to say something, Vince, the senior officer, waved his hand, 'no'. Neither paramedic noticed the silent byplay between the cops.
Johnny gaped at his partner. "Well, you could have told me!"
Roy gaped back in disbelief. "How am I supposed to do that if I'm playing dead?"
"I don't know! You could have given me some kind of signal! I was going crazy here thinking you had a concussion! A subdural hematoma!"
"This isn't a TV show, Johnny! You can't just knock someone out by hitting them over the head with the butt of a gun!"
"What? You're telling me now that you weren't even hurt?"
"Well, of course it hurt! The guy hit me over the head with his gun!"
"Where?" In one step, Gage was at Roy's side, reaching for the back of his head.
"Ow!" Roy reached up, but Johnny was already behind him probing the bump.
"Is that it?"
"Ow! Yes!" Roy tried twisting around, but Johnny grasped his shoulder.
"Roy, sit down. Let me look at it."
Still trying to brush off his partner, Roy went to an empty chair at the dining table. Johnny pulled up the chair that he had so recently been tied to. He reached for his belt pouch and brought up his pen light.
Roy leaned back. "I don't need - - -"
"Roy, will you let me look?"
Clinching his teeth, he sat still, his eyes fixed on the top of his partner's head while Johnny flashed his pen light at his eyes. He could tell from Johnny's unhappy expression that his pupil response was fine.
"I also don't have any dizziness, headache or nausea. And I did not lose consciousness. Are you satisfied now?"
"Yeah, well . . . . it could have been worse."
"Are you two done?"
Both fireman looked up at Officer Vince Howard, arms folded, standing over them.
"What?" Gage sat back.
"What do mean 'done', Vince?"
Vince relaxed his arms to his sides.
"Well, a lot of crime victims can be pretty traumatized by the experience and they need to let some of that out. And in my experience it's usually best to let it out right away and not let it fester. I was just wondering if you were finished."
"What?" DeSoto sat back.
"What are you talking about, Vince?"
Both paramedics looked offended, but nothing could displace Officer Vince Howard's calm professional confidence.
"Well, you may do all right with burning buildings and rescues. But escaped convicts and gun play, that's my job. And in that territory, you two are just civilians."
Neither crime victim sitting at the dining table seemed to believe him. Still smiling, Vince left them to go to the front door where the Sargent had just entered. A smirking Officer Tom joined them.
"Traumatized? What he's talking about?"
Roy shrugged. "I don't know."
"Civilians." Johnny muttered the word with distaste. "What's he talking about? Civilians."
"I don't know."
Shoulders hunched, they looked away from each other. It was mostly dark outside, except for the flashing police lights. Shadows deepened the dingy, worn colors of the living room. Roy turned his head. Then he reached out and tugged on the flag of duct tape hanging off of Johnny's face.
"Ow."
"Sorry. How about we get some of this off of you."
Roy pulled back the tape from one cheek, clipped it off and put it aside, having to stick it to the table cloth to get it off his fingers. Then he did the other side while Johnny carefully peeled away the tape from his arms.
Roy gently pulled on more tape going back under Johnny's ear.
"Ow! Roy, you got my hair."
The policemen finished their conference and the Sargent left again. Holding a small notepad, Officer Howard went to a telephone on an end table. He picked up the receiver and started dialing.
- - - End part 4