Journey Through the Past- Chapter 27
Officer Pritchard and the under sheriff had silently entered the building that McKeen learned from his informant contained Lucas Mallory's lab. Stealthily checking each of the cells in this building, they found most of the cells unlocked. From his informant, McKeen knew which of these rooms was being used as Mallory's lab. As they quickly worked their way down the hall, they heard muffled voices. Edging towards the door which was the lab, the voices became louder and more distinct. McKeen motioned for Pritchard to check the next cell while he listened to the occupants. Grissom and Sidle! My lucky day…now if Mallory is in there with them, it will be a piece of cake.
Looking a little farther down the hall, he observed Pritchard enter the next cell and then quickly come out again, motioning for the under sheriff to join him. McKeen slipped past the partially open door unnoticed and entered the cell into which Pritchard had disappeared. Bound to a chair sat Lucas Mallory. Holstering his Glock, McKeen stared silently at Mallory for a minute and then walked over and ripped the duct tape off his mouth.
"You must be Lucas Mallory. Nice to finally meet you face to face…Under Sheriff Jeff McKeen, LVPD. Looks as though you've got yourself into a little bit of trouble here," said McKeen in a low voice so as to keep the occupants of the lab from hearing him. "Oh, by the way, you will keep you voice low so that Grissom and company won't hear us. Yes, they are next door and Officer Pritchard will bring you over in a few minutes after I assess the situation."
Lucas Mallory eyed the under sheriff warily.
"You weren't supposed to pick up Grissom for another two weeks. He's not ready. He's at a crossroads right now. I…I have him starting to believe that his addiction is real. I need more time," whispered Mallory trying to ascertain what McKeen's motive was.
"You're out of time, my friend. However, you will tell me what went down…why you're tied up here and where are your guards. I want to know everything and you have only a minute to tell me or the rest of LVPD will be here and put an end to your little game," said McKeen with a hiss.
Mallory shut his eyes and nodded. He relayed to McKeen the events of the few days, Grissom's progress into addiction, and where he thought his mental state might be. He also revealed to the undersheriff about Scott, and "treatment" had just begun for Sidle.
Satisfied that Mallory had told him everything, McKeen prepared to enter the lab.
Turning to Pritchard, he said, "Give me about 3 minutes and then bring Mallory to the lab next door. Make sure that you keep your weapon on him and if he so much as moves or twitches the wrong way, shoot him."
"Mallory, I'm going next door in just a minute. You will keep your mouth shut until I give you permission to speak. If you want to live, you will follow my lead. Do you understand?"
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"I know what you can do next Miss Sidle," came the voice from the door.
All heads turned to Under Sheriff McKeen standing at the entrance of the lab, his service weapon pointed at the three people gathered around Grissom.
"The three of you need to back away from Grissom," said McKeen.
Confusion crossed Sara's face and took her hand away from where she had laid it on Grissom's shoulder. With their hands up, Sara, Scott, and Jones backed slowly away from Grissom, who was staring hard at McKeen, clearly trying to understand what was going on.
"Under sheriff, what…why," stammered Grissom.
"At a loss for words, Grissom? You always were one with a quick come back, weren't you? Where are your manners? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends here? I already know Sidle, but who are these two?" said McKeen with a smile on his face.
Grissom shook his head, trying to wrap his head around the fact that the under sheriff was pointing a gun at him. Sara was watching McKeen with growing confusion. She had never really liked the man. He was abrupt and unyielding, but he was supposed to be one of the good guys. Why was he holding them at bay with a gun?
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute," said McKeen when Grissom started to speak. "Let me guess. The young man must be your son. Scott Arthur, isn't it? And you," continued McKeen, pointing his gun at Jones, "must be Dr. Ken Jones, chief administrator of this facility. Well, the only one missing from this little party is your cousin. Don't worry. Lucas will be joining us in a few minutes. Officer Pritchard is releasing him as we speak and then the party can start."
Stepping closer to the counter, McKeen took a quick glance at the roll of syringes that were labeled for Sara.
Pointing the gun at Jones, the under sheriff asked, "What are these? They've got Sidle's name on them. Was this the "therapy- to match her addiction to Grissom's?" asked McKeen.
Looking quickly at Scott and then at McKeen, Jones replied quickly, "Ummm…yes, they were for Sara, but she was able to escape before the regimen could continue. She and Scott were trying to help Grissom. His dependence on the drugs is much deeper than Sara's. His body needs much more of the drugs to maintain. Her physical dependency was just beginning."
"Well, that gives me an idea. Sidle, come here and quickly."
Sara hesitated, in which case, McKeen swung the gun and pointed it at Grissom who was still trying to understand everything that was being said.
"I don't have time to mess around, Sidle. Jones, take those two syringes and inject them into her. Sidle, you resist, Grissom buys a bullet in the head," threatened McKeen.
Grissom's head immediately swung up; the last few words from McKeen penetrating through the confusion.
"No, McKeen. Leave…leave her alone," gasped Grissom as he struggled off the table.
Shifting the gun towards Grissom, the undersheriff cocked his weapon and smiled, "Grissom, you are in no position to tell me what to do."
Then McKeen paused, an idea suddenly forming, "How important is she to you? Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for her? Well, are you?"
Grissom straightened up as best he could and lifted his chin, "Without hesitation."
Looking over at Sara with eyes more clear than she had ever seen, Grissom turned to McKeen. He took a deep breath and whispered so that only McKeen could hear, "I swear to you, McKeen, if anything happens to Sara, I will haunt you from my grave."
McKeen wasn't fazed in the least, "I'll tell you what. How about you take Sidle's doses? She'll easily overdose on two doses, but maybe not for you. Let's give you three of these syringes and see what they'll do to you. Jones seems to think that you have built up quite a resistance."
"Gil, no, you can't do this. Don't do this for me, please," pleaded Sara. She wanted to step forward but was stopped by the gun trained on Grissom.
"Shut up, Sidle or you or maybe Scott here will buy a bullet," said McKeen.
"Better yet, Grissom. Let's have your son here give you your medicine."
"You!" barked McKeen at Scott, "Take three of those needles and administer them to dear old Dad. Do it and do it quickly or I may decide to shoot him instead."
Scott glanced at Sara briefly and then at Grissom. Sara started to step forward, but was halted by McKeen's wave of the gun.
"Don't even think it, Sidle, or both Grissom and his son are dead men. Just stand there like a good girl and I might let Grissom's son live."
"Scott…son…just do it," said Grissom as he felt a slight dizziness creep up on him.
Scott gave McKeen a look of hate and walked over to the counter, carefully choosing three syringes that had been laid out as Sara's next dosages.
Scott stood before his father as Grissom was starting to lose his sense of balance and leaned heavily against the table. Laying two of the syringes on the table, Scott stared deeply into his father's eyes and then down at the syringe he was about to plunge into Grissom's arm.
Looking back at his son, Grissom followed his son's glance down to the syringe, where Scott quickly signed, W . Grissom's glance shot back to his son's face with a slightly puzzled look.
Scott briefly looked at his father and then quickly administered the contents of the needle into his father's arm. Grissom shut his eyes and waited for the familiar burning sensation to travel up his arm and through his body. Except for the sting of the needle, Grissom felt no such sensation and realization hit him about what Scott had tried to communicate to him. Water. He only gave me saline…but how…He opened his eyes in surprise, looking at his son to let him know he understood.
Grissom slowly slid down to the floor as Scott administered the second shot. Again there was no burning sensation, but Grissom tilted his head back and chewed on his lip. McKeen watched with satisfaction at what he thought was Grissom's apparent fall into oblivion. Scott hesitated in picking up the third needle, but McKeen nudged him with the gun.
"Quickly give him the third one. We're running out of time here," ordered the under sheriff.
Reluctantly, Scott touched Grissom arm and quickly signed, full dose. I'm sorry
Grissom nodded and shut his eyes as his son administered the contents of the syringe. Fire leaped through his arm and spread throughout his body. He clenched his teeth to keep the brief control that he had. Within seconds, the world was spinning out of control, and he was starting to hallucinate. Voices were echoing and overlapping over one another. Gulping in air, Grissom blindly tried to make his way to his feet as he tried to crawl up the side of the table. Strong hands reached around him as he struggled to stand, and they braced him against the counter.
Collapsing against the counter, Grissom half lay and half stood against the counter. The strong arms holding him prevented him from slipping back down to the floor. He put his head on the smooth surface of the counter for his neck seemed suddenly too weak to support his head and he tried to focus his eyes. His vision was blurring and images were doubling, then tripling. In the distance, he heard laughing. McKeen was laughing. Gulping, Grissom tried to stand up right, but could not find his feet. A low voice was penetrating through the chaos, and he tried to focus on that voice, to center himself.
Scott, after injecting the last needle, immediately dropped it and tried to help Grissom onto the examining table. He grasped his father around his flailing arms and tried to haul him upright. They both ended up crashing against the counter where Grissom hung on for dear life, gasping for every breath. Scott held on to him tight, speaking urgently to him in a low calming voice.
Sara watched in horror as Grissom and Scott flopped against the counter struggling to control Grissom's twitching body. All the while, McKeen grinned and laughed in amusement. Anger surged through Sara, and she reached for the Glock hidden in her waistband. She held the weapon up and took aim.
Glancing over his shoulder at McKeen, Scott saw Sara in the background aim the Glock. The lab door burst open and Mallory stumbled forward, falling onto the floor. Pritchard came in right behind him. The officer spotted Sara with the Glock and lifted his gun.
"Sara, get down!" screamed Scott, as he let go of Grissom and flung himself at Pritchard. Scott tackled the officer and his shot misfired. Instantly McKeen turned his Glock towards Scott and held the barrel of the gun against the back of the young man's head.
"Get off of him now," ordered the undersheriff, his attention on the struggling men on the floor.
The errant bullet missed its mark but hit Sara all the same. The bullet hit her right side, spinning her around, the force flinging her backward into Jones, knocking them both to the floor. The Glock was sent flying from her hand. Mallory scrambled to his feet in an effort to retrieve the gun.
Seeing Mallory move from out of the corner of his eye, McKeen pointed his gun towards Mallory.
"Move an inch closer to that gun, and I'll put a bullet through your head," warned McKeen.
Mallory froze with his hands up. "Okay…okay…just don't shoot," said Mallory.
As chaos erupted around him, Grissom couldn't discern what was real and was hallucination. He heard an explosion, screams, and struggling, but were they real? His head lay on the counter and he blinked his eyes as his vision slowly came into focus. The Beretta lay a few inches from his right hand, covered by Mallory's notes. It had been forgotten by Sara and Scott, and overlooked by McKeen. Making a valiant attempt to gain his sense of reality, Grissom struggled to stand. He slid his hand across the counter and slipped his hand surreptitiously around the gun and was able to tuck it into the waistband of his jeans before collapsing to his knees against the counter. Grissom bent way over with his forehead almost touching his knees as nausea and vertigo overtook his senses.
Pritchard stood up and yanked Scott to his feet. Scott stumbled as Pritchard shoved him forward with all his might. McKeen pulled Grissom up by the back of his collar with his free hand, forcing the drugged man to stand up against the counter.
"Grissom, my friend, how are we doing, heh? The stuff your son gave you was pretty good stuff, wasn't it?"
"Sara…is she…," Grissom slurred as he slumped forward onto the counter as dizziness swept over him.
McKeen took a quick glance at Sara. She was awake but obviously in pain. The wound in her side was bleeding profusely, and Jones was attempting to staunch the flow by applying pressure with a towel.
"Dr. Jones, how is she? How serious is her wound?"
"The bullet just grazed her, but the graze is deep. She's losing a lot of blood. She'll be fine. I just need to get the bleeding to stop. All I have to do is bind the wound until she can be stitched up."
"So she's not going to bleed out? She'll be okay, then. Did you hear that, Grissom?" McKeen relayed to Grissom as he held him up against the counter.
"Yes, she'll be okay," said a relieved Jones, sitting back on his heels.
"That's really too bad, Doc. Looks like I'll have to put another bullet into her," said McKeen as he pointed the Glock at Sara and prepared to pull the trigger.
Through the haze of McKeen's chatter, the under sheriff's last words penetrated Grissom's confused mind. No! No! I won't let you… Grissom pushed away from the counter with all his might and swung his elbow back. His actions caused McKeen to crash against the examination table.
Pulling the Beretta from his waistband, Grissom with shaky hands aimed the weapon at the undersheriff and pulled the trigger.
A/N: The muses wouldn't let me alone until I finished this chapter. Hope you are still with me on this ride. Let me know what you think.