CHAPTER 4
The tips of the rotors barely missing the trees, Saint John managed to pull out just in time. Letting the momentum carry him for a brief moment, he pulled up on the collective, cutting power to the engines and setting the Jet Ranger down in the grass.
"That was brilliant!" the director praised, seemingly oblivious to the fact the whole tail rotor was scorched and that had been far from acting. "It was perfect."
"Well it ought to have been because you can kiss any ideas you might have of Santini Air working for you again goodbye. I did a thorough flight check before lift off and that bird was in perfect condition. As you can see, or should be able to, it's not, and it was no accident. Somebody, someone on your lot, was deliberately trying to take me down and that isn't something I take lightly."
"Calm down already. There's no reason to be making rash decisions, and you look fine to me now."
"Physically, I'm perfectly fine, this time. And there won't be a next time."
\A/
Two hours later the damaged Santini air helicopter had been trailered back to the hangar and Saint John walked around it surveying the damage.
"It's cooked. Sorry Dom, but I think pretty much everything here is going to have to be replaced."
"But why? Who would do something like this?"
"The only purpose this serves is in keeping us from finishing that job today. Until it's repaired we could use the other one, if String ever shows up with it that is. Unless…. unless I wasn't supposed to get it down in one piece. The intent could have been to take out whoever was flying. And where is String? You haven't heard from him yet, have you?"
"Still nothing. I tried radioing him at the cabin and in the Jet Ranger, but didn't get any answer either place."
"You think something happened?"
"It'd be quite a coincidence for both of you to have problems with two separate choppers that both worked fine yesterday."
"Yeah. Some coincidence."
\A/
Chance now lay in the hospital bed resting fitfully. He squirmed and rolled back and forth, appearing little more at ease than he had been at the cabin.
How'd this happen? Could it be something he'd carried home somehow? Had there been a whole other side to his torturous drugging a few weeks back? He had spent most of his time there unconscious or in too much pain to think clearly and could have missed it. But why hadn't he noticed the seriousness until now? And why was Chance the only one affected? Maybe it was just something he'd caught, but if so, where? He hadn't been anywhere other than the cabin and the hangar recently and no one else showed any signs of being sick, and definitely nothing to this extreme.
Hawke watched the slightly irregular rise and fall of his chest as he took in and exhaled every breath while Caitlin stroked sweat-dampened blond locks of hair and listened to his nearly inaudible murmuring.
"He'll be alright," he thought he heard her whisper, "he's a fighter just like you."
Of course he'd be alright, he couldn't imagine anything other than a full recovery, didn't want to, but how had he gotten so sick in the first place? What could he do to prevent it from happening again? He didn't think it was anything you just catch like the flu or a cold; it was much more serious than that, but what else could it be?
Caitlin's moist hazel eyes met his worried blue ones for a brief moment before she saw them widen in alarm as he rushed past her out the door. Startled by his sudden exit, she looked back down at the sleeping toddler once more. He wasn't breathing.
\A/
"Santini Air to the cabin, anyone there? String? Cait? It's Saint John," he radioed. "Still nothing, Dom."
"That's what worries me."
"I'm going down the strip to pick up those parts we needed, how about I see if we can borrow a chopper and take it out to the cabin ourselves too?"
"Sounds like a good idea to me. I'll close up here and be ready by the time you get back."
Saint John nodded and disappeared in the jeep down the road.
Fifteen minutes later he returned with a borrowed Hughes 500 from Angelo's Custom Paints, not bothering to power it down while he ran inside to get Dom.
The two men came running out only a minute later, Saint John taking the pilot's seat and flinging them skyward in the direction of the cabin.
As it came into view, both quickly noted the absence of the red, white, and blue Jet Ranger that should have been on the dock. In silence they landed in the empty space, shut down the copter, and climbed out, walking up the path to the cabin.
Inside it looked no less abandoned, half cooked pancakes still waiting on the stove and unused place settings on the table. There was a blanket and pillow on the sofa, indicating somewhere had slept there recently, but nobody was in sight. Finally Tet padded quietly down the stairs past them and out the open front door to take temporary residence on the dock.
"I'd say they were in a hurry," Saint John mused aloud, "obviously something they hadn't planned for."
Dominic continued investigating the kitchen, the only thing unusual he came across being an opened bottle of children's cough syrup on the counter while Saint John perused the living room to find the source of the rank odor that filled the air.
"Find anything?"
"Uh, yeah actually. What about you?"
"Just a bottle of children's cough syrup."
"Children's?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I think something's wrong with Chance."