During the final hour of their journey, Callen became very still and quiet, so much so that every few miles Sam found himself reaching over to verify that his partner was still breathing. The fact that Callen didn't bat his hand away or make a sarcastic comment only added to Sam's angst; his partner was completely offline. The only positive thing was with the rising of the sun, Callen's temperature dropped again as was typical of a fever.
They weren't going to be able to drive all the way to rendezvous point which was on a desolate portion of the coast. Sam estimated they'd have to walk at least a mile from where they would have to leave the car. If Sam couldn't arouse Callen from his stupor, they were going to be in trouble; with his leg, Sam wasn't sure he could carry Callen.
A few miles later, Sam pulled the car off to the side of the road and shut down the engine. He could hear the crashing of the waves on the nearby shore; so close and yet so far away in their current depleted condition. Getting out of the car, he grabbed the backpack from the rear seat before making his way over to the passenger side front door. He was surprised when he reached the far side of the car, to see the door open and Callen, albeit hanging heavily on the door, standing.
His disbelief, mixed with a portion of relief, could plainly be heard in his voice. "You up?"
The bleary blue eyes searched to find the speaker, finally coming to rest on Sam's face. After squinting at Sam for a moment, Callen said, "Yeh. Had a nice nap though your driving still sucks."
"I thought we agreed not to talk about each other's driving, Mr. Flip-the-Car-Over," Sam reminded him.
"My bad," he answered with a weary smile. "How far?"
"About a mile." Sam orientated his body towards the sound of the sea. "That way."
The terrain sloped downward to the ocean and was a mixture of rocks, sand and scrub vegetation. The only positive thing Callen could think of as he examined where they had to trek was it appeared all downhill; he wondered if he could slide down on his mind, which was functioning in a highly degraded mode, decided to wander off on a tangent and reminisce about the first time he slid down something on his butt.
It was a shadowy vague memory that involved being in a playground by the sea. The image of a scary huge silver slide, taller than the tallest building he had ever seen, loomed up in front of him. The slide had a metal staircase that would take years to climb if he had the courage. Taunting chants, rose around him as he stepped up to the bottom of that staircase, only to chicken out and back away before he could take that first step. Out of the corner of his eye came a mystery hand and the words 'you can do it' floated in the air.
It was weird; he felt himself inside the body of the small boy in this dream as well as outside, looking down on the scene. He saw/felt his foot rise off the ground to be placed tentatively on the first rung of the ladder. Determined, if somewhat shaking hands, gripped the metal railing made warm by the sun. His other foot joined the first and he felt/saw the journey to the moon begin.
It felt like it took eons to reach the pinnacle of the slide and as he crested the ridge, the view almost made him turn around and climb back down. He could see forever; the town, the sea and at this point he somehow knew he was in Romania. Finding the courage, he sat down on the top of the slide, feet pointed down the steep slope that was so long it appeared to drop into an unfathomable abyss where surely some horrible creature lived.
Holding his breath, he let go of the hand rails and wiggled forward. Suddenly he was sliding downward, picking up speed like a missile. Clamping his eyes shut, he struggled not to scream as he went faster. Then he was airborne, flying thru the sky before landing in the sand with a thump. He opened his eyes and saw the shadowy shape of a woman and he felt she was smiling down at him. She reached out her hand, helped him up and then gave him a big hug. In his mind he heard her speak the words 'What a brave boy you are my son'. He looked up to gaze at her face and..."
"G. G." Sam reached out and gently shook his partner who appeared lost in a trance.
Callen slowly blinked his eyes, struggling not to lose his dream. He was sure that was his mother. However, the real world was too persistent and the memory floated away out of reach. "Mama," he said plaintively.
Callen had joked numerous times with Sam about the tall guy 'mothering' him, but Callen had never actually called him 'Mama'. "Hey. Did you hit your head again and forget to tell me?"
Turning dream-filled eyes on Sam, Callen slowly said with a touch of awe, "She was there. She caught me. She told me I was brave."
"Ah huh," Sam replied not really sure how to respond. "But I really need you to snap back to reality buddy."
Giving his head a little shake, Callen blinked his eyes and said, "What?"
Sam put his hand on Callen's good shoulder and stared directly into his partner's blue eyes. "G. I need you to focus. Hold it together for a while longer before going off the reservation."
The last of the cobwebs cleared from Callen's mind and he shrugged off Sam's hand as he took a step away. "I'm good."
Sam laughed. "Again with the good. I seriously doubt you are bueno."
Callen made a sour face and turned away to survey the rough terrain they had to traverse. "Don't suppose there's a path?"
"In your dreams, wait don't go there. I need you here and focused. I'm not carrying you to the meeting point," Sam picked up the backpack from the ground and hefted it over his shoulder. "Let's go. Wait, you go first. I don't want you falling down and rolling into me."
"I'm not going to fall," Callen groused. "You're more likely to trip with that bum leg." However, his comment fell a bit flat when as he started down towards the water, his feet slid out from under him and he fell on his backside.
Sam tried to keep a straight face as he moved down the slope to where Callen had fallen and helped him get on his feet. "i think you slipped," Sam offered helpfully.
Callen couldn't stop from smiling ruefully. "Yeh, rub some more dirt in an already infected wound."
Sam smile slipped away. It irked him when his friend made light of his injuries. However, Callen didn't see Sam's expression darken because he had already turned away to make his way downward again.
It took the agents quite a while to reach the small sandy beach at the ocean's edge and by the time they got there they were both incredibly tired. Both men had slipped and slid their way down to the water which aggravated their respective injuries.
As they stood on the beach, Sam checked his watch. They still had 8 hours before the pickup time. Callen glanced over at Sam and inquired how long. "Eight hours." Callen acknowledge the answer with curt nod as he rubbed his grimy hand on the back of his neck. He started scouting around for a sheltered area where they could wait that was protected from the wind and any prying eyes, though it was very secluded here. Spotting a semicircular formation of rocks about waist high, open to the sea, Callen moved in that direction and Sam followed. When he reached the make-shift alcove, Callen lowered himself gingerly to the ground and Sam dropped the backpack and followed suit.
Callen studied his partner and saw the exhaustion and discomfort in the man's face. "Take a nap, Sam. I'll keep an eye out in case we get any unwanted visitors."
"I think it makes more sense for you to sleep and I'll keep watch," Sam countered.
"Look," Callen rationalized. "I slept in the car on the way here. When's the last time you slept?" Sam had to give his partner that point. "Besides, you know as the day wears on my fever will spike again. A couple of hours from now I won't be in any condition to stand or make that sit guard."
Sam couldn't argue with that logic either so he reached behind his back, drew the gun which he had taken from Callen in the car and handed it back to him. He also rummaged in the pack, withdrew a half-full canteen and the Motrin. "Drink this," he said handing the water to Callen, "take these," he poured the pills into Callen's hand, "and eat that protein bar you shoved in your pocket last night and have been sitting on all day. Then I'll take a nap."
Callen rolled his eyes. "Really?" The expression on Sam's face brooked no argument so Callen uncorked the water, threw the pills in his mouth and washed them down. "Happy? Ready for your nap?"
"You forgot something," he said pointedly looking at Callen's back pocket.
Swearing under his breath Callen dug out the still wrapped and definitely mushed protein bar. Using his teeth, he tore off the wrapper and peered rather grimly the mangled food. He took a quick glance over at Sam and saw he wasn't going to get a reprieve so he reluctantly bit off a piece, chewed, swallowed and washed it down with another swig of water.
"Keep going," Sam instructed as he settled back against the rock and folded his hands on his stomach. "I'll be awake in 3 hours," he told Callen as he closed his eyes and let his exhaustion overwhelm his body. Callen waited until he was sure Sam was asleep before tossing the half-eaten bar away; his stomach was already threatening to remove the two bites he had swallowed.
The next few hours passed slowly for Callen who couldn't find a comfortable position. When he got frustrated trying to sit without hurting his back or shoulder, he would stand up and walk for a bit. But he had no stamina, so he'd sit on a rock and when that too grew hard and uncomfortable, he'd flop back on the sand to restart the cycle. As the afternoon wore on, Callen could feel his temperature rising and he found himself drifting off into a stupor. After he fell asleep for the third time, he knew he had to do something to stay awake. He considered taking a dip in the freezing cold ocean, figuring the salt water would sting all the open welts on his back and that, along with the cold, would keep him awake. Just as he was about to get up and implement the stupid idea, the small part of his rationale brain that was still operating kicked in and stopped him. Instead, he forced himself to lean back against the rocks and use the pain it caused to stay awake. Not a brilliant plan but it was better than his other one.
In spite of everything, Callen started to drift in and out of conscious more often as his fever climbed higher. When Sam woke three hours later like he said he would, Callen had toppled over sideways in the sand and was delirious. Sam tried to rouse his partner with no success; Callen would open his eyes, but there was no comprehension.
As Callen's temperature climbed higher, he became more restless and his mutterings became more erratic. Like back at the stream, his mind seemed to slip into the bad memories from his past.
His fourteenth year had been a rough one. By this time he was an experienced foster child and knew all the tricks and traps. This particular placement was a mediocre one at best; they didn't try to beat him, or redeem him, or set him straight. Instead they basically ignored him which was fine with Callen.
He had become fairly adapt at surviving on the streets, able to find food and shelter when required. School wasn't that hard to navigate either; when he did show up he could easily do the work which infuriated those teachers who kept trying to tell him he was wasting his potential and made the rest of the teachers who already had too many kids in their classroom happy. When his attendance got too spotty, the school would notify his foster parents who would give him 'the lecture' but nothing more; it worked for all of them.
The only complication in this house was Kira, a brown-haired, green-eyed, ten-year-old foster child also placed at this house. She hero-worshiped Callen even though he used everything he could think of to discourage her. However, she was like a gangly puppy-dog that trailed along behind him no matter what he did. He didn't plan to let it happen, but somehow she crept past his defenses into his heart and the street-tough, fourteen-year-old found himself entrapped by her infectious soul.
The school Kira went to was considered to be within walking distance of the house they lived in and often Callen would meet her and walk her home, listening to her chat about the things that were the end of the world to a ten-year-old. Other days he would show up later, when she was doing her homework and assist. Callen would procure little treats for her and he loved to watch her face light up even for the smallest item such as a tootsie pop; she had a huge affinity for them and got him hooked too.
Callen had started hanging out with a street gang though he was very careful, at least he thought, to keep his gang life separate from his foster life. Callen had run with gangs before during his short life, but this one was a lot more dangerous in their ideas and actions. Because he appeared to have no fear and was willing to attempt almost anything, he was welcomed with open arms. However, the more he got involved with this gang, the less he liked it; he drew the line at violence against innocent people. He was also starting to get uneasy about stealing and other things they did to small shopkeepers who were trying to eke out a merger living of their own.
Callen realized his moral compass was shifting and he decided gang's life wasn't for him. But getting out of a gang was not as easy was getting in, especially when they liked you for your talents. Even at this age, Callen could assume any identity and his chameleon skills were put to good use by the group. As he tried to get out, the leaders of the gang did everything to keep him hooked.
Callen was strolling down the street when a car full of people from the gang pulled up. They told him they had some business to take care of and needed his assistance. Callen had gotten in the car and they had headed into a seedy section of town with rundown stores. They pulled up in front of a little corner grocery store and told Callen to go inside, case the place and report back on how easy it would be to rob. Callen had done this type of work numerous times for the gang so he didn't think a thing about it.
Going inside, he flashed a smile at the old woman behind the counter and engaged her in conversation about the weather before he asked where the cough drops were, honey flavored, since those were the only ones his grandma liked. His disarming smile made him look like a choir boy while he was looking for cameras, the type of cash register, where the cigarettes were and other useful facts that would help the gang rob the place.
He completed his shtick, tacked on his smile and the woman came out from behind the counter to show him to the correct shelf. The door had opened as he and the older woman started down the aisle and Callen had been surprised to see the gang members enter. The leader had whipped out a gun and strode arrogantly up to the shopkeeper.
Callen had moved back a step and looked at their gang leader askance when he pressed the gun to the woman's head and demanded the location of Raul. The old woman had been terrified and the gang leader had yelled louder, demanding Raul's location. The leader had withdrawn the gun from the woman's head for a moment to shoot a shelf of soda bottles before pressing the warm muzzle back against her temple.
The crashing of the glass bottles and the gunshot brought a twenty-some year old male running from the back storeroom. The moment he showed his face, the leader had re-aimed the gun and shot him dead. Callen flinched as the bullet tore through the young man's head leaving a gaping hole.
The old woman had screamed when the gun went off and when the shot man fell to the floor she ran over to him, dropped on her knees and started moaning. Callen had recoiled in shock before looking at their leader who was laughing and making racial slurs about dogs that wandered into the wrong territory. Everyone in the gang was laughing but Callen.
The leader had grabbed Callen by the arm and dragged him to where the woman knelt sobbing, pressed the gun into his hand and told him to shot her because she was a witness. Callen had refused and the leader had insisted. Callen had flung the gun away and bolted from the shop. The words that followed behind him were 'this isn't over yet'. Before he had a chance to even think what that meant he heard the gun go off and he ran even faster, knowing the woman was dead.
He had found out a few days later what that threat had meant. Apparently, he hadn't done as great a job as he thought keeping his foster-life and gang-life separate because when he was walking Kira home from school the next week, a car full of the gang members had pulled up next to them, shot Kira and drove off laughing. Callen had held her dying body in his arms as he gazed down on her angelic face. A crowd had gathered round them and soon the police showed up. By the time the ambulance arrived she had passed.
The police questioned him and the bystanders on what had occurred and the only thing they learned was a car full of gang members had pulled up, shot the girl and drove off. The description of the car varied based on which so-called witness the police questioned. Callen could have given them the exact make, model and color, but he didn't nor did he tell them who did it. His story jibed with the rest of the witnesses, so the police eventually stopped questioning him.
The foster system was notified but by the time they came to get Callen, he was already gone. A few weeks later, the papers reported a mass gang shootout when two rival gangs had clashed leaving most of their members dead. What the paper didn't report, because there only one person alive who knew, is how the two gangs happened to meet up. Seems one gang was provided with the location of the rival gang's headquarters. The fourteen-year-old boy who orchestrated the event didn't stay to watch the aftermath of his actions; revenge had been extracted though what he did would haunt him over the years. In the deepest, darkest hours of the night, he would always question if tipping off the other gang had been right; probably not, but then again neither was killing Kira.
Lost in the past, Callen started thrashing and screaming 'Kira'. Not knowing what else to do, Sam gathered Callen up in his arms like he had in the river to try to calm him down and stop him from injuring his battered body anymore. Tears streamed down his partner's face as he sobbed and kept repeating 'Kira.'
Eventually Callen dropped to a deeper level of unconsciousness and grew still, so Sam released his partner and arranged him carefully on the sand. A quick check of his watch told him it was time for hopefully, the last call of this trip. Digging out the satphone he wearily dialed Ops and established the mission was a go. When all the details were confirmed, Sam disengaged, stowed the phone and moved to a location where he could watch the darkened sea. If all went as planned, they would be heading for home in less than an hour.
Author's Note: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. It's so much fun to open my email and read them; much better than a notice that the electric bill is due. Thought I'd let you know there are three more chapters to go until the conclusion. I think one of the conditions of this challenge was to produce a minimum of 3000 words. I think I succeeded. Lol.