Cujo III – Reloaded – This Time Its Personal
Chapter 20
Here's the next. A little shorter and sooner than expected. Figured it would be best to get it out there before RL messed with me again. Your much appreciated comments on the previous chapter will be responded to very shortly.
Imaginary Beta did her best. As you may have noticed, I sneak back to fix her screw-ups for at least a day or two after the chapter is posted. Hope you don't mind.
Note: You guys had asked for a few of the characters from previous Cujo stories to make an appearance. The one in this chapter is from 'Small Comfort'.
Disclaimer: Since we don't get paid for this; do you think I could bribe my way into CBS's good graces by plying them with enchiladas? I have enough left over for cast and crew and probably the entire State of Hawaii. Guess I know what I'll be feeding husband into the next century. Cats are picky. Perhaps if I add some tuna?
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
Squirrel Sans Moose
Present:
Steve woke with a start. It wasn't the usual gradual rise to awareness. It was more like he'd popped up like a cork to the surface of consciousness. Suddenly, all was too bright and too loud.
Something's wrong. That, of course, was obvious when he managed to focus enough to look down at his body and saw all manner of lines and leads running to and from it.
But this was a different kind of wrong; a feeling that something bad had happened to someone other than himself. He tried to marshal his wits to remember what had caused him to wind up here but drew a blank.
….
Many Hours Ago:
Cujo stared at his prey through the clear part of the rolling box; his claws still securely hooked into the metal below it.
He knew he was going really fast. He could feel the water roll off his fur as the strange sticks that waved back and forth in front of him pushed it off the surface of the clear stuff that kept him from reaching his prey.
The man looked really scared. He knew what humans looked like when they were scared. He'd made them look that way several times. It was fun. But this time he didn't just want to make the man scared. He wanted to make him dead.
The box continued to swerve and stop and start as they traveled. He knew it was trying to shake him loose from his perch but it wasn't going to happen. His legs and paws are getting tired though. He hoped it would stop and stay in one spot soon so he could let go and get on with what he planned to do.
Suddenly, he heard a very loud sound behind him and the man he faced closed his eyes. The rolling box abruptly went almost sideways and he felt the tip of a claw break off. It was just enough for him to lose his grip on the metal. One more lurch and he was flying off, legs splayed trying to find some sort of balance in his unexpected travel.
This was not part of his plan.
…
He saw the cat go flying off the hood of the Prius that swerved by him as he blasted his horn at its driver. The tiny car just barely missed the left front bumper of his rig. The animal, legs outstretched like a flying squirrel, pinwheeled off into the greenery that lined the road.
It had been really close. The crazy sonofabitch driving that little piece of shit car was all over the road. Maybe it was because the rain had made the streets slick and he'd lost control but it looked too deliberate.
Anyway, a collision was avoided. He blew out a relieved breath as the Prius sped by. He watched in his rear view as it disappeared into the distance. What happened to that cat?
….
Present:
Kamekona hadn't yet looked up from the months old magazine he'd found in the waiting room. Apparently, there was some sort of drama going on with that Lohan girl again. Poor keiki, he'd really liked her in that movie about those twins that switched places to fool their parents. She'd really grown up since then.
In the photo displayed in the tabloid's tattered pages she looked gaunt and tired. Sure looks like she could use some of my cooking, thought the big man. If she came to the islands, he was sure he could fatten her up. A few plates of shrimp stuffed croissants and gravy with a side of his wasabi fries and . . .
The beeping from at least one of the mysterious machines monitoring his friend had suddenly become faster. He looked up to see dark blue eyes staring confusedly back at him.
….
Many Hours Ago:
He carefully applied the airbrakes and the big-rig slowly came to a halt on the shoulder. It didn't feel right to just leave the animal lying injured somewhere. Jumping down into a large mud puddle as he exited the cab, he swore loudly as he shielded his eyes from the rain and pulled his collar tighter about his neck. He walked back up the road toward the place the near head-on had occurred.
He scanned the side of the highway looking for a body. It would be hard to find if it landed in the knee high grass that lined both sides of the thoroughfare. On the other hand, the vegetation may help keep the animal from hitting the ground with a surely fatal result. His eyes caught a slight movement a few yards farther on and a small, wet, dazed looking, cat emerged from the greenery to stand on the side of the road. With a sigh of relief he walked toward it.
"Nice kitty." he said as he came closer and it stood staring suspiciously back at him. "You've had quite an adventure huh? You okay?"
The cat had apparently decided he wasn't a threat and it didn't move when he got close enough to pick it up. He gathered up the soggy little creature and it seemed to relax into his arms.
"So, who do you belong to?" he asked, not really expecting an answer, "I hope it isn't the guy driving that car. That was just wrong."
His fingers first searched through the wet fur for any sign of injury and finding none, it allowed him to look at the tag attached to the black nylon collar around its neck. There was a small miniature badge along with a jingle bell and a plastic disk with engraving on it. He didn't have his glasses on so it would have to wait until he got the cat back into the rig to read it.
The animal remained quiet as he climbed into the truck with it and searched for a towel to wrap it in. He hoped he could find who it belonged to. It seems like a nice little cat.
…
He thought he'd finally lost that insanely ferocious cat with that last maneuver. Busy trying to shake the animal loose, he'd almost collided with a semi coming from the opposite direction. When he'd squeezed his eyes shut to wait for the impact that didn't happen and then opened them again - the animal was gone.
Breathing deeply to ease his frazzled nerves while trying to decide if he should get himself to an emergency room to get the painful bite wounds and claw marks on the back of his neck and shoulders tended to, he ultimately decided against it. It may cause too many questions.
After pulling into his driveway, he looked around one last time before opening the car door. He staggered up the walkway to his front porch and with shaking hands pulled out his key to unlock the door.
That cat had been unnerving.
…
Cujo gratefully accepted the offer of the small container of milk. Being thrown into the grass wasn't nice. This man was nice. He purred as a large hand stroked his now dry fur.
"I'm gonna have to drop you off at the animal shelter on the way home. I'm sure they'll find out who you belong to soon enough."
The cat continued to delicately lap up his dinner.
"Sorry about not knowing your name but it ought to be Frisbee from the way you sailed off the hood of that car. If I'd remembered to take my reading glasses with me this morning, I could read that official looking tag you've got on your collar. Someone obviously cares about you, just not that asshole in the Prius.
As the truck rolled through the still falling rain, the man apologetically continued explaining to his little passenger, "My kid's allergic to anything with fur so I'm sorry I can't keep you cat. As it is, my wife is gonna make me undress in the garage so Lana doesn't wind up with an asthma attack from the fur you got on my clothes."
The truck driver smiled at the little animal he was glad he could help. He really wished he could keep him. He seems like such a nice cat. Putting the truck into gear, he carefully pulled back onto the highway.
….
Finally able to take a sip of his tea without any danger of spilling it, he stared at the phone for another minute before deciding to wait a bit to call Kiki. He didn't think she'd be happy about the messy way things worked out with McGarrett. He'd just listened to the news report on the radio and Five-0's leader wasn't dead yet. He'd apparently clung to life like that cat had clung to the hood of his car.
He could tell her it wasn't even him that had done it. Surely the man must have hundreds of enemies. He and his team had been responsible for cleaning up several large crime syndicates trying to establish themselves firmly in the state. There'd been drugs and slavery . . . all kinds of unsavory enterprises put out of business.
He could tell her that it could have been any number of criminals seeking revenge on the guy but he really wasn't good at lying. He'd always considered himself an honest person even if it appears the world doesn't seem to work that way anymore.
Everyone lied. They'd lied about Myra getting better. They'd lied when they told him the operation would work. They lied when they told him computer guided instruments were the best way to go. There were too many lies. Now death . . . death spoke the truth. It was the ultimate truth; one couldn't argue with the Grim Reaper.
Taking another sip of tea, he settled back into the easy chair. Actually, these days, he really only liked to talk to Kiki. She was the only one he could count on. She was the only one who understood. Those shrinks pretended to understand but he knew they didn't. They lied too. The pills didn't make him feel better; they only made him feel numb. He needed to be able to concentrate on his campaign. The one that would make everyone realize they had to talk to one another in person, face to face, rather than through their electronic gizmos.
He laughed out loud then in the room only he and his memories occupied. The sound seemed to echo off the bare walls and the carpetless floor. Here he was talking about communicating and the only communicating he'd done lately was with a knife. He'd have to sign up for a book club or something. It wasn't good to be so isolated.
…
Present:
"Brah, I don't think it's a good idea to try to get out of bed right now. Da little haole's gonna have your ass for tryin' to make a escape." declared Kamekona as he heaved his body from the overly stressed chair and came to the side of the bed while Steve struggled to free himself of the equipment that encumbered him.
After detaching I.V.'s leads and wires, he realized he still had the Foley to contend with and stopped his struggle for the moment.
Just then, alerted by the blaring alarm of the cardiac monitor he'd disconnected, one of the nurses hurriedly entered the room.
Blinking to clear his vision a bit better to see if it was someone he could charm into doing what he wanted, he groaned. He recognized this woman all too well. The game was pretty much over.
"You going somewhere Commander?" she asked, arms crossed over her chest; challenge in both voice and stance.
"Uhh, hi Bambi." he managed to croak out
"Can't say it's good to see you again Commander. At least not under these circumstances."
"Can you please help me, I have to leave and there's still the Foley to deal with."
"Haven't we been through this scenario at least once or twice in the past?" she bit out, making the words sound a little too crisp to be just a question.
"Uhh . . . "
"As I recall, it didn't work out very well for you that last time. What makes you think it will work out any better this time?"
Kamekona, recognizing the potential for bloodshed crept unobtrusively, (as unobtrusively as someone of his size could creep), toward the door.
Whether from the head rush of sitting up so quickly or the shock of being busted by his former caregiver, Steve began to blink rapidly at the spots swimming in his vision.
Recognizing the signs of lightheadedness and the possibility her stubborn former and now current patient may actually pass out; Nurse Bambi moved quickly. Coming to his side, she grabbed his arm to keep him from taking a header off the edge of the bed. Talk about déjà vu.
"I see you learned nothing from your last stint under my care." she scolded, but not too terribly unkindly . . . for a pit bull.
"Bambi, I have to get to my team. Something's wrong."
"From what I know of your injuries this time, getting out of bed isn't even a remote possibility for you at this point. You've lost a dangerous amount of your blood volume, really screwed up your kidneys and have several layers of stitches in your thigh. You really want to re-tear that artery that's just been repaired? I would advise against it."
When she saw that Steve may actually be weighing the pros and cons of leaving his bed, she barked, "That was only rhetorical. Lay back down in that bed Commander!"
"But . . . "
"Do you know that Doctor Trilling left instructions to sedate you into next Tuesday if you became too agitated? Apparently she's heard the stories." *
"But . . . "
"I can't believe you'd even consider undoing all the work it took them to keep you from bleeding to death. Lay that skinny ass down! I said now!"
Reluctantly recognizing it for the lost cause that it is, Steve meekly answered, "Yes ma'am", as Kamekona's eyes became round at the 'Great Warrior McGarrett's' sad surrender. This woman must be powerful! thought the entrepreneur in amazement.
Steve had closed his eyes and allowed himself to be guided down onto the bed. Maybe getting out of it wasn't such a good idea right now anyway. His stomach was threatening to give up whatever its meager contents. He tried to breathe through the nausea.
"You!" she said to Kamekona who'd almost made good his escape.
The big man froze, the look on his face like that of a very, very, large deer staring at oncoming headlamps. "Yes auntie?"
"Keep your friend company while I go get the doctor. She wanted to know when this idiot regained consciousness. Do-Not-Let-Him-Leave-This-Bed! Understand?"
"Yes auntie." gulped the extra-large entrepreneur, reluctantly aborting his attempt to be elsewhere
Nurse Bambi went off in search of the doctor as Kamekona came to stand beside the bed. McGarrett, pale and clammy, lay with eyes closed, breathing faster than anyone only lying in a bed should be.
Leaning forward, the big man whispered to his friend, "Brah, you got another one like the little haole on your case. You're screwed."
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
*Note: I know it's against the rules to sedate people against their will. Was busted for that in a previous story but let's just pretend shall we?
Still lots coming up. How does Cujo get back on track? (Not sure yet myself). Dave will be coming for a visit and Steve is bored. Revenge against a certain Jersey detective will be sweet.
Comments would be most welcome. I hope the past/present stuff wasn't too confusing. Sort of mucked-up the timeline.