A/N: Hello all, terribly sorry for the two week break in posting this chapter. I went away for a week's holiday and didn't have internet access or time to write. So, I've come back today and jotted down this chapter… which you may or may not thank me for.
So, here goes, buckle up and have fun with it, guys…
CHAPTER SIX
"They are drawing away from us," said Ichabod anxiously, eyes fixed on the road ahead, desperate for a glimpse of the car Abbie had been bundled into. "You must not allow that to happen."
"Keep your weird and overly baggy britches on, Crane," shot back Hawley as he made a sharp right into the next street. "They're not that far ahead of us."
Ichabod shot him an impatient look. "On what are you basing that assumption? We can no longer see them."
"I'm well known for my reckless driving," said Hawley casually as he swerved violently around a corner. "Unless our robbers have a similar death wish, they're not going to get that far ahead of me."
"They have taken it upon themselves to rob a bank in daylight and kidnap an officer of the law after having killed a man." Ichabod's lips thinned into a tight line. "What about those activities suggest a strong sense of self-preservation?"
"Umm… okay, good point. I feel like if it came right down to it though, I'd be the one better at dancing with death." Hawley illustrated his point by narrowly avoiding a collision with another car as he zipped through a decidedly red traffic light.
Ichabod's hands tightened on the book which lay in his lap but made no other move to brace himself against Hawley's driving. "You claim superiority in recklessness as a point of pride," he said in disbelief. "Why does this not surprise me?"
"Hey, do you want me to catch up with the bad guys or not?"
Ichabod bent his head over the book, trying to steady himself enough against Hawley's driving to be able to read. "Such an idiotic question does not warrant an answer," he snapped. All Ichabod could think about was that Abbie was getting further away from him. "Take the next left."
"How do you know where they're going?"
"The Lieutenant will be directing them out of town, away from innocents who might be hurt. This is the old town road and is the most expedite course for that purpose."
"You can't know that for sure." Hawley took the left regardless.
"I know it for certain," said Ichabod with more calmness than he felt, but knew that he was right. It was like there was a strand between them which was being pulled increasingly taunt, and Ichabod feared what would happen when that strand was broken. He pushed down the panic such a thought brought him. Abbie needed his head to be clear if he was to be of any help in rectifying the horror he'd inadvertently brought down upon her. Ichabod was trying to read the words of the text before him, but that feeling of Abbie's life slipping through his fingers was an overwhelming one. All because he'd been unable to restrain himself from a few stolen moments of carnal pleasure. That was not who he was. Ichabod Crane was a man of forbearance and restraint. He did not act impulsively, the military had taught him the folly of such things. When you fought beside men, when you led them into battle, each decision made had an impact on those around you. Ichabod knew this, he'd lived this. Even when decisions had to be made with ultimate haste, Ichabod had always managed to weigh up all the possible outcomes before deciding on the best course of action.
But there had been no weighing of options with Abbie last night.
Ichabod had no thought in his head other than he needed to be kissing this woman. It hadn't even been a thought, more of an instinct. Like breathing. You never considered your next breath, you just did it, because to not to inhale would be counterintuitive. Not kissing Abbie in that moment had been counterintuitive, and Ichabod was still trying to work out what it was about that particular moment that had turned him so upside down. Yes, he'd needed to forge that closeness between them once again, but there had been no need for physical intimacies in the past to feel that connection. Last night had been different, they'd been different, the two of them. Indeed, because he'd been so without his wits, he'd potentially killed the one person in the world he was desperate to keep safe. A surge of white hot anger flooded Ichabod's entire body and he lashed out with one hand, striking at the door with all of the pent up frustration inside of him. The door was immediately ripped from its hinges and bounced it way into the woods which were now lining the road.
"Hey!" yelled Hawley in shock. "What the hell was that?"
Ichabod blinked, looking down at his still clenched fist in vague confusion. "I-ah-I do not know," he muttered.
"I know," exclaimed Hawley. "You're wrecking my stuff! Cut it out, okay?" He glared at Ichabod. "Do you know how much this car cost?"
"You told me you won it in a game of chance," said Ichabod sourly.
"That's not the point," said Hawley hotly. "I had to cheat hard to get this car!" He shot Ichabod another look. "And just so you know, this sudden freakish strength of yours… not a fan."
Ichabod's face clouded over, sharing the sentiment because he knew where he was gaining this strength from. "I cannot lose her," he whispered.
"What?" asked Hawley as he divided his attention between the now uneven dirt road and Ichabod.
"We cannot lose sight of the Lieutenant," said Ichabod more loudly, adjusting his words so they were less revealing. To lose Abbie in the heat of battle to the enemy would have been one thing, it was the life they'd both chosen. To lose her by his own hand because of his recklessness was another thing entirely. Painful memories of the knife sliding into Katrina's flesh assaulted Ichabod, the feeling of her warm blood flowing out over his hand, the hand which had taken her life so irrevocably.
"I'm on it," said Hawley impatiently. "You just keep looking for a cure in that book."
"I am searching the text but have not as yet—" Ichabod didn't get to finish as a gust of wind blew into the car and picked up several pages of the book and blew them out the gaping side of the car where the passenger door used to reside. He made a desperate grab for the precious pages, but it was too late as they fluttered in the draft left behind the speeding car.
"What am I doing?" asked Hawley hastily. "Am I stopping?"
"No!" Ichabod gave a fierce shake of his head. "We cannot allow any further distance between the Lieutenant and myself."
"But what if those pages have the cure for this thing?" Despite his protests, Hawley put his foot to the gas, speeding up.
"A cure will do us no good if-if—" Ichabod couldn't get the words out.
"Nobody is dying today, Crane," said Hawley tersely. "Ain't gonna happen."
Ichabod could only pray the other man's sentiment was going to ring truer than his grammar. The alternative was an outcome Ichabod knew he wouldn't be able to live with.
#
Abbie bit back another groan of pain, wrapping her arms around her stomach. She was both on fire and freezing cold. A numbing pain was working its way throughout her entire body. Abbie lifted hands that felt suddenly impossibly heavy. She stared at them in horror as streaks of grey started to snake their way over her skin.
"What the hell is wrong with your hands?" asked Tommy in real concern.
Abbie turned to look at him and the other man gave a start of fear.
"And your face!"
On instinct Abbie put her hand to her face, but her hands could no longer feel anything. She looked between the front seats at the rear vision mirror and saw her reflection. More of those grey streaks were running up and down her face. She sucked in a gasp of horror, but the breath seemed to turn to lead in her lungs. Ichabod was too far away from her, or maybe it didn't matter anymore and the potion had taken hold of her completely. "I-I'm sick," she pushed out through frozen lips. "Stop the car."
"Tommy?" The driver said the man's name nervously, still driving. "What do I do?"
Tommy was still staring wide eyed at Abbie. "It's a trick," he said unsteadily.
"No," rasped Abbie. She was desperate for them to stop, knowing Ichabod and Hawley would be hot on their heels. The only chance she had lay with Ichabod, either from his presence or answers he'd found in that book. "I'm sick." Another strangled breath to find her next words. "And contagious. S-stop the c-car."
"Tommy?" The driver sounded really scared now. "I ain't getting what she's got. We got to get away from her. We got to stop."
"Shut up, Earl and let me think!" snapped Tommy.
"No-no time," gasped Abbie. She held up her left hand which was now almost completely grey and impossibly heavy. "Dying. You-you're next."
Tommy flinched back from the hand she was holding up. "Stop the car, Earl!"
Earl slammed on the brakes so hard that Abbie slid off the seat, unable to get her leaden limbs to work so that they could stop her from falling.
"Get out!" ordered Tommy.
Abbie tried to open the car door, but her hands no longer work. "C-c-can't."
Tommy grimaced as she turned to look at him. Abbie knew whatever was happening to her was taking over her entire body now. She felt the vision go from one eye, and she lost the ability to know if she could even still blink. Her face was completely numb now. The robber pushed himself as far away from her as possible, while still managing to kick open the door closest to her. With his booted foot he frantically kicked her out of the car. Abbie collapsed on the dirt road. Then the car was speeding away down a side road. Abbie willed herself to stand up with a body she could no longer feel. Every breath felt like swallowing ice which burned all the way down into her lungs. She couldn't breathe, but she needed to get moving. She needed to get back to Ichabod, to find him. With every bit of internal fortitude Abbie possessed, she stood upright, not even knowing how she was doing it on legs that felt like blocks of stone. She tried not to look at her left arm, knowing that greyness had snaked its way from her hand and all the way up to her shoulder. Her arm hung by her body as a lifeless lump. Abbie gritted her teeth, ignoring the useless limb and made herself take a step forward. If she was going down, it wasn't going to be without a fight. She wasn't dead yet.
#
"What the hell was that?" asked a clearly terrified Earl who kept glancing back nervously over his shoulder.
"I don't know," ground out Tommy, looking out the back of the car as well.
"Do you think we're going to get sick now too?" asked Earl anxiously.
"I don't know," said Tommy shortly. What the hell had that been? He'd never seen anything like it before in his life.
"You were touching her. Do you think you've got that now too?"
"Will you shut the hell up?" snapped Tommy. "I just said I don't know, okay?"
"Sorry," said Earl timidly. He flicked a glance in the rear vision mirror at his friend. "What are we gonna do now? Go to a hospital or somethin'?"
"And tell them what exactly?"
"I dunno, that this woman was going all grey and dusty looking and we're worried it's going to happen to us?" suggested Earl uncertainly.
"That ain't like any disease I've ever seen," said Tommy grimly. "And even if we do believe us, you know they're going to stick us in some isolation room to figure out what is going on."
"And if they don't believe us?"
"Then we're gonna be in the nut house or the big house," said Tommy tersely. "And I ain't goin' back to jail." His brain was racing. "Turn around."
"Wh-what?"
"Turn around. We need to find out what is goin' on," he growled.
"I ain't goin' near that chick again," said Earl hastily.
"We're not. We're going to find those two idiots she was with and find out what the hell is happening." It was all Tommy could think of. Even if going to any kind of authorities was an option right then, somehow he didn't think they were going to listen to what they had to say or know the first thing to do about it if they did. "Turn the car around, Earl!"
Earl threw the car into a violent U-turn and headed back down the side road. They reconnected with the dirt road they'd dumped the woman cop on, but Earl was moving so fast and kicking up so much dust with squealing tires, Tommy couldn't see if she was still where they'd thrown her out of the car. That suited him just fine. He just needed to find out how bad of a mess they'd just gotten themselves into and fast.
#
Hawley took another turn in the dirt road and shook his head. "Are you real sure they came this way, man?" he asked, starting to worry now. "I can't believe they got this far ahead of us."
"She's close," said Ichabod tightly.
"How do you know that, you got some special spider sense because of the potion thing?"
"No," said Ichabod hoarsely. "I know this because it has to be true."
Hawley had been hoping that Ichabod's certainty was based on a bit more than desperation. Apparently that wasn't the case. He snuck a quick, concerned look at his passenger. They'd been worrying about Abbie, but truth be told, Hawley had some genuine concerns about Ichabod right then. Sure, the guy could be as annoying as hell sometimes, well, most of the time, but he wasn't prone to outbursts of genuine anger, more niggling complaints about nothing. And ripping doors off hinges also hadn't been in the guy's repertoire until just now. If they didn't find Abbie in one piece, Hawley was beginning to worry about what Ichabod would do. Truth was, he was having a bit of trouble figuring out the guy altogether. That's why he kept prodding away at him, trying to work out what made him tick, other than that giant stick up his ass, of course. The moral high ground the guy was always claiming was annoying, but Hawley could handle that. What he hadn't been able to work out was the whole thing going on with Abbie. Jenny had said they were like co-workers in a cosmic office that dealt with the oncoming Apocalypse, but Hawley hadn't bought into that explanation.
When Katrina had been alive, Hawley knew Ichabod believed himself above any kind of interest in other women. That was fine. Loyalty he got. It wasn't something he practiced overly and had never worked out too great for him in the past when he did, but Hawley did understand it. But even while Ichabod had been intent on being the dutiful husband, Hawley had felt the other man's eyes on him when he'd gone near Abbie. It was a guy thing. You just knew when another male was getting antsy about another male getting too close to a woman they thought they had some kind of claim over.
Hawley knew Abbie would punch both of them in the face if she'd thought for one minute there was some kind of male posturing going on between them when it came to her. But that was the thing which confused Hawley. There was male posturing going on between him and Ichabod, from the moment they met, and it was because of her, but Abbie never seemed to pick up on it. The woman was no idiot and showed a lot of insight about just about everything else, but in that area, she seemed to have a blind spot. It was obvious to Hawley that both he and Ichabod wanted Abbie to see them as the alpha male. Again, Hawley knew he'd be treated to a punch in the face if he ever said that to Abbie, because she was one woman who definitely wasn't looking for a man to impress her… which only made a man want to do it even more. Nothing spurs on a man into doing dumb things than a woman who shows no interest in you. Hawley had no doubt Ichabod would refute any kind of competition between them for Abbie's attention, for a lot of reasons, but that didn't change the truth. Hawley was just the one prepared to be honest about it, which was pretty ironic given his usual relationship with truthfulness.
Ichabod and Abbie had always shown themselves to be so willfully ignorant about any other aspect of their relationship other than the whole Witness thing, that Hawley had been genuinely shocked to learn they'd been playing a few rounds of tonsil hockey. Making out with a beautiful woman seemed like such a normal thing to do, so he just hadn't pictured Ichabod ever lowering his lofty standards to actually do what any other man with a pulse would have done, or at least tried to do. Now that he'd had some time to think about the two of them getting down and dirty in that little hole-o-love, it was beginning to make sense to Hawley. Basically, these two had never allowed themselves to find each other attractive in a physical way before. When you refuse to deal with an aspect of a relationship, it always comes back to bite you in the ass. Hawley wasn't a fan of dealing with things himself, which is why he never hung around long enough for complications to come home to roost. These two idiots expected not to deal with the fact they might want to get into each other's pants at some point, but then made the mistake of staying in each other's company. That was a recipe for disaster, although this whole turning to dust thing was probably more of a disaster than the usual hurt feelings and morning after regret.
"Look out!" yelled Ichabod.
Hawley was already slamming on the brakes and swerving wildly to avoid the oncoming car. He skidded to a halt by the side of the road, coughing as the dust from the near impact filled the car. "What—" Hawley had turned to Ichabod to ask the question, but the other man was no longer there. He must have jumped out of the still moving car from his doorless seat. Hawley scrambled to follow Ichabod, but not before grabbing for the gun he always kept under the driver's seat. Ichabod was already at the car which Hawley recognized as the robber's. Looks like the criminals had a change of heart. The thought was an oddly concerning one. They didn't seem like men who had a heart of gold under a rough exterior. Something must be very wrong.
"Where is she?" roared Ichabod, storming towards the backseat. He yanked the backdoor off its hinges. "Lieutenant!"
"Wow, but you're being hard on doors today," muttered Hawley, but then he was pointing his gun at the driver. "Get out of the car! Now!"
The driver held up his hands, looking afraid.
"Out of the car!" repeated Hawley. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"
"Where is she?" asked Ichabod loudly. "Where is the Lieutenant?"
"Ah, Crane?" Hawley was keeping one eye on the man getting out from behind the wheel and the other man in the backseat who'd climbed out and had a shotgun aimed at Ichabod's chest. A fact Ichabod didn't seem to be even noticing as his frantic gaze darted back and forth between the front and back seats of the car.
"Back up, hero," snapped the other man. "I don't want to get blood on my new shoes." He glanced over at Hawley. "You too, Fiona, drop the gun or I kill your friend."
"He's not really a friend," said Hawley, trying to buy time. "More somebody who annoys the crap out of me and I can't seem to shake. He's the human equivalent of herpes – don't know how I got him, can't get rid of him." Nonetheless, Hawley reluctantly lowered his gun.
"Toss it over here."
"I'd rather hang onto it, if it's all the same to you," said Hawley easily. That earned him a glare from the robber. "Yeah," he sighed, "figured that probably wasn't going to fly." He threw the gun over to one side.
"Where is the Lieutenant?" demanded Ichabod, not even seeming to hear what they were saying. "What have you done with her?"
"We dumped her because she's sick or something."
Ichabod's eyes went wide. "What is wrong with her? What has happened?"
The man pushed the muzzle of the shotgun harder against Ichabod's chest. "That's what you're going to tell me. What's wrong with the cop? Are we going to get sick too?"
"Take me to her," he said sharply. "Now!"
"We're not going anywhere near her," said the robber who'd been driving. He looked really worried as he sweated profusely. "What's wrong with her? Why was she going all grey like that? Is it contagious? Is she some part of government experiment or something? Are we going to die?"
Ichabod's head snapped around and even Hawley was a little taken aback at the fierceness in the other man's expression.
"Yes," hissed Ichabod, "because I'm going to kill you both if any harm has come to her." His hands snapped out with such speed that they were little more than a blur as he grabbed the shotgun-wielding robber in front of him and tossed him into the woods. The man sailed through the air, still clutching his gun from the shock of the speed and strength of the attack. He slammed into a large tree, the trunk actually splitting with the force of the impact. A pained grunt escaped his lips before sliding down the tree into an unconscious crumpled heap. Ichabod turned his furious attention to the driver now, large strides carrying him over to where the shocked man was standing. Ichabod gripped him around the throat, lifting him off the ground. "Where is she?" he roared. "Where is the Lieutenant? What have you done to her?"
Hawley rushed at Ichabod, grabbing at his arm. "Put him down, Crane, you're going to snap his neck!"
Ichabod didn't even turn to look at him, just pushed against his chest with his free hand. Hawley found himself immediately flung off his feet, and tossed onto the hood of his own car. He felt the sizeable dent he left in the metal from the impact. "Damn it, Crane," he hissed, sliding down the front of his now decidedly worse for wear car, trying to catch his breath. "You're the reason I can't have nice things." Hawley staggered to his feet and tried again, but kept a little more distance this time. "Put the guy down! You killing him isn't going to help us find Mills!"
That earned him a glare full of violence from Ichabod.
Hawley held out a conciliatory hand. "Let the guy talk," he tried to reason with Ichabod. "He's the only one who knows where Abbie is." Hawley glanced quickly at the crumpled heap which was the other robber. "And is, you know, conscious."
Ichabod blinked, his words seeming to penetrate some part of the rage he was experiencing. He abruptly let go of the other man, who fell in a puddle at his feet. "Where is she?" Ichabod kicked the other man, hard. "Speak, man, or I will indeed snap that worthless neck of yours."
"D-d-down th-the-the road a-a-a bit," gasped the red-faced man, hands at his throat as he struggled to draw breath.
Ichabod hauled him to his feet. "You will show us. Now!"
Even Hawley flinched at the amount of violence Ichabod had managed to fit into that single word. "I think you'd better do what he says." His look became pointed at the quivering criminal. "You may notice my associate is not into playing nice today."
The man nodded mutely, stumbling back into his car and starting the engine. Ichabod immediately placed himself in the backseat. Hawley wanted to take his car but could see Ichabod wasn't going to be waiting for anyone, so he hastily jumped into the front passenger seat, but not before grabbing up his gun.
"Go!" snapped Ichabod, his expression one which immediately induced fresh terror in their driver.
"Yes, sir," wheezed the man, throwing the car around, and speeding off back down the road he'd just come from. He shot Hawley a worried look. "Is he going to kill me?" he whispered fearfully.
Hawley shrugged. "I'm not going to lie to you, man, probably. Herpes here isn't quite in his right mind at the moment." He glanced over his shoulder at Ichabod who looked so rigid sitting there, it was like his whole body was about to splinter into a thousand pieces. Hawley looked back at the anxious man. "If it's any help, it's probably going to be brutal, but really, really fast." He pursed his lips. "Unless torturing is his thing now." Another shrug. "It's kinda hard to say, but either way, I'm pretty sure you're boned."
The man's hands tightened on the wheel and swallowed hard as fresh sweat broke out on his forehead.
Hawley didn't blame him. Even he was a bit worried about what super-charged Ichabod would do next.
"Look out!" Now it was Hawley's turn to yell the warning as a figure in the middle of the road suddenly appeared.
Their driver slammed on the brakes and swerved. Hawley hit his head on the door window, the glass cracked, but didn't break. "Damn it," he muttered, rubbing at the lump he could already feel developing. He'd have time to worry about that later though. Right now he was following Ichabod's lead and jumping out of the car.
"No, no, no!"
The desperate wail in Ichabod's voice had Hawley's stomach cramping anxiously. This could not be good. The dust was still settling from the sudden stop of the car, and Hawley blinked his way the clouds to see Ichabod standing in front of Abbie. For a moment relief flooded his body at seeing her standing there. "Mills!" he called out in delight, but there was no answer. In fact, she wasn't moving at all.
Ichabod was frozen in front of her, hands outstretched, but seemingly too frightened to touch her. "Please, no," he whimpered. "Lieutenant… Abbie… no."
Hawley came up behind Ichabod and caught his first proper look of Abbie, and for a long moment, he couldn't comprehend what he was looking at. Abbie was standing there in front of them, one hand outstretched, the other by her side but she was no longer in a human state. It was impossible, but it was as though they were looking at a stone statue of the young woman, dressed in her clothes.
Ichabod seemed to be in a similar state of denial as he reached out a badly shaking hand and touched Abbie's cheek. "No," he moaned quietly, "please, God, no."
Hawley could tell by just watching Ichabod touch her that he was touching a hard, unyielding material. Abbie had been turned to stone. He'd thought Ichabod had just been his overdramatic self when talking about the dust thing, but it looked like it was worse than even he'd thought. Although was stone worse than dust? Hawley's shocked brain couldn't come up with an answer to that. All he knew as that he was looking at a statue of a dead woman, dressed in her clothes and he didn't know what the hell to do with all the emotions he was feeling right then. Ichabod seemed to be in a similar state of despair as he took a step closer and laid his cheek against Abbie's now stone one.
"Lieutenant, please," he whispered into her transformed flesh, "do not leave me like this."
That knot was back in Hawley's stomach as he watched a tear slide down Ichabod's face. He felt his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him, and he took a step back, shaking his head. "We-this… we can fix this," he said hoarsely. "The book, it'll tell us how to fix this. Right, Crane?"
Ichabod remained as he was, in a one-sided embrace with the statue, not answering him.
"Crane, you can fix this, right?" pushed Hawley unsteadily.
"I have killed her," moaned Ichabod despairingly. "Abbie's life is forfeit because of me."
Hawley wasn't used to Ichabod showing this much emotion or giving up quite so easily. He wasn't sure what to do next. "Okay, okay, let's think about this, we just have to make sure nobody panics and—" There was the sound of a shotgun being pumped and Hawley swung around to see the shaking robber pointing a shotgun at them both. "And do anything stupid," he finished dourly. "But we may be already too late on that last part."
"I ain't dyin' here!" yelled the robber.
"This situation does not call for more guns," said Hawley quickly.
Ichabod had turned around now, staring at the other man with a gathering rage.
The man took a hasty step back, aiming the gun squarely at Ichabod. "You stay where you are!"
"Do not aim your weapon at the Lieutenant!" shouted Ichabod, ignoring the other man's warning and advancing on him.
"It might be a little too late for that, Crane," said Hawley unhappily. "I think right now, the important thing is for everyone to stay calm and no one does anything—"
"I said, do not aim your weapon at her!" roared an incensed Ichabod. He lunged for the terrified man's gun and there was the sound of a loud explosion.
The next thing Hawley knew was he was being spun around with the force of a several pellets impacting his arm. "Son of a bitch!" he screamed as the white hot pain ripped up his arm. Hawley staggered a little, but managed to keep himself upright. "Stupid!" he finished off fiercely. "Nobody do anything stupid!" Hawley grabbed his arm and felt the warm blood already oozing out between this fingers. "Good one, Crane, now you've gone and gotten me shot!" he snapped in annoyance as he jerked back around. "I hope you're happy!" Hawley's rant was abruptly cut short by the sight of an unmoving Ichabod lying on the ground, and staring sightlessly up at the sky with the stunned-looking robber standing over him. A gaping wound now occupied the area where Ichabod's chest used to be, with pieces of broken ribs and spurting arteries sticking up through the hole. Hawley looked at the grotesque sight in a state of shock. "Although, I'm guessing, maybe not so much," he finished off weakly.
There probably wasn't going to be anything in that book of his to fix this…
A/N: Okay, probably only one more chapter to go, maybe two. I mean, how much more can I write when I've just killed off both the witnesses, right? Exactly. Hope you'll join me for the next chapter… or not, depending on how mad you are about another cliffhanger. Either way, I'm hoping to make up for the cliff hanger by posting in the next couple of days. Fingers crossed the muse is on the same page as me with that plan.
Cheerio. :D