Saturday, June 6, 1987-Morning

Julie crouched low behind a filing cabinet just as Donovan had not-so-nicely insisted. Fears of what might happen, along with reprimands she should give Donovan for being a jerk, occupied her mind. She tightened her fingers around the handgrip of her pistol. If Pico should somehow get around the makeshift barricade Donovan had quickly constructed, Julie would need to defend herself. She reflected on Donovan's comment, "Just like old times." It occurred to her, she'd never felt comfortable using a gun, especially against another human. In medical school, she'd been taught how to save lives. Leading the Resistance taught her; sometimes in order to save the lives of many, you have to take the lives of others.

A scrape of metal outside the door alerted Julie to Pico's arrival. She placed her finger on the gun's trigger. The door handle turned. Julie's pulse quickened as a shadowy figure stepped into view. A loud blast penetrated her eardrums when Donovan fired his .45. The chalky scent of gunpowder filled the room. Shots from Pico's gun rang out. Instinctively, Julie stood and fired her gun at Pico. Searing pain ripped through her chest cavity. She screamed.

"Julie!" Donovan called out as she fell to the floor. Another blast from Pico's gun filled the small space, piercing Julie's ears again. Donovan thrust the makeshift barricade aside and chased Pico out into the hall.

Gasping for air, Julie coughed. She brought her hand to her chest, and felt the warm blood oozing through her shirt.

#

Bon Jovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name" pounded from the speakers of Kyle's pickup as he sped along Rampart. He didn't really identify the song with his former girlfriend, Starchild Elizabeth Maxwell. He just enjoyed its riffs and rhythm.

Red lights flashed in his rearview mirror. He spotted the black-and-white Plymouth Fury on his tail then pulled off to the side of the palm-tree-lined street. A pair of officers looking as though they could pass for brothers with their almost identical Hispanic features, stepped out of the patrol car. One officer peered into the bed of the pickup while the other approached Kyle's door.

"Officer Angel Perez, L.A.P.D.," he said with a thick accent. "Why are you in such a hurry, Sir?"

"I'm late for an appointment," said Kyle. Thanks to the damned train.

"License and registration."

Kyle took papers from the overhead compartment then searched his wallet for his I.D.

"Speed limit here is twenty-five, Mr. Bates," Perez said, studying the outdated California driver's license. "I clocked you doing forty-three. Wait here."

Kyle nervously observed via the rearview mirror as Perez returned to the squad vehicle while the second officer stood watch. Moments later, Perez made his way back to Kyle.

"Mr. Bates, you've got a warrant for unpaid tickets and a no-show in court. Get out of the truck."

"Great." Disgusted with his luck, Kyle obeyed.

"Turn around, Sir."

Placing his hands on the truck's scalding roof, Kyle nearly burned them. Perez patted him down, and pulled his arms behind his back to cuff him. A few gunshots echoed in the direction of Science Frontiers. Perez whisked Kyle to the squad car as the second officer followed, and picked up the police radio in the front seat.

"10-71 in progress. Shots fired in the vicinity of Sixth and Rampart," he reported.

Perez slammed the rear door shut then climbed into the driver's seat.

A second shot rang out as the police car sped down Rampart.

#

Donovan chased Pico up the basement steps into the parking lot. With Pico far ahead, Donovan stopped and squatted behind the driver-side door of Julie's Camaro to reload his gun. Pico sprinted across the asphalt into an adjacent lot cluttered with debris from a Visitor-skyfighter blasted building.

A police cruiser careened into the parking lot, coming to an abrupt halt not far from Donovan. Both front doors flew open. A pair of officers scurried out of the vehicle, ducking behind the doors, training their Berettas on Donovan as he lowered his gun out of sight. The capital offense law put in place by Nathan Bates back in '84 was no longer in effect. Instead of the death penalty, a person charged with carrying a concealed weapon would receive an automatic fine of $600, and a lengthy jail sentence.

"Freeze!" shouted an officer sporting a dark tan and black hair.

"Put your gun on the ground," his partner ordered.

Placing his .45 near the Camaro's front tire, Donovan held the tanned police officer's gaze, recognizing him as one of the cops who'd responded to Sean's violent attack on Melissa Foxx. Sergeant Romano had later testified against Sean during a court hearing.

"Put your hands up!" Romano ordered.

"My girl-" Donovan caught himself. "My lady friend is inside the building. She's been shot!"

Romano continued to aim his Beretta at Donovan's chest. "Hands on top of your head. Turn around. Slowly walk toward the sound of my voice."

Donovan obeyed, stopping a few feet short of the officers. Romano frisked him.

"Please!" Donovan begged. "She's injured."

"Who shot her?" asked the other policeman, approaching with his pistol drawn.

Donovan noticed the name on his badge read Nick Santiago. "His name's William Pico." He flinched as Romano pinned his wrists behind his back and forcefully snapped cuffs on. The metal sliced into his flesh.

"Easy," Romano warned.

"Call an ambulance!" Donovan screamed at Santiago.

"Damned Resistance, still think you run L.A., huh?" Romano spat. "It's still illegal to carry a gun in this city. What are you going to tell me? You needed it to defend yourself against some lizard?"

Santiago snatched the brick radio from the front seat and reported, "Possible 10-53 inside Science Frontiers at Sixth and Rampart. Former Resistance leader Mike Donovan in custody."

"How do we know you didn't shoot your girlfriend?" Romano questioned.

"I said lady friend," Donovan glared. "I'll tell you what happened, as soon as I know she's taken care of."

Santiago approached Donovan asking, "Is there anyone else in the building?"

"Not that I'm aware of. But you won't find her on your own. There's no electricity."

"Call for backup," Romano ordered.

"9-9-7 to Science Frontiers." Santiago called the code for "Officer needs help urgently, send backup."