CHAPTER 2

Moving an unconscious, grown man was not an easy feat. But living on the streets had taught Joan and her friends to be resourceful. While she tried to bind up the wounds she could see, the others quickly lashed four grocery buggies together. Finding usable pieces of plywood was a little more daunting but they persevered . Once Joan had bound the injuries she could easily see, they worked together to place him on the makeshift gurney. They secured him to it with the same strips of cloths that Joan had used to clean him up. He was a bloody mess, but he was still breathing.

Moving through the rubble was slow going, but even with the bumps and holes jarring the buggies, not a sound came from Reese. Watching him as they navigated their way out of the worst part of the destruction that surrounded them, Joan grew even more concerned. She knew he could be in a coma or worse, brain dead. His injuries were severe enough that he should have made some sort of sound with all the jostling he was experiencing.

Joan was grateful for the help of her friends. She could not have moved him by herself. Out here, you learned quickly that there was no one looking out for you. If you started something, there was no one there to have your back. So if you survived long enough, you learned who you could trust and you banded together with those people. You looked out for one another. IF you lived that long...which most didn't. She'd thought for sure John was going to be one of those who didn't when she'd caught a glimpse of him that first time.

He'd been picking through the trash for food in the alley behind a restaurant. He had no buggy or bag of possessions which marked him as a new one. He held tightly to what seemed his only possession, a half bottle of some of the worst rotgut whiskey she knew of. He was skinny, dirty and unkempt. There had been a wildness in him as he locked eyes with her. She'd seen that look before, in too many people she'd known. It was the look of a man who had one foot in this world and one in the world beyond; a man who was contemplating taking that final step. He'd looked down, shoulders slumping, ready to shuffle away and had tripped over some trash behind him. He caught his balance and then disappeared into the dark.

Remembering how their friendship had grown out of that long ago chance encounter, Joan was wondering what John's story would be this time. Still in a suit, but wearing one of those bullet-proof vests and in this industrial part of town. It had been an interesting and painful story before, the little bit he'd told her. She was curious to see what brought him here this time.

Almost carrying a wounded Fusco was one of the hardest things Shaw had ever done. She'd have to remember to tell him to lay off the falafels once he was better. And he WOULD get better, she wouldn't allow him any other option. If only she had...her mind shied away from going there and she blocked off any thought of Root...and Reese. It was easy for her to do so. She'd been doing it her whole life. But the loss of the two of them, so close together was…... rough. She had to actively push the pain of loss into a small dark corner. There was too much at stake right now to go off the rails.

Gripping Lionel's left hand as it was dangling across her shoulders, Shaw used her right arm around his waist to pull him along. He was bigger and heavier than her but she persevered out of necessity. Just what she was going to do when she got to Harold was going to be quite interesting. He never told her how badly he was hurt. But if he'd called her for help...it wasn't going to be good. He'd told her the address where to find him. Thank goodness it was only about two blocks away.

The closer they got to the building, the more devastation they encountered. Huge pieces of rock and mortar were strewn all over the streets. Rebar poked out of chunks of concrete. Heavy dust was settling everywhere. Scraps of paper fluttered in the air. What the hell happened? A bomb? Or what was that noise she and Lionel had heard? She almost thought it sounded like a cruise missile? But she never thought she'd hear one of those in NYC. Or even in the continental US for that matter..

Lionel groaned with almost every step but he kept putting one foot in front of another. The look on his face, when it registered what had happened to Reese, was not something Shaw expected. She knew Reese rode Fusco hard and had him doing a lot of the scut work, but she also knew that Reese had grown to respect Fusco for the cop that he was, which was a damn good one. She'd never known Lionel when he worked for HR, so she didn't really have much to compare the Lionel of today to the one that Reese originally blackmailed into helping him. Reese must have seen something in the man that was worthy of a chance at redemption and now look at him. Fusco was a good guy with a big heart that he covered up with a lot of sarcasm and bluster.

Approaching the building that Harold was in, Shaw found a bus stop bench to park Fusco.

"Hang in there buddy." She said as she patted him on the shoulder. "Let me see what I need to do to get Harold"

Fusco barely nodded his head. He was pretty close to done in. The blood loss was not severe but it was getting worse and the location of the knife wound in his lower abdomen made walking excruciatingly painful.

Stepping over rubble from the blast, of the bomb? missile? Shaw made her way to the door. Checking to make sure the building itself was not about to fall down, she opened the door slowly. Just inside she could see a body on the floor, leaning against the wall. Peering through the dusty haze she realized she was looking at Finch.

"Harold? Harold?" She calmly called out to him as she moved closer. A small part of her was almost afraid to find out if she was too late.

"Sameen?" was the whispered reply. His head was back against the wall and his eyes were closed.

"I'm here Harold. Let me check you out before you move any further." She said as she crouched down next to him. "Where are you hurt? Were you shot? " Her questions came at a rush, in an almost clinical fashion, not sensing Finch's pain, either the physical, mental or emotional kind.

"Yes, but just once." Harold breathed out. Breathing hurt so much and talking hurt even more.

Shaw found the wound in Finch's lower abdomen. Almost identical to Fusco's bullet wound. WTH? Guess it was better than if they had been kneecapped because then neither would be able to walk. The minute that thought floated through her mind, it caught her off guard with the strong feeling that came with it...Reese...dead.

Shaking her head to stop the progression of that thought she asked "Harold, can you stand up? I gotta get you out of here so we can get some help."

"Yes, yes...I think so but I'll need your help. I don't bend too well these days as you know." He answered. Opening his eyes he looked at Shaw. She was not prepared for the pain she saw. And for once, she realized it was more than just physical pain.

Leaning over, Shaw was able to help Finch to stand. He wasn't very steady on his feet. There was no way she was going to be able to get Finch and Fusco to a doctor. From the looks of things, they needed a hospital ER, and they needed it NOW.

Getting Finch outside proved more difficult than she'd thought. He was in obvious physical pain but there was something else. He seemed lost, in a daze. Remembering the look on his face when she'd first seen him, she realized it was the loss of Reese that had him in a state of shock. She pretty much felt the same way, at least as best she could. Something had happened that she never imagined would happen...Reese was not coming back. Reese was dead.

Ducking her head slightly to keep herself from going down that road, Shaw guided Finch over to the bench where Fusco was sitting.

"Hey Glasses, you ok?" wheezed Fusco. He was in pain but was concerned about the older man. "You don't look so good." He slurred.

"And neither do you, Detective." Finch said with a slight smile that immediately disappeared.

"Harold, you both need to get to a hospital. Do you think it is safe for you? Fusco won't have a problem, he's a cop and has no identity to hide."

Harold closed his eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath, to get his thoughts in order he exhaled. Tipping his head back slightly, he opened his eyes. Looking at the clear blue sky he said, "I will be safe there. Samaritan has been defeated. We no longer need to hide. John...John took..." his voice trembled and he wasn't able to finish his sentence. Bowing his head he closed his eyes. Tears slowly slid down his face. Shaking his head side to side all he could do and she thought she heard him whispering, "my fault, my fault".

Hearing that Samaritan was defeated and no longer a threat to them, put everything in a different perspective for Shaw. She pulled out her cellphone and dialed 911. She needed help getting them both to the hospital and an ambulance would be the fastest.

Riding in the front seat of the ambulance, Shaw looked into the back and saw the EMT working on Finch. Finch seemed to be the worse off, age and a bullet wound were not a good combination. Fusco was on the other bed, propped up watching Finch. Concern etched on his face.

Getting the ambulance had been pretty easy. After that bomb or missile thing went off, the whole area was crawling with ambulances looking for the injured. Sure enough, no 'alarms' went off in her head when they were quickly loaded into the back. Shaw gave the EMT a thorough report of their injuries and glossed over the fact that Finch had been shot and Fusco had been stabbed. Their injuries didn't quite blend in with the injuries of others from the bomb blast. But she felt she could talk her way through any problems in the chaos at the hospital.

Fusco was talking to the EMT, asking what had happened to bring the building down. The info that the EMT had was little to none. They had just been dispatched to the area to look for the injured and nothing said about what had happened. But he did tell him that it seemed to be localized in a 3-4 block area and that they were lucky that it was an industrial area and not in one of the busier areas of Manhattan.

Pulling into the ER bay, Shaw jumped out and made her way to the back of the ambulance. She felt the need to be with Finch. He was still not himself. There was more going on than just the bullet wound. She knew it had to do with the loss of Reese. But she didn't know what had happened. The last she knew, they had left together to go unleash the virus to take down SAM. How did they end up at the building where she found Finch? Who shot him? How did Reese let that happen? Or had Reese been shot and killed before Finch got shot? That made more sense. She knew without a doubt, Reese would put himself in harm's way to protect Harold, no matter the cost. The man had never thought his own life worth more than Harold's after all the bad shit he'd done. And maybe he was right, maybe none of them….her mind spun round and round, no one thought having enough traction to keep her mind on it for long. Oh, what the hell had happened to Reese and FInch? Did it have anything to do with that bomb? Or missile? Damn she wanted answers and she wanted them yesterday!

As they wheeled Finch into one ER room and Fusco into another, Shaw decided it was the best time to get some intel. Her first stop was the physicians' locker room where she swiped a set of scrubs. With Samaritain gone, it might not be necessary to hide and blend in, but old habits die hard.

Standing off to the side, Shaw then took in the chaotic activity going on around her. People were being brought in by ambulance and some were being brought in by family or friends. Most of the injured were covered in a layer of fine dust and seemed to have broken limbs. There were quite a few people with cuts and gashes. All of them seemed dazed.

Watching all the activity, Shaw picked out the calmest person she could in the waiting area. It was a woman, sitting by herself holding her right arm across her chest. From what she could see, Shaw thought her arm was probably broken. As she walked toward the woman she reached down and picked up a magazine off one of the end tables.

Kneeling down in front of the woman, Shaw looked at the woman and spoke. " I need to check out that arm for you. I think it might be broken." The woman looked at her and nodded her head. Reaching out Shaw gently took the woman's arm and carefully ran her hand up and down her forearm. The grimace on the woman's face told her what her hands had felt, it was definitely broken. Taking the magazine, she laid the woman's arm on it for support and got her to hold the magazine under and over arm. The pain was eased almost immediately. The woman whispered 'Thank you'.

Shaw proceeded to take her wrist and check her pulse, doing all of the expected triage that had been drilled into her so long ago as a pre-med student. While looking at the clock on the wall and counting the woman's pulse, she asked "What happened out there?"

The woman looked at her for a moment, seeming to be weighing her options of giving an opinion or just what she knew.

"I'm not really sure. There was an explosion. That much I know. It happened near the building where I work." Looking down at Shaw she was caught off guard with the intensity of the look on her face. Feeling a little bit leery she wondered how much more she should tell.

"Please continue. We really need to have some idea of what happened so we'll know what kind of injuries to expect." Shaw urged.

Realizing that made sense, the woman continued. "I think I heard a noise just before the explosion. I don't think a bomb would make a really loud noise before it blew up, do you?"

"No I don't think so either. So you think it might have been a missile or something?" Shaw suggested. She too remembered hearing the noise. Her training was telling her it was a cruise missile but she'd thought that idea out of play because who in their right mind would launch a cruise missile within the continental US? And it had been only one. If the country was being attacked, it would have been more than one. And yet, the woman had heard the noise too from inside her building so it had to be loud...So...she couldn't be right, could she? Then again, how many people knew there was an undeclared secret war going on between 2 AIs?

Standing up, Shaw looked down at the seated woman. "Keep that magazine supporting your arm til we can get you to x-ray. I'm pretty sure it's broken", she said and then walked away, leaving the woman staring after her.