Chapter 18
"Are you kidding me?"
Crockett rolled his eyes as he listened to Special Agent Adams rant about the ridiculousness of the plan. "Nope, not kidding. They're afraid of traumatizing Lily; said they wanted to try this first. If it doesn't work then they'll go with our plan."
Crockett heard the sigh on the other end of the line, and knew what his friend was thinking. "Don't say it, man. I agree with you. This is nuts, but what can we do? You and I can't go in there and haul them out like a couple of criminals."
"Yea, well… There's at least one criminal in there that I'd sure like to get my hands on."
At that statement, Crockett stiffened his spine. "Talk to me."
"We're close enough now to get the evidence we need. I want to get ALL those people out of there, but right now we don't know who're the good guys and who're the bad, you know?" Adams said, frustrated by this latest development. "I was sure hoping to get those two out of there, maybe even get some additional insider information from them."
"Yea, I know what you mean. I do know that Johnny and Lily are a couple of the good ones. Maybe if 51's plan works, you'll get your information soon."
"And if it doesn't?"
Crockett hesitated before he responded. "Then you'll have to depend on your man to get it for you, 'cause I doubt that Johnny and Lily will want to talk after they've been kidnapped."
"Yea… I know. Listen, I'm supposed to talk to my man at some point tomorrow. I'll let him know what's up. I'll find out when the best time may be for 51's to implement their operation."
"10-4, buddy. And if you're a praying man, would you mind sending up a few requests to the man upstairs?" He heard a chuckle on the other end of the line, and a smile spread across his ebony face.
"I don't advertise it, but, yea… I'll send a few prayers up… Mind if I ask you something, Crockett?"
"I'm an open book, man. Ask away," the detective responded, curious about his friend's sudden change in the conversation.
"You seem to have a personal interest in this case. Are you that close to these firemen from 51's, or could it be you're really close to someone else who's involved?" Adams didn't really expect an answer, but his curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask.
Crockett made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Now what the hell kind of question is that?" He asked, doing a little quick soul searching himself. He was investing more of himself into this case than was his normal routine.
"An honest one."
Crockett snickered into the telephone. "Then let me give you an honest answer. Maybe."
"Maybe? That's not-"
"Call me when you talk to your guy, Adams. I'll be waiting to hear from you. Goodbye," Ron spat out, interrupting the FBI agent. He quickly hung up the phone, scrubbing his face with his palms. Why was he so determined to get Johnny and Lily out of the compound? He knew that the FBI had suspicions about illegal activity going on inside the Unity Family, and that there was the possibility that those involved could be in danger. But was that why he spent his free time working on this case, and his nights thinking about it? He knew the answer as surely as he knew his own name. He knew that his determination to help get Johnny and Lily away from the Unity Family was primarily due to his desire for William Waite, a Klansman guilty of murder during the Civil Rights Movement, to spend the rest of his life behind bars… But he also felt his interest in a certain red-haired florist growing, too.
E!
On Monday morning, Hank was making a fresh pot of coffee in the station kitchen, knowing that his men would appreciate the caffeine boost for the upcoming shift. While the coffee pot percolated, he pondered his predicament. While at Iris' home on Saturday night, he had refused to accept John's resignation letter. Even though he hadn't wanted to accept the letter from a third party, he knew that he could only delay the inevitable. If John really wanted to resign from the department, then there was no way that Hank could stop him. He leaned his thin, lanky frame against the cabinets, holding the empty coffee cup in his hand. More than anything else, he wanted to talk to John, man-to-man.
Hank's younger medic had a habit of falling into and out of love on a frequent basis. Was this just another case of misguided affection? If so, he wanted to talk to John, to stop him from repeating the mistake he had made with Valerie… And Betty, his accidental fiancee… And with a half a dozen other pretty faces in recent years. He huffed, hearing the gasping sound of the end of the percolating cycle. The worried captain turned around and poured a cup of the steaming java just as his engineer walked in.
"Morning," Mike offered, quickly opening the cabinet door and removing a coffee cup.
"Hey, Stoker," Hank offered, his voice sounding weak.
Mike noticed his captain's downcast countenance. He poured a cup of coffee and stood side by side with Hank. "So… How do you think the meeting went?"
Hank sighed, taking a sip of his coffee before responding. "Oh, just swell, Mike. I have a paramedic who wants to quit his job because he doesn't want to testify in a murder trial. This same young man was not only a witness to, but a photojournalist during one of the most turbulent periods in American history, and now he's joined a goddamn cult. As if that isn't enough," Hank said, his frustration growing along with the volume of his voice. "The rest of my shift is going to try to get him back, by whatever means necessary, including kidnapping, which means we may all end up with our assess in the fucking slammer!"
Mike raised his eyebrows in surprise at his superior's shocking outburst. "Well don't hold back, Cap. Tell me how you REALLY feel," Mike commented wryly, lifting his cup to his mouth.
Hank felt his shoulders relax a bit. Mike had a dry sense of humor, but he always knew just what to say to keep Hank grounded, or at least bring him back down a notch when it was needed. The experienced captain depended on his engineer far more than Mike realized. He needed the quiet man as a sounding board, especially when Chet and Johnny were misbehaving. Mike had a calmness about him that Hank envied. He knew Mike Stoker was going to make a wonderful captain one day; he just hoped that day wouldn't come any time soon.
"Sorry, guess I was getting a little too riled up." Hank stood up straighter, turning to face his second in command. "I'm worried about the plan, Mike. I won't lie about it. But honestly, I don't have a better one. And I sure like our plan better than going in and kidnapping them."
"I know what you mean," Mike responded. "I don't mind grabbing Johnny to get him out of there, but I just can't do that to the young lady."
"Then we better hope you and Roy can talk some sense into them, Mike." Hank sighed, running his palm down his face. During the meeting at Iris' house, the men of 51's A-shift had decided to let Mike and Roy attempt to get into the compound and talk to Johnny. If that didn't work, then a more urgent response would be required, one they hoped they wouldn't have to deploy.
Before the engineer could respond, Marco entered the kitchen, whistling and wearing a huge grin beneath his mustache.
"Good morning, Lopez. You're mighty chipper this morning," Hank offered, patting Marco on the shoulder as he walked past him. "I'll be in my office getting ready for roll call," he tossed over his shoulder as he exited. He needed some time to think about what to do with Johnny's impending resignation.
Mike cut his eyes at his senior lineman, offering the older man a knowing wink. "I take it your Sunday went well."
"Yes, indeed, amigo," Marco said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"I, uh, didn't see you around your Mom's house yesterday. You must have had something come up that was more important than your Sunday visit, huh?" Mike asked, struggling to hide his grin.
"Yes… Something did, um, come up, as you say," Marco remarked, waggling his eyebrows.
"I knew it. That's the only thing that can make a man as happy and relaxed as you are this morning. Congratulations, Marco. I'm happy for you both," Mike said, slapping Marco on the back.
"What's that?" Chet asked, pushing his way through the kitchen door.
Mike cleared his throat, taking another sip of his coffee. He knew the story was Marco's to tell, if the older man so chose.
Chet looked at his two co-workers, knowing that they were deliberately hiding something from him. "Aww, c'mon, fellas. What's goin' on?" He asked, staring at the other men while he reached for a coffee cup from the dish drain.
Marco draped his arm around his partner's shoulders. "I don't kiss and tell, Chet."
Chet poured his coffee, then looked up at his friend, noting the glow that colored Marco's face. "Aww, shit. I know that look," he said, blowing a cooling breath across the steaming coffee. "I'm happy for you, Marco. Just don't forget who sleeps in the bed beside you in the dorm, alright? I don't want you waking up in the middle of the night and thinkin' I'm Beverly," he snickered.
"Don't flatter yourself," Marco commented, glad that his friends understood his mood and seemed to be willing to allow him privacy.
"You're not my type either, Pal," Chet chuckled. "Caroline is all the woman I need."
"Guess I'm the only one around here not getting any action, huh?" Mike groaned.
"Watch it, Stoker. You're going out with my sister," Marco said, feigning anger. His efforts were in vain, and in just a few seconds, all three men were laughing.
The kitchen door swung open and the senior medic walked through. He stopped in front of the refrigerator. "You fellas sure are happy this morning."
"Mornin', Roy," Chet said, pouring another cup of coffee and offering it to the paramedic. "Uh-oh," the lineman muttered, seeing the downcast look on Roy's face. "You're second guessing our plan for Johnny and Lily, aren't you?"
"Maybe," Roy responded with a shrug. "But I honestly can't think of another way."
Kyle Greene pushed through the door, nodding his greeting to the other men in the room. Just as he poured a cup of coffee, a light knock was heard at the side door.
Mike was closest to the door, so he opened it and greeted their guest. "Good morning, Amy. C'mon in. May I get you a cup of coffee?"
"I think I'm supposed to be the one askin' that question," she replied with a wide grin.
"Not when you're in OUR house," the engineer replied.
"Amy, how's Gretchen? Any change?" Roy asked, correctly assuming that an update was the reason for the waitress' visit.
Amy accepted the proffered coffee, smiling her gratefulness to Mike. "That's why I'm here. I had to come by and tell you all how thankful I am for you saving her life. She's awake now… Well, not fully, but she's beginning to come around. Doctor Early said it might take a while, but… He thinks she's gonna be okay."
Roy gave her a warm embrace. "That's wonderful, Amy. Has she said… anything?"
"About what happened? No, we haven't asked. The labs came back positive for heroin, though." The waitress shook her head, accepting the chair Roy pulled out for her.
"Then why haven't you asked her why she did it?" Chet asked.
"Well, the doctors… And the, um, the police said not to. They said that if we asked her questions while her mind is… fuzzy… That it might actually create memories that aren't real. They all said that we need to wait and see what she remembers on her own," Amy responded, sipping the black coffee. "I know what this looks like, fellas, but I know her. She wouldn't do it. I just know she wouldn't."
"Then we'll just wait for her to remember what happened," Marco said, offering his support to their favorite waitress. "When you care a lot about someone, then you don't mind waiting for them to recover from whatever demons they may be wrestling with."
Amy smiled up at the senior linemen, looking a little forlornly. "I know, Marco. It just ain't easy, that's all."
The waitress and the firemen visited for a few more minutes, until Hank stuck his head in the doorway to announce roll call.
"Roll call in… Amy?" He paused, surprised to see his friend. "How's Gretchen?" He asked, stepping the rest of the way into the kitchen, propping his elbow against the wall.
"Improving… She's gonna be okay, Hank. I just stopped by to let you fellas know, and to thank you for saving her," Amy repeated, rising from her seated position. "I guess I better get going and let you men get back to work saving more lives," she said with a nervous chuckle. She placed her coffee cup in the sink, then offered the men a small wave as she walked out the door. "See ya 'round."
"I'll check in on Gretchen when Greene and I make our first run to Rampart," Roy said, a smile crossing his ruddy features. Not only was the young woman going to survive a brush with death, but she just might hold the key to getting his old partner back.
E!
Johnny and James bounced around inside the delivery truck as they made their way down the Tehachapi Mountain side. They had deliveries to make in Bakersfield, and James seemed particularly nervous.
"What's up, James," the dark-haired paramedic asked, his crooked smile lighting his face. Today was the day Lily would complete her shunning. At sundown she would be allowed to return to the Unity Family, including their newest member. Johnny couldn't wait to see her again, to hold her in his arms, and apologize to her for being the cause of her week-long exile.
"Nothing… Why do you ask, Brother John?"
"You just seem like you're a million miles away, man," Johnny said, his long hair blowing in the wind while his arm rested on the ledge of the rolled down window.
James continued looking forward, both nervous and glad that he had been chosen to pick up a package for Father James. He had been given the address of the new florist's shop in Bakersfield, and a description of the man who would have the package he was to retrieve. It would be the second time he had been entrusted with such an assignment.
He pulled out onto the highway, retrieving a piece of paper from over the sun visor. "Here," he said, handing the paper to Johnny. "Please read these directions to me. We have a new stop to make."
Johnny accepted the proffered paper. His heart ached from the similarity he felt, the action reminding him of all the times he sat in the passenger's seat of the squad, accepting the address slip passed to him by Roy as Johnny directed them to the scene of a rescue. He cleared his throat, pushing the hurtful images aside. That relationship was gone, destroyed by Johnny's past. He had to force it out of his mind, count it as just another failure in his life.
"Brother John?"
Johnny was startled by James' voice, and he cleared his throat again, as he looked back down at the paper. "Oh, yea… Ahem, sorry." He read the directions one more time. "Looks like we need to make a left turn on, uh," he snickered for a moment. "Weedpatch Highway."
"Weedpatch?" James questioned.
"That's what it looks like to me. What does it look like to you?" Johnny asked, holding the paper out for James to see.
James toggled his eyes back and forth between the paper and highway 58 as he took several fleeting glances at the paper. "Yes… Yes, it does appear to be Weedpatch Highway. I suppose we can easily figure out how it acquired its name," he said with a grin, running the passenger's side wheels off the side of the road.
"Whoa!"
"Sorry, Brother John. I didn't mean to frighten you with my poor driving skills."
"Nah, it's a'right. You wouldn't believe how many near misses Roy and I have when… I mean HAD when we were running code R," he said, turning his face away from James so the other man wouldn't see his dejected expression.
"Code R?"
"Oh, yea… It's when-"
The sound of a siren approaching them from the rear caused Johnny to look in his side-view mirror. "It's that," he said with an eye roll, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"What? I'm being pulled over again?" James asked, pressing his lips into a frustrated grimace as he slowed down and moved onto the shoulder of the highway.
"So code R means you're getting pulled over for doing nothing wrong?" James asked, the sarcasm in his voice sounding unusual.
"No… I mean, yes, you're getting pulled over so the fuzz can harass us again, but no, that isn't what code R means. It means running hot. You know, lights and sirens."
"Oh," James grunted, reaching across the seat to open the glove box. Once again, he withdrew the envelope which Johnny assumed held the registration, and then exited the vehicle.
Johnny reached for the door handle, intending to exit the vehicle along with James.
"Just, ah… Just wait here, Brother John."
Johnny knitted his eyebrows together. "What? Why? This is bullshit!"
"Look, I know these cats. Just… Just let me handle it," James said, diverting his eyes from Johnny's face, making the paramedic question the other man's sincerity.
Johnny watched out of his side-view mirror as James opened up the back of the truck for the one uniformed and one plain-clothed officers. He felt the vibration of the men walking around in the back of the truck, and he knew that they were being searched again. James was right, they were definitely being harassed, and the idea made Johnny's stomach churn. He remembered seeing what the police had done to the black citizens in Selma, and he couldn't help but see the similarities here. The only difference was instead of harassing them because of their race, they were being harassed for their beliefs.
Johnny leaned his head against the headrest, exasperated by the turn of events. He could hear the mumbled voices of the three men talking, but couldn't make out the words. However, James' words to him prior to exiting the vehicle were echoing loudly in his mind.
'I know these cats.' Johnny wondered why James had made such a statement. Was it because these same law enforcement officers had stopped him before? Did James somehow know these men in a different capacity than as law enforcement officers? Johnny ran a nervous finger beneath his nose; he was beginning to believe that there was more going on than had been shared with him.
By the time James returned to the cab of the truck, twenty minutes had passed. He quickly replaced the envelope, slammed the glove compartment shut, and pulled the old truck back onto the highway.
"What the hell took you so long?" Johnny asked, suspiciously
James looked over at his passenger, his eyes seeming far more worried than before the stop. "They were just doing what they do best."
"What's that? Wasting our time?" Johnny asked, feeling a rant rising from the pit of his stomach.
"Just settle down, Brother John. It took some quick thinking on my part, but I satisfied their inquiries and they let me go. Now how much farther until we get to… What was that street again?"
"Weedpatch Highway," Johnny said, forcing back the bile in his throat. "Looks like it's just… Oh, maybe five miles or so. It's on the western edge of the city."
The duo continued on in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. James had been given a difficult task to accomplish by the law enforcement officers, and Johnny was trying to figure out the truth behind the traffic stop. Johnny decided that the next time they got pulled over by the cops, he wasn't going to sit by idly. Never again would he sit by while injustice was being doled out on innocent people.
James maneuvered the delivery truck, following the directions Johnny gave him. Eventually the duo pulled to a stop behind a dilapidated structure.
Johnny looked down at the address at the bottom of the piece of paper he held in his hands. "This can't be right."
"The owner hasn't completed the remodeling," James said softly, looking around at the back lot, feeling anxious about meeting the person who held the package for Father Hiram.
"Then why the hell is the guy ordering plants and flowers from us now? Nobody in their right mind would come here to make a purchase with the place looking like a haunted house." Johnny cocked an eyebrow in James' direction. "I got a bad feeling about this."
"We just do as we are instructed, Brother John. Father Hiram believes in us. We must not disappoint him."
Johnny huffed, shifting in his seat.
Before Johnny allowed the expletives to escape from his mouth, James held up his hand to silence the younger man. "I'll go make contact with the owner. You get the boxes ready to be delivered. They are the ones marked with red letters."
"The pottery?"
"Yes," James replied, opening his door.
James' beard and long hair blew in the gust of wind that whipped around the corner of the building. He walked past the empty crates tossed haphazardly around the back entranceway. When he knocked on the door, a heavily tattooed man opened it.
"Are you James?"
"Yes. You must be Gordon," James replied, his steady voice hiding his rapidly beating heart.
"That I am," the balding man responded. "Bring the boxes inside while I get Hiram's package ready."
Johnny and James unloaded four heavy boxes, each carrying pieces of pottery made by the women of the Family, including Lily. When Johnny walked into the darkened interior of the building, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. The room was dark and dingy with empty boxes stacked high in several places. The pathway was narrow and winding, leading to the dusty room that had once been a store. The dust drifted around Johnny's face causing him to sneeze.
"Achoo!"
"Bless you, Brother John," James spoke softly.
"Thanks."
While the two men unloaded the boxes into the front room, Gordon retrieved two large manila envelopes taped up with packaging tape. "Here," he said, thrusting the package into James' waiting hands. "Tell Hiram I'll be waiting for more on the first of next month."
"Think you'll have this place ready to open in a month?" Johnny inquired, beginning to doubt that this was a legitimate business.
"It'll do," Gordon said flatly.
"Thank you, Gordon. I will see that this reaches Father Hiram," James remarked, tucking the package underneath his arm.
"See ya," Johnny called to the owner with a slight wave of his hand, happy to be returning to the truck. When he slammed the door shut, he looked over at James and released a slow whistle.
"I understand. Not our usual customer," James replied, cranking up the truck and sliding the package beneath his seat. "Let's make the next delivery."
"Yea… Let's do that," Johnny muttered nervously. He kept an eye on the back door of the building as James pulled the delivery truck into traffic. "So… What's in the package? That pottery can't be worth that much money," the paramedic stated.
"It is for Father Hiram."
"Yea, yea, I know that, but… But, uh, what is it?" Johnny questioned, his curiosity piqued.
"It is not for our eyes, Brother John."
"Oh, c'mon. Aren't you curious about it? I mean, we could be hauling somethin' illegal, and with the way this truck is a cop magnet, we need to be extra careful, you know?" Johnny had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach about the contents of the package.
"We are protected," James replied, his eyes still staring at the road ahead.
"By what? Father Hiram's magic? Man, that's bullsh-" Johnny nearly shouted his remark, his frustration growing, but James interrupted his outburst.
"Do you question Father Hiram's deity?"
Johnny sighed, fearing he was about to be kicked out of the truck. He couldn't allow himself to be abandoned in Bakersfield on the day that Lily was being released from her isolation. If he did, who would he call? He couldn't call his coworkers back in Los Angeles, and no one at the compound had a phone except Father Hiram. Feeling trapped in a noose of his own creating, he apologized to James.
"I'm sorry, man. I'm jus'… Uptight, I guess. I… I'm so ready to see Lily."
"Understandable," James responded, relieved that the topic of the conversation had turned to a calmer subject. "You shall see her tonight, Brother John, and all will be well."
"I sure hope so, James. I sure hope so."
E!
By late afternoon, the men of Station 51 were exhausted. They had been a part of a three-alarm fire at a high-rise apartment complex. Thankfully, there had been no lives lost, but several victims suffered from smoke inhalation and minor burns, keeping both Roy and Kyle busy. As soon as the paramedics had been released from their last run to Rampart, they had been dispatched on a woman in labor call.
It was Mike's turn to cook dinner so while he and Chet were chopping vegetables for the pot roast he was preparing, Marco took a quick shower and was talking to Beverly on the phone in the dorm.
"I've never seen Marco this happy," Mike said, making quick work of peeling potatoes.
"Hey, I'm happy for him. A good woman is hard to find and the two of them seem as happy as… Well, as happy as me and Caroline," the junior lineman remarked. He received a grunt in response from the quiet engineer. "Say… How're you and Lexi doing?"
"Things are moving along," Mike said, cutting up the last of the potatoes. He reached for the celery and began chopping. "I mean, we're taking it slowly because of… Well, you know… But…," he hesitated, looking over at the shorter man. "But I think our relationship is progressing nicely."
"Are you happy with her?" Chet asked, looking over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone. After all, they were talking about the sister of his best friend.
Mike picked up the chopping board, raking the thin slices of celery into the roasting pan. "Yes… Yes, I am happy when I'm with her. The Dodgers game that I took Lexi and Antonio to was one of the best days of my life," he said with a broad smile.
"Kids are great, aren't they?"
"Yes… Even when they're not your own flesh and blood. I know you understand that. You seem to be great with Corrie."
Chet blushed just as Marco walked into the kitchen, his own face glowing. "That's because Chet's just a big kid himself," the senior lineman chuckled.
"Oh, ha-ha, Marco," Chet said sarcastically, cutting his eyes at his friend. "Say… You look like you've been talking to Beverly."
"That I was, and the lady says to tell you all hello," he said with a smile.
"It's amazing how happy all of us are now, isn't it?" Mike asked, pulling an onion out of the grocery bag.
"Yea, all of us except Johnny," Chet muttered, hearing the front bay door rising.
Roy was just backing the squad into the station when he saw the sedan belonging to Ronald Crockett turning into the back parking lot of the station. Even though Kyle was not included in the plan for rescuing Johnny and Lily from the cult, he was aware that something was going on. He also saw the detective, and knew that the men would need some privacy to talk to the officer.
"I'll, ah… I think I'll take a shower and maybe take a nap before dinner," Kyle offered, before exiting the squad.
"Thanks, Greene. We all really appreciate how supportive you've been with us and Johnny. You're a great asset to the department," Roy said softly, exiting the vehicle, then stepping out of the squad and into the captain's office. "Crockett just drove up, Cap."
Hank looked up with his hazel eyes, leaning back in his chair. He inhaled deeply, pushing down on the table as he rose to his full height. "Well… Let's head to the dayroom and see what he has to tell us."
"Uh, Greene said he would make himself scarce so we could talk. He's really a good kid, Cap. I'm impressed with him – personally and professionally," Roy said as his superior walked towards the door.
"Good to hear, especially if John doesn't come back," Hank said in a worried voice, stepping past his senior medic and heading for the dayroom.
Roy watched with a solemn look on his face. "He's coming back, Cap," he mumbled to himself. "He has to."
Ron Crockett walked through the open rear bay door, nodding his greeting to the two approaching firemen. "Hank… Roy."
"Hello, Ron," Hank said extending his hand to the detective. "I assume you're bringing us some news."
"Yea, um, I'd like to explain all of this to everyone at once. Do you mind getting the rest of your crew together?"
"Right this way," the captain said pushing open the kitchen door and gesturing with a sweep of his right hand.
Inside the station kitchen, Mike gave his stew one final stir before placing the lid on top so it could simmer. Both he and the two linemen looked up when they heard the deep voice of their leader.
"Good afternoon, fellas," the detective said heading over to the kitchen table.
Before his men could speak, Hank took over the conversation. "Marco, get us a fresh pot of coffee going, will you, Pal? Detective Crockett has something he'd like to share with us."
"Just plugged it in, Cap," the senior linemen replied, scooping up several coffee cups and setting them around on the table.
Hank offered the detective a slight grin. "Don't know why we even use words around here. My crew has a way of reading each other's minds, including mine," he said, pointing a finger in the center of his chest as he pulled out a chair.
"Well, that's a skill that could come in real handy in the next day, or so," Crockett stated, taking a seat opposite Hank.
"So you've been in touch with your colleagues at the FBI?" Roy asked, eager to find out if their plan to rescue Johnny and Lily from the clutches of the cult had been deemed acceptable.
"Yes, I have, Roy," the detective stated, spinning the empty blue and white coffee cup around in front of him. "While they don't think it'll work, they won't stand in the way of it."
"Then why the rush?" Mike questioned, noting the stress on the detective's face. "Are things that bad?"
"Sort of," Ron interjected.
"Sorta?" Chet repeated, blue eyes widening with concern. "They're in danger, aren't they?"
Crockett chose his words carefully, refusing to answer Chet's question, directly. "I'm afraid that things have changed a little. The FBI's timeline has been moved up. It seems that their inside guy is getting rather antsy about what's going on inside the cult." He leaned back in his chair, turning towards Roy. With his elbow resting on the back of the chair, he looked straight at Roy and Mike. "You fellas are gonna have to do it soon, and I mean REAL soon."
"How soon?" Roy asked, hearing the sound of blood rushing in his ears as his blood pressure and heart rate rose.
"No later than Wednesday."
"So then… You want us implementing this plan as soon as our shift is over?" Hank asked, the reality of the situation hitting him hard. When he saw the detective nod his head, he continued on. "Then we've got to get ready, don't we?"
"Yes, you do. And you've got to give it everything you've got, Hank. 'Cause if you can't convince them to leave on their own, even for just a short time, then you've either got to grab 'em and go, or… Or they may be there when the feds raid the compound."
"Shit," Chet cursed, slamming his hand on the table. He knew better than to look at his captain after such an outburst.
"Exactly, man," Ron remarked, picking up his cup and walking over to the counter to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. He unplugged the percolator and began pouring a round of coffee for the group of weary firemen. "So… Are you ready to nail down the details of O-51?"
"O-51?" Hank questioned, knitting his eyebrows together.
"That's right. The Feds have dubbed this plan as… Operation 51," he said with a chuckle.
The tension release was audible as the group guffawed at the comment. But it was just what they needed; giving a name to their most critical rescue to date had a unifying sound.
"Alright, let's form a plan of attack," Hank began, accepting a cup of coffee from the detective. "And let's bring them home."
E!
The sun drifting behind the clouds in the western sky was beautiful in the Tehachapi Mountains. Johnny stood beside the men's dorm, staring across the fields at the orange and magenta hues growing bolder as the sun slowly disappeared. He appreciated all things in nature, but this particular spot was especially beautiful. He felt like a Shakespearean actor. The flat strips of land along the edge of the mountain reminded him of a stage, and the surrounding mountain peaks appeared as large curtains on either side of the narrow field. How he wished he could simply close those curtains, thus ending the drama he found himself a part of. But this compound wasn't a stage of actors, and his life wasn't a play. The hills were dotted with greenhouses, surrounded by various grazing animals used to supply protein for the family members. The whole place seemed majestic, but was it too good to be true?
He thought of all he had left behind, his career as a paramedic, his friends, his best friend, Roy and the entire DeSoto family who had adopted him as one of their own; Iris, the woman who had housed him after the darkest period of his life, and even his beloved Land Rover had all been left behind in Los Angeles. The worst thing he was giving up was any chance of returning to his home in Montana to visit his parents. Was the sacrifice worth the reward? He loved Lily, had since the day they met, but could he really give up everything he had worked so hard for in order to be with her for the rest of his life? Could he turn his back on Kizzy Campbell, the woman who had treated him like a son a decade ago? He had made his decisions, pushed by events that had happened too quickly. Now, he no longer knew the answers to those questions, not since he had seen the herbs that were growing inside a couple of the greenhouses.
Suddenly, a soft voice brought him out of his reverie.
"Thorn?"
Johnny spun around on his heels, rushing to the woman he had been aching to hold in his arms for the past week.
"Lily!" He said, embracing her and stroking her dark hair as he whispered into her ear. "Oh, god, how I've missed you. I'm…" Johnny hesitated, forcing his words past the lump in his throat. "I'm so sorry for getting you in trouble with Father Hiram."
"I've missed you, too, but my shunning was only for a week," she said in a hushed tone, pulling out of his embrace so she could look at his face. Tenderly, she caressed his stubbly face with her small hand, pleased to see him growing a beard like the other men in the family. She saw his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And you didn't get me in trouble, Thorn. I was the one who took the risk. It was my sin, not yours. You were not a part of us then. Besides, if you hadn't joined us, it would've been much longer. You saved me from weeks of anguish."
"I shouldn't have been alone with you," Johnny stated, emphatically. "I knew the consequences, but I still-"
"Sshhh," she hushed him, stepping closer to embrace him. "I'm elated that you made the right decision."
Johnny's countenance fell. "Did I?" he asked, stepping back. "Did I do the right thing, Lily?"
The young woman knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. "Of course, Thorn. Of course you did. You'll learn to be happy here. You left behind all those things that were weighing you down. You left behind the people who ridiculed you, treated you unfairly because of your heritage… Didn't you?" She questioned, hearing the doubt in his voice.
"I don't know, Lil'. I thought I left those people behind the day we left Selma. I mean, I know that I've been the butt of some jokes in recent years, but… But I don't know if I can LEARN to like it here," he emphasized her own words. "Those people I left behind are… er, were my friends, my family."
"NO! No, you're wrong!" Lily said, raising her voice. "Your family is here! Right here, right now," she argued.
"What about your mother? Aunt Iris loves you, Lily. She loves us both."
"No, she doesn't. She lied to me, Thorn. She lied about my maternal grandparents. She said they were dead, but they weren't. They were… They ARE racists… and I hate them."
"You don't even know them!" Johnny's frustration was growing. "People change, Lily. Maybe you should give them a chance," he said, his voice softening. He reached for her, but she turned her back to him, not wanting him to see the tears flowing freely down her face. "And if you can't give them a chance, at least give Aunt Iris a chance. She was trying to protect you. Can't you see that?"
Lily used the backs of her hands to wipe away her tears. "Is that why you came here? To talk me into seeing my mom again?"
Johnny's shoulders slumped. "No… No, not really."
"Then why?" She sniffled, not sure if she really wanted to know the truth.
"Because… I've missed you, Lily. I wanted to see you… to be with you, again. And… I need your help. I… I don't know what to do."
Suddenly Lily remembered the conversation they had had when Johnny had first visited with the family. "The trial?" She asked, turning around slowly to face the man she loved with all her heart.
"I have to make a decision… And… And I can't just hide away and pretend like it didn't happen. My unwillingness to intervene cost Phillip his life and I've been running away from it for the last ten years," Johnny choked out, believing that he had played a role in Phillip's death. "I walked away from everything and everyone in Los Angeles that means anything to me at all. So now, I've got no reason to stand by idly and watch that sick bastard get away… with it all… over again," he said, his voice raspy and ragged with emotion. "I have a chance to tell the world what I witnessed in Selma, a chance to help your entire paternal family get justice for your Uncle Phillip's murder."
Lily began shaking her head from side to side. "No… No, you can't do it, Thorn. You just can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because they'll… They'll hurt you… And I can't… I can't lose you, too." Lily's heart-felt pleas were killing Johnny, but somehow he pressed on.
"And I can't stand back and let history repeat itself, Lily. I can't…," he paused, forcing the lump in his throat to retreat long enough for him to push his words out. "I WON'T let my cowardice define me for the next decade."
"Oh, Thorn… No… Please…" She cried, rushing into his arms, clinging to him like a woman drowning.
"I really need for you to go with me. I… I don't know if I can… face that place alone, but… But if you won't do it, then… Then I'll have to go without you."
Her anguished cries ripped his heart right out of his chest. He ran his calloused hand down the back of her head, pulling her tighter against his chest. The last thing he had wanted to do was break her heart, but he had to go back to testify, even if it meant losing her forever.
"But you… can't leave… us," she sniffled, drawing in a hitching breath.
"Why not?" Johnny asked, pulling away from her so he could look into her tear-stained face. "Am I imprisoned, here?"
"Of course not, but…" She didn't want to do it. She didn't want to tell him the truth.
"But what? WHAT?" He said through gritted teeth, shaking her by her upper arms.
"I'll… I'll be…pun-punished, and James will, too. He-he'll hurt us… both!"
"Who? Hiram?" Johnny asked, his dark eyes angering as they scanned her face for answers.
"Y-yes… You're here 'cause of us… If you le-leave, then… then…"
"Then what?"
She collapsed into his embrace one last time. "Please don't do it, Thorn. Don't make us endure it, please?"
"Then come with me, please?"
She didn't answer him, not wanting to leave the family, and yet, not wanting to lose Johnny again, either.
Johnny felt his legs begin to buckle. If he stayed, then Phillip's murderer might not be found guilty. He did not believe that Lily or James would willingly leave the Unity Family. And if he left the Unity Family, then Lily and James would endure a severe punishment. He was trapped, just as surely as he had been when that hole had caved in on him while he was trying to rescue an abused boy who had fallen in it. The only difference was that during that rescue, he had his friends holding onto his legs while his upper body had become buried in the collapse. They had pulled him out quickly. All he had to do was hold on to the victim. He had done his part, and his shiftmates had done theirs. And both the boy and Johnny had survived. He had thought about the cave collapses during rescues, where his coworkers had spent hours digging him out to safety. He even remembered following his captain's orders to leap from a window ledge and into the waiting life net, held by his department brothers. Their actions had saved both Roy and Johnny from certain death.
This time, things were different. He had pushed his friends away, cut them off from his life. This time, there would be no last minute intervention from his coworkers. This time, his captain's voice would not be there to guide him to safety, no department life net to break his fall. This time, neither he, nor the victim he had hoped to rescue, would get out of the hole they had fallen into.