Just Another Day: Chapter 5
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DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
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11:59 a.m. West Coast Time on Monday, May 14, 2012, on the outskirts at the southeast perimeter of the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California, close to Highway 101
"Willie! Willie! Are you all right?"
Not much worries or concerns Sam Carlos, but seeing the large, unmoving form of Willie Crockett slumped over the steering wheel, with blood dripping onto the now deflated airbag is enough to move even the most powerful man in the Bay Area. Fortunately for Sam Carlos, he was sitting in his customary position in the back seat of the large black SUV; otherwise, he, too, would likely be in a precarious position.
Who is he kidding . . . this is the proverbial 'precarious' position.
"I'm good, boss," Willie Crockett finally mutters under his breath, as the stars flying around his head begin to clear.
Just minutes ago, Crockett was driving along the narrow and winding highway road from the Castles Complex that leads to Highway 101. There are steep drop-offs to the valley below. It is a beautiful sight, on most any day.
But not this day.
The shaking ground had caught both the enforcer and his boss off-guard, as one can never anticipate an earthquake, disaster movies notwithstanding. Both men, having grown up in the Bay Area, immediately recognized what was happening. They are fortunate – oh so fortunate – that the ground began to crack along a straightaway and not on one of the dangerous winding curves.
Regardless, Crockett was able to avoid the first crevice that had opened up. He was able to avoid a subsequent break after that. However, as he swerved to avoid the second opening, yet another crevice appeared. Now, the passenger front side of the SUV is nose first into the crevice.
The men are trapped.
True to his nature – and his job – Crockett immediately puts his own welfare into the background, now more concerned with the man in the backseat. Fortunately, Sam Carlos is fine.
Willie Crockett, however, is not.
Crockett has a deep cut above his left eyebrow, which is bleeding profusely . . . hence the blood on the airbag.
Now that Sam can see the blood flowing on his friend, and can hear the ragged breathing from his friend, he makes a quick battlefield decision, taking his phone from his inner jacket pocket. Dialing 911 isn't an option at this point. Because of the earthquake, and the damage he sees around them – and assumes is likely worse across the bridge – 911 is likely to be overloaded. In reality, the closest competent medical staff for Willie Crockett is actually some fix or six minutes behind them back at the complex.
However, the SUV is definitely non-operational, and a two to three mile walk with Willie bleeding as he is . . . well, that just isn't an option at the moment.
He touches one entry on his smartphone, waiting for the call to connect, nervously hoping that the quake hasn't taken down area cellular towers. Precious seconds later, he is finally rewarded as Kate Beckett answers.
"Kate," he answers, officiously. There is something about his tone of voice that immediately tells Kate Beckett this is not a social call.
"Sam," she replies. "Given you just left, I take it this isn't a how's-it-going call."
"Correct," he answers. "We have a problem, Willie and I. Our car is incapacitated because of the earthquake, and –"
"Where exactly are you?" Kate interrupts, flagging down Mike Monroe who is a few feet away.
"Same road we left on, but our vehicle is non-operational, and Willie is bleeding. Quite badly, actually. I could have called 911, but –"
"Say no more," she interrupts again, now placing the call on speakerphone so that Mike Monroe can listen in.
"The road is in bad shape, Katie, and it was dicey enough already with narrow lanes and drop-offs before the earthquake. It makes sense for us to return to you, as I know Richard's medical staff can help Willie. But we will –"
"Again, say no more, Sam," Kate interrupts a third time. "We will get a chopper out to you and pick you up that way. There's no telling how many more aftershocks we will get, but you know they are coming."
By now, Willie Crockett has been listening in to the conversation, as Sam Carlos has the call on speakerphone. Now, the large man interjects his musings.
"You mentioned a chopper, Kate?" he asks.
"Yes, Willie," Kate answers. "I understand you are a little worse for the weather."
"Worse for the weather or not, I am not sitting in some damn rescue basket, Kate," Crockett tells her, his voice half mixed with both humor and menace.
"Just let us get to you, and then we can have this conversation," she tells him. "Signing off Sam, we will find you."
Seconds later, Kate and Mike Monroe are sprinting toward the doors to get to the helipad. Monroe is barking instructions to Lindy, who is on her way back from retrieving their would-be arsonist.
"Lindy, believe it or not, we have another situation," Monroe tells her.
"Of course we do," Lindy tells Monroe as she navigates some fairly large fallen branches that litter the ground.
"We are on our way back with our target," she continues. "I would say ETA around two minutes."
"Meet us at the helipad, Lindy," Mike tells her. "Kate and I are already on our way there, and she's on the phone with Ron. By the time you get here, we should be airborne within two minutes."
"Understood, Mike," Lindy replies, then goes quiet for a couple of seconds. "What's going on that demands my attention, Mike? I know Colin and Dawn are there, and –"
"What we are doing is an aerial drop retrieval," he tells his formidable friend. "That's your specialty. Well, one of your specialties."
"Gotcha," she replies. "Who are we picking up, and where?"
"Believe it or not, Mr. Carlos and Mr. Crockett," Mike tells her. "Their vehicle is incapacitated due to the earthquake, and I understand Willie has injuries. We don't know –"
"I'm on my way," Lindy tells her longtime good friend – a man who has become more than just a good friend. She hangs up, gunning the ATV faster to pick up speed, pick up time in order to get there faster. She has developed a fondness for the two San Francisco men, and if they need help . . . well, after everything they have done for the people here at the complex, personally and otherwise . . . yeah, this is sort of a drop-everything moment in her mind.
Minutes later she is in one of the back seats next to Mike Monroe and Gail Simmons. Kate has made the recommendation to have the nurse in the aircraft in case rapid emergency care is going to be necessary for Willie Crockett. The chopper lifts off easily enough, with Ron Daniels piloting the craft, and immediately banks hard eastward toward Highway 101. Less than two minutes later, Ron hollers into the mic, heard on the headsets by the threesome in the back.
"There they are," he tells the trio, as he begins hovering overhead, lowering the craft.
"Won't be able to land, though," he mentions, and all three can see the broken terrain below. No, landing is not an option at this spot. But that is not what catches everyone's eye.
Below them, Sam Carlos is waving them downward, while the large black man who is his enforcer stands next to him, a white rag of some type on his upper face. Except the rag is not white. It should be white. Instead, it is blood red.
Literally.
"At least he is upright and standing," Simmons remarks from her seat, staring down at the duo below, as Lindy straps herself in, along with the rescue apparatus. Seconds later, she is being lowered down, with Monroe guiding the cable with gloved hands.
Below them, Sam Carlos stands watching the blonde-haired woman being lowered down to he and his companion.
"You first, my friend," Carlos tells Crockett.
"Not a chance," Crockett disregards. "And this isn't open for discussion."
Carlos merely smiles at his long-time friend, knowing that, in this case, there is no use arguing with the man. There is no way Crockett will leave his boss behind, even for an instant.
"Willie first," Lindy motions toward the larger man as she arrives, landing lightly on her feet.
"Not happening," Crockett tells her. "Take Mr. Carlos first."
"Dude, we are on a first name basis here, all right," Lindy remarks with a roll of her eyes. "We need to get going, because we don't know when –"
"Then stop arguing with me, Lindy, and take Sam," the larger man offers. He is holding a bloody compress rag over his eye, and her trained eye can tell the man is wincing with each breath. Quickly making a field decision, she grabs ahold of Sam Carlos a bit more roughly than intended, strapping the man in.
"My apologies, Sam," she offers, then speaks into the headset, talking now to those back in the craft hovering some twenty-five feet overhead.
"Quickly Mike. And Gail, we are going to want to check Willie's ribs," Lindy continues as she and Sam Carlos are being mechanically raised by Mike Monroe.
"I didn't even think to check anything beyond his bleeding," Sam offers with a bit of remorse.
"Well, unless you have been medically trained, how could you?" Lindy replies, her eyes still glancing down at the man left behind on the ground. Typical Sausalito winds are beginning to kick in, as Daniels holds the craft as steady as he can.
"Another five feet," Lindy tells Carlos as they continue to rise. Seconds later, Monroe is turning the hanging duo, so that Sam Carlos is facing him. Bringing him into the craft, he quickly detaches the Bay Area man.
"Be right back," Lindy tells him. "Quick, Mike, we might not have much –"
Her next words are lost as the ground below them begins to rumble and shake once again. Lindy glances down in horror as she sees Crockett falling to the ground, unable to keep his balance from the aftershock below. She absently wills the wench to lower her faster, as now Crockett is flattened on his face on the ground.
Evidently Mike Monroe has seen the same thing, and allows the cable to fall just slightly more quickly, hoping to get Lindy down to the ground safely before any more damage is done.
"I'm here," Lindy barks into her headset, now moving quickly to the man still on the ground.
"Willie, let's go, quit screwing around," she remarks with a bit of humor that she hopes the man will understand as she sees him attempting to pull himself up from the ground.
"Yeah, there is something going on inside there," she thinks to herself, convinced now more than ever that there is some type of internal damage to their friend. She gets down to one knee, meeting the man on the ground as the slight rumble continues.
"Just thought I'd hang around here for a bit," Crockett replies wistfully, but his smile is all she needs to see. He's still hanging in there, but it is clear he is losing blood. She gently takes the rag from him in her gloved hand, taking a look at the cut above his eye.
"Yeah, Gail, you're going to want to get to work on him," Lindy tells the nurse via the headset. "This cut looks pretty deep."
"I have had worse," Crockett tells her, accepting her help as he finally pulls himself back upright into a standing position.
"I'm sure you have, Big Guy, but not on our watch," Lindy tells him. "I hope you're not getting ready to be a bad patient. I'd hate to kick your ass while you're hurting."
"You think you could, eh?" he replies with a smile, as she begins to fasten him into the safety harness.
"You think I couldn't?" she asks, the amazement in her voice coming through loud and clear, as both warriors smile in respect.
It is Mike Monroe who interrupts the conversation in her earpiece.
"As much as all of us would love to see you two dance a bit, can you please wrap up the tough talk and pull his ass up here so we can get out of here!?" Mike asks, bringing chuckles to his companions.
Lindy simply smiles, knowing that Crockett cannot hear the conversations going on through their headsets.
"Mike agrees with me," she tells Crockett, chuckling.
"Of course he does," with a roll of his eyes and a smile. "He doesn't know better."
Once again, another jolt hits the ground, knocking both Lindy and Crockett off balance. Both recognize the imminent danger, their eyes widening.
"I think I shall join you in this contraption after all," he tells her, and she quickly wraps him up, fastens him in, and the two are airborne again.
As they are hovering fifteen feet off the ground, being pulled up, they hear the next jolt, and watch as the ground beneath them opens up, taking the car with it deep into the newly formed cavern.
"Damn," Lindy remarks staring down and then glancing at the large man in her grasp. Both are laughing now.
"That was too close," Willie agrees, as the duo are lifted higher and higher until finally Crockett feels Mike Monroe pull him roughly into the airborne chopper, disengaging him from the safety harness.
Immediately Monroe and Gail Simmons guide the large man to the mobile gurney.
"That won't be necessary," he begins, before a now detached Lindy Matthews jabs him lightly in the left rib area, bringing a clear wince and jagged breath from Crockett.
"It's necessary," Lindy tells the group in a no-nonsense manner, lightly pushing their friend onto the gurney.
"I can't stitch him here," Simmons remarks. "We have to wait until we get back, but this should at least hold it a bit," she continues, applying a butterfly above the eye.
"Where does it hurt, Mr. Crockett?" Nurse Simmons asks, as Sam Carlos stays back, giving them room to work. When Crockett doesn't answer, she pokes a spot on his chest, and is ready to poke a second spot near the left rib again when a large black hand grabs hers – firmly.
"Don't," Crockett tells her, a fierceness now in his eyes that completely disarms the campus nurse.
Mike Monroe is about to say something when Sam Carlos steps in, holding on to a strap overhead.
"My friend, these people are here to help you," Carlos reminds his enforcer. "You know these people. You can trust them, Willie. You know this."
For a moment, nothing is said between the two men, until finally Willie Crockett simply nods his head, closing his eyes.
Mike Monroe grabs the larger man's right hand with his own right hand, squeezing firmly.
"You know us, man," Monroe tells him. "Let us help you," he continues, as Lindy takes position on the other side of Crockett, holding his other hand.
"We've got you, Big Fella," she reminds him. "And like I said . . . don't make me kick your ass."
Tensions ease in the now banking chopper as Willie Crockett, eyes closed, chuckles and gives both hands holding his a grateful squeeze.