“How is Blue?” Will asked weakly. He looked exhausted and fading. “Is she breathing?”
“She is breathing, barely, but her pulse is steady. She is better off than you are right now. I want you to lay down and put as much pressure here as you can stand.” She held his right hand to his upper left chest “I’m going to lie you on your back. That will help put pressure on the exit wound.” She rolled him carefully onto his back. Will grimaced the whole time.
“It’s heroin, I think,” Will said when Chief Hannah turned to examine Blue’s arm and the paraphernalia on the table. “I think he overdosed her. Can you suck it out or something? Can you keep her alive?”
Chief Hannah let a softness penetrate her professional voice when she replied, “You just stay still, Will. I’ll keep her alive, I promise. Are you sure it’s heroin? Did you hear them actually say heroin?”
“He’s a dealer . . . heroin . . . Blue overheard them talking at the park . . . Blue saw something and . . . Bronco caught her so . . . so she wouldn’t go to the police.” Will seemed to be losing consciousness. Now she started to be more than worried.
“Will, stay with me.” She added her hand to Will’s and pressed hard. The stab of pain woke him up again, and he gasped, “Ahh! It hurts!”
“I know bud, but we gotta keep pressure on it.” And then she saw the pool of blood Will was lying in. His body had blocked the sight of it when he was sitting up. The amount of blood on the floor was far more than there should have been and it frightened her. She realized she had spent too much time talking to Ed and checking out Blue; she should have checked Will more quickly. It must be an artery, she thought. Nothing else would cause so much blood so fast. “Just lie still. This is going to hurt like hell but I’m not letting up.”
Will’s eyes were starting to flutter. Fear was starting to rise in Chief Hannah’s chest, but she kept it out of her voice. “Stay with me, bud,” she said. “Do you know the pledge of allegiance? Say it for me. C’mon you can do it.”
“I pledge allegiance . . . to the flag . . . of the United . . . AHHH!” Chief Hannah had renewed her hand position.
“C’mon Will, it’s not the ‘United-AHH.’ What is it?” she prompted.
“God . . . stop moving around . . . it hurts when you do that. United States . . . of AHH . . . merica!”
Chief Hannah couldn’t help a small smile even if the rest of her face was grim. “Yeah, you’re going to be just fine kid,” she said. “Keep going, I hear a siren now. You have to keep talking to me until they get here. C’mon now let’s do something easier—let’s do the days of the week—start with Monday.” As she said that, she looked over at Blue again, and her optimism ebbed. It was hard to tell if the girl’s lips and nails were getting bluer or pinker. She didn’t dare let pressure off of Will’s chest. It was clear he had lost a lot of blood and if he lost any more . . . “Will! C’mon start with Monday . . . let’s hear it. Monday . . .”
Will spoke like he was half awake “Mon . . . day . . .”
“What’s next buddy? What’s after Monday?” She was almost shouting. At the same time, she reached over and pressed down on Blue’s chest in the hope she could boost Blue’s respirations. She slapped Blue on the cheek, but the girl was completely out of it. Yet Chief Hannah thought she could hear a slight inhale so she pressed on Blue’s chest again.
“Tue . . . Tue . . . Tuesday.” Will’s voice was getting farther and farther away. The sirens were getting closer but not fast enough.
Chief Summer Hannah felt like she had two lives, one in each hand, and each one balanced on a knife’s edge.
Jack ran. He ran and he ran and he ran. He ran from the blue flashing lights of the police car that pulled up as he flew out of Bronco’s house. He ran from the “puh-smash! Puh-smash!” of Broncos silenced pistol firing and striking . . . something—Jack didn’t know what, and he didn’t have time to think about it right now, he was just glad it wasn’t striking him. He ran, and then found himself groveling flat on the ground after a frightening, “POW-smash!” that he recognized as a serious piece of firepower. Jack picked himself up and went into overdrive. He didn’t think he could run any faster, but somehow he did.
He kept running well after he knew he was safe from pursuit. He was running from something worse than bullets or Bronco or blue lights. He was running from what he had just witnessed. That was the girl who had been missing. The girl with gumption that he had admired and had given the joint to. The fourteen-year-old. Blue.
And Will was there, too. How he had managed to find this place, Jack had no idea, but it was clear Will had come to rescue Blue. Jack had been paralyzed by the scene. Will had seemed paralyzed, too, and they were both unable to do anything but watch as Bronco calmly took in the situation, reached into his bag, pulled out a pistol and shot Will almost point blank—like Will was nothing more than a bag of sawdust.
Jack couldn’t believe it. Bronco had kidnapped Blue—though Jack had no idea why. But Bronco wasn’t just a kidnapper, he was also a killer and a psycho. Jack knew about psychos all too well. It hadn’t taken him more than a fraction of a second to know what was coming next. He had instantly come out of his paralysis and reacted instinctively with practiced speed; he shoved Bronco onto the floor and ran for his life.
34
Low Tide
Blue was floating in a warm sea, rocking gently back and forth on dry soft waves. There were voices drifting about above her, saying things that in another world, she would have cared about, but in this world, meant nothing. She was sure she was already dead. She was not surprised to find that her mind was still alive even though her body was not. She wondered why everyone was so afraid of this. Death. If only she could tell them it was okay, but it didn’t really matter. They would find out themselves someday.
She had floated up from the deeper, darker, dry water, where earlier she had almost sunk to the bottom. It was dark down there, but quiet, and peaceful. She was ready to fall into the most pleasant deep sleep she had ever had. She was bobbing, deeper, deeper, deeper, looking forward to resting on the bottom. But then there was a warm feeling in her chest and it expanded, being inflated by some magical force that was warm around her mouth. Maybe this was the kiss of death? It felt very pleasant, and she was pleased when it returned a second time. With the added buoyancy of this warm swelling in her chest, she had started floating upwards again, and the light was returning brighter and brighter. And then she had the sensation of falling—but falling gently and then landing on her side without any pain. She hadn’t fallen back onto the dark ocean floor, because it was light here. It was the ocean surface. Maybe she had passed over to the other side—heaven or hell—or eternity. She was jostled about as playful sea creatures pushed her around on the ocean surface, and one of them had splashed her with a bitter spray which almost made her wake up—and that had annoyed her—but they had gone away now, replaced by the soft drifting voices and the gentle rock of the dry waves. She saw little shadows and lights pass above her from time to time, slowly getting brighter and then rushing away as if they were in a hurry. What is your hurry, she thought. This is forever. Stop and stay awhile.
Things came to Will in fuzzy flashes. He could sense he was lying on his back, rocking back and forth like he was on a train. Next, he could sense lights going by, but he couldn’t quite open his eyes. Time seemed to go by, but he couldn’t tell how much time. His left side and arm felt numb and aching. It was hard to breathe because of pressure on his chest. When he did breathe, the air was sweet and cool and fresh. It was delicious. He could hear a motor, and tires on the road, and voices. His eyes finally opened in small slits. Why was he having so much trouble opening his eyes? Then a voice, a man’s voice, was close by and clear. He realized it was directed at him.
“Hey, look who has decided to join the party! Will, how you doing buddy?” said the man’s voice.
Will tried to say ‘okay’ but all that managed to come out was a hoarse “. . . kay.” He tried
to say ‘been better’ but gave up after it came out “beh . . . b . . . er.” His voice sounded bottled up and he realized he had a mask over his face.
“That’s awesome, you are doing great! Good to hear your voice, man. Bet you’re finding it hard to talk. We’ve got a mask with some oxygen on you. My name is Pete, and over there we have the lovely Sarah. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, we are in an ambulance on our way to the hospital, where they are going to take great care of you.”
“Hey Will,” said Sarah. Will tried to look over but he winced in pain.
“Yeah, that’s going to hurt,” said Pete. “Just relax and take it easy. We gave you some pain meds, but the heavy duty stuff will have to wait until you’re at the hospital. Those meds can make you kind of fuzzy and spaced out, and we can’t have that right now. We need to be able to talk with you.”
Will was starting to come around a little. The oxygen was helping a lot. He gulped it down thirstily. And then he remembered how he got here, and the situation started coming back to him in a rush. He instinctively tried to sit up and look around but cried out in pain.
“Hey, it’s okay, Will. Don’t try to move around. I’ve got to keep this pressure on your chest to keep it from bleeding again. Just talk to me, okay?” said Pete in a calming voice.
The pain subsided but his shoulder and chest were throbbing from the movement. “Blue?” he managed to say clearly. “Where’s Blue? Is she okay?” He looked urgently at Pete who was leaning close over Will.
Pete slowly smiled and said, “If you promise to look at me and lie still, I will tell you that she is pretty sleepy and out of it but is completely safe and breathing strong and steady. Oh, and she is lying about six inches from your left elbow on the folding stretcher. Is that what you were hoping to hear?”
Will couldn’t help himself, he started to look to the left in spite of the pain, but Pete was way ahead of him and had Will’s head held firmly with his free hand. “Hey, hey, hey, what did I just tell you? You’re breaking the deal. Lie still! Now, if you just calm down, I will help you turn head slowly so you can see, and we won’t risk opening up these wounds Sarah and I worked so hard on, okay? But I’m not going to do it until you relax. Are you relaxed?”
Will nodded ever so slightly and tried to relax. Pete gently tilted Will’s head to the left, and Will could see Blue’s profile. She was lying still with her eyes mostly closed, and clearly not fully awake. She was rocking with the motion of the ambulance just as they all were, like an involuntary pantomime. The light in the ambulance was dimmed, and the passing streetlights made a lively wave of light and shadow which played over the still ravaged, but peaceful face underneath.
Pete looked at Sarah with a grin and nodded his head at the pair. He turned back to Will and said, “She is going to be fine. She’ll probably be up and about long before you are, actually. All we had to do was give her some oxygen and bag her with this.” Pete held up a clear plastic bag with a face-mask on one side. “This helps her breathe. It’s like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation but without the mouth. You know what mouth-to-mouth resuscitation is, right Will?”
Will wondered if they knew that he had given Blue mouth-to-mouth. Even with all the blood he lost, he felt himself blushing, but Pete didn’t seem to notice.
“We also gave her a spritz of Narcan, which helped boost her respiration rate. She should be fine now. We just have to wait until she comes down off the heroin.” Pete must have seen the look of concern on Will’s face because he spoke up quickly. “Hey, don’t worry, it won’t last. She’ll be fine as soon as it is all out of her system. You don’t need to worry anymore, okay? You’re in our ambulance and we don’t let anything bad happen once you’re in our ambulance. You have both been through the worst already, and you’re going to get patched up by the best doctors on the planet. Got that?”
“Got it,” said Will, finally giving in to the reassuring rhythm of Pete’s voice and words. Will tried to make a thumbs-up with both hands, but his left hand felt like it was asleep. His right hand worked, though.
Pete gave him the thumbs up back and said, “I saw your left hand trying. That’s good!”
Will did feel like they were both safe now, and that thought was a powerful sedative. He let his eyes slowly shut again with the rocking of the ambulance and the ebb and flow of light that passed through the window.
35
Paradox
Bronco had been driving about an hour when he finally had to pull over. The pain in his leg was getting excruciating, and he had to do something about it. He wanted to put some miles behind him, though, so he had endured the wound as much as he could.
He had pulled over into a parking turnout next to a lake. He was in upstate New York now—sparsely populated, full of lakes and mountains and trees, and not much traffic. He dug into his bug-out bag and pulled out a Percocet and a water bottle. He had a pretty good pharmacy in his bug-out bag. The Percocet would hit in a few minutes and then he could continue driving. Back at the garage when he switched cars, he applied a dressing on the wound and it seemed to be doing its job, so he left it alone. He sighed and sat back and waited for the drug to kick in.
Those damn police had found the apartment a lot faster than he had expected them to. And then there was that damn kid, Will. And Jack! What the hell led up to that?
Didn’t matter now. It meant that they had discovered Bob Kelly, too. Not a problem, though—he had ditched Bob Kelly’s car back in Bob Kelly’s rented garage where he had been keeping his other car. The APB they sent out was for Bob Kelly’s car. They weren’t looking for what he was driving now—his black Camaro with New York plates, under his real name.
Bronco laughed. He had still beaten them, even though they were better than he expected, and even though that damned police chief had shot out his tail light. He was impressed—it was a good shot, and it marked his car. It was a lot easier to spot a car with a missing taillight. It stuck out like a beacon, and he was feeling very exposed by it until he got it safely parked in the rented garage.
The garage was a stroke of genius. At first, he thought he was being overly cautious, but now it looked brilliant. He had rented it at the same time he rented the apartment about 10 months earlier. He got it so that he could preserve Bob Kelly’s identity. When he had gone to New York, he’d switched to this car and his real ID, and when he came back, he switched back to Bob Kelly’s car and ID. The garage was located in an old busted farm. It wasn’t even a garage—more of an unused shed big enough for two cars. The retired farmer was looking for extra income, and he didn’t ask questions, and he insisted on cash payment for the rental. That suited Bronco just fine. He could switch cars there without anyone observing him and cash left no record for someone to follow. To the farmer, he just was some guy who liked cars. It would probably be a couple of months before the farmer even noticed the rent wasn’t being paid.
Tonight, Bronco managed to get to the shed without being pursued, and as soon as he got in and shut the door, he knew he was safe. He took some time to clean up his wound, dress it, and change into some clean pants. The wound wasn’t bleeding badly, but it hurt like hell, and he didn’t want to be walking around in pants soaked in blood. The police woman’s bullet had passed through the taillight and the back of the car, through the trunk, backseat, and front seat and parked itself somewhere in his right butt cheek. All he had to do was make it to New York City, and he knew a guy that could patch him up and would keep his mouth shut.
Hell, if a bullet in the butt was the price for his freedom, he would take it. He was free. He had made it out of there with his money and his anonymity and now his only problem was deciding which southern paradise he wanted to settle in. He started to feel pretty good as these thoughts, and the Percocet, kicked in, so he started the car and got back on the road. He was going to drive the speed limit the whole way. No getting pulled over now.
As he drove, he went over what had happened. It was that damned girl—her and her frien
d. That was one thing he never factored into his plans, a kid coming in and messing things up. Never underestimate a kid. Especially that girl, Blue. He still got the shivers thinking about her. He believed in clairvoyance and ESP, but he never expected to run into it in real life. It was spooky. He was glad to be miles away from that kid.
At least she wouldn’t be talking and giving the police any more help. He’d seen dozens of overdoses in his life and he could tell the girl was on her way out—blue tinge, no movement. And the boy? Well, Bronco wished now that he had put a second bullet in him, but he’d been rushed by that other wild card, Jack. And then that policewoman. Damn, that timing was bad. If it wasn’t for the cop, Bronco would’ve taken care of the whole problem —all three of them. He would still be on the road like he was, but with no living witnesses, and without a bullet in his behind. But on the bright side, he didn’t have to do any digging that night. Three bodies and three graves would have been a worse pain in the ass.
Before long, Bronco had put dozens of miles of Adirondack mountain roads behind him, and he was relaxed—at least as relaxed as his wound would allow. All his money was secure, he had plenty of cash with him and his two guns. His Glock was in the backpack and his Browning Buck Mark was in the messenger bag. The Glock was fine for an all-out gun battle, but the long barreled Browning with a red-dot sight and silencer was far better for quiet killing work. It was like having a small, quiet sniper rifle. The best part was the barrel. It was replaceable. The gun was registered and totally legal, but a ballistics report could still tie a gun to a shooting, unless you got rid of the barrel. The barrel of the Browning had no serial number on it, the serial number was on the gun frame. He had replaced the barrel with the nice new one he had in his bug-out bag, and the one he shot the boy and the police car with was now at the bottom of a lake, never to be found.
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