Death Song

by K Ryn

"Hold onto him... we'll adjust treatment as necessary after we get him upstairs. Captain, I need these restraints off," the EMT called out to Simon.

  "Taggert!"

  "Right here, Simon," Joel appeared almost magically in front of them, handing the keys to one of the techs.

  "Dirkson?" Jim asked quietly, not taking his eyes off Blair.

  "They're taking him up now," Taggert answered grimly, his gaze also fixed on the younger man.

  Jim nodded and finally took a deep breath from the oxygen mask. The medics were fast, he realized thankfully. Simon had recruited the best.

  "Let's get him on the LB, people," he head tech ordered. "He's not going to get any better down here."

  "Watch his left leg," Jim interjected, taking Simon's hand and pulling himself to his feet.

  "We've got it," assured one of the other EMTs, supporting Blair's injured knee gently as they shifted him.

  "Go," ordered the head medic, taking one end of the stretcher basket himself.

  They hurried off with Jim and Simon only a few steps behind. Jim eyed the hole in the ceiling warily, realizing that Simon had been right -- they'd been fortunate that the whole ceiling hadn't come down when they set off the charge. But luck had been with them, and Jim grimly hoped it stayed that way -- Blair wasn't out of danger yet. The med team quickly attached four ropes to the basket and it was hauled up to the roof by members of the SWAT team stationed above. The rest of them made a longer time of it, clambering up two rope ladders into the dark starry night.

  Once on the roof, Jim located Blair who was still surrounded by the medics. He heard the thump of rotor blades and glanced upward to see the bright lights of a helicopter dropping down toward them. Once the chopper was in position, a bundle was tossed down and three of the SWAT team members scrambled to retrieve it, helping the EMTs to attach new cables to the basket.

  Jim moved toward them just as the head medic rose to his feet and gave a thumbs up signal to the chopper pilot. The cables began to retract and several men stood by to ease the LB upward. Jim watched anxiously as the stretcher basket left their hands and began to move upward toward the waiting craft.

  "We're going to medflight him straight in," the medic called out, shouting to be heard over the noise of the chopper. He came to stand next to Jim and eyed him carefully. In the bright lights of the rescue team he could see Jim's blackened face and several cuts oozing blood. "We can load you up as well sir," he said evenly.

  Jim didn't hear him, his attention centered overhead as he saw the onboard crew catch the basket and haul it aboard.

  "Tell them to go ahead," Simon answered. "I'll bring him in myself."

  The medic nodded and raised his fist in a whirling gesture. Immediately the chopper banked and sped off into the night.

  Jim stood motionless, his senses focused on the helicopter until it was beyond even his range. He blinked finally, suddenly aware of how tired he was. It had been a long five days. It was hard to believe it was nearly over.

  "He's a tough kid," Simon said softly, laying a hand on the detective's shoulder in quiet support. "He'll make it through this."

  "I hope so," Jim murmured, turning and scanning the rooftop.

  His face grew grim as his gaze settled on Dirkson, standing a few feet away, bracketed on either side by members of the SWAT team.

  "If he doesn't there will be at least seven murders to try him for."

  "Seven?" Simon asked in confusion.

  "He set the bomb that killed Hansen. And his team... he killed all of them so that he could survive..."

  Jim's voice trailed off and his expression shifted to one of sorrow and confusion. He stared at Dirkson, not understanding how someone he'd once known so well could have become what he was.

  As if sensing Jim's scrutiny, Dirkson suddenly raised his head. His eyes locked on the detective's and they glowed with an inner madness. His guards shifted him forward and he moved with them, never breaking his eye contact with Jim.

  "There will be another day, Jim-bo," he called out. "I will have retribution..."

  Jim instinctively took a step forward, but Simon caught his arm. At the same time, Dirkson's guards pulled him to a stop, waiting for the men ahead of them to clear the ladder.

  "Achi a zu matta," Dirkson called out, staring at the Sentinel. "It was promised."

  Jim started, the words strangely familiar.

  "Achi a zu matta!" Dirkson screamed. He broke free of his guards and launched himself toward the building edge.

  Jim moved at the same time, but Dirkson charged across the distance with incredible speed.

  "Achi a zu matta!" he screamed again, throwing himself over and out into nothingness.

  Jim reached out to try to catch him, but he was too late. His own momentum nearly carried him over as well, but Simon's firm grasp dragged him backward. Jim could only watch as Dirkson plummeted to the pavement below.

  "What was it? What was he saying?"

  "I don't know..." Jim murmured wearily. Something... something about forever..."

  "Forever's a long time in hell," Simon said grimly. "Come on... let's get you to the hospital. You're going to want to be there when Blair wakes up."

  Blearily, Jim eyed Simon for a moment, then nodded his agreement.

  Epilogue

  Staring out the window through the partially open blinds, Jim saw the first flickers of sunrise light the horizon. The long night was finally over. He glanced over at Blair's still form, and then looked away, still uncomfortable with seeing the aftereffects of the beating he'd taken. He looked into the sunrise again and then looked back at his Guide thoughtfully.

  The younger man had already been in surgery by the time they'd arrived at the hospital. Simon had steered Jim into the emergency room and stayed with him to make sure that he had a thorough exam before letting him shift over to the surgical waiting area. Time had seemed to stretch out in almost unbearable slow motion as they waited for news.

  When it had finally come, Jim allowed himself a sigh of relief. Blair would make it. Oh, it would take several weeks for his ribs to heal, but the puncture in the lung was repaired and would be of no danger by the time he was up and moving around. By then most of the bruises would be gone as well. His knee, which Dirkson had dislocated would probably take the longest to heal, although the doctors assured them that he'd suffer no permanent loss of motion in it.

  And he was alive, Jim thought thankfully, something which even seven hours earlier was not something the Sentinel would have given odds on.

  Now it was just a matter of waiting for him to wake up. Jim rubbed his own eyes wearily promising himself a full day of sleep once that happened. As he tried to relax, the phrase that Dirkson had screamed reverberated in his mind again. The words were familiar and he guessed that they were Hibani, although the Peruvian dialects that he knew all had some commonalities.

  "Achi a zu matta..." he murmured softly, turning the phrase over in his mind. Something about forever... something menacing...

  "That's... a... pleasant thought..." came a soft comment from the bed.

  Jim turned and saw Blair's eyes slowly flicker open.

  "What?" Jim pulled up a chair to settle at his partner's side.

  "Don't get me... wrong..." Blair whispered, his eyes blinking slowly as he stared up at the ceiling. "It's good... to hear... your voice... but you could... come up with something... less... ominous..."

  "It's good to hear your voice too. But I think I'm going to have them check your head again. You're not making any sense, Chief."

  "Me?" Blair turned his head slightly to focus on Jim's face. "I'm not the one... muttering... in Hibani..."

  Jim froze. He hadn't realized that he'd spoken the phrase out loud.

  "You understand it?" he asked urgently. "You know what it means?"

  "Yeah..." Blair responded, his own face clouding with confusion. "I understand it... but where'd... you hear it?"

  Jim stared at him grimly, his face tight and his eyes fi
lled with a mixture of pain, sorrow and anger.

  "Dirkson?" Blair suddenly understood Jim's silence. A shudder of fear rippled through him and he reached out to grab Jim's arm. "Where is he? Did he get away?"

  "No... No he didn't," Jim answered quietly, reaching out to put his other hand on Blair's trembling arm in reassurance. "He's dead."

  A flicker of a doubt appeared in Blair's eyes and Jim immediately knew the cause.

  "I didn't kill him," he said softly. "He killed himself. He threw himself off the roof of the warehouse. He screamed that at me before he did. Achi a zu matta..."

  "I will haunt... my enemies... forever..." Blair whispered softly in interpretation.

  Jim blinked in shocked surprise, sensing that his Guide had gotten it right.

  "It's one... of the few phrases... that's been accurately... translated..." Blair murmured, his gaze locked with Jim's. "Part... of the Hibani... death song..."

  Jim stared into the younger man's eyes for a long silent moment, then looked away, his mind turning over the truth of the phrase. He knew that what Dirkson had done would haunt him forever. As it would also haunt Blair.

  "Hey... did I..." Blair's grip tightened on Jim's arm. "Did I... remember... to thank you?"

  The Sentinel looked down into his Guide's exhausted face and a small smile formed on his lips.

  "Yeah... you did," he said softly.

  Blair's eyes flickered shut again and Jim could see the tension start to drain from his face as he gave into his body's demand's for sleep.

  "Good... wouldn't... want you... to think... I wasn't... grate..." The young man'svoice faded out as sleep claimed him.

  Jim eased his arm out from Blair's now relaxed grip. Rising to his feet the Sentinel settled the blankets around his Guide and then stretched out on the room's second bed. He closed his eyes and with a quick series of breaths cleared his head, pushing even Dirkson's dying curse out of his mind. His last thought before he too slipped into sleep was one of pleasure as he listened to Blair's even, peaceful breathing.

  END

  Author's Final Notes: I do not have a medical background, so my apologies for any incorrectness in procedures and dialogue pertaining to that area. I also admit that I made up the Hibani and the language -- for those of you who worry about that kind of thing, I offer my apologies. For those of you who enjoyed the story even with those admissions, I thank you.

  Comments? Please e-mail me at kdkm@aol.com. Thanks!