No Center Line

by Lois RH Balzer

  Evan twisted away from the sight, his breathing ragged as he tried to catch some air. He pushed himself up to his knees, then gingerly stood on Karl’s body to look out of the ditch. His eyes had become adjusted to the dim light, and he could see across to the back door of the warehouse, still propped open with a brick. “Blair, they must be busy inside,” he whispered, then looked over his shoulder the other direction. “This is our chance. Let’s get out of here and into the woods. We’re almost halfway there.”

  “He’s going to come looking for us,” Blair mumbled, but accepted Evan’s hand up, groaning as the wave of dizziness hit him. “You can’t lift me,” he added, feeling Evan’s hands at his waist preparing to boost him from the ditch.

  “I just did.” Evan shook from the effort, possessed by a second wind that was already fading. As he paused to catch his breath, he looked down and caught the briefest glimpse of metal below Karl’s shirt. He brushed the material aside and drew a knife from a sheath on Karl’s belt, then scrambled out of the ditch. He sprawled beside Blair, rolling to his stomach to stare back at the warehouse. “Damn. Someone just went in there. Not Jurgen or the others.” He shivered, trying not to cough. “Someone else.”

  That got Blair’s attention, shaking him from the stupor he was slowly drifting into. “Yeah? Who?” he asked attempting to arch his head and look.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at them. They were in black. Neither Jurgen nor Raul were wearing black. Blair ���I’ve got a feeling something is going to happen soon. We’ve really got to get out of here. I have a knife. I can protect us. I have a knife. We can do it.” He was babbling, clinging to the knife’s hilt.

  “Or maybe we should just wait then,” Blair said, collapsing back to the mud. “Jim will find me.”

  “No. Come on.” Evan managed to get to his feet, hoisting Blair up again. “I have a knife.”

  “I can’t walk!” his companion gasped, grimacing in pain. “Evan, no …”

  With a quick twist, Evan had Blair up over his shoulder in a fireman carry and started moving. That lasted all of ten feet, before his knees gave out, and he tumbled over to his side. Blair flew from his shoulders to land in a crumpled heap beyond him.

  “Shit.” Evan reclaimed his knife before it disappeared from his sight in the sodden ground, then he crawled over to Sandburg, trying to get him up again. Blair rolled away from him, curling up. “Come on — move!”

  “Go without me!” Blair hissed, his body shaking from cold and pain. He had landed on his right arm, a stone cutting into the skin, blood seeping from the wound. It was raining now, the moon virtually gone.

  “You can’t stay here.” Evan pulled him upward, hooking his shoulder under Blair’s arm, moving them forward, then putting both his arms around Blair’s torso and dragging him when it was clear Blair couldn’t put any weight whatsoever on his damaged foot. The rain steadily increased in intensity. Low clouds held the echo of light from Seattle, across Puget Sound from the island; they could see shades of black, but depth vision was robbed. The sliver of light from the warehouse’s back door outlined a path directly to the pit they had been in.

  Evan had his left arm around Blair’s back, his right hand, still clutching the knife, was trying to help him move. At least Blair was smaller than he was, shorter and lighter. Maybe he could do it. He could get them to the woods, then find somewhere to hide. With the knife he could protect them. The knife would help.

  He stumbled, almost tripping over an exposed stump root. He had to concentrate on what he was doing. The wind was distracting him, making things move around him, making him think things were out there. The wind sent the rain pelting against his skin. He could feel Blair shaking helplessly from the cold.

  Nash? Harvey? His mind screamed the names. His body shook with cold now, colder than he’d ever imagined being.

  “Jim?” Blair whispered, hanging onto Evan.

  Crack!

  A bullet whizzed by them and they were down in the mud again. Evan raised his head, looking back. “It’s Jurgen. He’s coming from the side of the warehouse.”

  “He won’t shoot you,” Blair mumbled, staring up at the dark sky. The rain tapped across his face, soothing his forehead with cool strokes. “Jurgen needs you.”

  “I’d rather die.”

  “No!” Blair took a deep breath and Evan could hear the rattle in his chest. “Jim’s here.”

  “Where is he then?” Evan demanded, looking up as Jurgen drew closer to them, passing the ditch, his bleached hair almost glowing in the dark.

  “Jim’s here,” Blair murmured, his eyes closing, his head falling to one side.

  Evan slapped at his face, but there was no response. Nothing.

  *

  Ellison ran silently through the darkened warehouse, Nash Bridges at his heels, the man cursing beneath his breath when he couldn’t see where he was going. The sentinel’s sight adjusted instantly as he moved, twisting left, then right, noiselessly kicking doors open with his foot, his gun held stiffly ahead of him as he looked into each room, each small set. The corridors and roughed-out rooms had no ceilings, open to the two-storey-high warehouse roof. Somewhere lights were on, but it was in a different part of the warehouse from where they were, leaving them to move through the shadows. He could hear heartbeats, two of them, but couldn’t focus on where they were in the maze of corridors and rooms.

  Then suddenly, he froze outside a door, listening to the sound of a struggle, one man cursing, begging for his life, as another swore back at him. Ellison kicked the door open, the hollow wood smashing against the inside wall from the force, and Nash moved into the doorway firing as soon as he saw Metzger, his knife at Scott McBride’s neck. The bullet hit the scar-marked man at the center of his throat, at the same place he was preparing to slice through his victim. The body jerked, the knife clattering to the floor as Metzger released his hold and collapsed backward.

  “Help him,” Ellison ordered, and kept moving, leaving Nash behind to release the Monterey detective.

  There should be another heartbeat. Where was Jurgen?

  He had left his guide unprotected.

  Ellison raced out the main entrance into the courtyard, lowering his weapon slightly as Simon emerged from behind the badly eroded, purple Gremlin. “Where’s Jurgen?” he demanded, his sight flickering over the area. The police cars and SWAT trucks were just arriving, the red and blue lights flashing over the property.

  “I don’t know who we got. Harvey and I wrestled one guy down and cuffed him. Fucking martial arts expert. I didn’t see anyone else come out,” Simon said, gasping for air. He had a cut over his left eye that he batted at angrily. “We had our hands full.”

  “Raul or Jurgen?”

  “Hispanic guy. Harvey’s taking him to the SWAT boys.”

  “It was Raul. Jurgen’s fair; white hair.” Ellison moved to the edge of the warehouse, then around the corner, gun out. No one was there. “He’s gone back to the field. Tell the SWAT captain that we’re only missing Jurgen now. The rest are dead. Bridges is inside with McBride. I’m going after Jurgen.” The mud clung to his soft-soled shoes as he ran along the side of the building, making an odd slapping sound. As if reacting to the crisis, the wind picked up, gusting through the trees, tearing the new spring leaves from the branches with gale force. Rain drenched him, running down his collar and cooling his neck and shoulders as he sprinted toward the back of the property.

  At the corner of the building, he paused for a brief second, then spun around it, gun out. Jurgen was running east toward the trees, and the sentinel’s heightened sight brought another distant figure into focus near the line of trees bordering the field, a man lying face down in the mud. Dark hair, rain plastering it to his forehead, the glimpse of two earrings in his left ear. Evan Cortez. And a body beneath him, unmoving.

  My guide.

  Long legs pumped into action as he raced after Jurgen, peripherally aware of Nash Bridges emerging from the back of the
warehouse and following him.

  Jurgen turned, spotted him and danced back, changing his position so he could see Ellison clearly in the light from the doorway. “I’ll shoot him!” Jurgen screamed, waving a gun in each hand, a knife handle glinting from his left boot. “Stand back! I’ll shoot them both!”

  Ellison stopped, wavering in the darkness. Directly behind him, he could hear Nash running still, out of Jurgen’s line of sight.

  “Jim, move aside and I’ll take him.”

  “He’s mine,” Ellison whispered, then darted to his right, drawing Jurgen’s attention as the sentinel’s sight focused and he took aim. Three shots rang out almost spontaneously, two taking Jurgen, one between his eyes, one over his heart. The third, from Jurgen’s gun, narrowly missed Ellison, but sped off into the night without meeting a target. Jurgen spun and dropped, convulsed once, then was still in the mud and rain. The sentinel looked back at Nash, his gun still in position after firing. He had to clear his throat before the words would come. “He’s dead. We’re clear.”

  He turned then and staggered toward the two men huddled ten feet from the edge of the woods. He dropped his gun and showed both hands to Evan who was bent over Sandburg, trying to protect him from yet another unrecognizable man.

  “Stop! Leave him alone,” Evan screamed, rain and tears running down his face, one step away from collapse. He held a knife out before him, waving it menacingly. “Take me instead! I’ll go with you. He’s dead! It’s too late.”

  Ellison dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge, still moving forward, desperate to get past the last five feet to his guide. The heartbeat was clear. Sandburg was alive, but Evan was delirious and armed with a knife that made him dangerous to get near. Dangerous for Sandburg, as well, since Evan’s control would be hampered by his fevered desperation to protect his friend. “Evan, I’m a cop! James Ellison, Cascade P.D,” he yelled over the roar of the wind. “That’s my partner. I’m here to help you.”

  Please, God. Not this close.

  Evan choked, gasping, hardly able to make sense of what he was seeing, what was happening. The knife was still held out before him. “Don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him. I’ll kill you if you come any closer. I swear I will.”

  “I won’t hurt him. He’s my friend, my brother. Let me get to him.”

  “Evan?” Bridges came up behind Ellison, moving past him, his hands out as his calm voice shrouded the scene. “It’s okay, Evan. It’s over.”

  “Nash?” Evan sounded confused, unable to believe what he was hearing.

  “I’m here. It’s over.”

  With a groan, Evan looked away, his face turning to stare at Jurgen’s body. A movement caught his attention, and his gaze slowly traveled up to Bridges’ face as Nash holstered his gun and knelt beside his young detective.

  “Hey, Bubba.”

  Evan said nothing, just stared at him blankly.

  Slowly Nash took the knife from his hand, laid it aside and gathered him in, gently wrapping his arms around him. “It’s over. You done good. He’s safe.”

  Evan closed his eyes and leaned against him, the weight gradually increasing as he relaxed. He nodded that he had heard.

  Ellison moved past them, dropping to his knees at his guide’s side. “Chief?” He slid his hand down the bare back, then checked his neck before turning him onto his back. “Sandburg?”

  The world shifted again. He touched Blair’s forehead, his hand trailing down the side of his face. The pulse was steady, but fast. Skin icy and clammy. Shock and the early stages of hypothermia. He kept touching him, checking him, willing him to respond. “Hey, buddy. It’s me, Jim.”

  At his name, his guide seemed to pull himself from a great distance, eyes flickering open. Nothing happened for a long moment, then suddenly his hands were reaching up for Ellison, grasping his arms, letting himself be swept up to the sentinel’s chest, pressing against him, sobs wracking his body when he knew, finally, that he was safe. Ellison collapsed with him, sheltering him, wrapping his arms around his battered guide, rain washing the tears from his face as he murmured Sandburg’s name.

  ‘It’s over’ could hardly express what he was feeling.

  “Jim?” The whisper caught in the air.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Evan?” Blair asked. “Is he—?”

  “He’s here. He’s safe.”

  “Good,” his guide breathed, still clinging to him.

  “Evan! My God, Evan!” Harvey appeared out of the darkness, almost knocking Nash out of the way as he tried to get at his partner. “You’re alive. My God, you’re alive.” He wrapped his arms around Evan, pulling him closer. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Reaction hit then for Cortez. With a sob, Evan buried his face against Harvey’s neck, fingers taloning into the back of the other’s jacket as he held on. “Harv, I thought I’d never see you again,” he wept, resources gone. Nash’s arms went around them both, and Evan grabbed hold of Nash’s hand and held onto both men as though terrified to let go.

  Simon brought an armful of emergency blankets, handed half of them to Nash, then the two captains wrapped their respective men carefully, trying to protect them from the wind and rain and the swarm of officers that now flooded the area, after the fact. Cameras flashed at the ditch and by Jurgen’s body, a scant twenty feet away from where they sat huddled against the downpour. Ellison could hear Simon’s voice, calling for the paramedics, calling for two stretchers, barking orders at anyone who came near them.

  “I knew you’d come,” Sandburg whispered, his face pressed into Ellison’s neck.

  “I said I would.” He leaned over so his cheek touched his partner’s forehead.

  “They’re all dead, Jim.” Sandburg shivered and Ellison wrapped the blanket tighter around them both, lifting his head briefly to watch as the paramedics drove the ambulance along the side road toward them. They’d have to stay on the gravel or risk getting stuck in the muddy back field.

  Sandburg had said something that he needed to respond to. “You and Evan are alive, and so is Scott McBride.”

  “I wanted them all to be alive.” Tears ran down Sandburg’s face, spilling onto Ellison’s neck.

  “So did I. But we did the best we could.”

  “Even Pete is dead.”

  “I know. Jurgen shot him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he let you and Evan escape.”

  “He did that for me? He risked his life for me?”

  Not quite, Chief. He did it because he thought he could make money off you, and he was angry that Jurgen spoiled his plans. Later, he would talk to Sandburg about what had happened, put it in some sort of perspective. Who knows? Maybe Turnalo did care for Sandburg on one level, but Ellison knew he’d never feel sorry that the man was dead.

  Ellison looked up, watching the scene unfold, his sight fastening beyond the warehouse, beyond the farm house, to a single man standing by the roadside. Frank Black looked at him across the distance and smiled, as though he knew the sentinel was watching. He saluted his farewell, turned, and walked down the gravel road alone, his hands in his pockets, hunched slightly against the harsh weather.

  Ellison sighed, content for the moment to let the wind and rain rage about him. Sandburg was crying softly, but he was safe. The sentinel looked down at him and shifted their positions slightly, so that beneath the blanket he could take his guide’s hand and press his palm against his partner’s.

  Sandburg’s breath caught. Lost blue eyes flickered open to look at him. Ellison bent to kiss the muddy forehead, and when he looked at him again, the eyes were soft with tears. No longer lost, but found.

  By the time the stretcher arrived, Sandburg was asleep in his arms, calm and peaceful, blissfully trusting his partner to take care of the world.

  And he was more than willing to do just that.

  Epilogue

  *

  “Joe? It’s Nash.

  “Nashman… Everything
okay now?”

  “Well, Bubba, we’ve got him out of the hospital.”

  “No shit, man? That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. So how is he?”

  “Sleeping right now. The hospital released both Evan and Blair this morning after keeping them for forty-eight hours, and we went straight to Seattle P.D. to get their statements taken and sign the paperwork. We’re coming home tomorrow.”

  “What time? I’ll be there. Hell, I think we’ll all be there. Should I tell Cassidy and Nick?”

  “I already did. Flight arrives at 10:25 a.m. They know to look for you.”

  “Uh, what about Evan and Cassidy? You know …”

  “They talked on the phone last night some, but both of them ended up basically crying over the phone lines. This’ll take awhile, I suspect, but he’s alive and in one piece and I’m starting to think he’s gonna heal up just fine. We may have to have plastic surgery, though, to have Harvey separated from his side — Just kidding, Harv. Say hi to Joe.”

  “Hi, Joe.”

  “Harv, how’s it going, man?”

  “Fine. I’m gonna sleep a week when this is over, but right now I can’t get this stupid grin off my face. Here’s Nash.”

  “Hey, how’s Blair? He had a concussion, right?”

  “They both did. He has a broken ankle, but the doctors say it’s a clean break and will heal up quickly — probably quicker than if he had just sprained it. Hang on, Joe … Just a minute … There, I’m outside. I didn’t want to talk in there with everyone listening.”

  “I’m listening, brother.”

  “I don’t know how to word this. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m trying to tell you, Bubba. It’s something I saw. Ellison’s has these abilities, you know, the seeing and hearing — and probably smell, too — but what amazed me wasn’t any of that. I saw him with his partner … I can’t explain it, but it’s almost like he merged with him. Nothing separated them for about two minutes when we were out in that god-awful freezing field of mud. He just held him and before my eyes, the kid got better. His ankle was still broken and he still had a concussion, but inside you knew that he would be okay. He went to sleep. As much as I wanted to do that for Evan, I couldn’t. I just kept telling him that everything was going to be okay, but it was just words. I couldn’t make him believe it. Ellison believed it, and he passed his belief to Blair. Downright awesome. Then I saw Harvey with Evan, saw Harvey kiss his forehead, saw Evan slowly relax as he stared at Harvey’s smiling face, and I knew it would happen there, too. Maybe not as easily, but I knew that Evan had a chance.”