by Laura Acton
Loki helped Patch get the vest off then they ripped open Dan’s t-shirt. The blood gushed out. Nick and Bram grabbed several pressure bandages from Patch’s bag. Patch seized Nick’s and Bram’s hands and pushed them on the wound. “Press hard. Gotta turn him.”
Nick and Bram pressed hard as instructed—trying desperately to stop the flow of Dan’s life essence. But it continued to seep between their fingers—so much blood—too much blood.
Patch rapidly rolled Blondie on his side, he needed to find out if there was an exit wound. “Dammit! No exit,” he yelled as he gently rolled Blondie back down and grabbed more bandages from his backpack.
A few feet away, the paramedics focused on the general. They tried to get him on the gurney. William flatly refused to move. He focused on his son. No, God no! Two snipers—two goddamned snipers! So much blood. I can’t lose Danny now. Not now, please God, not now!
Winds stood close to the general, protecting him while watching Patch intently. He could tell Patch was losing it. Blondie must be in real trouble for Patch to be going off the deep end—he had only seen Patch this rattled once. He revised that as he watched Patch disintegrate before his eyes—this was a first. Not a praying man, Winds begged God to save Blondie. He couldn’t die—not like this—not after everything Blondie survived. Winds whispered, “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.”
The medics became frustrated as their patient fought them off at every turn. He kept pushing them away as they tried to start the IV and take his vitals.
His son is dying before his very eyes, and the damned medics wanted to fuss over his minor shoulder wound. It ticked off William. He finally had enough and barked out in his booming command voice, “Goddammit, focus on Daniel. He’s dying. Go. Now!”
The general’s commanding voice pierced the minds of the medics, and they turned to look at the constable. Drew and Zander instantly recognized their error—he should be their priority. They also ascertained their colleague, Jim, hovered on the brink of a meltdown. Both rushed over to help.
“Hey, Jim. Jim. Jim, move over. Let us do this. Zander and I are here to help. Let us take over,” Drew said squatting next to his fellow paramedic. He surmised Jim must be personally involved by his panicked state.
Patch glanced at Drew and Zander. The expression on Drew’s face and the tone of his words made Jim realize he freaked out. Get it together man, he chided himself. It won’t do Blondie any good if you lose it now. So Patch forced himself back into medic mode and responded to Drew. “No. Blondie needs me. Start the IV ringers.”
Ray saw the general laboring to sit up as Winds knelt to apply pressure when the medics switched patients. He nudged Frank. “Help me.” They assisted the general to a seated position on the floor and situated his back against the wall.
William nodded his thanks but kept his eyes on Daniel.
Winds remained on his knees and continued to apply hard pressure on both the entry and exit wounds, and the blood loss slowed significantly. Winds breathed a small sigh of relief as he scrutinized the general. The lost and hurt emotion in the general’s eyes reminded him of Blondie after Brody died. It was the final confirmation for Winds the general loved his son—no more doubt existed. His heart broke for both Blondie and General Broderick.
He wanted to offer words of encouragement, but Winds had seen too many field wounds—the amount of blood pouring out of Blondie didn’t look survivable. His heart cried as he clenched his jaw to keep from screaming out his fury and anguish at the timing.
The general’s soft words almost loosened Winds’ jaw. His head turned, and his eyes bore into Plouffe’s. Winds would gonna kill the fucking bastard—no matter the consequence—the major is a dead man.
William continued to stare at his son. His voice anguished, he pleaded quietly, “Don’t let me lose Danny now. He called me Dad. I can’t lose him now. He called me Dad. He called me Dad.”
Zander, Drew, and Patch worked together to stabilize Blondie. With the other medics now helping, Bram, Nick, and Loki backed off to let them do what they were trained for—wanting to do what they were trained for—get the dirtbag who shot Dan.
Loki, Bram, and Ray stared questioningly at Boss.
Nick understood what they asked, so he directed, “Go, go gear up. I’ll stay with Dan. Go help Jon and Lexa find the SOB who did this.”
Bram, Loki, and Ray raced outside to the SUV to gear up and join Jon and Lexa with the thought they would arrest whoever shot Dan.
This is just too damned much. Nick stood and observing the medics work on Dan. He almost rubbed his face but stopped when he realized his hands were covered in Dan’s blood. As Nick stared at the blood, he reflected on losing his objectivity. Although this is personal he needed to pull it together for his team and make sure they remained focused and on point. They had a job to do.
Calmly over the headset, Nick said, “Alpha Team, guys, I need you to stay objective, focused. We need to find the subject and bring him to justice. If you can’t be objective, I need to pull you and let the other teams handle this. Can you stay objective?”
He received a chorus of, “Yes, Boss.” A small part of him worried they couldn’t. Given all they had been through since Monday, it was likely, but Nick took their word. “Alright. Find the subject, bring him in. Switch to channel two. I’ll let you know about Dan if anything changes.”
With a chorus of, “Copy that,” the entire team switched channels. Nick changed with them but muted his headset for the moment. He needed to be in the loop if his team needed anything from him. Nick had them change channels because Patch was still wired in on channel one and it would be too distressing and distracting for the team to listen to what Patch was saying.
Nick hurried over to where the other sergeants and tactical leads gathered. They swiftly determined how they would handle the scene. Charlie and Delta teams would remain at the church with Sergeant Harmon in charge. They would manage the crime scene, contact the MPs, and generally keep the attendees safe. No one was allowed to leave until the shooter was located.
Bravo Team was on-duty and already en route to the building they suspected the subject was at and would meet Alpha Team. Echo Team would have been on shift in an hour and as such had come prepared to gear up right after the service. It was swiftly decided they would join Alpha and Bravo teams at the subject’s location.
Jon would take charge of all tactical operations at the building. Nick would stay with Dan to provide security because they didn’t know if additional threats existed. That decided, Nick returned to Dan’s side. In that short time, Dan had worsened, Nick thought. Dan was too pale—he was losing too much blood.
The congregated people stayed silent and still stunned by everything happening around of them. That is, almost everyone remained silent. Nigel Plouffe still snickered as he gazed directly at his toy soldier on the ground in the growing pool of blood. He liked this sight—he finally killed him, Broderick couldn’t survive this.
David frowned at his brother Nigel with combined horror, disgust, and sadness. He couldn’t quite grasp the depth of malice in his brother.
Dylan Plouffe looked at his uncle with growing anger, and he felt a solid hand land on his shoulder. He turned and looked at his Grand-Uncle.
Lucius Plouffe pulled his Grand-nephew into a tight hug and whispered, “The Lord shall judge. Don’t allow the hatred and anger to build in you as it did in Nigel. Only death and destruction come from hatred.”
Tammy had come around and was softly weeping as her mother held her close. She couldn’t bear to look at Dan or the general. It was all her fault.
Claudia Middles rocked her daughter gently as she caressed her back. She knew what her only child was thinking and whispered, “This isn’t your fault, sweetie. It’s all his fault. You did nothing wrong. He tricked you.”
Tammy’s sobs increased as she recognized Aaron’s uncle had used her. And they reached a peak as she realized she could’ve lost her baby if the shooter’s aim was o
ff. Her hands wrapped protectively around her stomach—around her little boy—around the only living piece of Aaron.
Patch, Drew, and Zander continued to work on Dan trying to stabilize him. They had gotten Dan on the gurney readying him for transport. William froze in fear at Patch’s words.
“No pulse. We’re losing him! We gotta go. Now!” The gurney sped out to the waiting ambulance with Patch sitting atop, straddling Dan, doing chest compressions, and yelling, “You can’t die on me now. You can’t! Stay with me, brother. Stay with me!”
Paramedic Rig Bound for St. Michael’s Hospital – 4:40 p.m.
Nick couldn’t distract the team with this news, so he kept quiet and followed the gurney out. He climbed into the passenger seat of the ambulance because Patch and another medic climbed in the back with Dan.
Zander turned on the lights and sirens and put the rig in gear. As they pulled away from the church, he said, “We’re not far from St. Michael’s. They’ve got some of the best doctors around.” He got on the radio and notified the hospital of their patient’s condition so the hospital would be prepared.
Nick didn’t respond as his eyes scanned the media circus. Numb—completely numb—they might lose Dan today. Guilt grew in him—he shouldn’t have allowed Dan to come. Not a good idea for Dan to go to the funeral given the threat against him. Why didn’t he use his powers of persuasion to change Dan’s mind?
He closed his eyes and let out a harsh breath. His hands, sticky with Dan’s congealing blood, squeezed into tight fists to stop himself from rubbing his face like he would normally do when stressed. If Dan didn’t make it—it would rock his team—his family. Sorrow engulfed his heart at the indisputable possibility they could lose Dan today.
Deal with Me Like a Man!
15
July 19
Inside the Church – 4:40 p.m.
Patch’s agonized cry they were losing Daniel froze William and most others in the church. A profound sadness settled into the room once the medics rushed out with Dan. The major’s continuing strange laughter turned most everyone’s stomach.
Anger—red hot—surged through William thawing. He pulled strength from deep down and found himself on his feet and storming towards Major Plouffe. Having seen his son lying in a pool of blood and unsure if he would survive, William lost total control of his emotions.
He bellowed, “If my son dies you’re a dead man, Plouffe. Run now, so I have justifiable cause to shoot you, you fucking abomination!”
Plouffe quit laughing and placidly said, “What do you take me for, an idiot?”
“Coward, a fucking coward! If you have a problem with me … deal with me face to face like a man!”
“Tsk, tsk, such language in the house of the Lord. Uncuff me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m here for my nephew’s memorial. Which you disrupted. You are delusional if you think I had something to do with this. Though, I can’t think of anyone that deserves it more than you, General Badass.”
Winds rushed to General Broderick to support and gently restrain him simultaneously while he raged at the piece of shit Plouffe. Part of Winds wanted to let the general wring Plouffe’s neck or shot him. Though Winds knew the general wasn’t in any shape to do so.
“I’ll not be satisfied seeing you locked up if Daniel dies! What the hell did my son ever do to you to deserve what you put him through?”
The vehemence of William’s words and the power of his body language terrified some of those near to him, and they backed away. The anguish emanating from him as he lashed out made a few empathetic souls tear up.
A self-satisfied expression settled on Nigel’s face. Captain Blain may have said they had evidence, but the more Nigel thought about it, the more he dismissed the likelihood. He covered his tracks too well. Besides, court-martialing Special Forces soldiers is tricky business since they couldn’t name him outright in court proceedings. This would work out fine.
They couldn’t prosecute him for most of what he had done to his toy soldier. They would never find evidence to link him to his treasonous activities. With Murphy dead, no one would rat on him for the other things he had the imbecile do for him. Plouffe just laughed at the general, enjoying seeing him hurting.
Winds wanted to kill the smug snake in the grass. A bullet between the eyes would do it. But they had Plouffe dead to rights with evidence and seeing this pompous, egotistical, rapacious bastard incarcerated for the rest of Plouffe’s natural life would be a far more satisfying end.
General Broderick worked hard to regain his control as he glared at the self-satisfied, laughing Plouffe. William understood he couldn’t say out loud so many things he wanted to say to this piece of garbage. Pulling from deep down, William gained control.
Though he had told the others he no longer cared why Plouffe did this, William found being face-to-face with Plouffe he did care. What did he or Daniel ever do to deserve this? His voice controlled and commanding yet revealing a hint of his hurt and confusion, he asked, “Why, Plouffe? Are you demented or is there a reason for your actions and hatred?”
Nigel relished the hurt he viewed in the general’s eyes. If his hands were free, he would have rubbed them together in a stereotypical evil manner. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You want to know why?”
General Broderick remained upright as he faced off with Plouffe, but Winds could tell the last of his strength would ebb soon. Winds didn’t quite know how he was still standing after losing a fair amount of blood. He suppressed a chuckle as he corrected himself. I know.
Winds steadied General Badass, the man with a hard-core reputation and the stamina of a horse. Blondie was definitely a chip off this block. Winds took on more of the general’s weight as his legs started to give out. He strained to keep the general on his feet. Winds glanced at Hal. “Need a chair. Now.”
Right next to one, Russ swiftly moved it behind General Broderick. Winds and Hal lowered him into it. Relieved of his charge, Winds stood and glared at Plouffe as his hand went his sidearm. He didn’t trust Plouffe one bit. The man may be cuffed—but he was Special Forces trained—deadly if not watched.
As he sat down, William said, “Yes, I want to know why. Why would you try to kill my son? Is it because he bested you when he was only eight years old? Are you that thin-skinned and have such a weak ego you would kill him over something like that? You know, most of the men let Daniel win. No one took it seriously, only a bit of fun to entertain a little boy.”
The second set of medics arrived after plowing through the horde of media and cops in front. Dispatch informed them the patient suffered a gunshot wound to the shoulder but nothing more. Brad and Dave identified their patient sitting in a chair in the middle of the church and headed directly to the general with the gurney and their gearboxes.
William waved the medics away and commanded, “Leave me be!” He turned his attention back to Plouffe waiting for him to answer.
Brad and Dave stared dumbfounded at the general. He looked a lot like the TRF officer they treated at the bank call several days ago. The two medics stepped back several feet when a Special Forces soldier with an assault rifle waved them back and spoke to them.
Angus wanted the general to go to the hospital but understood he needed to finish this first. He waved the medics back. “Give him a moment. This is important. General Broderick will be fine for a few more moments.”
Dave turned to Brad. “He’s his father.”
Brad nodded. “Should be interesting.”
William prompted again, “Plouffe, why? Just tell me why? We have all the evidence needed to lock you away for the rest of your life. There is no out for you. What made you do this?”
Nigel quit laughing at the general’s quiet words. Deep hatred bubbled up inside him, and anger erupted into words. “I should’ve been General. You ruined everything! I’m so sick of your mightier-than-thou attitude, Broderick. You always thought you were so badass and better than me. You’re not!”
Once he started the dam
burst and Plouffe yelled, “You just had to embarrass me that day in front of all the soldiers. The soldiers agreed to let me be on the officer’s team but declined you. It meant they didn’t respect my abilities. Then you intentionally allowed that mutant, unnatural, toy soldier to embarrass me further. I never heard the end of it! Constantly taunted by others that I was bested by a mere child.
“I had plans. You should’ve died with Elkins! It was the perfect plan. But no, you crawled out of the vehicle at the bottom of the cliff before it exploded. You let Grasett switch cars. He wouldn’t have died if you stuck with your damned original security plan. But golden boy got away with getting Grasett killed.
“I bet your daddy pulled some strings with General Craymuier. You should’ve received a reprimand or demotion for breaking with the plan and getting Grasett killed. But no, because you pulled Grasett, Elkins, and the wimpy private from the car … you get a year off to piddle around, and you come back and are rewarded with a promotion to colonel.
“If Grasett had survived he would’ve promoted me to lieutenant colonel. Then I would’ve been set to move into the colonel’s role when he retired. I would’ve been general!”
William stared dumbfounded by Plouffe’s ranting. This was a deep-seeded, long-standing hatred. It baffled him Plouffe believed he came anywhere close to general material … the man was barely major material. And did Plouffe just admit to murder? William asked, “Elkins and Grasett died in an accident. Did you plan to kill them?”
Nigel lost touch with reality as he laughed and said things which should have remained only in his head. “Just wanted you and Elkins dead—not Grasett. I had the goods on Grasett, and he was very good at doing what I wanted. He was my ‘in’ like you had your daddy the Brigadier pulling strings for you. You killed Grasett by allowing him to ride with you and Elkins.”