“I said ‘freeze’.”
I froze.
“Now. Slowly, hands on top of your head.”
I complied.
“Now face down on the ground.”
I twisted, trying to lay down.
“Slowly!”
I did my best. I gasped as the movement jarred my injured ribs.
I could not suppress a shout at the knee that pressed into my back. I felt one hand jerked behind my back, then another. Cold metal, handcuffs, pressed into my wrists. The officer jerked me roughly to my feet and half dragged me to one of the waiting patrol cars.
The officer bent me over the hood of the car and thoroughly patted me down. His hand found, and removed, my one remaining flare.
“Well, what have we here? Some kind of bomb?”
I said nothing.
The officer stuffed me into the back of the patrol car and slammed the door. I twisted on the seat, trying to find a position that minimized the pain in my side.
I had no idea what the police would do, how I would explain what had happened and my role in it. A part of me didn’t care. I was so tired. I just wanted to rest, to rest and heal.
I closed my eyes. I wondered how long I would be in prison.
“Good work, Officer.” I heard the voice outside the car. I opened my eyes and looked out the window. I saw the back of a man in a suit talking to the officer who had....had he arrested me? He had not said anything about my right to remain silent, or said anything about actually arresting me. He’d just ordered me face down, cuffed me, and stuffed me in the car. I supposed that counted as arrest.
“We’ve been on the trail of this terrorist for a long time.” The main in the suit continued. “We’ve tracked him from a German extremist group.”
My blood chilled.
“Return to crowd control,” the man in the suit said. “I’ve got this.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man in the suit turned. Large mirrored sunglasses covered his eyes. He opened the door and leaned close.
“Hello, Johann.”
He smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Despair filled me. Here I was in the back of a police car, handcuffed, no alchemical supplies, and a Shadow-ridden detective looking in at me.
“You had to make this hard, Johann,” the man said. “But it’s over now.”
I forced a smile that I did not feel.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” My reply was pure bravado.
The detective stood and closed the door. He rounded the car and opened the driver’s door. He slid into the seat.
I saw the officer who had cuffed me look back, then look back again, turn and begin running toward the police cruiser.
“Hey! What are you...?”
The detective put the car into reverse and backed in a sharp turn. The cruiser hit something, bouncing me in the seat. I grunted. The pain in my side spiked and I felt an overwhelming urge to cough.
The car surged forward, curving in the other direction. The siren blared. The car took a corner at breakneck speed and I tumbled into floor.
By this point, the pain was so intense that I hardly felt the extra indignities.
“What’s the hurry?” I finally managed to grind out, loud enough for him to hear me.
The Shadow did not reply.
The car continued to carom down the street with little concern for its back-seat passenger. With my hands cuffed behind me I could not strap myself in. All I could do was brace myself in the footwell.
My phone buzzed.
I jerked. The officer searching me had found the flare but not my phone? For that matter, after everything I’d been through the fact that my phone still worked was remarkable enough.
Unfortunately, the phone was in the front pocket, out of reach of my hands. I gritted my teeth as I abandoned the limited security of my position in the footwell. I twisted until I knelt in the footwell, belly against the edge of the rear seat. I hopped up and sank down, letting the edge of the seat rake against the front of my thigh. The phone moved but not enough. I repeated. This time the phone reached the opening of the pocket but the corner caught inside the pocket.
The buzzing stopped as the phone went to voicemail.
Swearing softly, I twisted, rubbing the phone against the front of the back seat in an effort to work it free. I coughed and spat blood.
I’d seen movies where someone would break their thumb to get out of handcuffs. It was a lot harder to do in reality. Yes, you could break your thumb. That just gave you a broken thumb. It didn’t get you out of the handcuffs unless you dislocate the bone at the base of the thumb.
All I’d done was render my left hand useless.
The phone buzzed again. I returned to trying to work the phone free against the seat.
This time I succeeded and the phone dropped down by my feet.
“Scheisse!” I squirmed, dropping butt-first to the floor and felt with my hands for the phone. My right index finger touched it. We rounded a corner and the phone skittered away.
I twisted, craning my neck to see where the phone had gone.
The Shadow, so far, had given no sign of noticing any of my antics. I decided that he had enough to concentrate on with driving.
Somewhere during my efforts, the phone went to voicemail again.
At last, I trapped the phone against the side of the footwell and closed my right hand around it. I worked my way up to the seat and by twisting, stretching and bending my neck at near impossible angles, I was able to see the screen while being able to manipulate it with my thumb.
A third time the phone buzzed.
I accepted the call, dropped the phone to the seat and pivoted, dropping my knees to the floor so I could trap the phone against the seat with my cheek. Awkward, but I could hear and talk.
Becki’s voice shouted at me. “Adrian, what’s going on? Are you all right?”
“I’m in the back of a police car being driven by a crazy Shadow,” I said.
“There’s an alert out,” Jeff said, his voice fainter. “They’re reporting the police car stolen. Hey, Becki, here...”
“Jeff! Front. Front.”
I heard horns blaring over the phone.
“Sorry,” Becki said. “Jeff found a live news report. I’m watching you on camera.”
“Get clear,” I said. “The only one who knows you have anything to do with this is Chuck and with just his word...”
“Just shut up, Adrian,” Becki said.
“You can’t do me any good if...”
“The Shadows were caught on camera,” Becki said. “I just got off the phone with a reporter laying out the whole thing. He thought I was joking or crazy at first but...on camera, Adrian. On camera. And when you hit them with the Tru-Magnesium, it not only drives them out but they go to pieces.”
Seen? On Camera? But the Tru-Magnesium would have blinded cameras just like...no Tru-Magnesium was alchemical, not chemical. Essence of light I had called it. Alchemy affects the living more than it does machines. This too, I knew. Did Essence of Light then affect the living more than it does machines? Tru-Magnesium would still produce a bright light that, close up, would overload a camera but the bulk of the effect, the alchemical Essence of Light, would pass with little effect.
So the cameras had seen the dislodged—destroyed if what Becki described was true—Shadows.
The first indication of the Shadow driving the car hitting the brakes was my flying forward to slam into the backs of the front seats.
“Time to get out, Johann.”
I heard the front door open and close. I twisted looking for where the phone had fallen. I did not see it.
The rear door opened and the Shadow-ridden man reached in and twisted a hand into my collar. I choked as he hauled me backward and out the door to lay sprawled on dirt.
I lay under a canopy of trees, a park or something.
“You just wait there,” he said then closed the door and bent into the front of the car
. I heard the engine rev fast then the Shadow hopped back and the car lurched forward.
I turned my head to look. The car bounced down a slope into a small lake. The front end hit the water, sank, and the car stopped, leaving the rear end half out of the water.
I giggled.
“Trying to make them think we drowned? Works better in the movies, doesn’t it.”
The Shadow reached down and pulled me to my feet.
“We must find another car.”
“I’ve got a broken rib that’s probably punctured a lung.” I did not tell him about the thumb. No need to explain that one. “The only way you’re getting me anywhere is to carry me. And while you’re doing that, my lungs are filling with blood. I won’t be any good to you dead.”
“Then we’ll find another alchemist.”
“Sure, just check the yellow pages.”
He did not speak further, merely grabbed my ankle, and started dragging.
I had thought, while being bounced in the police cruiser, I had reached the maximum possible pain. I was wrong. Bouncing across the ground, grinding broken ends of my rib together, abusing the broken thumb, I hurt too much even to scream.
He dropped my leg when we reached the side of the road. I lay whimpering, unable even to move.
#
I do not know how long I lay there. Eventually the pain receded to the point where I was cognizant of other things.
We were still in a forested park. I did not know which one. What puzzled me was the lack of any police. Becki had said the police car was reported stolen, then said they were watching a live news report on camera. Helicopter, I guessed.
So where were the police? I looked up at the greenery, wreathed in the shadows of gathering twilight, just starting to turn colors for fall. The police might have lost sight of the car when it entered the park, but it should not take the police that long to find them.
Slowly, I flexed first my arms, then my legs, just a little, just enough to confirm that I could move. Otherwise, I remained still, resting, gathering as much strength as I could against an opportunity to act. As I was, I might be able to stagger into the trees, but the Shadow would easily overtake me.
Why weren’t the police converging on us? I could not shake that question.
I cast a quick glance at my Shadow captor. Was it dark enough for it to emerge from its host? Perhaps. If not now, then soon.
Lights appeared down the street. A car rounded a curve. With its headlights shining in our direction I could not make out more than the silhouette of the car, some kind of SUV or truck.
The car neared and I finally saw the color. Orange.
Oh, dear Lord, no.
The Shadow stepped out into the road, holding up something in his left hand. In his right he held a gun, hidden behind his hip.
No.
I rolled to my knees then staggered to my feet.
The car, the Menace, stopped. The lights shut off. I saw four silhouettes inside.
Four?
The driver’s window lowered.
“How can I help you, Officer?” Becki said from inside the car.
“Police. I need your vehicle,” the Shadow said.
“There’s just one problem, officer.” Becki opened the door and stepped out of the Menace. The other doors opened.
Between the twilight and the darkness under the trees I couldn’t see clearly. The people who exited the vehicle were little more than shadows.
I took a step forward.
“These officers have already commandeered the car.” I could not see, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
A brilliant beam of light stabbed out, falling on the Shadow’s face. The Shadow screamed and shielded his eyes with his left hand. His right came out and forward, leveling the gun. It pointed towards...towards Becki. I lunged forward, hoping, praying, that I could knock the gun aside even with my hands still cuffed behind me.
Two steps, I had nearly closed the distance. Then the world exploded in sound and light. New pain burst in the right side of my chest.
Then darkness took me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I woke to a rhythmic beeping sound. It took me a moment to realize that it was the sound of a heart monitor and the heart it was monitoring was mine. The other noise was the loud hiss in time with my breathing. My chest seemed to move up and down in time with the noise through no effort on my part.
White acoustic tiles covered the ceiling above me. To my left hung a plastic bag half full of clear liquid. Tubes drooped from the bag and ended in my neck. Another larger tube approached from the other side and disappeared under my chin. It pulsed in time with my breathing. The breathing still hurt, but not as much as during the wild police car ride.
I could still feel various pains. I just did not care. The rib, another pain in my chest somewhat higher. Bullet? Had I been shot? I fought through the fog in my head to think back over my last memories before waking. The bright light and noise. Muzzle flash? Maybe. Probably.
I lifted my head to look down at myself. The movement pulled at another tube that went into my right nostril. A cast covered my left hand. I noted another tube plunging into my chest. That explained the additional pain there.
I looked down at my left hand in its cast, then to the right and lifted my right hand slightly. No restraints. Was I not under arrest? Or was there a guard outside that door to keep me from leaving?
I felt myself trying to giggle but no sound, not even breath, emerged from my mouth. The tubes going into my body were restraint enough. I was not going anywhere, not for a while.
I let my head fall back to the pillow. I closed my eyes and let darkness take me again.
#
The next time I woke there was someone standing next to my bed, an older man, mid-fifties I guessed, with olive skin and a short, neatly trimmed beard. He wore blue hospital scrubs. He drew blood from a fitting in my arm.
I opened my mouth to speak but no sound emerged.
“Welcome back,” the man.
I gobbled with my mouth but still could not speak.
I tried to grab for the man—the doctor?—with my right hand but my arm got tangled in tubes. The doctor set aside his vial of blood and gently pushed my arm back into place.
“Take it easy. You can’t talk because we had to perform a tracheostomy. There’s no air flowing past your vocal chords.”
I forced my arms to relax and nodded. The movement bounced the tube at my throat. It did not hurt but it felt decidedly weird.
I stared at the doctor and when I was sure I had his eye, I carefully mouthed the words “What happened?”
“You were brought in with a gunshot wound to the chest and assorted other injuries. You were lucky. The bullet missed the major arteries. It was touch and go for a while, but you seem to be past the worst of it.”
I waited until I again had his attention and mouthed “What now?”
“We keep an eye out for infection, for any complications from surgery, and now that you’re awake we can start weaning you from the ventilator.” He grinned. “Then the fun part starts.”
He waited for a moment, possibly looking for some reaction from me. I just looked at him and outwaited him.
“Then you start physical therapy.”
I rolled my eyes.
“One more thing,” the doctor said. “The police have asked to be informed when you’re ready to give a statement.”
I tilted my head to the side and raised my eyebrows. This not being able to talk was almost as frustrating by itself as being bedridden.
The doctor chuckled. “Once we get you off the ventilator.”
I nodded, then relaxed and closed my eyes. There wasn’t much else I could do.
#
For days I lay in that hospital bed. The only people I saw were the hospital staff. They were pleasant enough but did not say anything other than banal pleasantries. At least I learned where I was, the hospital attached to the university and medical school.<
br />
I supposed I served as good training for prospective doctors.
There was a television, but the mindless entertainment annoyed me and I couldn’t concentrate enough to follow anything more substantive.
Occasionally someone would wheel me out for X-rays or other tests. Then they’d bring me back to the room where I’d wait for the next test, or someone to draw more blood, or inject something into one of the tubes invading my body.
I slept a lot. The combination of whatever drugs they were feeding me and the constant fatigue of my body trying to heal meant I could do little else.
Two days later the doctor I had met on waking, I learned his name was Shukor, returned.
“You ready to try breathing on your own?”
I nodded as vigorously as the tube in my throat allowed.
“Okay, your numbers look good, so we’ll try it. Let me explain what’s going to happen. There’s a cuff around the endotracheal tube. It’s kept inflated to block off the airflow and let the machine pump air in and out. What we’re going to do is deflate the cuff. You’ll still be getting oxygen through the tube, but you’ll be able to breathe past it on your own. All right?”
I nodded again.
“Okay, let’s give it a try. Ready?”
I nodded once more.
Shukor made an adjustment on the machine next to my bed and suddenly air whooshed up from my lungs through my nose and mouth. I gasped, drawing in a breath.
“Oh.” The word, the first I had spoken in days, sounded almost magical to my ears.
I drew in another breath. It was hard, like breathing through a straw, or maybe with weights atop my chest, but I was breathing.
“That’s...wonderful,” I said.
“Don’t try to talk. Just breathe.”
I breathed. After a few minutes the imaginary weight on my chest increased and I started struggling.
“Okay, that’s enough for this time.” Shukor made another adjustment on the machine and my chest was rising and falling of its own, in time to the rhythmic pulsing of the machine.
I had breathed on my own. I had talked.
“You did well,” Shukor said. “Your muscles have gotten unused to doing your own breathing and part of that is the sedation. We’ll reduce the sedation and continue working to wean you from the ventilator. We’ll have you breathing on your own in no time.”
Alchemy of Shadows Page 19