By DeboraDyess
Some days never go away. Every sound, every smell, each item seen or touched stays. It never changes, it never fades. Those are the days that make or break a person.
It was a single day that nearly broke Jack.
A thunderstorm and its accompanying cold rain, not at all unusual for mid-November, blew in early that Monday morning. Lightning darted and ripped across the predawn sky, momentarily lighting ominous clouds. Reverberating thunder rumbled like a long, unsettled growl from the throat of an ancient, unseen spirit-beast. By five o'clock that evening early darkness had fallen, intensifying the chill in already cold, still air. The rain had stopped, but loud raindrops dripped lazily off of tree limbs and eaves, creating a soft, rhythmic solo. Its pulsing was joined by a chorus of crickets stationed randomly around each house, interrupted only occasionally by traffic splashing down the road or horns from the miles-away highway.
One house, in particular, looked deceptively dark and half-asleep. The white Texas stone had turned to desert sand in the early night. One light burned in the kitchen window and another on the porch. The curtained living room window flickered with the alternately bright and dim lights of the television. With football in the air, and on the screen of nearly every house in town, it would've been unusual for the TV to be off on this night. Consequently, the set had been turned on, but it entertained no one; it sat mostly unnoticed and muted. More than a dozen cars, all except Jack's Bronco and Laine's Taurus, were hidden carefully on neighboring streets and driveways. It looked like any other night on the quiet street. All signs of excitement and surprise were hidden within the walls of the peaceful-looking home.
Jack surveyed the house from his marshy front yard. He nodded, satisfied his brother would pull up to the house none the wiser and walk into the surprise of his life.
Jack had dressed for the surprise party pretty much the way Jack always dressed: in a cotton sweater, boot cut jeans, and running shoes. He wore sneakers with everything from jeans, to his one and only suit, to dress pants and a pearl-snap shirt. His wife complained that it made him look like he may burst into a brisk run at any minute. She had, on occasion, purchased dress-shoes for her wayward husband, to no avail. Jack was comfortable in his shoes and besides, he reasoned, there was no telling when a man might need to run.
He glanced up the street one final time, frowning against the gathering gloom. He examined the intersection and streets leading into the subdivision for one specific set of lights, fairly certain he wouldn't recognize them if he saw them. The hoped-for headlights, or any headlights for that matter, failed to cut through the blanket of nightfall.
Jack tried to imagine himself as his brother, pulling up next to the curb after a long workday, hurrying to the house because he was late for dinner again. The slight sounds of party guests that escaped the house could be attributed to TV noise, he decided. He looked again at the house for anything that might give the surprise away. Finding none, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sauntered back to the house, careful to miss the worst of the mud and puddles as he walked. Laine would take his head if he tracked up her floors just in time for a party.
The inside of the house proved to be as tumultuous as the outside had been peaceful. The noise hit Jack like a blast from an oven door opened suddenly after a day of baking. Men's deep-throated conversations, women's quiet laughter, the almost shrill excitement of children playing in the adjoining den all made for a joyous cacophony that left Jack smiling as he closed the door behind him.
Laine smiled across the room at him and he returned her greeting warmly. She had been his high school sweetheart, his bride, the mother of his child. He still found her breathtaking. He didn't believe his heart was coloring his vision; he'd seen the appreciative looks she received from men on their evenings out, and the openly jealous stares from some of their women. She was tall, although she didn't look so next to him. She managed to maintain a trim figure, primarily by chasing a classroom full of kindergartners from August until May, and by keeping up with their 12-year-old son, Travis. She wore her brown hair curled and short and, although she tied it back, it continually bounced loose of the band, making her look younger than her 36 years. The hair framed a flawless, heart-shaped face. Her eyes, a pale green-gray, still softened when she looked at her husband. Jack believed, had she not married him, a plainspoken, unpretentious cop, she would have been a famous model. Or perhaps, watching her animated delivery of fairly simple information to her students, he thought, an Oscar-level actress.
He began to thread his way through the crowd toward her. She glanced away from him, but her gaze was drawn back in his direction. She intentionally looked away, then met his eyes again. A tiny smile played across her mouth and through her eyes. He returned her teasing look, suddenly and unexpectedly anxious to be next to her. He would only take her hand in his and squeeze it softly, but the thought of even that innocent contact caused him to quicken his step.
His mother's voice floated in from the kitchen. "Oh, no! That's not Cody, is it?"
"Too early, Rachel," one of the party guests replied over the din.
"Is Pam finally back?" she called again.
"It's me, Mom," Jack called, his low voice cutting through the chatter like a sharp knife.
Pam should have been back already, he thought, examining the inside of his home as he made his way past friends and family toward his prize. It had been transformed into party central, not by magic, but by an afternoon's focused effort by his wife and sister-in-law. Navy, helium-filled balloons bobbed at the ceiling, and dark blue crepe paper covered everything. A table full of brightly wrapped packages, cups, and a punch-bowl of pale green something-with-ice-cream-floating-in-it awaited the arrival of an equally decorated cake. Pam had rushed out over an hour ago to fetch the dessert, and for Michael and Katie, who she'd left for the afternoon with a friend. Cody had been ordered to meet his family at Jack and Laine's house "for dinner" after his shift ended. It would be a minor disaster if he arrived before the cake, not to mention his wife and children.
Jack's sister-in-law planned this little get-together and pitched it to him and Laine with eagerness. The surprise would not just be Cody's birthday party one week early, she'd explained, but the odd assortment of gifts he would be opening. Diapers, rattles, wipes, and baby clothes would all be wrapped as birthday gifts for him, and set the stage for the bigger surprise. It was a crazy idea, but that was Pam, Jack thought.
When she'd presented the plan to Jack and Laine the week before, Pam almost burst with excitement.
"After all," she'd beamed, "How often do I get to give him a baby for his birthday?"
Jack twisted his face and thought about that for a minute, mustering all the drama in his soul. Michael's birthday fell in the fall and Katie, the four-year-old love of Jack's life, made her debut in mid-July. "Never," he'd answered Pam in mock solemnity. "Unless you're not telling us everything."
"It was rhetorical, Goofy," Pam pretended to be exasperated with his efforts.
"Yeah," Katie mimicked her mother, down to the folding of her hands on the table and tone of voice. "It was re-dorable."
"You're re-dorable." Jack made a face at his niece.
Katie returned the warped, ghoulish glare immediately, in true McClellan fashion.
Pam chastised Jack with pretend indignity. "John Thomas McClellan! What are you teaching her? What kind of role model are you for my child?"
Jack arched his eyebrows at her, mouthing the word 'me?' He raised a finger to his chest and shook his head in innocent wonder.
"Who's John Thomas McClellan?" Katie asked. She frowned at her mother.
"Your Uncle Jack."
Katie looked dubious, glancing from her mother to her uncle and back. "Uh-uh."
Pam nodded. "Yes, it is. It's his 'in trouble name."
Katie took Jack's face in chubby hands, her eyes rounded as she regarded Jack in pity. "Be careful, Uncle Jack. When Mommy calls me Katherine Marilyn McClellan I'm in bad Dutch."
"That wouldn't be fair," Jack commented, leaning close to the blond pixie. You started it."
Pam laughed. "Right," she agreed dryly. "Because Uncle Jack never starts anything."
"It's true," Jack informed his listening audience, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "I'm a finisher."
"A finisher, huh?" Laine smiled as smugly as if Jack had just fallen into an elaborately laid trap, which he knew couldn't have happened. "Great! You can finish the dishes, then grab the trash and fold the laundry. Then we'll both be finished."
Katie, who missed most of the conversation, frowned again, her brow furrowed in concentration. "What's Daddy's in-trouble name?"
"Oh, darlin'," Jack said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Daddy doesn't have an in-trouble name. Never has. Daddy never, ever gets in trouble."
"He uses his brain before he uses his mouth," Laine commented, smiling sweetly at her husband.
"Now, Laine, you know you married me for my brains." Jack reached across the table to take his wife's hands in a gentle massage.
"I knew there had to be some reason..."
"Yeah, the first time I saw you, I sauntered over to you with a smile and a wink of the eye and this." Jack tapped the side of his head and cocked his eyebrows.
"Your hair?" Katie frowned in confusion.
"Yes, honey," ‘Laine laughed, "with his hair."
Jack smiled at the memory, hoping to keep the hair-gag alive with Pam for at least another week or two.
The phone rang, pulling Jack back to the present, detouring him away from the desired spot beside his wife to a small phone table across the room from her. He almost ached with the missed opportunity to hold her. Pam had called earlier, worried that she was running late, so Jack assumed it to be her again.
He picked up the phone. "Y'ello," he said, his voice booming to be heard over the steady hum of conversation. If it were Pam or Cody they would answer 'red' or 'purple' or 'green' or, on occasion, 'magenta'. No one else played the old family-phone game, obviously not impressed with Jack's humor.
"Jack." The voice belonged to Rudy Sotello, Cody's partner.
Jack glanced at the owlish face of his inexpensive Timex. Rudy was in on the gag, of course, but he and Cody still had ten minutes on their shift. Jack frowned. Too much paperwork would destroy the timing of the party and wreck the plans. "We have a glitch in the works?"
"Jack ..."
Cold, hard fingers clutched Jack's chest, stealing his breath. He felt his throat tighten. "Is it Cody?" he asked quietly. The room felt too hot suddenly; the banter of party guests too loud.
"We responded to a shooting, Jack." Rudy's voice sounded hollow, dead.
Jack could hear sirens and noise in the background and realized dispatch had patched Rudy into a phone line. His fear leapt. "Is it Cody?" he repeated. His voice sounded harsh and tight. His stomach began to knot.
"It's Pam."
Jack frowned, shook his head in disbelief. "What's Pam?" He waved impatiently at Laine and their guests to be quiet. Laine looked at him, mild confusion marring her beautiful, unconcerned face.
Rudy took a deep breath. "Pam's gone, Jack. Cody can't handle it, man. When he realized it was their car..." Jack listened intently to a moment of quiet as Rudy clenched his teeth and swallowed the lump clogging his throat. "I shouldn't have told you this over the phone, but … he needs you here. Now."
Jack felt the room spin around him. The cordless phone felt hard and ice-cold in his grip, but for a moment it seemed to be the only solid thing around him. Laine watched him, concern lining her face. She opened her generous lips to speak, but instead walked to him and laid her hand softly on his shoulder. He realized at her touch that he was shaking.
"It can't be Pam, Rudy. I just talked to her ... not 15 minutes ago. She's on her way back here. She's just running a little late. She'll be here any minute."
"No, she won't, Jack." Rudy stopped talking abruptly, trying to maintain control. The wail of another siren drifted hollowly through the phone line. "It's her."
Jack squeezed his eyes closed. The smell of catered barbeque drifting in from the kitchen suddenly nauseated him. He stared at a crocheted pillow top on the couch. "What happened?" he asked, too stunned to put Rudy's comments together and make sense of what he'd been told.
"A robbery; a stupid robbery. They shot her for forty bucks."
Jack shook his head again, horror blocking out the room around him. His mind reeled and he grasped frantically for a reason that this couldn't be true.
"We're at Remy Square. Near the ATM."
The bakery was at Remy Square. Jack shut his eyes again. "Damn."
Laine looked scared now. She tried to catch his eyes with hers, her face etched, her excitement destroyed. Jack pulled her into his arms, holding her tighter than he'd intended, relaxing his grasp when she grunted softly. His mother stepped into the room, her head back, crystalline laughter preceding her. But seeing Jack's expression as he looked toward her she paled, reached for the support that wasn't there, and stumbled. A desk sergeant who had worked with Jack and Cody's father caught her and guided her to a chair. Jack watched, acutely aware that now every eye in the room stared into his face; that every conversation had ceased. The desk sergeant knelt beside Rachel, took her hand gently, and stared at Jack, grimly awaiting the bombshell.
Jack croaked hoarsely, "The kids. Are the kids okay?"
"Not hurt. Hurry, Jack. Hurry."
Jack, Laine, and Rachel arrived at the dark parking lot of the shopping center in slightly less than twenty minutes, but the drive felt like it took forever. Laine, pressed as close against Jack as physically possible, clutched his knee in a steel-hard grasp totally outside of her character. Rachel sat next to her, staring blankly out the dark passenger window, unaware of passing traffic or early Christmas decorations. She held her arms tightly across her chest, rubbing ungloved hands over the smoothness of her coat as if trying to warm herself. Silence penetrated the car and wore against the threesome's frail emotions. No one said a word, afraid that any sound would make the nightmare real. Rain, which had come and gone all day, sprinkled the windshield with a fine, even mist. Jack turned the wipers on as he pulled into the parking lot, streaking the tinted glass, turning the world into a blur.
Rachel left the car as soon as Jack stopped it, but he and Laine sat still for a minute after he turned off the ignition, protected for a little longer from reality by the streaked glass. Hand in hand they slid out the driver's side of the car, looked around, blinking and frowning as if they stepped from the Bronco into an alien world.
The red lights of police cars bounced off the wet asphalt and glowed in shallow puddles, making everything appear surreal and unnatural. The night smelled of rain and wet tires. A somber quiet hung over the area, officers talking quietly, spectators whispering.
They found Cody sitting on a curb, hugging his children tightly against him. His eyes were locked on the spot where his wife's body lay. Rudy paced close by, looking miserable and helpless.
Laine walked as close to her fallen friend as crime-scene tape allowed and knelt, staring in disbelief at the shrouded body. She watched a gust of wind tug at the edge and began to cry softly. An officer stepped close, urging her to return to her car, and she raised empty, confused eyes to him.
Rachel gathered a sleepy, crying Katie into her arms. The petite child leaned into her grandmother and whispered, "Gran, why is my mommy sleeping in the rain?"
Rachel hugged her, sorrow closing her throat.
Michael refused to let go of his father, who sat stone-like, seeming not to notice the arrival of his parent or brother.
Jack knelt beside him. "Code," he started, but didn't know what to say after that. He put a hand on his brother's tense shoulder.
Cody looked up at him. He looked as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him, like he'd lost himself in another place. "She's gone, Jack," he whispered. He swallowed hard, took a breath, and seemed to hold it before asking, "What am I going to do?"
Jack remained silent and shook his head mutely.
"I've loved her since I was 16-years-old. Not one day has passed that I haven't thought of her. What am I going to do?"
Michael told them later, through hiccups and sobs, that they'd arrived at the small bakery late. They were getting ready to close, and Pam realized she was out of checks. The little bakery didn't take plastic. She'd frequented the Mom-and-Pop sweet shop for several years, and the owners agreed to wait for her to return with cash. Pam loaded the kids back into the car to drive the short distance to the ATM.
"Sh-she said she'd be right back," Michael sobbed, leaning against his father. "But she didn't come back, Dad. She didn't come back."
"I know, son." Cody stroked his son's hair, pulled the boy against him, and leaned down, putting his cheek against the top of Michael's head.
"I just s-sat there, pouting about the weather and about Katie bugging me all the time, and ... she didn't come back. I just sat there, Dad! I just sat there, and -"
"Calm down," Cody whispered. "Calm down, Michael. This isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."
Michael began to nod his head, not lifting it from his father's shoulder. "Yes, I did! I just ..." he sniffed back tears, "just sat there and watched! I just sat there and let him ... let him sh-shoot her and leave!"
"You couldn't have stopped him."
"I could have done s-something besides sit in the stupid c-car!"
Cody shook his head gently, his face ashen. "You could've gotten yourself and Katie killed, too, but you couldn't have stopped this." He appeared sick at the thought, his lips tightening into a hard, thin line.
Jack wondered if he'd make it through the night - if any of them would make it through the night, or if the robber had killed them all.
"Thank you, Michael," Cody whispered, "for not drawing attention to the car."
A thundercloud passed over the moon, cutting its light. It felt like it would stay over them forever.
Neither brother was allowed to work the case. Homicide assigned it to two more-than-competent detectives, both of whom Jack knew well and had respected until the investigation. During that time, however, he found himself second-guessing their every move, questioning every decision. An arrest was made shortly after Pam's funeral, leaving Jack's misplaced anger nowhere to light.
Cody arrived at the precinct four hours later. He made his way past silent colleagues, accepting awkward condolences with an expressionless nod. He tapped on the captain's door, entered, and laid his badge and gun on the desk. "I'm done." He turned to leave the room but stopped at the door as Captain Evans spoke.
"Let's wait on this, Cody. Don't make any decisions now that you'll regret later. You've got leave - take it. Take as long as you want, but don't do this. You're a cop. You come from cops. It's part of you. You can't just change who you are."
Cody didn't turn around but stared at the deep brown of the metal door jamb. He put his hand on the knob, aware of its coolness. "I arrested him three weeks ago. I checked the logs; three weeks ago today, Cap'n."
The captain nodded, rubbing a weathered hand across tired eyes. Putting his elbow on his desk, he rubbed his hand across his mouth for a minute, staring at the badge in front of him. "Yeah...for possession and assault. But he made bail. You're not responsible for this."
Cody turned but stared out the window just behind Evans' head. "I thought I was making a difference, you know?" He almost smiled, his mouth pale, eyes swollen. "That sounds moronic, doesn't it? But I've got to wonder...how many times has this happened? How many times has it happened and I don't know about it because it's not me that gets slammed by the system?"
"We're cops. We play one part in a larger game. We can't be responsible for all of it."
Cody made eye contact. "It's not a game." He looked down, apparently interested in the flooring. "I'm sorry, Cap'n," he nearly whispered. "I don't think I can do this anymore. I don't think I want to."
Some days never go away. Every sound, every smell, each item seen or touched stays. It never changes, it never fades. Those are the days that make or break a person.
It was a single day that nearly broke Jack.
| Author Notes |
If this looks familiar to any of you 'old timers', I"m rewriting an old book. It needed to be updated, and Im looking at publishing this time around. The first chapter of the book is divided into three parts, and all chapters will be dealt with that way.
This is Christian fiction, but it's not sunshine and daisies. My experience is that life is not like that, even for those of us who love the Lord and are called by Him. But life has also taught me that we never walk through those dark times alone, no matter how black the journey or how long the path. That has certainly been true in my life. |
By DeboraDyess
Jack's sister-in-law planned this little get-together, and pitched it to him and Laine with eagerness. The surprise would not just be Cody's birthday party one week early, she'd explained, but the odd assortment of gifts he would be opening. Diapers, rattles, wipes and baby clothes would all be wrapped as birthday gifts for him, and set the stage for the bigger surprise. It was a crazy idea, but that was Pam, Jack thought.
"After all," she'd beamed, "How often do I get to give him a baby for his birthday?"
| Author Notes |
This is the second part of chapter one, with another segment to go If you missed the beginning of 'In the beginning' (redundant, I now!), it's still awarding points and member cents. It's certainly not too late to get caught up. :)
For thos who did read last night, I added one line to the very beginning of that segment. Where it says, "It was a single day that nearly broke Jack" I added, "It could have broken them all." THis is a story about Jack, yes, but the tragedy waffected the whole family, so it seemed misleading not to include the clan. :) I appreciate any corrections or comments. Thank you. |
By DeboraDyess
Previously: Jack McClellan and his wife and sister-in-law are preparing a surprise party for his brother, Cody. During the preparations, Jack recieves a phone call from his brother's partner.
"It can't be Pam, Rudy. I just talked to her ... not 15 minutes ago. She's on her way back here. She's just running a little late. She'll be here any minute."
"No, she won't, Jack." Rudy stopped talking abruptly, trying to maintain control. The wail of another siren drifted hollowly through the phone line. "It's her."
Jack squeezed his eyes closed. The smell of catered barbeque drifting in from the kitchen suddenly nauseated him. He stared at a crocheted pillow top on the couch. "What happened?" he asked, too stunned to put Rudy's comments together and make sense of what he'd been told.
"A robbery; a stupid robbery. They shot her for forty bucks."
Jack shook his head again, horror blocking out the room around him. His mind reeled and he grasped frantically for a reason that this couldn't be true.
"We're at Remy Square. Near the ATM."
The bakery was at Remy Square. Jack shut his eyes again. "Damn."
Laine looked scared now. She tried to catch his eyes with hers, her face etched, her excitement destroyed. Jack pulled her into his arms, holding her tighter than he'd intended, relaxing his grasp when she grunted softly. His mother stepped into the room, her head back, crystalline laughter preceding her. But seeing Jack's expression as he looked toward her she paled, reached for support that wasn't there and stumbled. A desk sergeant who had worked with Jack and Cody's father caught her and guided her to a chair. Jack watched, acutely aware that now every eye in the room stared into his face; that every conversation had ceased. The desk sergeant knelt beside Rachel, took her hand gently and stared at Jack, grimly awaiting the bombshell.
Jack croaked hoarsely, "The kids. Are the kids okay?"
"Not hurt. Hurry, Jack. Hurry."
It took slightly less than twenty minutes for Jack, Laine and Rachel to arrive at the dark parking lot of the shopping center, but the drive felt like it took forever. Laine, pressed as close against Jack as physically possible, clutched his knee in a steel-hard grasp totally outside of her character. Rachel sat next to her, staring blankly out the dark passenger window, unaware of passing traffic or early Christmas decorations. She held her arms tightly across her chest, rubbing ungloved hands over the smoothness of her coat as if trying to warm herself. Silence penetrated the car and wore against the threesome's frail emotions. No one said a word, afraid that any sound would make the nightmare real. Rain, which had come and gone all day, sprinkled the windshield with a fine, even mist. Jack turned the wipers on as he pulled into the parking lot, streaking the tinted glass, turning the world into a blur.
Rachel left the car as soon as Jack stopped it, but he and Laine sat still for a minute after he turned off the ignition, protected for a little longer from reality by the streaked glass. Hand in hand they slid out the driver's side of the car, looked around, blinking and frowning as if they stepped from the Bronco into an alien world.
The red lights of police cars bounced off the wet asphalt and glowed in shallow puddles, making everything appear surreal and unnatural. The night smelled of rain and wet tires. A somber quiet hung over the area, officers talking quietly, spectators whispering.
They found Cody sitting on a curb, hugging his children tightly against him. His eyes were locked on the spot where his wife's body lay. Rudy paced close by, looking miserable and helpless.
Laine walked as close to her fallen friend as crime-scene tape allowed and knelt, staring in disbelief at the shrouded body. She watched a gust of wind tug at the edge of the coveirng and began to cry softly. An officer stepped close, urging her to return to her car, and she raised empty, confused eyes to him.
Rachel gathered a sleepy, crying Katie into her arms. The petite child leaned into her grandmother and whispered, "Gran, why is my mommy sleeping in the rain?"
Rachel hugged her, sorrow closing her throat.
Michael refused to let go of his father, who sat stone-like, seeming not to notice the arrival of his parent or brother.
Jack knelt beside him. "Code," he started, but didn't know what to say after that. He put a hand on his brother's tense shoulder.
Cody looked up at him. He looked as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him, like he'd lost himself in another place. "She's gone, Jack," he whispered. He swallowed hard, took a breath and seemed to hold it before asking, "What am I going to do?"
Jack remained silent and shook his head mutely.
"I've loved her since I was 16-years-old. Not one day has passed that I haven't thought of her. What am I going to do?"
Michael told them later, through hiccups and sobs, that they'd arrived at the small bakery late. They were getting ready to close, and Pam realized she was out of checks. The little bakery didn't take plastic. She'd frequented the Mom-and-Pop sweet shop for several years, and the owners agreed to wait for her to return with cash. Pam loaded the kids back into the car to drive the short distance to the ATM.
"Sh-she said she'd be right back," Michael sobbed, leaning against his father. "But she didn't come back, Dad. She didn't come back."
"I know." Cody stroked his son's hair, pulled the boy against him and leaned down, putting his cheek against the top of Michael's head.
"I just s-sat there, pouting about the weather and about Katie bugging me all the time, and ... she didn't come back. I just sat there, Dad! I just sat there, and -"
"Calm down," Cody whispered. "Calm down, Michael. This isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."
Michael began to nod his head, not lifting it from his father's shoulder. "Yes, I did! I just ..." he sniffed back tears, "just sat there and watched! I just sat there and let him, let him sh-shoot her and leave!"
"You couldn't have stopped him."
"I could have done s-something besides sit in the stupid c-car!"
Cody shook his head gently, his face ashen. "You could've gotten yourself and Katie killed, too, but you couldn't have stopped this." He appeared sick at the thought, his lips tightening into a hard, thin line.
Jack wondered if he'd make it through the night - if any of them would make it through the night, or if the robber had killed them all.
"Thank you, Michael," Cody whispered, "for not drawing attention to the car."
A thundercloud passed over the moon, cutting its light. It felt like it would stay over them forever.
Neither brother was allowed to work the case. Homicide assigned it to two more-than competent detectives, both of whom Jack knew well and had respected until the investigation. During that time, however, he found himself second-guessing their every move, questioning every decision. An arrest was made shortly after Pam's funeral, leaving Jack's misplaced anger nowhere to light.
Cody arrived at the precinct four hours later. He made his way past silent colleagues, accepting awkward condolences with an expressionless nod. He tapped on the captain's door, entered and laid his badge and gun on the desk. "I'm done." He turned to leave the room, but stopped at the door as Captain Evans spoke.
"Let's wait on this, Cody. Don't make any decisions now that you'll regret later. You've got leave - take it. Take as long as you want, but don't do this. You're a cop. You come from cops. It's part of you. You can't just change who you are."
Cody didn't turn around, but stared at the deep brown of the metal door jamb. He put his hand on the knob, aware of its coolness. "I arrested him three weeks ago. I checked the logs; three weeks ago today, Cap'n."
The captain nodded, rubbing a weathered hand across tired eyes. Putting his elbow on his desk, he rubbed his hand across his mouth for a minute, staring at the badge in front of him. "Yeah...for possession and assault. But he made bail. You're not responsible for this."
Cody turned, but stared out the window just behind Evans' head. "I thought I was making a difference, you know?" He almost smiled his mouth pale, eyes swollen. "That sounds moronic, doesn't it? But I've got to wonder ... how many times has this happened? How many times has it happened and I don't know about it because it's not me that gets slammed by the system?"
"We're cops. We play one part in a larger game. We can't be responsible for all of it."
Cody made eye contact. "It's not a game." He looked down, apparently interested in the flooring. "I'm sorry, Cap'n," he nearly whispered. "I don't think I can do this anymore. I don't think I want to."
Some days never go away. Every sound, every smell, each item seen or touched stays. It never changes, it never fades. Those are the days that make or break a person.
It was a single day that nearly broke Jack. It nearly broke them all.
By DeboraDyess
| Author Notes |
I'm sorry to cut the chapter off at such a weird place. the next good spot would make this read over 2,000 words. It will go up tomorrow.
Thank you for reading. I know this is a long novel (especially compared to my last one!) and very, very different in both style and theme. I appreciate you reading. :) |
By DeboraDyess
When Cody's wife, Pam, is killed in a robbery, the family is devastated. Left with two children to raise, Cody resigns his position with the local police department, where his brother Jack remains as a detective.
The story picks up two years later, with Jack trying to convince Cody to take a vacation.
"I don't have time for a big-brother lecture, Jack."
"Well, when will you have time? I'll rearrange my schedule."
"I could work you in three years from Thursday. Now, get your feet off my desk." Cody thumped the toe of Jack’s shoe.
Jack moved his feet, watched Cody check another folder, and put his feet back where they had been, considering a new approach. He studied the room while he thought.
Jack liked Cody's office better than any other place in the house. The walls were textured and painted to look like old plaster. Two Navajo-style rugs had been carefully placed on the hardwood floor to make the room feel warm and casual. Cody's desk, usually neat, was now covered with files. He was on his yearly 'clean out everything' binge, and his office had lost its perfectionist, 'Better Homes and Gardens' appearance. Photographs and one painting, all Cody's work, hung on the walls, grouped to create points of interest in the room. The photos always amazed Jack. He had been with Cody when most of the pictures had been taken, but never saw the incredible beauty Cody saw until the picture had been developed. It had taken him a long time, and about a hundred of Cody's photos, to realize that each shot told a story of his brother. He studied one now, trying to figure out what piece of Cody's complicated personality it told. Giving up, his feet still on the desk, Jack crossed his ankles, scattering some of the folders and accidentally knocking one of three framed pictures off of the desk.
Cody caught it in mid-fall, looking sternly at Jack, and returned the rescued picture to its rightful spot on his desk. Jack glanced at it and smiled. It was a picture of Michael and Katie. Like their dad, they couldn't give anything as 'just' anything. Instead, they'd created a collage. The children had carefully cut Taz and Babs Bunny out of two comic books and glued them onto a sheet of handmade paper. School picture headshots had been neatly cut and glued over the cartoon faces. They'd presented the picture, framed, to their dad for Father's Day, laughing that it was a character portrait of the two of them. Cody kept it on his desk, along with the last family photo they'd had taken and a picture of him, Jack, and their mother.
"Cody --"
"I've got a lot to do, Jack," Cody warned. "Don't bug me today. Being in between cases means I get caught up on things around here. And once I do, all it means is I need to be starting a new case." He paused and smiled slightly to soften the words. "You know that picture Dad took of your first adventure in shaving?"
"Picture of me...shaving?" Jack raised his eyebrows and scanned the ceiling of the office, pretending not to remember. He knew exactly what his brother was talking about, but he stalled, trying to catch its connection to this conversation. Cody inherited his love for photography from their father. Having two amateur shutterbugs in the family insured they had pictures of everything that ever happened to any of them. "Let's see ... No ... no, I don't think so." He grinned at Cody.
"Yeah, well, keep pestering me and you'll remember it." Cody's smile broadened and dimples appeared, making him look more mischievous. "I think I'll have them print it in the newspaper ... in the community affairs section. Let's see, the caption could be, 'Sergeant Shave'."
"That's Detective Shave to you, Junior."
"Doesn't sound as good."
Jack shrugged big shoulders. "So what? I was ... what, eight years old, right?"
"I was six," Cody corrected, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, "so you were eleven ... almost twelve. Old enough to know better, and old enough that anybody who sees that picture will know it's you."
Jack arched his eyebrows almost imperceptibly at the last comment. "It wasn't that bad, anyway."
Cody glanced through another physical file folder, placed it in the cabinet, and said, "Not that bad? You looked like the poster child for a bandage company. You had every little old lady in church praying for you!"
"Mom shouldn't have made me go to church."
"You shouldn't have told everybody you fell off the back end of the truck."
Jack nodded, his dark eyes dancing, smiling at the long-ago memory. "Well, yeah. You're right, but I had to think of something. I don't think Allie Turner would've been very impressed with the shaving thing."
"Allie Turner, huh..." Cody tried to look serious, but the dimples returned. "Isn't she the heavyset blonde that didn't age very well and lives over on Ellis with, like, a million cats?"
"Yeah," Jack stretched out again, running his hand over his mustache and then lacing his fingers behind his head. He leaned back in the chair. "She should've gone out with me. She could be a happy woman now."
"She's probably happier with the cats."
"Ha, ha." Jack picked a pen up off the desk and pitched it at Cody, who caught it and stuck it behind his ear.
"So, I'll pick you up on Friday for the camping thing," Jack said. "It'll be like the old days, man. Before kids, before jobs..."
"You mean before responsibilities," Cody interrupted. His tone indicated he felt he took his responsibilities more seriously than his brother did.
"Exactly," Jack said, smiling as if taking pride in his supposed irresponsibility. His expression softened as he thought of his wife and son. Nothing on this earth would make him give them up. His pretense at being the black sheep was nothing more than a joke shared by his family.
He stood almost two inches taller than Cody, broader and more muscular. He was a big man; 6'4" and 235 pounds, broad-shouldered and muscular. He was proud of his build; he knew men ten years his junior, not in as good a shape. His hair, a dusty blond, seemed misplaced atop his dark complexion and plain brown eyes. It was his eyes, as ordinary as they first appeared, that caught and held others' attention. They always held a hint of something " some wonderful secret waiting to be shared, or a good joke just about to burst out. But they could change suddenly to stone; dark, dangerous tiger's eyes that warned of things to come. He and his brother favored their father and had inherited his crooked grin and eye-catching looks.
Jack had begun to wear a mustache several months before, much to the delight of his younger brother, who seized the opportunity to tease him without mercy. "Ah," Jack would rag back, "I can shave this thing off any time. You're with those precious dimples for life." He always emphasized the 'precious', hoping to bring back childhood memories of ancient great-aunts and wrinkled, alabaster-skinned church ladies who always seemed to feel the need to pinch his cheeks. He was usually successful.
Cody stepped close to the computer and compared information on the screen to a paper copy. He put a file away. "Still don't want to go."
"Yeah, well," Jack stretched again, "I don't want to be so good looking, either. Have to live with what we got."
"You're hilarious, Jack."
"So what's the matter?" Jack asked. He looked around conspiratorially and whispered, "Don't trust Mom, huh?"
Cody frowned at him, his brows heavy over too serious eyes, and his mouth tight. "Mom's getting too old to watch the kids for three days alone."
Jack cocked his eyebrows and lowered his chin toward his chest, studying Cody through genuine amazement. "Mom's getting too..." he let his voice trail off and whistled his surprise at this proclamation. "Don't tell her that," he advised shortly.
"Give me a break, Jack! They wear her out sometimes with me here. It wouldn't be fair to her to have to babysit all the time." Frustration was beginning to creep into Cody's always-calm voice. "Mom's already given up her house for us. I'm not turning her into a live-in-nanny."
Jack frowned and shook his head. "Mom did not give up her house for you, dumb butt. She couldn't afford to keep the house after Claire Eastman got remarried. She lost her roommate, plain and simple. You had an extra couple of rooms in this barn. She'd even mentioned it to Pam, Cody. If Mom heard you say that garbage she'd have me hold you down so she could kick your butt. Do what you want, but don't use Mom as an excuse."
| Author Notes |
Another weird stopping point, I know, but whatcha gonna do? Thiese are long chapters, and dividing them up isn't as easy as I'd hoped. So...
Thank you for reading. HOpe you'll hang in there. :) |
By DeboraDyess
| Author Notes |
Sorry for the long read, y'all. It's tough breaking up an adult novel into bite sized pieces for FS! lol
Many thanks for reading! |
By DeboraDyess
It ended with that phone call.
Jack cleared his throat, pushing the past to the past and looking again at his brother. Time to fix the present.
"It's time, Cody," Jack repeated quietly now, not taking his eyes off of the photo, where Pam stayed alive forever.
Cody looked at Jack and then at the back of the picture frame. He didn't have to see the picture; he had memorized every detail long ago. He took a deep breath. "We still held hands every night when we went to bed."
Jack looked up at him, surprised by the response.
"I still enjoyed the feel of her hand. Soft. Cool." Cody looked at his brother. "I miss the craziest things, Jack. I miss grocery shopping with her."
"You hated going shopping with her," Jack said quietly. He thought guiltily of how many times he'd taken his life with Laine for granted, even knowing how it could disappear in a heartbeat.
Cody nodded. "I know. She read every single label every single time we went. I miss her poking me with her elbow while I'm driving down the street and saying, 'Look at that tree, Code. You could paint that, honey.' And the tree would be three blocks behind us by then and I'd be saying 'What tree?' Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I can almost feel the warmth of her hand, Jack. I thought I'd still be holding her hand when I was old."
"I thought you would be, too." He cleared his throat. "It wasn't your fault."
Cody continued to look at the back of the frame. "I'd told her that wasn't a safe place. If it wasn't for that stupid cake ... She loved that bakery, though, you know? I should've been with her."
"You were on duty. And if you had been with her it would've just been you on the sidewalk that night instead of her. Or maybe both of you." He'd had the same feeling of guilt himself. He was now almost quoting what their mother told him when he'd expressed them to her. "You can beat yourself up all you want, Code. It doesn't make it your fault."
"Real easy for you to say, Jack." Cody glanced out the big window beside the desk, intently studying the changing color of the leaves on a red oak in the front yard before returning his gaze to his brother.
Jack looked away from Cody for a second, "It isn't easy," he corrected quietly. "See, I was going to go with Pam. We were in the driveway when Aunt Shirley pulled up in front of the house. I stopped to help her carry her junk in and, when I finished, Pam was already gone. It shouldn't have been you with her, Code. It should have been me."
Cody looked at Jack, a flash of surprise melting in his blue eyes. He blinked, too sure of his own guilt to hear his brother. "I'd just busted that guy --"
"Didn't have anything to do with it. He was a junkie looking for cash. It wouldn't have mattered to him if it were Pam at that ATM or the first lady. All he wanted was money, Cody. It didn't have anything to do with you."
Cody sat heavily on the desk, scattering the few remaining files. He looked tired. "I'm not ready to leave the kids yet," he admitted quietly.
Jack considered his next words carefully. "You're always talking to me about faith, Cody; about trust. Always telling me that you have to let go of stuff and let God be God." He took a deep breath and sighed.
His own crisis of faith weighed heavily on his mind. He'd discovered it one week after Pam's murder, on Cody's birthday. As he lay in their bed, holding Elaine tightly, his mother called.
"Cody's gone," she whispered into the phone.
For a heartbeat, Jack could hear Rudy Sotello. 'Pam's gone,' he'd said. Jack clenched his jaws and held his breath, waiting, breathing only when his mother began to speak again.
"He waited until the kids were asleep and asked me to watch them. He took his bicycle."
Jack took a slow breath to calm down before he spoke. "Mom, it's been a week. Maybe he just needs a little time by himself."
"But he's been gone three and a half-hour, Jack. I keep thinking, 'I'll give him another fifteen minutes and then I give him some more, but he's still not here. It's almost midnight. Jack, I'm really worried."
"I'll bring him home, Mom."
He rode to the park, where he found Cody leaning against the fence around the tennis courts, looking at the stars. He was in a tee-shirt and shorts although a cold front had moved through in the last hour, dropping the temperature 20 degrees and dumping an inch of rain. Cody's clothes and shoes and hair were still soaking wet. Jack knew he had to be cold, but wondered if he felt it.
"Hey, kid." Jack leaned against the fence beside his brother, speaking softly. "It's, like, fifteen degrees out here. Want my sweatshirt?"
Cody ignored the question. "Look at the stars," he ordered softly. "They're perfect tonight-sharp, clear. Pam would love this ..."
Jack glanced up and then looked at Cody. Park lights backlit his face, making his eyes look dark and hollow. "Time to go home, Code. Mom's worried."
Cody didn't appear to hear him. "Pam loved to watch the stars, you know? We'd stand out in the yard for hours some nights, just looking up." He smiled a little sadly, remembering. "The neighbors thought we were nuts. She always looked for Orion, showed it to the kids. I never asked her why, Jack. I meant to, but I just never thought of it at the right time. Most people look for the Dippers, but Pam looked for Orion, and I don't know why. Now I'll never know." He exhaled slowly, his breath making a cloud in front of his mouth. "Boy, she loved to watch the stars."
Jack watched Cody's face in the dim light.
"I don't think Pam can see the stars anymore, Jack."
Jack swallowed. He'd felt himself build a wall between him and God for the last seven days, his anger growing as his faith dwindled. He wondered if Cody felt that same distance and bewilderment and anger. His own fading faith made him speechless.
"You have to have darkness to have stars. You know, they're always there, but you just can't see them in the daylight. You have to have darkness."
"Code -"
"If there's really no darkness in Heaven, Pam can't see the stars anymore."
Jack looked at Cody's bike, thrown carelessly into a puddle by the courts. The anger at God grew.
"Do you think she'll miss the stars, Jack? She loved them. You think she'll miss them? Miss Orion?" Cody drew in a ragged, choked breath. "Do you think she'll miss us, Jack?"
Jack wrapped his arms around Cody and pulled him into his shoulder. Cody sobbed, grieving like he hadn't been able to for the days since he lost his wife. Jack held him tight, letting him mourn, feeling his faith crash.
It hadn't recovered yet.
Jack shifted at Cody's desk and looked away from his brother's face, remembering that long ago night in the park. Unlike Cody, who'd held onto his faith so devoutly, he'd let his go. "How," he asked slowly, "can you claim to trust Pam to God forever if you don't even trust the kids to God for one weekend?"
Cody looked over at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.
"That's not faith," Jack finished. He looked at his feet, crossed on Cody's desk, and studied a spot on the toe of his shoe.
Cody raised a hand to run wearily across his eyes and then through his hair, shoving long bangs out of his face. He sat with his head down, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You can't stand guard on the kids 24/7, Code. No one could. You've made their lives as safe as you can. You've done everything you can. It's time for you to show me some faith." He leaned forward, close to his brother. "Come on, Code," Jack urged softly, "you could really use the break."
Cody hesitated.
"Okay," Jack admitted, "I could really use the break, and this is the only way Laine'll let me have one."
A hint of a smile touched Cody's face. "She really does lead you around by the nose ring, doesn't she?" he asked softly.
Jack nodded slowly, his expression serious. "Oh, yeah. Somethin' terrible." Then he smiled at the thought of his tall, willowy wife leading him by the nose.
Cody looked away from his brother, staring at a photograph on the wall behind Jack's head. Jack knew the photo-it was one Cody had taken on their last camping trip as kids. In it their dad was casting his line into the lake for one last try at fish for dinner. The sunset behind him made a perfect silhouette of the man they both loved so much. If that photo didn't swing Cody his way nothing ever would. After a minute, Cody nodded.
"Well, then," Jack instructed, standing, wanting to lighten the mood, "try to get a haircut between now and then, huh? I'd hate for anyone to think I'm taking up with hippies."
"Hippies? How old are you?"
"Or maybe rock stars."
Cody smiled and ran a hand through his nearly black hair. He wore it short, but kept the bangs long-to the middle of his cheekbones if they fell forward. And they always fell forward, giving Cody an appearance of innocence impossible for someone his age. Jack accused him of wearing it that way for just that purpose. "It's as short as yours, most places," Cody protested.
Jack leaned forward and ruffled Cody's bangs. "It's the other places that need the haircut. Have your lazy self ready by 5:30 and we'll stop for breakfast on the way out."
| Author Notes |
OKAY! Chapter done! :)
|
By DeboraDyess
The sign above the diner read 'Highway Cafe', although there was no highway anywhere around the small community. It passed twenty-seven miles to the south, near a bustling town that thrived off the traffic on the Interstate. The sign had been painted in an earlier, more hopeful time, before the exact route for the thoroughfare was announced. The owners, already out time and expense upgrading the diner for an anticipated increase in clientele, decided not to throw good money after bad, and left the sign. It was the last renovation for the roadside cafe'.
Cody squinted into the morning sun as he slammed the Bronco door, looking up at the sign. "Didn't that used to be red?" he asked as he studied the pink lettering.
"Ah, so, little grasshopper," Jack responded in an almost oriental accent. "Time fade all things. Confucius say time fade you, too."
"Confusion say that? It may be true," Cody answered, opening the door and motioning Jack to enter. "But you first."
They entered the diner laughing and Jack raised a hand in greeting as the locals glanced up to check them out. They were mostly farmers and ranchers, stopping for a mid-morning cup of coffee at just barely 7:00 in the morning. One or two nodded in acknowledgement of the greeting, but most went back to their conversations.
"Move along, Howdy Doody." Cody nudged Jack in the back. "I'm hungry enough to eat a horse."
"Ain't got none of those," a voice said from behind them. A waitress, red-headed, tall and thin, stepped around the pair, grabbed a couple of menus and started forward, speaking over her shoulder as she moved. "We got 'bout ever'thing else, though. You name it, the cook'll fix it and I'll be happy to bring it out to you. Best deal in the house, though, is there on that blackboard. Fill you up for less than the cost of a couple of gallons of gas." She stopped beside a booth and motioned the men toward it.
An old man sitting at the table next to them said, "June, honey, can you get me a refill for my coffee?"
"Just a sec, Daddy. Let me get these gentlemen set down first."
He nodded and returned to his newspaper.
Cody slid onto the bench seat, found a comfortable place in its sagging cushion and looked around. The interior, like the sign outside, had seen better days. The vinyl on the chairs and benches was faded, and floor tiles, while clean, were chipped in spots and worn with traffic. Ceiling fans lifted smoky haze from customer's cigarettes, swirling it above them and creating a slight breeze overhead. It was apparent that no one in the diner had ever heard of a smoking ban. The bulletin board the waitress pointed out, displaying the breakfast and lunch specials in a scrawl that Cody wasn't sure was even English, looked like someone recently took it out back for a good thrashing.
The waitress stood, menus in hand, waiting. Cody held his hand out, glanced up at her and wondered if he'd done something wrong.
She frowned down at him. "You don't want the special?"
"I'd like to take a look at the menu first," Cody said, and smiled.
The red-head shrugged and handed him the tri-fold sheet of laminated paper. She glanced at Jack.
"Oh, I want the special," he assured her. "He will, too, once he's looked at everything else. He's like that, you know." He rolled his eyes and nodded at Cody.
"You guys brothers?"
"Nope," Jack said quickly. "Just met him last night. Responded to a personal ad in the newspaper."
"A personal ad? From him?" The waitress glanced at Cody, who'd looked up at Jack's comment.
"Yeah. It was sad, really. It read, 'Hermit seeks companionship for trip to state park. Will pay for gas.'"
"I'm not paying for the gas," Cody said quietly, returning to the menu.
"I felt bad for him. All he ever does is sit in a dark room, playing internet spades. No people skills at all. I agreed to come with him, but no hanky-panky. You know, strictly on the up-and-up."
The waitress grinned. "You're a funny guy,"
she said, putting her elbow on the back of Jack's bench and leaning forward to expose a little breast. "You married?"
"Regrettably so," Jack said, staring pointedly into her gray eyes.
"your wife's a lucky girl."
"I tell her that often. She snorts."
"How 'bout you, Mr. Hermit?" She glanced over at Cody.
Cody looked up, surprised. "Oh, yeah," he stammered, feeling the blood slide into his face. "Me, too. Married."
He held his left hand up.
"Don't sound like it."
Jack motioned her toward him and she leaned in, shoulders back to accentuate her figure. Jack whispered, "He's not married, but … he likes to pretend."
June glanced across the table without moving. "Pretend?"
"He's not quite right … in the head. Mom talks me into taking him out ever' once in a while so he'll feel normal. You know."
"Normal?"
Jack nodded. "Yeah … Everyone wants to feel normal. And Mom needs a break from him once in a while." He lowered his voice again, forcing June to look at him. "He lives with her."
"She lives with me,." Cody didn't look up from the menu. "It's my house."
Jack nodded and said, "Of course it is," while looking knowingly at the waitress.
Realization crossed June's face. "Oh …"
Cody passed her the menu. "I want the special."
She took it. "Okay, sweetie. give me just a minute, okay?" She used the cutsie voice that most women reserved for babies.
June turned toward the kitchen. "I'll start you boys with some coffee. You, too, Daddy," she said over her shoulder.
"married?" Cody raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to see Laine's face if she ever heard that. I think that one statement qualifies you not right in the head."
Jack chuckled.
Another man walked through the door, wearing a denim jacket and cowboy hat, which he removed and hung on a hat rack beside the cash register. The group of locals looked up, several greeting him by name. He moved past the brothers to a booth against the back wall.
"It's like a country club," Cody said. "Everybody part of the same little clique, with us just looking on."
Jack nodded. "Most of these guys probably grew up here, went to school together, have known each other their whole lives. They're as much a part of each other's world as this diner is."
They quieted as June came back with their coffee. "You can drink coffee, can't you honey? Be careful, now. It's hot." she warned as she set the mug down in front of Cody.
She turned before Cody could answer, setting coffee before her father. "Tell Momma I'll be around after work today to help her get ready for the church bizarre, okay?"
The old man nodded without a reply.
Cody began to listen to the conversations floating through the café'. The table beside him was discussing market costs for cattle feed.
"That damn coach," a louder voice accused from a booth across the room, "goin' to run us into the ground!"
"It's not like he can perform miracles, Mike," a second voice argued.
"He plays the same three plays ever' game, in the same order. We got good talent this year and we ain't goin' to play but ten games because the coach is stupid! If I know he's playing the same three plays then ever' coach in the district knows the same thing! Our boys are countin' on scholarships from football, and this dumb-ass is goin' to keep 'em from getting' 'em!"
"We been to state with him before."
"Thirteen years ago! That was thirteen years ago! My boy wasn't even in school then, much less playin' ball!"
June appeared with their food, interrupting Cody's eavesdropping.
"Brought plain syrup and homemade strawberry. It's local, made by ..." she scanned the crowd for a second. "His wife." She pointed to the coach-hater. "It's real good."
They ate, still listening to the gossip around them. They heard about the new preacher, very young, replacing a pastor who'd been at the church for twelve years but was moving on to a church up in the Panhandle to be closer to his parents; a scam involving farm equipment which lost Cody's interest almost immediately, and about a teacher at the high school who was, apparently, interested in the new preacher, even though she was dating the ineffective coach.
As they were paying Cody glanced up at the TV, set above the cash register. A news bulletin began to flash across the screen, the banner read 'Senator Kidnapped'. "Will you turn that up?" Cody asked.
"Sure," the man behind the register said. His deep voice sounded like he was talking through a barrel of gravel. He increased the volume, then changed the channel.
"Hey!" Cody protested. "I was watching that."
"Now you're not."
"But -"
"Farm report's comin' on."
"But that's news!"
"So get a newspaper."
"It's breaking news!"
"So buy a newspaper tomorrow. This is the farm report." He turned his back on Cody, ending the discussion.
| Author Notes |
Finally got the boys out of that darned office! lol
Thanks for reading. All reviews are welcome with the only requirement being honesty. :) |
By DeboraDyess
As they were paying Cody glanced up at the TV, set above the cash register. A news bulletin began to flash across the screen, the banner read 'Senator Kidnapped'. "Will you turn that up?" Cody asked.
"Sure," the man behind the register said. His deep voice sounded like he was talking through a barrel of gravel. He increased the volume, then changed the channel.
"Hey!" Cody protested. "I was watching that."
"Now you're not."
"But -"
"Farm report's comin' on."
"But that's news!"
"So get a newspaper."
"It's breaking news!"
"So buy a newspaper tomorrow. This is the farm report." He turned his back on Cody, ending the discussion.
Jack paid and they walked out.
"Did you hear that?"
“Yep.” Jack tried not to laugh as the brothers slid into the car.
"It’s breaking news!" Cody turned on the radio, scanning stations, unable to pick up a clear signal.
"Guess you'll have to buy a paper... Tomorrow."
They arrived at the Deer Creek area of the state park thirty minutes later. The early fall breeze blew gently, whispering age-old secrets through trees that had graced the land for decades. Leaves, just beginning to change from greens of summer to golds, scattered inviting, breath-taking color through the hills. Feathery, light clouds promised to burn off by midday, assuring the men that the afternoon would turn hot. They sat in the car, looking through the windshield at what, until then, had been a long-ago memory.
"Wow," Cody breathed.
"Wow is right. Look around you, little brother. This weekend I'm not a cop, and you, sir, are not a private investigator." Jack donned a questionable Sherlock Holmes accent, which he always did when referring to Cody's new profession.
Cody laughed. "I think you're having an identity crisis."
"If that's the only crisis we have this weekend," Jack responded, wiggling his eyebrows like a second-rate Groucho Marx, "I'll be a happy camper. No pun intended, of course."
"Oh, of course not." Cody grabbed the cell phone he'd pitched on the leather seat when Jack picked him up that morning.
"You're not an overprotective dad, either." Jack made a quick snatch for the iPhone.
"Yeah, right. Nice try." Cody pulled his feet into the seat of the battered Bronco suddenly, lifted himself up and exited through the open window.
"You forgot to lock up!"
Cody had already made it around to the back of the vehicle, and was retrieving his gear. He shrugged. "Tell it to the squirrels."
"Irresponsible kid," Jack muttered loudly. He rolled up the passenger window, locked the doors and followed his brother.
They'd come here often as kids. They occasionally camped as a family, but more often they came with their father. His delight in being with his sons was unleashed on these ‘men’s weekends’. He intentionally created special memories with his boys,
"We need to bring the boys up here sometime, Jack. "
Jack nodded. “Yeah. How 'bout next month, if it doesn't get too cold?"
Dimples appeared in the center of Cody's cheeks. "I seem to remember you telling Dad that it never gets too cold for a real camper."
"Yeah? I’m the dad now. I can be a stick in the mud all I want."
"Wimp." The younger McClellan scanned the view before them, suddenly anxious to escape the Bronco and thoughts of home. "How far in did we set up camp with Dad?"
"Couldn't have been more than a couple of miles, right? Think we could still find it?"
"Well," Cody drawled, “if not, maybe we could find a cop."
"Or hire a detective."
It was an old joke, but the brothers hadn't quite tired of it. Cody opened his one-man agency four months after Pam's death. Publicity from the murder and trial, as unwelcome as it had been, provided Cody with his first set of clients.
"This whole detective thing is Leroy Brown's fault," Jack started as they began the hike away from the Bronco.
Cody frowned through his dark sunglasses. "Who?"
"Leroy Brown. Remember him?" Jack smiled smugly as his brother shook his head. Cody fell into this one way too easily. "Oh, yeah. You spent a whole summer with him when we were kids."
"I don't know who you're talking about."
"You don't?" Jack peered at Cody over the top of his shades, a look of slight disapproval on his face.
"No. I've never known anyone named Leroy. I'm pretty sure."
Jack grinned. "Leroy Encyclopedia Brown." A rabbit dashed across the path ahead of them. "You read every 'Encyclopedia Brown' book on the shelves one summer. Pestered the dog snot out of me--""
"Did not."
"--asking 'How'd he know that, Jack?' 'Can you get this one, Jack?' The Mystery of the Missing Toenail Clippers, The Case of the Incredibly Dumb Cat Nabber, The Case of Why Did Jack Kill His Brother... Drove me nuts."
Cody smiled. "You even got one or two right."
The brothers argued and laughed as they hiked the estimated three miles into the park, but could not find the site where they'd spent the last few camping trips with their dad. After so many years everything, and nothing, looked quite right. They'd walked up and down the creek several times when Jack stopped, breathing hard in the heat of the morning. "At least we found the creek." he muttered dryly.
Cody grinned crookedly. The creek bubbled in over the dirt entrance to the park and eventually ran parallel to the road. Hiking in as they had made it impossible not to find the creek. "This could be it," he offered. He pulled his sunglasses off to critically examine the area and wipe sweat off his face. "I kind of remember trees. And there are trees here. And there was a creek... Check. I remember birds and listen! Looks like it could be the place."
"Real funny, funny man. That's what you've said about every place we've been."
Cody shrugged. "Well, the last time we were here I was what … twelve, right?"
"Yeah, it was the summer I turned 17, so that'd be about right." He watched the birds Cody had teased about as they evacuated one tree in favor of another. "You know that Dad was already sick on that last trip, don't you?" He waited, but Cody didn't answer. "He was going to tell us about the cancer then, but decided it wasn't the right time."
"There's never a right time for news like that." Cody thought about how he'd break the news to his children, shook his head and silently thanked God he didn't have to figure that out. Maybe he never would.
"It was a good last trip, though," Jack said. "That next weekend… you and me and Mom at the kitchen table … that was rough."
"I'd wondered for a month what was wrong with them," Cody remembered. "They'd seemed … off."
.
The conversation had gotten too serious, Jack realized, and could turn to Pam if he let it. He was trying to get his brother away from past tragedy, not dwell on it. Time to find a camp site."Hey," he said, pulling binoculars from around his neck to his eyes. "Remember that pine tree?" He began searching the landscape with renewed zeal.
"One specific pine tree?"
"Yeah ..." Jack glanced at him. "That really big one. We used it for target practice with bows and arrows. The one where Martin Craemer got caught --" His voice stopped as suddenly as if he'd hit pavement facedown and he slowly took the binoculars away from his dark eyes. "Or maybe that was Boy Scout camp."
Cody laughed. "I've missed a really great story, haven’t I."
Jack snorted and grinned. "Maybe when you're older … much, much older. Now … is this it or not?"
"Yeah, sure. I guess."
Jack dropped his load to the ground, put his foot on top of his dusty backpack and put his hand on his chest, like a modern-day Napoleon. "Then I claim this land in the name of McClellan," he stated in an unidentifiable nasally accent.
“Lord, help us.”
They made short work of setting up camp. Even after so many years the work felt good and familiar; the rhythm of it felt right. The area was perfect. Only a few yards from the creek, and well shaded, the site was as good as any they'd shared with their dad.
As Jack walked past Cody's open backpack, he glanced in and stopped, frowning. "You brought your Browning," he said flatly, staring down at the handgun in the backpack.
Cody raised his eyebrows slightly but didn't stop driving a tent stake into the ground. "What?"
"You brought your Browning into a state park, Code." Jack turned toward his brother, looking for exactly like the police officer he wasn't going to be for the weekend. "What the hell? It's illegal here."
"You going to arrest me?" Cody looked up, smiling, but the smile didn't quite reach his pale eyes. For a second he wasn't too sure that Jack wouldn't arrest him. He met his brother's hard stare.
"You'd lose your license." Jack's voice and eyes were stone; as unreadable as a blank page.
"Yeah. At least."
HIs brother looked up at the sky and back down. "Geez, Code!" he stormed. "What are you thinking? You stood right there while I declared my weapon to the park ranger -- right there -- and didn't say a word! Don't act so stupid! It's not like you don't know the law!"
Cody shrugged lamely. "I just... I've carried one for so long ..." He shrugged his shoulders again.
"You know what kind of position you put me in?"
"You want to go home?"
"No. It took me this long to get you out here." Jack looked at his brother, the hard set to his eyes gone. "Leave it in the backpack."
"I am sorry."
Jack nodded. "Sorry don't get it done, boy." Both men heard those words often as boys. Their father used them to signify the end of a problem that he expected to never be repeated.
Cody nodded and went back to work. They finished, and Jack lay down, propped his head against an unrolled sleeping bag and pulled a baseball cap down over his eyes. A patch above the bill read, 'Older than Dirt'.
"Want to go fishing?" Cody asked. "We could try to find Ol' Frank."
"No."
"Hiking?"
"For Pete's sake, Cody, we just finished hiking!" Jack pushed the bill of the cap up enough to look at his brother. "You know, even when you were a kid we'd get here and you just couldn't wait to put the whole trip into the first 30 minutes. You haven't changed at all. You're worse than the kids. You're a pain in the neck sometimes, Cody." He pulled the cap down again. "Go entertain yourself. Quietly."
Cody looked at his brother in mild amusement, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth. Jack could've spent three days sacked out on his couch at home with an air conditioner, indoor plumbing and microwave popcorn. Instead he insisted they drive 94 miles to the middle of nowhere so he could relax on the hard, hot ground.
"And quit watching me," Jack ordered, his voice muffled by the cap.
| Author Notes |
Sorry it's taken so long for me to post this portion of the book, y'all. I'm going to hatchet the diner scene, although it is one of my favorite. I'm just taking to long getting to the action, which is bogging down the reading for you. I wanted a clar picture of who these men are, what changed their situations and why they are where they are â?¦ but it's dragging too much. So â?¦ hatchet time.
I'm posting this, although it's going to be heavily edited before submission. I don't want to leave Y'all hanging any longer. If you have any thoughts on this, let me know. :) Thanks for hanging in there. |
By DeboraDyess
Cody looked at his brother in mild amusement, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth. Jack could've spent three days sacked out on his couch at home with an air conditioner, indoor plumbing and microwave popcorn. Instead he insisted they drive 94 miles to the middle of nowhere so he could relax on the hard, hot ground.
"And quit watching me," Jack ordered, his voice muffled by the cap.
Cody stood there a minute longer and said, "If I remember right there are some great shots from around here. I'm taking the camera to the top of the hill up there." He gestured, although Jack's baseball cap blocked his view of the direction. He walked to his backpack and removed the camera case. He had laid his cell phone in the backpack as they set up, and reached for it now, planning to take it with him and see if he could get a signal out.
"Don't forget the phone," Jack droned sarcastically.
Cody looked quickly at his brother but Jack hadn't moved. "I'm not taking the phone," he countered, leaving it in the top of the bag in case Jack checked. "Just the camera."
Jack grunted, indicating his disbelief, disintrest or both.
Cody began hiking away from their small camp. He turned at one point, zoomed in and snapped a close up of the slumbering Jack, arms crossed over his chest, ball cap covering his face"the perfect picture of his brother 'getting back to nature'.
He'd remembered correctly. The view as he climbed to the top of the ridge was magnificent. The countryside unfolded around him, apparently unending. Although summer temperatures had taken a toll on most of the flowers, some heartier varieties still held firm in small patches of orange and blue. The grasses were mostly yellowed from the heat, but even this held a quiet kind of beauty, and it blew gently in the wind like honey colored waves.
Cody took five more pictures as he hiked; one of a tree he wanted to copy into a painting, one of a squirrel sitting up near the edge of the creek, a shot of the fast-evaporating morning clouds and two of the path below him. He had already started mentally blocking in a painting using several of the elements around him.
It felt like an eternity since he'd allowed his mind to wander in this direction. In the past, Pam often talked with him about the layout of his paintings and acted as his unofficial assistant, offering a slightly different perspective than his own. He'd enjoyed sharing his art with her and come to depend on her input more than he realized. For too long he'd felt disoriented in the loss of his most valued inspiration. Now, in the woods for the first time in years, he felt the passion and excitement of this vision returning, raised from its deep sleep by the gentle caress of the wind.
Jack had been right, too, he realized as he walked. Stress and tension fell from him with each step up the path, leaving him as if he were shedding an old skin.
After a few yards the hill steepened and the deer path he followed began to wind more. He hiked, enjoying the crunch of stone and dirt under his boots, the feel of sunlight and shadow lattice-worked across his face. The smell of the woods teased him, blending together to make it impossible to pull out just one fragrance from the mix -- pine and cedar and flowers he could see along his path but couldn't identify.
It wasn't quiet in this wilderness -- there was too much life here for that. He listened to the sound of birds squalling, either fighting or flirting he decided, and insects and small animals scurrying across his path.
And someone crying, he realized with a start.
Cody looked around, frowning slightly. He couldn't see anything, but someone was definitely in trouble. He decided to finish the climb to the top of the rise and see what he could find from that vantage. He took the camera from around his neck, held the woven strap and carefully jogged, looking around him as he sprinted the last few feet. He reached the top of the hill and broke through the brush into a small clearing.
Five men were there. They were obviously as surprised to see Cody as he was to find them.
Four of the men were about Cody's age, blond and big. They were outdoorsmen, dressed for the area. They were all armed. The fifth was on his knees in the middle of the others. Dressed for a day in the city, his once pristine business suit was now wrinkled and torn, his dress shoes dirty. He was older, 60 or 65, and Hispanic. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt and tears. He looked terrified. When he looked up and saw Cody, a tiny bit of hope lit his eyes.
Cody looked from those dark eyes to the faces of the other men. They studied him with hard and calculating expressions. "Well, now," one of the blond men drawled slowly. "A reporter or somethin' maybe." He nodded toward Cody's camera. "Snaggin' the story a' the century."
A second man smiled. "All right...We got us a two for one sale."
"Oh, God." Cody breathed the prayer for help and swallowed. He released the camera, felt it crash beside his foot, heard the lens explode as it smashed into the ground. It occurred to him, in a far-back part of his thoughts, that the lens had been Pam's last Christmas gift to him, and that if he lived through this, he would miss it. He put his hands up in front of him, as if to fend off the approach of a charge of a crazed bull. "Wait," he started, trying to think of some way to save this man and warn Jack without getting his head blown off. "I just took a wrong turn. I … I don't even know--"
"That's too bad." The tallest of the men dismissed him with a glance. "Kill him."
The first raised a rifle at Cody's chest.
Cody dropped and dove toward the man before he really had a chance to think, hoping surprise would work to his advantage. He came up under the weapon just as it fired. The noise deafened him, sending brilliant white flashes of light through his head. As Cody grabbed blindly and shoved the rifle into the air with both hands, the old man ran for the cover of trees a few feet away, disappearing into the thick underbrush almost as soon as he moved.
The blond giant released his hold on the rifle with one hand and slammed his fist into the side of Cody's face. Lightning mushroomed again inside his skull and Cody crumpled. The blow sent him back several feet, spinning him around to face the path he'd just come up. He knelt, stunned, trying to catch his breath and regain his feet. As he shifted his weight, preparing to dive for cover in the nearby brush, the toe of his boot caught a rock and he stumbled.
The rifle exploded again, from behind him this time. He felt a brief moment of surprise and, on a different level, alarm, as pain ripped through his shoulder. He fell forward into a rush of rocks and trees and brush and darkness.
| Author Notes |
And FINALLY ... the action.
My apologies for 'the rifle'. I"m looing at what kind of firearm I'm going to use here. Probably a .22, but I'm not set on that. Any thought? :) Thanks for reading, Y'all! |
By DeboraDyess
|
The blond giant released his hold on the rifle with one hand and slammed his fist into the side of Cody's face. Lightning mushroomed again inside his skull and Cody crumpled. The blow sent him back several feet, spinning him around to face the path he'd just come up. He knelt, stunned, trying to catch his breath and regain his feet. As he shifted his weight, preparing to dive for cover in the nearby brush, the toe of his boot caught a rock and he stumbled.
The rifle exploded again, from behind him this time. He felt a brief moment of surprise and, on a different level, alarm, as pain ripped through his shoulder. He fell forward into a rush of rocks and trees and brush and darkness. |
| Author Notes | Thank you for reading! :) |
By DeboraDyess
Jack glanced up at the blue sky, clouds dancing unconcerned just above the treetops. They looked almost close enough to touch. Suddenly he thought of the bulky toy circular he'd stuck in his jean pocket. That, coupled with the gauze strips in the little kit, could serve as a splint for the arm. If he could deal with the injury to the arm and control the bleeding from the wound in Cody's back, the rest seemed minor. "Cody," Jack said softly, "look at me." He took Cody's face in his hand, but Cody whined and pulled away and he let go. "Cody," he repeated, "look at me." Cody turned his head slightly, tried to focus on his brother, closed his eyes and opened them again. A deep cut ran from beside his left eye to the middle of his ashen cheek. His lips, the color of milk, were split and seeping bright red. Jack looked into his eyes. The pupils were even, but when Jack blocked the sun with his body and then moved away, they were slow to react to the changing light. Cody couldn't seem to focus. Jack wondered how serious the concussion was. "It must ... be really bad." Cody interrupted his thoughts. Jack didn't answer. "I've never seen you... look so scared." Jack looked away for a minute, wishing he could hide his feelings better from his brother. "It's okay," he assured Cody. He chewed on his bottom lip for a minute, thinking. The damage to the wrist was worse than any break Jack had ever seen. They wouldn't get anywhere with a displaced fracture slowing them down. With the angle Cody's hand had ended up, Jack wasn't even sure it was getting an adequate blood supply. To get Cody away from here he had to immobilize the arm. He would have to set it, he decided, even if the blood flow hadn't been interrupted. "Here's the plan. I'm going to splint your arm, and then we're going to get the heck out of Dodge." Cody frowned at him. "Splint ..." he took a shallow breath, "my arm?" Jack nodded toward the mangled wrist. "Cody, doesn't that hurt?" Cody turned his head, looked, then turned back to Jack, panic in his pale eyes. "Oh, God, Jack ..." "Easy. It's okay." The level of calm in his voice surprised him. Not a trace of his own fear showed as he spoke. "Calm down, now. I'm getting you out of here. You don't need to worry, okay? Just rest for a minute, and let me do this. We're going to have to keep our heads if we're going to get ourselves out of this." Cody nodded and seemed to quiet some, but still writhed in pain. Jack pulled the gauze out of the first aid kit. The thought of setting the badly broken bones scared him, but with the material he had on hand he didn't know what else to do. Right now, he decided, the only thing he could concentrate on was getting Cody to help. Any damage he did could be fixed when they got to a hospital. He glanced around the hill again. If he and Cody were caught here, with the gunmen firing down on them they wouldn't stand a chance. That made the decision easy. Rising and stepping over Cody, Jack sat on his brother's right side. Without moving the injured arm he slipped Cody's gold wedding band off the ring finger of his right hand and felt for a pulse in the wrist. He frowned, repositioned his finger and concentrated. He found a pulse, weak, but there. The blood flow to Cody's hand hadn't been completely blocked, but Jack worried that there wasn't enough getting through to make much difference. Hopefully, setting the arm would help that, too. He pocketed the wedding band and put his foot against Cody's underarm. "I'll pull on three," he warned. Cody licked his torn lips and nodded. "It hurts now," he said, sounding like a little boy. It's going to hurt worse, Jack thought. "Grit your teeth," he suggested. He took Cody's right hand. Cody reached for Jack. "Oh, God! Jack!" he cried franticly, "wait! Jack, wait! I think ... my hand—" Jack realized as Cody began to speak that the hand was swollen, too. He hesitated only a second, then closed his eyes and pulled hard. He felt the bones in the arm slide into place, but the hand shifted, too, and Jack knew he'd made that injury worse. Cody stopped midsentence, the words strangled in his throat. For a second, his eyes widened in shock and pain. He stiffened briefly, his eyes lost focus and rolled back and he exhaled, slipping into unconsciousness. Jack sat still, fighting nausea and dizziness. He blew air slowly from puffed cheeks and frowned, swallowing and saying aloud, "Well, that was really, really bad." He splinted the arm, using the circular for support and wrapping the long gauze strips around it. After he finished, he examined the other injuries Cody had complained about. The cut on his lip was minor, but the one on his face was deep, and still bleeding. "Well, Code," Jack said as he gently placed butterfly stitches across the torn skin, "so much for the perfect face. Mom always said you were too handsome for your own good, anyway." He was less worried about the loss of the perfect face than with the loss of any more blood. He ripped open the front of his brother's ruined shirt. The ribs on his left side were already bruising and swollen. In a normal situation, Jack knew, they wouldn't even wrap them, but this was anything but a normal situation. If he couldn't reach help on the cell phone he wanted some kind of support around them before they started their journey out of the park. He decided to tend them when they got back to camp. The longer they stayed here the more nervous Jack grew. The sound of small animals and wind made him increasingly jumpy. The gun on the ground beside him seemed too far away. He sighed. Everything seemed too far away. He'd moved down to check the injured knee when Cody started to stir. As Jack ripped the knee out of the bloody, torn jeans Cody whispered, "Jack?" "Right here, buddy." "Those are... seventy dollar jeans … you just tore." "That's what you get for wearing seventy dollar jeans camping, you nitwit. You and your expensive clothes. Anyway, you tore them first." He examined Cody's knee. Nothing broken, he decided with relief, but the injury would make their escape just that much more difficult. "Knee's not too bad," he told his brother. "I've seen Travis get worse than this wrestling with his mamma." Cody didn't answer. Jack glanced up at his brother's pale face. Cody was staring just above his head, frowning slightly. Jack grabbed the Glock and spun, all in one motion. There was nothing behind him. No bad guys. No birds. Nothing. He turned back to Cody. "What?" "I remember … some, anyway. There were five guys. Four ... big, blond. Armed to the teeth. But the other one … old. Hispanic, I think. Dressed all wrong. And scared." He paused. "It was a hit, wasn't it? They shot the old guy." "Maybe." Jack looked around again. Now he knew they'd be coming back. "He ran," Cody said, suddenly. "Who?" "The old guy." "Well, let's hope he's fast. Maybe they won't be looking for you while they're looking for him. He might buy us a little time, at least." Jack's eyebrows drew together as he spoke. He didn't like the idea of the old man, scared and running for his life, but he couldn't help him. He had his hands full taking care of Cody, and he had no idea where the old man had gone. He checked the ridge again. "Where's that cell phone of yours? Maybe we can call for the Calvary." "Left it in camp." Jack looked away, hiding his disappointment. If he hadn't teased Cody about it they may have the phone here now. They could call for police and a helicopter to lift him out. He looked at his brother. Cody lay with his eyes squeezed shut, chewing his lower lip. HIs body still convulsed as waves of pain stabbed through him, but for the most part, he seemed more in control. He opened his eyes when Jack touched his hand. "I'm really scared, Jack," he whispered. Jack cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows. "I know. It'll be okay." He looked skyward again to relieve the tension in his neck. "You feel like sitting up?" he asked. It didn't matter if Cody felt like it or not, and both of them knew that. "No," Cody answered. He lifted his left hand as Jack moved to kneel beside him. "Help me anyway." Jack lifted him to a sitting position as carefully as possible, aware that he hurt Cody with every movement. "I'm sorry, kid," Cody nodded, tight-lipped. Jack pulled his tee shirt over his head. Using his pocketknife he cut the shirt in half then along the side seam, making two long strips. With one he made a sling, tying it behind his brother's neck to support the weight of the injured arm. The other he tied around Cody's middle, securing his arm to his chest to prevent as much movement as possible in the trip down the hill. "You ready for this?" "Like a root canal," Cody breathed, trying to grin reassurance to his brother. It turned into a grimace, and Cody swallowed hard to stifle a moan. Jack put his arm around his brother's back, catching hold of a belt loop on his jeans, and let Cody slide his left arm around his shoulders. "Slow and easy," he instructed, and he lifted. Jack watched his brother for a minute, thinking of the supplies in the sorely inadequate first aid kit. He'd put the kit together for fishing trips with Travis, planning for skinned knees, hooks in fingers, poison ivy and the like. Never had he anticipated anything serious. He cursed himself for his shortsightedness. |
| Author Notes |
No image this time, and it finally makes sense with the story line! *heavy sigh* When I include the image, the formatting makes the story only as wide as the area to the right of the image and it's all the way down the page like that. If anyoneknows how to fix it, please PM me with that info. I've contacted tom and we'll see ...
This chapter's a bit longer than the others. If it's a problem, let me know. I can divide it in half to help you out iwht member dollars. :) I appreciate 'hard' reviews,, those pinting out all my goofs, faults and foibles. Feel free to do your darndest. That's what helps me learn. :) And thank you for reading. |
By DeboraDyess
Jack pulled his tee shirt over his head. Using his pocketknife he cut the shirt in half then along the side seam, making two long strips. With one he made a sling, tying it behind his brother's neck to support the weight of the injured arm. The other he tied around Cody's middle, securing his arm to his chest to prevent as much mov
| Author Notes |
This chapter is pretty off balance. Sorry about that. There wasn't a good place to divide it up.
Thank you for reading! |
By DeboraDyess
| Author Notes | The chapter was a little off balance -- sorry about that. There wasn't a good place to cut this one in half. :) |
By DeboraDyess
Jack had checked the compass 11 times since their last rest stop. He knew they'd been walking way too long without a break. Cody's steps were more faltering now; his weight seemed to have tripled since Jack first lifted him in the clearing. Cody had stumbled once, dragging Jack to his knees. They both knelt in the tall grass, gasping for breath. After a couple of minutes Jack pulled Cody back up, urging him softly to keep moving.
"So," Jack asked Cody softly, "what'd you find out at the high school?"
Cody had been substitute teaching at the high school for most of the past two weeks, hired by a concerned principal to alleviate his fears of a supposed gun-toting student. Rumors persisted about the kid, despite several locker checks and an investigation by school security. Cody posed as a coach, checking on the boys' activities in a way that school officials could not legally do. Jack knew Cody hated the job. He'd liked the boy, and felt like a snitch, which was, Jack pointed out in their first conversation about the case, his exact job description. Jack already knew the outcome of the investigation, but he wanted Cody to think about something besides the agony that had to be burning in his shoulder, or the shooters closing in behind them.
Cody grunted. "Kid's nothing ... to worry about. A loner ... confused ... about stuff, but..." Cody shook his head. He renewed a tenuous grip on Jack's shoulder. "Principal has ... other problems brewing. Laid a folder on his desk ... when I left."
Jack knew that, too. The principal had already turned Cody's findings over to the police department, wanting to squash the threats before they exploded on his campus.
"What a cushy job," Jack observed. "Your regular rate plus expenses, plus the seventy dollars a day the district pays subs. You may have found a whole new career, Code-man."
"I'd rather ... do this every day. Easier."
Jack shot him a glance. He wasn't sure his brother could become any more pale. His cheeks looked sunken, his eyes, hollow and haggard. Sweat pasted his dark hair onto his face and the nape of his neck. Jack's heart twisted. "Time to rest," he said.
"Can't," Cody panted. "No time." He repeated tiredly, "No time."
Jack carefully lowered Cody to the ground in a shady spot and leaned him against a fallen tree. He pulled the canteen open and gently lifted it to Cody's mouth. After he had taken a couple of small swallows Jack drank some of the cold water, then wet a bandana and wiped off his brother's face. "It's part of the plan," Jack assured him.
"We have a plan?" Cody breathed. "Great." He let his head rest back and bit the side of his lower lip. Pain and weariness were battling for his undivided attention. Pain won.
"Be still," Jack instructed. "Rest while you can. I'll be right back."
"Jack ..."
"Yeah, Code."
"As camping trips go ... this one's really ... crappy." Cody tried to tip up one corner of his mouth.
"Didn't even get to roast any hot dogs," Jack agreed.
"Or burn marshmallows."
Jack nodded. "Yeah," he said mournfully. "Or burn marshmallows. We'll have to do that later. I'll be right back."
He hiked back along the narrow path to a pair of trees they'd walked between a few moments before. The trees were about three feet apart. He swallowed and stood a minute, torn between his desire to stay within the bounds of the law and his need to get Cody out of the woods.
The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him and I am helped. He'd learned the verse as a boy, and it whispered at him now, as soft as the breeze in the treetops. He shook his head. Evidently Katie quoting her memory verse that morning let loose memory verses of his own.
"I don't want your help," Jack told a god he'd denied almost two years ago.
He squatted on their all-too obvious path and tied the brown nylon cord between the two trees. It nearly blended in with the ground. He took one large step up the path, knelt again and used the filet knife to dig out a deep, narrow hole. He put the knife into the hole, camouflaged blade pointing at the sky. He hesitated as he filled the hole with dirt.
The odds of one of the shooters falling on this knife were small. Him dying from the injuries were miniscule. Still ... This would clearly be premeditated murder to some jurors, self-defense to others. He packed the dirt tightly around the knife handle. The only person he was accountable to now was Cody. A vision of Laine, staring round eyed at him across a courtroom, haunted him for a brief second. If he didn't get out of here, he reasoned, even that future wouldn't be possible.
He stepped back and surveyed his work. The knife was almost invisible, the rope nearly as well hidden. Maybe this would slow them down some. Even if none of their pursuers were injured, maybe it would make them more cautious. Either way would serve Jack's purpose.
Jack went back to where he'd left Cody. His brother's head sagged forward, and Jack felt ice-cold fear rip through him. "Cody?"
Cody raised his head slowly, tiredly. "I'm okay. Praying." He smiled weakly. "Figured we could use...all the help we c--could get."
Jack nodded, his panic replaced by guilt. He'd always turned to God in times of hardship or need. But he'd made his decision, based on what he felt was a total betrayal of his family by the god he'd worshipped and loved since childhood. He wouldn't turn back now; not like this. He wouldn't be able to deal with the hypocrisy. Maybe God would still listen to Cody, Jack thought. Maybe if Cody asked, God would help. He wondered briefly if Pam had asked for His help. If she had stared into a killer's revolver and asked God to--
"See anything?"
Jack blinked, his somber thoughts broken. "Nope. We're good so far." He knelt beside Cody to help him up and promised, "I am getting you out of this, Code."
Cody didn't answer this time. Jack lifted his brother and they started off again. He kept talking, encouraging Cody to keep going, talking about the kids, the boys in his class at church, anything to keep him on his feet. "Guess what Travis told me last night before bed?" he challenged Cody after a brief silence. He guessed they were just over half way.
"'Good night, Dad'?" Cody guessed, and stumbled, his boot caught in a long, thorny vine. He moaned, took a shallow breath and moaned again as Jack got a better hold on his belt loop. He took a second to wipe sweat off his palm and grasped Cody's left wrist for all he was worth.
"He told me," Jack spoke slowly, concentrating on lifting Cody over the rough spot they'd come into, "that he's decided what he wants to be when he grows up."
Cody swallowed, trying to participate in the conversation. "Better looking than...his dad?"
"Nah; smarter than his uncle." Jack kicked at more of the irritating vine. "He told me he wants to be one of those 'ology' things."
"What 'ology' thing?"
"Oh, come on, Uncle Code. One of those words that ends in 'ology'."
"Biology," Cody guessed breathlessly.
"No. I guessed that one, too."
"Theology."
"No. I guessed that, I guessed technology, I guessed, like, six other 'ologies' that I can't even remember anymore. Finally Trav says, 'No, Dad. The one that studies plants.'"
"A botanist. Not an 'ology'."
"That's what I told Trav." Jack agreed.
"It's because he has ... a father who's a ... couch potato."
Jack smiled, too tired to laugh. He couldn't imagine how Cody kept going. "Yeah," he consented. "Maybe that's the plant he was thinking about."
| Author Notes | Thanks for reading, y'all. All criticism or corrections welcome. :) |
By DeboraDyess
They battled more of the vine and climbed a small incline. Jack looked behind them but could not see any sign of the men. "Boy, you sure are accident prone," he told Cody as they started down the other side.
"Me? The ER staff … knew you by name."
Well, yeah; that's because it was on all of the charts, genius."
"It's because you're the one … who paid for summer vacation for … half the hospital staff."
"No need to exaggerate, little brother." Jack glanced up at the sun and wished for some sign of clouds to break the intense glare and heat. Even through his sunglasses his eyes felt strained and dry. He thought of the water they carried in the two canteens he'd grabbed. He could wait and Cody would have to. Sparing the water was literally life and death now.
"No need to exaggerate ... because it's the … the truth. You broke your arm..."
"Lots of kids break their arm skating."
"On the roof?" Dried blood was making Cody's face itch and he squinted to relieve some of the irritation.
"I still say I should have landed on the trampoline." He studied the terrain ahead of them, mentally plotting their path. "My calculations were perfect."
"As perfect as … as you can get … with a C in math."
"Right." Jack swished his canteen to check for water level and tried not to frown. His body was screaming for the cool liquid. He thought about taking a long, satisfying drink, thought of the look on Cody's face when he was offered one, too. And, he reasoned, they still had Cody's left untouched. But they weren't halfway, or at least, he didn't think so. He slung it back over his shoulder and put the thought out of his mind, licking his lips to put at least a bit of moisture there. And actually, he realized, his body was screaming about everything.
He put his left arm around his brother to support him and closed his right hand into a fist and opened it wide a couple of times, stretching the tight muscles to relieve the cramping. His hand felt as if it had never moved from its iron grip on his brother's belt loop, and that before too much farther, he would find his hand frozen, unable to move, at all. He looked at the blue, cloudless sky, shifted Cody to get him ready to walk and grabbed hold of the belt loop again. Cody clutched him around the shoulder their break, over.
"The next summer," Cody continued through clenched teeth, "you tried to ramp … a parked truck and crashed … into old lady Garcia's car. Good thing she drove like … a snail. That one landed you a couple of days … in the hospital. Gave Mom her first gray hair."
"Yeah, well, that one was stupid," Jack admitted. 'And Mom would've gotten gray hair eventually, anyway."
"Glad ... we got that ... settled."
"Anyway, that was all kid's stuff." Jack smiled at Cody, trying to feel like this was just a normal conversation on a normal day. "You really are accident prone."
Cody grunted.
"Remember when you fell out of that tree?" Jack helped him step over a patch of rock.
"Tree?"
"At the park. You were about nine, I think."
"Falling out ... of a tree really is ... kid's stuff." The strain was showing more in his voice. "You ... talked me ... into skipping school."
"Hmm. I don't remember that part," Jack lied.
"Getting hurt twice … in 25 years doesn't ... make me ... accident prone."
Jack ignored his protest. "Geez, you must have hit every branch on the way down, and then landed square on my bike." He paused. "Leg busted, all tore up ... you never even cried."
"Didn't want you to think ... I was a baby," Cody panted. He was barely hanging on now, and knew he couldn't keep going much longer. Each step felt more difficult than the last. Each movement brought a fresh assault on his body.
Jack stopped again to mop the sweat off of his forehead, and wiped Cody's face as well. "I'd never think that. You're one of the strongest people I know. Always have been." Jack changed his hold, trying to grab more around his brother's waist, wishing Cody'd had the foresight to wear a belt. His fingers were numb. "Man, was my bike trashed."
"Backside, too," Cody reminded him, "when Dad got home."
Jack smiled. "Yeah, but my backside recovered."
"You were mad," Cody remembered.
"Scared, Cody. I'll never forget the look on your face when I left to get help. I was scared."
"Me, too." Cody coughed suddenly, his knees buckled from under him and he stumbled. He grimaced and clung to Jack, catching his balance only after the spasm passed.
Jack held him and waited, concerned that a rib might have torn a lung. He wondered what he could do differently if that had happened. "You okay?"
Cody nodded and took a shallow breath. "Guess I swallowed ... a bug."
"You having trouble breathing, Code?" Jack studied his face. Cody looked far beyond exhausted.
"Hurts."
The situation was getting worse, Jack knew. The cut on the side of Cody's face had begun to bleed again and a tiny stream of blood ran down Cody's jawline to drip off his chin. The gauze strips holding the makeshift splint together were stained red. His eyes were closed, his steps faltering. If his back was bleeding again or the bullet had shifted, if the rib injury had involved a lung ... He found a shady, inconspicuous spot and headed that way. "We're going to stop again, man."
This time Cody allowed Jack to lower him to the ground with no argument. He leaned, exhausted, against the tree Jack sat him beside.
Jack knelt next to him, pushed a lock of hair out of Cody's face and helped him drink, then poured a bit of the precious water over his brother's head, watching it drip around Cody's face and onto his neck. It left tiny rivers in the dirt on Cody's cheeks . Cody moaned, this time a low, satisfied sound of gratitude. Jack studied the area around them as he took a swig out of the canteen, swished it around his parched mouth and swallowed. The late summer sun had stolen their energy as deftly as a burglar, and Jack squinted into it as he searched their surroundings for pursuers. He sighed, the dry air already destroying the cool trace of water on his lips.
"Listen," he said, rummaging through the backpack. "I'm going scouting for a minute. I won't be long. I want you to take this." He pulled his brother's gun from the front pocket of the backpack and placed it firmly in Cody's hand. "Think you can fire it if you have to?"
Cody looked up and nodded briefly. He let his eyelids fall shut and leaned further back onto the hard bark of the tree. "Jack ... you need to go—"
"I'm going to go see what's around us," Jack said firmly, cutting Cody off. "I'll be right back. You have the gun. You stay alert and use that if anybody but me comes close."
"Yeah."
"And, Code."
Cody looked up, the effort of even that simple act showing on his face. "Yeah?"
"Don't shoot me." Jack smiled.
"All the times ... I wanted to ... and now I have a gun."
"You had a gun all along, moron."
Cody frowned slightly. "Oh, yeah."
Jack turned and walked the distance to a tree tall enough to suit his purpose, with branches down low enough he had a prayer of climbing. He scaled the tree quickly, looking carefully in every direction. He saw nothing. Only once, as he stared intently in the direction from which they'd come, did he see any movement at all. A deer and her fawn broke through a ridge of trees, running toward the west. Jack watched the spot for several minutes before he moved on, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever had spooked the pair.
On his way down he lost footing. His heavy boot, not intended for tree climbing, slipped off a too small branch and his frame spun in midair, suspended from his right arm. He felt his fingers slipping and scrambled, grabbing desperately for something to latch onto, scraping the fingernails of his left hand along rough bark before he finally managed to snag another branch. He pulled his feet under him, toed a limb thick enough to hold his weight and stood atop it, gasping for breath, cursing himself for his clumsiness. Just what Cody needed, he thought; a crippled rescuer. He caught his breath and made his way to the ground carefully, sprinting back to the small grove where he'd stashed his brother.
As he moved through the thick foliage he imagined the hit men ahead of him, stepping into the tiny area where Cody lay. He pictured the one he'd seen earlier kneeling down, drawing the knife across Cody's throat, smiling. His heart pounded as he pushed through the brush to find his brother.
Cody lay unmoving, head lolled forward, slumping to his right. Jack could detect no movement, no breathing at all. He squatted at Cody's side. With one hand he checked for a pulse, with the other took the gun from his brother's limp hand. "Cody?"
Cody moaned softly and frowned. "Still alive?"
"Yeah, man. You wouldn't feel this bad if you were dead."
Cody swallowed and took a shallow breath. "Could be in Hell," he said softly.
| Author Notes | Thank you for reading this half of the chapter. I appreciate your review, honest and harsh if it needs to be. I want to improve my writing and you are an invaluable part of that. Many thanks. |
By DeboraDyess
Birdsong floated around them and Jack decided he hated birds. Birds and flowers and those stupid, tiny clouds that did nothing but make empty promises of shade. 'Gotcha vines' wrapped themselves around his hiking boots and slowed them down as he tried to balance his brother and rip his feet free.
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.
The old memory verse made Jack want to wave his hand in the air like he was shooing away flies. 'How else can I say that I don't need You?' he thought. Still, what would it hurt..
He decided to check the compass again. It was nowhere. 'The near-fall', he thought as he searched franticly for the key chain that clipped the compass to his shirt pocket, and then checked the shoulder holster where his Glock had been nestled. Both gone, and there was no way they could backtrack in the hopes of finding them. So much for hoping God might really be watching after them. There was no one guiding their path, no all-knowing, all-powerful compassionate being up there rooting for them. They were on their own.
He stopped, shifting the backpack to his front, and pulled Cody's Browning from the pocket. He balanced it in his hand for a second. He liked the heft of the 9mm and stood staring into the bluish tinted metal, hoping he wouldn't have to pull it out again. Cody sagged, unable to support himself, and he holstered the weapon, pressing on.
"What do you think Encyclopedia Brown would do?" Rocks slid beneath his boot and he caught his balance quickly.
"Huh?"
Jack couldn't tell if Cody was asking for clarification or grunting in pain. He opted for clarification. "Encyclopedia Brown. What would he do if he found himself in this wonderful situation?"
"Ask his father ... for help."
"Yeah." Jack rolled his shoulders under Cody's weight. "Too bad we don't have one of them around."
He'd been lost once before, when he was about ten. He'd come somewhere near here with his father and two uncles; his first camping trip without his mom. At dusk he stepped away from the campsite to pee and got turned around in the lengthening shadows. After about twenty minutes of panicked search, which he knew only made things worse, he sat down on a rock, trying hard to stem the tears that threatened to steal his fledgling manhood. Within moments he heard his dad's deep voice calling his name. He never forgot the feel of Thomas McClellan's arms pulling him into an iron hug, or the feeling of strength that permeated from his father's hold into his tired, frightened heart.
I am Yahweh, there is no other. There is no God but me. I will strengthen you, though you do not know me.
He'd learned that one only a few months before his sister-in-law's murder, as part of a men's Bible study. He decided to change it. He could eliminate everything except 'there is no God'. "Get out of my head," he ordered silently. "Leave me alone." He felt a heartbeat of chill, thinking that maybe God already had. Maybe part of this whole mess was because he'd ordered God to get out of his life and God had obliged.
"We're going down, Cody," he grunted, looking ahead, trying to keep his semi-conscious brother aware and moving. The terrain was rocky, rougher than where they'd come in. Their hike earlier had been a clear, easy shot. Now they battled over every dip and rise. They would miss the Bronco, Jack knew, come out somewhere else along Deer Creek Road. He wouldn't even know which way to go to find the vehicle, and imagined them wandering aimlessly along the gravel road, easy prey. He cursed aloud.
"What?"
"Nothing." The path dropped at about a 40 degree angle. It was going to be rough. "Listen, we've got to get down this bit here, and then I think we're almost there."
Cody managed to raise his head a fraction and look around, then let it fall against Jack's shoulder again. "We're ... lost..."
"Not lost. We're cool."
"Stop..." Cody's effort to push away from Jack was feeble, like a kitten trying to escape the grasp of a determined child. "You have to ... get ahead ... get the ranger ..."
The move turned the burning cramping in Jack's hand to fire and he bit his lip to silence the groan that tried to form in his throat. "I have to get you down this hill without turning you into Humpty Dumpty because, in case you haven't noticed, we don't have any of the king's horses or men. I'm going to move you behind me. All you have to do is lean into me as we go. Got it?" He carefully shifted Cody slightly behind him, felt his brother's arm press into his back, felt Cody stiffen as the arm was sandwiched between them. Cody slumped against him and Jack had to grab frantically to keep him from falling backwards into the trail behind them.
Overcompensating for the sudden dead-weight behind him, Jack nearly stumbled down the small decline, catching his balance as he pushed into a clearing at the bottom. Cody leaned heavily against him, but as they reached level ground, he started trying to get his feet beneath him. Conscious again, Jack thought. He didn't know whether to be relieved or --
"What the hell?" A deep, graelly voice blasted through him, and he jerked his head up, instinctively grabbing for the Browning.
Two men knelt beside a small circle of rocks and what appeared to be the beginning of a campsite. African-American, Jack saw, father and son, from the looks of them. No way these guys could be the ones either he or Cody saw earlier. His hand froze.
The pair had been laughing, but the merriment died as the brothers crashed into the clearing. The boy, mid-teens, looked up, startled by the sight of the two strangers, bloody and worn, the gun in plain sight. The father reached beside him, retrieved a baseball bat, stood and raised the bat menacingly. He drew his heavy brows together, creating a thick line of black across his forehead, narrowing his eyes. "What's going on here?" His voice was gruff -- bottom of the basement deep.
Jack blinked, trying to figure out how to answer the question. He had no doubt that the giant before him could take both him and Cody out with one solid swing of his bat-turned-weapon.
The man raised the bat, putting it at the ready.
Jack held his hand up, mentally trying to ward away the new threat. "No," he said breathlessly. "You don't need that. My brother's hurt. We just ... I'm trying ... I have to get him help. He's hurt and we've missed the Bronco. The shooters are somewhere back there and he's hurt bad." Words dumped from Jack's mouth like water flowing over a spillway. He hoped at least a few of them made sense.
The man looked unconvinced. He glanced down at his boy and back at the brothers.
The thought of him chasing them from his camp, running them back to face the assassins stole the last of Jack's resolve. He changed his hold on his brother, preparing to lower him to the ground and walk away. Maybe, with the threat of him gone, the pair would get help for Cody. And maybe he could lead the shooters away, play decoy to buy them time. "I'm not lying to you," he tried again. "He's hurt. I think maybe he's dying." The weight of those words, which he'd refused to even think until that second, leveled him. "I'm a cop," he added lamely, "and I need your help."
"And I'm a disgruntled postal worker. Everybody knows how crazy we are." The man lifted the bat again, waving it to make sure Jack saw it.
"A Bronco?" The kid spoke now.
Jack glanced at him, but still gave the father his full attention. "Yeah."
"What's it look like?"
"Red ... old ... there's a dent in the right fender. My kid wrote 'wash me' in the dirt on the backend before we left this morning. There's a maroon bumper sticker that says 'Football Mom'." He felt like he needed to remember every detail of the old vehicle, but wasn't sure why.
The boy nodded. "Yeah, we saw that on the way in. Remember, Dad? A couple of miles back."
A couple of miles. They would have never made it. They would've been sitting ducks on the road.
The frown on the dark man's face disappeared, and he looked Jack over, sizing him up. "Someone did this to him? They're behind you?"
Jack nodded.
"Then we better move fast. Ashton," the older man spat directions at the boy, "you help him." He turned to the car, an old station wagon parked only a few yards away.
Ashton moved toward them. As he drew within arms length of the brothers, Cody dropped. His position was wrong for Jack to really catch him, but he managed to keep Cody's head from crashing into the rocky ground and knelt beside him, cradling him. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't you do this, Cody. Damn it, not now."
Cody's eyes fluttered open in a colorless face. "Tell ... kids ... Mom ... I love them." He moaned and frowned. "You ... you, too, Jack." His eyes drifted shut and the muscles in his face relaxed.
"No." Jack shook him gently. "I'm not telling anybody anything. You want them to know you're going to have to tell them. Do you hear me? Cody!"
The car engine roared to life. "Let's go," the big man called from the driver's seat.
The boy Ashton knelt beside the pair. He touched Jack's arm. "Come on," he said softly. He moved to take Cody's legs. "You get him up there, okay?"
Jack nodded, unable to speak. He leaned close to Cody's face and felt a barely detectible exhalation. He inhaled sharply and swallowed in relief, looked up at the teen and nodded. They lifted Cody carefully and moved toward the car.
Ashton lowered Cody's feet to the ground and opened the rear door. Jack slipped inside, pulling Cody as he scooted backward.
"Got him?" the boy asked. His voice cracked, either with puberty or excitement.
"Yeah," Jack grunted. "Get his feet."
Ashton bent to do so.
Two gunshots erupted in the quiet woods, shattering the silence and slamming into the metal of the car where Ashton's head had been just a moment before.
Jack barreled out the other side of the car, drawing the Browning as he moved. He aimed into the tree line and yelled, "Go, go, go!" as he pulled off several shots.
Ashton ran, hunched, around the front of the car, diving into the front passenger seat as Jack fired. Jack dove into the car and jerked at Cody as the tires spun, slinging gravel, slamming the rear door closed, fishtailing the car onto the road and away.
| Author Notes |
The Bible verses are Isaiah 45:5 and Deuteronomy 31:6. Both are great to memorize, if you're looking for some to put into your mind and heart.
I know people who believe that, if you ever lose faith, you're not able to come back to God. I believe the parable of the Prodigal disagrees with that. Be patient with Jack. He's working through a lot. :) But don't lean back and think this is over -- not even close. |
By DeboraDyess
Background
Brothers Jack and Cody go camping for the weekend. Cody stumbles onto a botched assassination attempt. He is injured, and Jack must get him out of the state park and to help. A struggle for survival, a battle for faith.
In previous chapters: When Cody McClellan's wife, Pam, is murdered in a robbery, it changes the family's lives forever. His mother moves in with him to help with his children. His brother, Jack, loses faith in God as he watches Cody grieve his loss.
Two years later, things are more normal. Jack decides it's time for him to take Cody on a weekend camping trip to 'relax and get away from it all'. At first, Cody refuses, but Jack insists, pointing out that Cody isn't trusting God to care for his kids if he won't leave them for a few days. The brothers arrive at the state park, hike to a campsite they used as kids and set up camp. Jack decides to nap; Cody opts for a hike. He stumbles into a botched assassination attempt and, while trying to get away, is shot. The intended victim runs and the hitmen chase him, leaving Cody for dead. Jack hears the shot and finds his brother, critically wounded, and they flee. They happen upon a father and son, who help them in their escape.
Ashton rose from where he'd ducked in the front passenger seat floorboard to stare behind them, his dark eyes wide with fear and amazement. "Man," he breathed.
"Are you okay, Son?" his dad cried from beside him. When Ashton didn't answer, he repeated the question, louder and more insistent. Reaching over, the big man grasped his boy's shoulder and shook.
Ashton nodded wordlessly first, then whispered, "Yeah, Dad," but never took his eyes off the road behind them. "Do you think they'll follow us?" he asked Jack.
"Not right away," Jack said, hoping he was right. "They were on foot." He lifted Cody's head into his lap, brushing hair from his face. "Cody? Hey, Code, wake up," he urged quietly. "Come on, Cody. Open your eyes for me!"
Cody lay totally limp in his arms. His breathing was shallow, his face white and cold. Jack touched his left hand; icy. He looked up and caught the driver's gaze in the rearview mirror. "He's in shock. We've got to get him there." His throat felt clamped shut, challenging every word. "As fast as we can."
"I'll get you there, mister," the man said, with more bravado than he could possibly feel after the events of the last few minutes. "Don't let the looks of this old hunk of junk fool you. Rebuilt the engine myself, didn't I, Ash. It's in top shape."
For some reason, Jack took assurance from the man's deep, gentle voice and calm manner. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off some of the apprehensions that gnawed at his heart.
"There's a blanket in the back," Ashton offered. The boy turned, got on his knees in the seat and carefully tried to lift Cody's feet onto the window sill, hoping, Jack assumed, to increase blood flow to the injured man's heart and lungs. He realized quickly that Cody's long body would never fit into the tight space and gave up. Jack reached over the seat, retrieved the Navajo-print blanket and covered him, rocking his brother gently. He stared into the muted browns and blues of the covers, tried to regulate his breathing, watching for any sign of movement in Cody's face.
"How close you think they are?" Ashton wondered, looking back again.
"God's closer," his father said, his bass voice filling the car. "He parted the sea to keep the Egyptians away from the Hebrews. I 'magine he can keep those guys away from us." He made eye contact with Jack through the rearview. "Joe," he said. "Joe Evans. But I figure we ought to be on first name basis if we're going through this together."
'Great,' Jack thought. 'All this happens, and I'm stuck with a preacher.' Maybe that would work out okay, too, he decided. Maybe this kind giant had a direct line to Heaven.
He suddenly remembered Cody's cell phone. They were out of the hills now, racing at neck-breaking speed toward town. He jerked the iPhone from the backpack and dialed 911.
"Where are you, sir," the dispatcher asked in a near-monotone after he relayed his story.
"On the farm to market road between Deer Creek and the highway. I don't know the number." Jack strained to remember the designation of the country road, frantic that the dispatcher wouldn't be able to find them if he couldn't come up with an exact answer. He looked up at his new-found hero, who glanced in the rearview again and shrugged.
"We're sending a car." The man paused. "Sir, are you aware that making a false report to 911 is a crime, punishable--"
"This is not a false report!" Jack bellowed into the phone.
Ashton Evans' eyes grew wide again and he glanced at his father.
Jack looked at them and then back to Cody. He lowered his voice, forcing himself to calm down.
"I'm Detective John Ryan McClellan. I go by Jack. My badge number is 118256. Check with the desk sergeant on duty. I took a day of vacation to camp with my brother."
"We're sending a car, sir," the dispatcher repeated, unconvinced. "Can you describe your vehicle?"
"An older brown Ford station wagon. I don't know the make or the model, but we're going about 90. He ought to be able to find us."
They sped on. Joe glanced at them often in the rearview mirror, looking on with incredibly calm, strong eyes, giving Jack his strength. He had been right about the car. It flew.
After a few quiet, tense minutes a state trooper's vehicle, lights flashing, pulled along side them. Jack watched the strobing light reflect off of the rearview mirror onto the darkness of his rescuers face, mesmerized. The trooper hit the horn and Jack looked over, the spell of the light broken. It was a trooper he knew, although he couldn't put a name with the man's face or remember why they knew each other. The trooper nodded at Jack as recognition crossed his face and spoke briefly into the handset of his radio.
"Detective McClellan," the dispatcher called from the cell phone in Jack's hand. Jack noticed that his tired, bored voice had been energized by the report from the trooper. "We have confirmation of the situation from the state police. Officers are en route to the park and we're also sending an escort for you. The emergency helicopter is already in route to another situation on the far side of the county. An EMT unit will meet you on the road. Please watch for him and pull over so that they can--"
"Escort's fine, but we're not pulling over," Jack interrupted.
"Sir, the EMT--"
"No." Jack looked into the rearview mirror, catching Joe Evans' charcoal eyes staring back at him. "If I let him go ..." Jack started. His voice trailed to nothing.
"If God wants him you can't hang on tight enough to keep him here, son," Evans said, "but if you want to take him all the way in we'll do it."
"We're not stopping," Jack told the man on the other end of the phone. "Get a trauma team ready. He's A negative, and he's lost a lot of blood. " He blinked, swallowing a hard knot of fear in his throat, and relayed what he knew about Cody's condition to the dispatcher, trusting the man to forward it to the hospital. 'If God wants him, you can't hold on tight enough to keep him here' echoed through his mind.
Two cars--one unmarked, the other a state trooper car--roared past them, lights and sirens on both screeching their approach and subsequent departure as they raced to the state park.
"Get them," Ashton said aloud.
As they neared the city another car, a city cop, pulled onto the road from the shoulder to escort them in. They sped through city streets, already beginning to crowd with early Friday traffic. A red Honda tried to cut between the police escort and the dusty old station wagon to catch an upcoming exit. Joe muttered, 'All the world is full of morons,' under his breath and hit the gas. The Honda fell back, the exit missed. Curious, craning faces of the drivers they raced past made Jack angry. Their lives were unaffected. Those drivers had no idea of what the morning had held for them. They were just a mild curiosity; something to discuss over dinner. 'Hey, Hon, see anything on the news about...'
They passed the exit to their part of the city. Jack strained his neck to watch it. Somewhere back there, Rachel would be laughing with one of her co-workers, sharing her plans for spoiling her grandchildren as she wandered to the car, her half-day over. The children would be glancing at the clocks on the walls of their classrooms, wishing for the long day to end so they could play their weekend away. Laine would be calmly coaxing her kindergarteners to recognize a word or a sequence of colors. When he could not see the exit anymore Jack turned back to face forward. Streets he knew like the back of his hand flew by so quickly that he lost track of where they were. Joe Evans kept his eyes on the road, following the police car like a pro.
The white brick structure of the hospital loomed in front of them, growing larger. Jack willed them to arrive faster; for the road between them to disappear and allow the car to suddenly be there, 'beam-me-up' style. Cars seemed to slow as they approached and Jack whispered, "Get out of the way," unaware that he had spoken the words until Ashton repeated them.
As they pulled into the emergency entrance, the car doors were pulled open and an army of hands reached in, pulling Cody from Jack's grasp. Jack stumbled from the car after them, his legs sore and numb. He realized that his blue jeans were wet and looked down at them as he walked. Bright red blood stained his pants. He fought the rise of panic, jogging after the gurney that carried Cody to help. A nurse fell into step beside him and a uniformed policeman, running from his car, joined them on Jack's other side.
"Jack, what the hell happened?"
Jack glanced at the man. Rudy Sotello.
With everything else that happened that morning, it didn't even strike Jack to consider it strange.
"Get my mom, Rudy," Jack ordered. "I don't want her to hear this over the radio."
"You got it."
"What time did this happen?" the nurse asked, pulling Jack's attention away from Rudy, away from the crowd of people wheeling Cody into an exam room.
"I don't know." He thought for a minute and shook his head. He tried to calculate the time from the 7:30 pick-up; breakfast, the drive out, hiking and setting up..."Maybe...10:00, 10:30. He looked at a clock as the sped beneath it. Nearly 2:15.
"Is he allergic to any medication?" The nurse fired the question at him as they rounded a corner to an exam room. The door closed between him and Cody.
"No. Wait ... yeah. Codeine, I think." Jack couldn't take his eyes off the door, couldn't look at the nurse. He wouldn't have been able to describe her to save his life. Or Cody's.
"Wait here. A doctor will be out as soon as we know anything." She disappeared into the room.
Jack followed her. He leaned against the wall just inside the door, trying to be out of the way as he watched them transfer Cody from the gurney to an exam bed.. The antiseptic smell of the room nauseated him. The back-and-forth of the people in the room was overwhelming.
"No pulse," a big male nurse announced.
"There was one when we took him out of the car," a woman answered.
"Well, not now."
Jack swallowed hard. He felt the room spin around him, felt everything fall, out of control.
A tall, elega-looking red head opened the flannel shirt and cut through the make-shift sling, moved the injured arm and began chest compressions. "Get the crash cart over here," she ordered. "Where's that A Neg? Kitman's going to want to cross match."
A small, dark-haired woman entered the room. People started shouting information, most of which Jack didn't understand. She issued orders with the command and tact of a Marine Corps sergeant. Organized chaos filled the room. "Do we have a name?" she asked.
"McClellan. Cody."
"Well, let's see what we can do for McClellan, Cody. Have you cross matched? Yeah? Good. I want two more units of A neg on the rapid infuser. Let's see if we can get him going again, shall we?"
The red headed nurse began to move. The doctor half-turned, calling over her shoulder, "Get Dr. Cox in here right now, please."
"We paged him the same time we paged you, but no answer."
"Well page him again," the petite doctor replied, "and have someone check the cafeteria. If he's stuffing his face again, I swear ..."
Rachel McClellan pushed through the doors as the doctor spoke. Jack caught her in his arms and pulled her into his chest, away from her youngest son. She fought, struggling to be beside her child. Finally, she buried her face in his shirt and threw her arms around him, hanging on with all her strength. "Oh, Jack," she cried, "what happened?"
Jack looked at the door for Rudy and realized he hadn't had time to get Rachel already. She'd heard about it on the radio, after all.
"Set 200. Stop CPR," the doctor said.
She held paddles against Cody's chest. "Clear!"
| Author Notes |
Okay, folks ... WE ARE OUT OF THE WOODS! Hope I didn't lose you in the trees, cause the action picks up again. Critique harshly, pointing out ALL the things you think don't work, not just SPAG. Thanks for reading, and if you made it this far, please let me know what you think!
You are much appreciated. Debby |
By DeboraDyess
Background:
When Cody McClellan stumbles onto a botched hit while camping with his brother, Jack, he is shot. Jack rescues him, and the two struggle through the state park to escape the assassins. Jack, who refers to God as the Almighty Disappointer, is plagued by Bible verses he memorized as a child, but refuses to pray for help.
Rescued by a father and son who've set up camp near the roads, they arrive at the hospital. But Cody crashes as soon as they reach the emergency room entrance
For a fraction of a second, as the charge hit Cody, it jerked his shoulders off the table and snapped his head back. But only for a fraction of a second. He crashed back down to the table, limp, and as lifeless as before.
Rachael shuddered and Jack tightened his hold on her. Cringing, breath trapped in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off his brother.
The heart monitor continued to hum flat.
"300," the doctor ordered. "This needs to do it, Mr. McClollan. Come on ... come on."
Rachel cried out as the voltage hit her son again. Jack took her face, trying to turn her away from the obscene nightmare. She fought to see, pushing his hand away, trying to shrug out of his grasp.
"Get them out of here," the tiny doctor ordered, without turning around.
An orderly, heavy-set and short, stepped toward Jack and Rachel like a miniature wrestler, ready to escort them to the waiting area. Jack looked down at the man, shook his head once and produced, almost magically after the horror of the morning, his badge. The orderly hesitated, torn between the giant police officer in front of him and the tiny, fierce doctor he worked with.
"No," Jack said slowly, chewing on the single syllable and glaring into the other man's eyes.
The orderly turned away.
"How long has he been down?" the doctor barked.
"Eleven, no, twelve minutes," a nurse answered.
Jack shook his head in silent, bewildered protest. It couldn't have been twelve
minutes. They'd just arrived at the hospital, just gotten out of the park.
The doctor paused, trying to decide, glanced toward Jack and Rachel and made eye contact with Jack. They stared at each other for a second before the doctor looked away. "Once more," she said, looking back to Cody.
The machine on the crash cart hummed again, building for the charge that would either give Cody life or decide his death. Cody's answer to his last Encyclopedia Brown crack floated through Jack's head. "He'd ask for help from his father."
"God ... Father ..." Jack breathed the words aloud, never taking his eyes from Cody's ashen face. "I'm sorry. I screwed up so bad! Help my brother. Please let him live. Don't take him. Please ..."
The heart monitor started a steady 'blip-blip-blip'.
Silence replaced the noise of the small room; the trauma team seemed to freeze, as if a sudden, bizarre winter had settled over just the room. The doctor turned to look at Jack, paddles still in her tiny hands. Surprise briefly touched her face before she turned her attention back to her patient.
"What just happened?" the red-headed nurse asked quietly.
"I don't know, but I'll take it. This isn't an art exhibit, folks. Let's move!" Her words snapped the group around her back into action.
We have a chance, so let's not blow it. And if you can't find that moron Cox, page Dr. Weston. I'm going to need some help in here. Notify the OR and let them know that we're going to need a room. Get neurology and vascular. He's going to need the works."
The blue-clad sumo-orderly returned, touched Jack's arm. Jack jerked, startled. The orderly looked apologetic and gestured to the door. " Sir , if you'll wait outside, we'll let you know as soon as we can. Please."
The door to the ER waiting room swung silently open, allowing a shaft of bright light to penetrate the quiet room. Laine stepped in and looked around. The room was full of police officers, all obviously anxious and uncomfortable. A deputy sheriff sat on the edge of a chair, talking to an African-American man and teen in the far corner. The older of the two was talking softly, his thick hands waving as he unfolded his story. They spoke in hushed, hurried tones, their voices immediately absorbed by the whispered conversations of the officers. The younger of the pair looked up at her as she entered the room, the light that stabbed into the dimness catching his ebony eyes. Laine let her gaze pause there for a second, wondering what they had to do with her husband and brother-in-law.
Rudy Sotello paced the floor close by, older than she remembered, and worried.
She'd gotten the call from her principal just before 2:30, as she readied her wiggling, excited kindergarteners for Friday dismissal. "Mrs. McClellan," the intercom speakers crackled with Reyna Terry's soft Tennessee accent, "please come to the office. Mrs. Greene is on her way to take your class."
Laine frowned, confused. "Can I finish the day?" she asked the disembodied principal. She'd always dreaded this kind of call, but not today. Not with Jack camping.
"Mrs. Greene is on her way."
Margaret Greene entered the classroom then. The young woman, face filled with concern, wouldn't make eye contact with her, choosing instead to turn her attention immediately to the children. And Laine knew; something horrible had happened. She'd grabbed her purse, pealing off the oversized man's shirt that she wore to protect her clothing from paste, paint and sticky fingers as she left the room, dropping it in the hallway.
She looked past Rudy, to Jack. He sat with his elbows planted on his knees, fingers laced tightly in front of him, white-knuckled. His face, scored by a frown, was otherwise closed, emotionless. He could have been a statue, sitting there. He looked so tense that Laine fancied if she bumped into him wrong he would implode. She'd seen him this way twice before; once at his father's funeral when they were 17, and again the night Pam died. It frightened her more than anything she'd imagined on her drive to get here. Whatever had happened to Cody was really bad, and Jack felt responsible.
"Honey?" she whispered, and ventured a step closer to her husband.
Jack looked up, jerked from whatever private torment he'd sunk into. "Lainie," he breathed.
Crossing the space between them quickly, she touched Rudy on the arm as she passed. She let Jack lay his head against the silkiness of her blouse and rubbed his hair. "There's blood all over you, Jack." She tried to keep her voice level. It cut like a machete through the men's voices in the room. "Are you hurt?"
He shook his head. "Cody," he answered shortly.
She knelt down to face him, her green eyes wide, and touched his arm and knee, and then his face to make sure. "What happened, Baby? Where is he?"
Jack took a shaky breath, tears forcing their way past his weary eyelids. He leaned his forehead against hers, trying to regain his composure. He tried to match his breathing to hers.
Laine waited, stroking her husband's hair, feeling his tears run against both of their cheeks. "It's okay, Jack. It's all going to be okay." It occurred to her that she didn't know that, not for sure.
Her gentle touch and soft Southern accent calmed him, as magical for him as ever. Jack took a deep breath. "They shot him, Laine. He stumbled into a hit and they shot him. In the back. All those years on the force and he never gets so much as a scratch and I take him on a stupid camping trip and... Laine, he was hurt so bad. I didn't even really want a nap. I just wanted to give him a hard time, and..." Jack wiped his eyes savagely. "So I drag him through the woods, put him through all kinds of hell and we get here and..." His throat closed and he looked at her, shook his head and closed his eyes.
Laine blinked at the empty space over Jack's head. She'd known Cody since he was eleven, when she'd started dating Jack. "He ... died?" She sank the rest of the way to the floor beside her husband, clinging to his knee for support. She stared hollowly at the bloodstains on Jack's jean legs.
"No." Jack took her by the shoulders, gently lifting her back to her knees, getting her attention. "Baby, no." He hugged her close, feeling stronger in the softness of her clothes and hair and skin than he had all day. She clung to him, her breath coming in short gasps and she bit her bottom lip. Jack leaned back into the chair, looking at her again. "We lost him when we first got him here, but..." He paused, his broad face revealing his confusion. "The doctor...she started to...she ..."
"She gave up."
Jack and Laine looked at the doorway. The small brunette, as miniscule as Jack remembered from the ER, stood silhouetted in the opening. She took a step into the room and held her hand out toward Jack. He stood and shook it, as did Laine.
"Dr. Kitman," she introduced herself. "I'm head of the trauma team that treated your brother."
"How is he?" HIs words fell over themselves. The hard knot of fear had returned to his voice.
"He's stable, but still critical." She paused, letting her words sink in. "He'd lost a significant amount of blood when you got him here, Mr. McClellan. And his injuries are quite serious."
"We need to find Mom," Jack interrupted. He suddenly needed her close to him. He felt young and scared, and incredibly old and tired, all at the same time.
"I spoke to her a moment ago," the doctor replied. "She wanted to call Mr. McClellan's children. I've already filled her in. Now I'd like to take a few minutes to get you up to speed before she returns."
Laine took Jack's giant hand in hers. "What did you mean when you said you'd given up?" she asked.
Dr. Kitman licked her lips, then pursed them together as if she were evening her lipstick. "I really didn't think we had a chance. And then your husband prayed."
Jack flushed, aware of not only Laine staring at him, but Rudy's eyes boring into him as well. The whole room had grown tomb-silent. Only the deputy sheriff continued speaking, his voice drawling away from the far corner. Joe Evans shushed him.
"My husband?" 'Laine looked from the doctor to Jack. "Prayed?"
"You see it all the time on TV, and hear about it for real once in a while. A patient comes in who's just too far gone. Too many injuries, too much time elapsed since the accident, whatever. And then, with no medical explanation, he just gets better. But I've never seen it before. At least not to this degree." She looked at Jack. "You did more today to save your brother than just get him to the hospital. That, by itself, wouldn't have been enough."
Laine squeezed Jack's hand. Jack gently pulled it away from her, rubbing the knuckles to ease some of the pain and tension. His arm and shoulder were throbbing, and he realized they'd been hurting for quite a while. "Is he going to be okay?"
"That's difficult to say at this moment," She motioned for the pair to sit and slipped into the chair across from Jack. "He's still a long way from okay. And there are things we don't know yet. There may be brain damage from the time down. Or nerve damage to the arm from the gunshot wound. Or both. Or neither. Right now we just need to get him strong enough to remove that bullet."
"When will that be?"
"We have an excellent neurosurgeon on staff who will be coming to speak with you directly. And a vascular surgeon who is top notch, as well. They'll be able to decide that within the next few hours." The doctor looked critically at Jack. "Are you alright?"
Jack nodded impatiently. He frowned and looked away from her, dismissing the question. "Yeah."
"No. Really." She leaned forward, catching Jack's attention as fully as when she first entered the room. "Are you alright?"
Caught by her intent gaze, Jack hesitated before he answered the second time. "Yeah," he answered slowly. "I think so."
"I'll give you a quick once over while we give your mother another couple of minutes," Dr. Kitman said. Jack started to protest but the young woman smoothly cut him off. "We can do an informal exam right here if you'd like. That way we won't miss her. I need to talk to you all together."
| Author Notes |
Okay, okay, yes! I'm head-hopping. lol. Does having Laine's POV work? We've been switching from Jack to Cody peridically, and will see life from the doc's viewpoint. Does this throw off the pace/feel of the story? If you've read this far, please leave a comment. |
By DeboraDyess
Cody's nose itched. He reached up to scratch it and felt something bite the back of his hand. A mosquito, he guessed, or a fire ant. He opened his eyes.
There was a needle stuck in the back of his hand. An IV, he realized in surprise, and looked around.
Memory returned in bits and pieces, like the scattered parts of a jigsaw puzzle. He remembered the morning, some of the nightmarish trek through the park and then ... nothing.
"Hi, honey." Rachel came into the room from the small bathroom near the door.
"Hey, Mom," Cody responded.
Rachel sat down on the bed beside him, pushing a lock of dark hair from his face. It was an old, familiar caress. It felt safe, as if nothing bad could happen as long as Rachel sat brushing the hair off of his forehead.
"I'm thirsty. Can I have a drink of water?" Cody asked. His voice sounded old and weak and he frowned.
Rachel smiled. "How about ice chips?" She opened a plastic ice bucket on the bedside table and lifted a couple of spoonfuls into his mouth. He swished the ice around the inside of his mouth, thankful for its coolness.
Rachel returned the spoon to the bucket and looked at him seriously. "I thought I lost you," she admitted quietly. Her voice held a haunted quality that Cody had never heard before.
"I thought you had, too."
She leaned forward and carefully laid her head on his left shoulder. He bit his lip and frowned to keep from wincing in pain. She was crying, he realized with some alarm. She wasn't a woman easily given over to tears, and he knew how frightened she must have been. He tried to imagine how he would feel if it were Michael or Katie in this bed, but couldn't even begin. Her tears began to soak through the thin hospital gown he wore. "Mom," he said after a minute, "you're getting me wet."
Rachel laughed and sat up, wiping her eyes. "Pays you back," she sniffed, "for all the times you got me wet."
"I'm really sorry about all this, Mom," he said, wiping a tear off her cheek. Her tiny frame made her look deceptively fragile. She was a graying brunette with china blue eyes, a gentle smile and the determination and drive of a pioneer woman. She had been physically dwarfed her whole adult life, first by her husband and then by her sons, but her spirit and character were enormous. She had earned the respect of everyone she knew.
"It's okay this time," she replied. "if it happens again, though, I'll double my overnight babysitting rates and bankrupt you."
"Overnight?"
Rachel nodded. "It's tomorrow, sweetie."
"Oh, man." Cody looked toward the ceiling and closed his eyes briefly before returning his gaze to his mother. "The kids must be freaked. Where are they?"
"With Laine."
"She's not at work?"
"It's Saturday, baby. Anyway, I think you might be important enough for her to even miss a day or two of work, should the need arise. She says to tell you she loves you and that she'll see you later. Probably tomorrow. I promised Michael I'd get him up here the minute you woke up. Katie wants to come too, of course, but I told her she needs to wait."
"Do I look that bad?"
Rachel nodded and smiled gently, examining her son's face. More bruises showed today, making his face look like a scattered color-wheel, every shade of purple, green, yellow and black fighting for dominance. Cuts and scrapes stood out like angry red snakes across his cheeks. "Way past bad. Worse than Jack looked when Travis pierced his ear." She smiled at the expression on Cody's face. "But that's not it. She's got the sniffles and the doctor says the last thing you need right now is a cold."
Cody nodded in agreement but added, "I need to let her know I'm okay."
"Call her in a bit, then," Rachel suggested, rubbing Cody's left hand gently. He glanced over at the phone and hair fell in his face again. She pushed it back, smiling.
Cody returned the smile, feeling the swelling in his lower lip. "A phone call would work."
As he spoke, Jack pushed through the door into the room, two cups of hot coffee in his hands. "Just the way you like it, Mom; strong and --" He stopped mid-sentence, seeing his brother. His mouth opened slightly and a look of total surprise crossed his face before the grin appeared.
The shadow of a smile crossed Cody's face as well, creating dimples. "That stuff stunts your growth, Jack."
Jack hurried into the room, limping, and pushed the Styrofoam cups into his mother's hands. He stood beside Cody's bed, beaming down. Cody had the feeling Jack would be pounding him on the back if he thought he could get away with it. "Man, Code," he exclaimed, "black and blue are definitely not your colors! You look awful!!"
Cody smiled up at him, already a little tired. "Not possible," he said. He indicated Jack's leg and the ace bandage on his right wrist with a nod of his head. "You get hurt?"
"What ... that?" Jack shook his head and raised an eyebrow to let Cody know that it was minor. "I'm fine. Pulled some muscles in my wrist carting your heavy butt out of there, and my legs hurt, and my shoulders hurt and my back hurts."
"Baby."
"You're no lightweight, you know." He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Dragging you out of that park was like walking through peanut butter."
"You've never walked through peanut butter. You wouldn't know."
"Chunky," Jack added, ignoring his younger brother's observation.
"You've never walked through peanut butter," Cody repeated slowly.
Jack wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Trust me."
"Sorry 'bout that."
"I guess it's okay this time, but next time you decide to go prancing off into the woods and get yourself shot would you mind losing a little weight?"
"Or," Cody offered, "we could let you get yourself shot next time. That'd be fair."
"I don't know, I think I did pretty good in the hero role. Better than you would, kid."
"Well, you never gave me the chance to try the hero role."
"You weren't qualified."
Rachel stood up, putting the cups on the bedside table. "Enough," she said. "Jack, you're just like your father. You wouldn't know a serious moment if it slapped your face, no more than Thomas did. And you," she looked at Cody, a smile in her eyes, "you need to stop encouraging him."
"Gee, Mom," Jack looked chagrined. "I thought you liked Dad."
Rachel ignored him. "I'm going down to get something to eat. And then I'm going to get Michael up here to see his daddy." She kissed Cody on the top of the head and picked up her purse. Jack bent so she could kiss him on the cheek. She started for the door and stopped, turning. "I love you, hon. Do you want something to eat?"
Cody answered, "No, ma'am," before he thought. To his mother the return of an appetite was the only sure sign of recovery from illness, injury or a broken heart. He looked at her, saw the concern in her eyes and added lamely, "The thought of hospital food just doesn't appeal to me right now, Mom. Maybe you could bring me a shake or something."
Rachel made a face at him. "You're a pathetic liar, Cody."
"I'm a great liar," Cody protested. "I just can't lie to you." His face remained serious but his eyes twinkled.
Jack shook his head. "Mom's right. You really are a pathetic liar."
"You're just jealous."
"Nice to see you two have grown up so well," Rachel teased. "I'd send one of you to your room, but it seems a bit late for that. Call me if you decide you actually want something, even if it's just a shake." She looked sternly at Jack. "I'll probably be at least an hour. Keep it quiet, Jack. Let him rest." She smiled as she pulled the door shut behind her and added, "I love you both."
| Author Notes | Two years after the murder of his brother's wife, Jack McClellan decides it's time for his brother, now a single dad, to have a few days off. The pair go to a nearby state park, where Cody decides to |
By DeboraDyess
Background
The McClelllan brothers camping trip goes wrong. Cody stumbles onto a hit, is injured and Jack manages to get them out of the state park. Now, at the hospital, are they really safe? A Christian thriller, dealing with both survival and faith.
"Nice to see you two have grown up so well," Rachel teased. "I'd send one of you to your room, but it seems a bit late for that. Call me if you decide you actually want something, even if it's just a shake." She looked sternly at Jack. "I'll probably be at least an hour. Keep it quiet, Jack. Let him rest." She smiled as she pulled the door shut behind her and added, "I love you both."
"She looks tired."
"She is tired." Jack ran a hand over his moustache and collapsed heavily into the chair his mother vacated. "We pretty much camped out here last night." He frowned at his choice of words.
Cody watched Jack settle into the small, uncomfortable-looking chair. "'Thanks' doesn't' seem to be enough," he started. Exhaustion was etched into his brother's face.
"Thanks is plenty enough. Hit men are nothing compared to the wrath of Mom. If I would've left you up there and tried to explain to her why ..." He whistled quietly, shook his head and ran a thumb across his throat, his expression telling it all.
Cody smiled in agreement and started to look around the room. He winced, gingerly rolling his head from side to side. "Man, my neck is stiff," he complained. "Whiplash, I guess."
"Hill-lash," Jack corrected. "You're lucky it's not broken."
"I guess..." Cody examined himself. His right arm was heavily casted, held above his bed with an IV pole and sling assembly. What little he could see of his fingers looked ominously discolored. Someone had elevated the foot of his bed, and Cody could remember one of his knees hurting so badly that he could barely move his leg. But now he couldn't remember which knee it had been. In fact, he realized, he didn't feel any real pain at all. Except for an ache in his shoulder and arm and the stiff neck, the only thing he could attribute to the previous day was a serious case of tired.
Jack watched him. "Are you hurting?"
"Looks like I should be, but..." He shook his head.
Jack leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Good drugs."
Cody laughed and groaned. "Ouch! No more joking, Jack." He paused. "Let's beat the doctor to the punch. Am I okay? Everything end up in the right place?"
"More or less."
"That's a little ambiguous. Which part more, which part less?"
Jack grinned. "You're okay," he assured his brother. "Tore some ligaments in your knee, broke some ribs. Really busted up your wrist. There are two or three doctors who bust in here periodically who assure us it'll heal, but they're going to have to pin it, and it's going to take time and physical therapy. Your right hand's pretty messed up." He paused, remembering the look on Cody's face as he pulled the wrist bone into place. "Looks like you're going to be left handed for a while."
"I'm left handed now, Jack."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Your brain's in backwards." Jack reached for one of the coffees, took a swig, made a face at the heat and put it back on the table. "Other than that, it's cuts and bruises. Got some stitches in your face, but..."
Cody reached up to find the cut on his face but stopped, hand in mid-air as Jack burst into laughter. "What?"
"Your vanity's showing."
Cody gave Jack a level look, letting him know how funny he wasn't.
"Anyways, I'm supposed to keep you quiet and still."
Their mother had been wrong, Cody decided, watching him. Jack did know 'serious' when it slapped him. "Why?"
"You lost a lot of blood yesterday; way too much. And the bullet is still in there."
Cody frowned. "Why didn't they take care of that yesterday?"
Jack hesitated, looked away from Cody and cleared his throat. "We came nearly close to losing you yesterday, Code. It was pretty bad."
Cody looked into Jack's eyes, seeing the darkness of that memory cloud everything else out. He looked away. His children could have become orphans yesterday. He swallowed hard to regain control of his voice. "Did they get the shooters?"
Jack shook his head. "No. And they had people there before we even got here. All they found were an old couple on, like, their zillionth anniversary and some high school kids skipping school, smoking pot. Didn't find your camera either, by the way. Guess the bad guys took it in case you got pictures."
"Yeah, well, if I'd gotten pictures, I wouldn't have stumbled into the middle of them." Cody watched Jack closely. There was more, he knew. Jack was trying to tell him something without telling him anything. "I guess I'm lucky I didn't eat the thing the way I fell down that hill."
"Yeah..." Jack looked at the door and then back to Cody. "Look, Code, there's someone who wants to talk to you. He's in the hall. Your doctor says not today, and Mom ... well, Mom's still pretty worried about you."
"I assume it's not the preacher," Cody said dryly.
"No. He wants to get information as soon as possible. You know the drill; while it's still fresh in your mind.
A slight frown creased Cody's forehead. If it were someone from the force or a state trooper, Jack wouldn't be playing cat-and-mouse with him. Whoever it was had thrown Jack, either because of who he was or what he told him. "Bring him in."
"You sure?" Jack sounded relieved. "I mean, if this messes you up any, Mom'll serve me up for dinner."
"Then I won't let it mess me up any. I want these guys caught."
"Me, too." Jack stepped to the door, opened it slightly and said, "He says come on in, Frank."
A man, tall and blond, entered the room. His appearance caught Cody off guard, and he blinked, inhaling sharply.
"Hello, sir." The man flashed a smile at Cody, more of a stiff lifting of his lips, almost nothing genuine in it. "I'm sorry to meet under these circumstances, Mr. McClellan, but I'm hoping you can help me with a case. I'm Special Agent Frank Aulers. I'm with the FBI and I'd like to ask you a few questions about what you saw in that park yesterday." As he spoke, the Special Agent produced a badge from his inner suit coat pocket and turned it toward Cody.
Cody examined it, knowing he wouldn't know a real FBI badge from a fake. He nodded anyway. He let his eyes linger on the eagle and the embellished words 'Federal Bureau of Investigation'. Jack would've already checked this guy out. "What can I do for you?"
Aulers pulled an 8X10 color photo from his briefcase and handed it to Cody. "Do you recognize this man, Mr. McClellan?"
Cody looked down at the picture. "Sure . It's Senator Arriaga --" and memory returned in a rush. This man, on his knees in a clearing, tears staining his dirty face; hope lighting his eyes at the sight of Cody. "Oh, God." He exhaled, still staring at the photo. "Jack, this is him."
"Who?" Aulers leaned forward, as if his next breath hung on Cody's response.
"The guy in the clearing ... the old guy," Cody answered softly. "The one .... The one I guess they shot."
Aulers produced a tablet, preparing to punch in the information as he got it. "I need you to tell me everything you can about the other men you saw. Anything you remember, no matter how trivial it seems to you."
"There were four of them. All blond." Cody closed his eyes, trying to create a mental image of the hit men. He felt his stomach lurch at the memory of the men turning their attention from their intended victim to him. Cold smiles. Soulless eyes. 'All right,' one of them said, lifting a weapon toward his chest ...
"Cody?" Jack had risen from his spot on the foot of the bed, alarm clouding his face. "Code, you okay?"
Cody looked at Jack, blinking away the image and nodded slowly, still caught in the pull of that moment. "Blond" His voice had grown so quiet that Aulers inadvertently leaned forward to hear better. "Blue eyes, maybe. Or at least, light colored eyes. They looked enough alike that I think they were probably related. Tall; at least 6'4 or 6'5, and built like barn doors. Broad shouldered, thick necked."
Aulers looked up. "How tall are you, sir?"
Cody looked at the agent for the first time since he began his description. Chills ran over him again. "I'm 6'1."
"Is it possible that you're remembering them larger than they really were? That the situation made them appear--"
"No, sir. I wasn't FBI, but I was trained to make clear-headed observations, regardless of the situation"
Aulers eye ticked, almost imperceivably, and he looked up from his tablet. "Okay. Sorry. Anything else?"
Cody hesitated. "They looked a lot like you, actually."
Surprise, or at least a hint of surprise, flickered in the agent's face and Aulers stared into Cody's eyes, as if trying to assure that he was in no way connected to the men he pursued. After a brief quiet he continued the questioning. "Scars? Any distinguishing marks or characteristics?"
"One of them had a dark place on his cheek. A birthmark, or maybe a bruise. I'm not sure which."
"Which cheek?"
Cody shook his head mutely. So much for clear-headed observations, he thought.
"Speech patterns or accents?"
"Yeah ... they were southern. But not from around here. More like Georgia, I think. You know ... the deep south."
Aulers nodded as he typed notes. "Anything else?"
"Nothing I can remember."
"Well, alright, then. Thank you, gentlemen, for all your help." He stood to leave.
"I'm sorry I can't tell you more," Cody said. In just the few minutes of conversation his voice had grown noticeably weaker. His brain almost hurt with the effort
The agent paused, seemed to lose a little of his trained demeanor. "From a professional perspective, so am I. But personally, I wish you hadn't seen anything. These guys are bad news, start to finish. They've never left a witness alive until now. This is actually the most physical information we have on them."
"Then how do you know these are your guys?" Cody asked. He thought he saw Jack shoot Aulers a 'keep quiet' look from his perch on the end of the bed. Aulers missed it.
"Signature."
Cody knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that he didn't want to know, but asked, "What's their signature?"
"They practice the next hit after they finish each contract."
Cody swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Practice?"
Aulers nodded, looking old and tired, although Cody guessed him to be about his own age. "Before they leave the city, they practice their next hit. Within about twelve hours of the contracted assassination, a kid gets snatched--usually a boy, twelve to sixteen years old. They ... practice." He paused, running his thick hand through thinning blond hair, looking less like a federal agent now and more like a man unable to find a way home after the longest work day of his life. "These guys seem to concentrate on prominent minorities, or on people working within the civil rights arena. Basically, they're killers with a cause. God help us all. Before Richard Arriaga, it was a civil rights lawyer in Seattle, shot to death waiting at a red light during morning rush hour. That afternoon, they grabbed a fifteen-year-old kid on his way home from football practice. They took him out into the woods and shot him once in the back of the head. Just like Arriaga, except no interruptions. There was no reason for that; this hit should have been a no brainer for these guys"
Cody frowned. "Jack and I both have boys," he told Aulers quietly. "Twelve year olds."
"Jack told me. Mine are thirteen and seventeen." The agent sighed deeply. "We've been after these guys for a long time. I can't tell you how many nights I've laid in bed, wondering what will happen to Karen and our kids if I start getting too close. I want 'em caught. More than you can even begin to imagine." Aulers walked to the door.
Jack took a long look at Cody and then stood, as well.
"Agent Aulers," Cody said as the agent opened the door, "Have there been any boys reported missing here?"
Aulers stood looking at Cody, a combination of too much information and not enough lining his face. "No. And they're overdue. We've informed the police that they should expect ... something. But, no. Nothing yet ..." He shook his head.
By DeboraDyess
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
In previous chapters: Two years after the death of Cody McClellan's wife, his brother Jack decides it's time for him to have some fun. Convincing Cody that a camping trip would be the perfect men's getaway, Jack makes plans to go to the nearby state park. Once camp is set up, Cody wanders off to take photos while Jack naps. But Cody wanders into a botched-assassination and is shot. The intended victim runs into the woods and the hit men pursue him, leaving Cody for dead. Jack finds him and the two begin a horiffic escape through the woods. They come across a father & son as they're getting ready to set up their own tent, and the pair help them escape into the city and to the hospital.
The next day, Cody awakens to the news that the victim of the hit is a state senator. An FBI special agent records Cody's description of the men he saw at the state park. On his way out, he lets Jack and Cody know that they are not safe - that the men will likely come after their families.
"Then how do you know these are your guys?" Cody asked. He thought he saw Jack shoot Aulers a 'keep quiet' look from his perch on the end of the bed. Aulers missed it.
"Signature."
Cody knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that he didn't want to know, but asked, "What's their signature?"
"They practice the next hit after they finish each contract."
Cody swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Practice?"
Aulers nodded, looking old and tired, although Cody guessed him to be about his own age. "Before they leave the city, they practice their next hit. Within about twelve hours of the contracted assassination, a kid gets snatched--usually a boy, twelve to sixteen years old. They ... practice." He paused, running his thick hand through thinning blond hair, looking less like a federal agent now and more like a man unable to find a way home after the longest work day of his life. "These guys seem to concentrate on prominent minorities, or on people working within the civil rights arena. Basically, they're killers with a cause. God help us all. Before Richard Arriaga, it was a civil rights lawyer in Seattle, shot to death waiting at a red light during morning rush hour. That afternoon, they grabbed a fifteen-year-old kid on his way home from football practice. They took him out into the woods and shot him once in the back of the head. Just like Arriaga, except no interruptions. There was no reason for that; this hit should have been a no brainer for these guys"
Cody frowned. "Jack and I both have boys," he told Aulers quietly. "Twelve year olds."
"Jack told me. Mine are thirteen and seventeen." The agent sighed deeply. "We've been after these guys for a long time. I can't tell you how many nights I've laid in bed, wondering what will happen to Karen and our kids if I start getting too close. I want 'em caught. More than you can even begin to imagine." Aulers walked to the door.
Jack took a long look at Cody and then stood, as well.
"Agent Aulers," Cody said as the agent opened the door, "Have there been any boys reported missing here?"
Aulers stood looking at Cody, a combination of too much information and not enough lining his face. "No. And they're overdue. We've informed the police that they should expect ... something. But, no. Nothing yet ..." He shook his head.
"Cody, our guys are safe. We already have officers watching them, and there are black and whites keeping an eye on the neighborhood. We're working on a plan for school, if it comes to that. Laine says she'll play home school for a week or so until we get these guys caught." He played with his wedding ring as he spoke. "Rudy's with Mom right now, and the feds are setting up here. We're covered, okay?"
"Every day? For the rest of our lives?" Cody examined Jack's face, looking for conviction that he couldn't find. He nodded anyway, less than certain. He was in no position to fight.
Jack watched[as a dozen different emotions trampled across his younger brother's battered face. He'd already had a full day to deal with this information and still found it impossible to grasp. He remembered the emotional earthquake that hit him during his first conversation with Aulers. He regretted his decision to let the agent into Cody's room, but it was too late now. "Can I get you something while I'm out?" It was a feeble attempt to change the subject, but it was all Jack could think of to try.
"My kids," Cody said softly, more to himself than to anyone else in the room.
"They're okay, Code. I promise." He waited until Cody looked up at him and repeated, "I promise."
Cody wondered how far he'd get if he tried to walk out of the hospital. Not far, he guessed. He felt exhausted, but the odds of him sleeping now were next to nothing. "Mom and Michael are on their way and Katie's got someone taking care of her, right? Someone that's not that teenaged girl down the street?"
"Yes. Not that teenaged girl down the street."
Cody nodded, but his apprehension was not quieted. He tried to breathe deeply, but that only made his chest ache. "I'll see you in a bit, then. Bring a Dr. Pepper for Michael when you come back. Mom will be bringing him up soon."
Cody watched the heavy hospital door swing silently shut. He stared at it a minute, then looked up at the ceiling, horrified by the situation he'd dragged the entire family into. How much danger had he put them in by dashing into that clearing, not even looking ahead for the trouble that he already suspected? How long would the menace be there, lurking just out of reach? Aulers said he spent countless nights, lying awake, trying to work out this real-life puzzle, afraid for his children. How long, Cody wondered. Months? Years? How long until they could put this behind them, before he could send his kids to school without fear, or let his mom go to the store without counting the minutes until her return? Surely, not until the hit men were caught.
Weariness pulled at him, and he felt an exhausted amazement at how tired he could be after a full day's sleep. If Jack felt safe about the kids, he decided as he began to doze, then the kids were safe. Jack would never play games with that. Sleep pulled at his eyes and mind and he drifted ...
"Wake up now, McClellan. It's time for you to die."
Cody frowned, pulling out of sleep just as a nightmare began to take shape. He blinked, aware of someone in the room near him and looked, assuming it to be Jack or his mom. Or Aulers, Cody thought, looking at the person more closely.
The man stood between the bed and the window, examining his chart. The drapes had been thrown open, and the light from the window silhouetted what Cody realized was an orderly. He blinked against the brightness of the sunshine and looked up at him, waiting for the man to do whatever he had been sent into the room to do. The orderly remained silent.
Fear twisted in Cody's chest almost before he had a clear view of the man. His eyes adjusted slowly to the light as he stared up at the stranger--big ... blond. Cody involuntarily flinched away from the man and reached for the nurse call button. The monster above him laughed and buried a giant fist into his fractured ribs.
Cody cried out in pain and rolled onto his side, pulling his knees up, cradling his chest. The IV pole crashed to the ground beside the bed, dropping Cody's casted arm behind his back. The orderly grabbed his wounded shoulder, squeezed hard and repeated, "It's time for you to die."
He released his death grip. Cody tried to muster the strength to call for help, but his body wouldn't cooperate. He lay on the bed, gasping for air, trying to keep himself from blacking out.
The man reached into a large pocket of the stolen orderly uniform and withdrew a syringe. He smiled down at Cody. "This is goin' to change your life," he promised sarcastically. He took Cody's hand and inserted the hypodermic needle into the tubing port of the IV.
The blond leaned close to Cody's face. Cody breathed the stale smell of sweat and Italian food and Stetson, choking on the foul odor and the agony in his back. "You have no idea how bad I been wanting to meet you," the man hissed at him. "I'd a' had you out there in the woods if you hadn't fallen. Perfect shot. There wouldn't a' been enough left of you to drag out. But that's not what happened now, is it?" The hit man squeezed into the shoulder again.
Cody kicked his feet, gasping, trying desperately to reach up with his left hand, to catch hold of the blond-headed nightmare and alleviate some of the pain. He felt stitches and skin tear and darkness closed in on him. The pressure relaxed suddenly.
"Everybody else--all the others--they was professional; just business, nothing but work. But this ... you made this personal. That little booby trap your brother left on ya'lls trail ... my brother fell into it. Cut him up on the inside. I sat and held him while he died. And I'm real pissed off. He died slow, but not as slow as you're going to."
"One down," Cody breathed hoarsely, no idea what the madman was talking about.
The man's eyes narrowed. He pushed into the shoulder again, harder. "Not so good for you, though, huh? One thing about us Lehmanns; we're a bunch of vindictive bastards." His mouth turned up into an acidic snarl. "He died, you die. And it don't stop with you, either. I'll take out your whole damn family."
Cody writhed, only half-hearing; pushing against the bed, trying to sit up, trying to run away, trying to get a piece of the man above him; anything to escape the torturous hold. Lehmann laughed cruelly and threw Cody back down against the bed.
Darkness threatened to close in on Cody and he lay still, immobilized by incredible pain.
"Bye-bye, Blue-eyes."
The door opened. Michael stepped into the room, smiling tentatively. The smile froze as he realized that the man beside his dad couldn't possibly be an orderly. He yelled out the closing door, "Uncle Jack! Hurry!" and dove into the huge man, barely moving him. The giant swatted him away, into a wall across the room. Michael slid onto his knees, stunned.
Lehmann frowned at the boy. "You ruined it!" he accused. "Now there's no time!" He reached into the pocket again, this time producing a revolver. "So you die. Just like your daddy." Lehmann spoke as calmly as a librarian.
"Run!" Cody tried to yell, his voice ragged and frantic. He swung upward, hitting Lehmann's elbow as the big man pulled the trigger.
Characters
Jack McClellan - mid 30s, detective for the local PD. Husband and father. Angry at God since the death of his sister-in-law.
Cody McClellan - early 30s, widowed father of two. Was a cop when his wife, Pam, was murdered in the commission of a robbery. Now a PI.
Rachel McClellan - Jack and Cody's mom
Laine McClellan _ Jack's wife, a kindergarten teacher
Michael and Katie McClellan - Cody's children, 12 and 5, respectively
Travis McClellan - Jack and Laine's 12-year-old son
Rudy Sotello - Cody's ex-partner
Joe Evans - African-American father who rescued Jack and Cody as gunmen drew near
Ashton Evans - Joe's teen aged son
Dr. Abby Kitman - the ER doctor who treated Cody upon their arrival at the hospital
Frank Aulers - an FBI special agent investigating the killings of prominent minority leaders or civil rights leaders
By DeboraDyess
In previous chapters: Two years after Cody McClellan's wife is murdered in the commission a robbery, his brother Jack decides it's time for them to take a long-awaited men's weekend. They go to a state park nearby and set up camp.Cody decides to take a hike while Jack naps. As he hikes, he hears crying and jogs to the top of a hill to see if he can find its source. He stumbles into a botched assassination. Cody is shot by the hit men and their intended victim runs. They give chase, leaving Cody for dead.
Jack finds him and begins a long trek back to his Bronco, knowing the shooters will be trying to find them. He loses his compass in a fall and gets lost, but finds a father and son who are camping there, as well. The pair rush the brothers to the hospital in town.
The next day, Cody awakens to the news that the men he saw are wanted by the FBI. As the special agent questions him, he warns that the McClellan family is in danger.
One of the assassins shows up at the hospital, dressed in a stolen orderly uniform, and gives Cody a shot just as Cody's son, Michael, wanders into the room.
The door opened. Michael stepped into the room, smiling tentatively. The smile froze as he realized that the man beside his dad couldn't possibly be an orderly. He yelled out the closing door, "Uncle Jack! Hurry!" and dove into the huge man, barely moving him. The giant swatted him away, into a wall across the room. Michael slid onto his knees, stunned.
Lehmann frowned at the boy. "You ruined it!" he accused. "Now there's no time!" He reached into the pocket again, this time producing a revolver. "So you die. Just like your daddy." Lehmann spoke as calmly as a librarian discussing the Dewey Decimal System.
"Run!" Cody tried to yell, his voice ragged and frantic. He swung upward, hitting Lehmann's elbow as the big man pulled the trigger.
Michael dropped and rolled, taking cover on the other side of the bed. Lehmann cursed and slammed the gun down on the side of Cody's face. The blow bounced Cody's head into the pillows and he lay still.
"Stupid boy," Lehmann growled. He laid the gun on the bed right beside him, glancing at the door as he spoke. "I want you to feel every minute of this, McClellan. Every minute.." He repositioned the syringe and pushed the plunger.
Jack charged through the door, never breaking stride as he took in the scene. Lehmann grabbed for the gun, but Jack hit him and tackled him into the bedside table. The syringe came loose from the IV port and, together with the weapon, clattered to the floor. Jack swung into the big man's belly. Lehmann grunted and pushed Jack away. As he caught his balance, Jack took another punch at the man, hitting squarely in the jaw. Lehmann staggered backwards, recovered, and hit Jack in the face. Jack stumbled into a chair, fell to his knees and clung to its padded back, disoriented by the blow. Lehmann turned back toward Cody.
Michael, hands shaking, tugged at the tape holding the IV needle in place. Lehmann rushed at him, reaching over Cody to grab Michael's shirt. Michael tried to scream but terror stopped the sound. He stood paralyzed with fear, his eyes locked with those of the killer. Lehmann laughed again, a low, vulgar sound, and moved one hand to the boy's throat. His fingers against the back of Michael's neck, he shoved hard against the boy's larynx with his thumb. They stood unmoving, Michael gasping for air that could not come. He managed to choke out a hoarse gurgle of pain as his knees gave way and he sagged into his father's chest.
Jack grabbed Lehmann from behind, but the giant barely moved, maintaining his death hold, smiling. Jack released him, clenched his fists together and slammed them into the base of Lehmann's neck. Lehmann lost his grip on the terrified boy, spun and hit Jack in the middle. Jack doubled over, sucking in air. He saw the gun on the floor and grabbed it, coming up with the weapon leveled at Lehmann's chest.
"Freeze," he panted, and added, after a breath, "Police."
Lehmann narrowed his eyes, figuring the odds, weighing his chances. He froze.
"Uncle J-J-Jack," Michael sobbed, his voice tattered and scratchy.
Jack could barely understand him. He spared one second to look at his nephew. The boy's whole body shook. "Mike, what the--"
"He p-put something in d-dad's IV," Michael stammered.
Jack looked at the IV line. The last of a thick, pale liquid stained the tube. Lehmann took advantage of the distraction, jumped toward Jack and tackled him backwards onto the bed. Jack kicked the big man off of him and Lehmann stumbled into the wall behind him. Lifting himself from the bedrail where he'd been pinned, Jack raised the weapon again. "Do anything ... anything at all. Make me shoot you," he begged, pointing the revolver level again. "Please."
Lehmann looked behind Jack, to Cody and Michael, smiled and held up his hands. "Your game, Detective."
Aulers exploded into the room, gun drawn. He looked as expressionless as before. He ordered Lehmann away from the door with a word and a wave of the weapon.
The giant stepped back. "Well, if it isn't our hero, the very special Agent Aulers. Good to finally meet you, face-to-face like. We've heard so many nice things about you. Truly. How's that family of yours, Agent? Had time to make any calls to Tulsa lately?"
Aulers' expression never changed. He activated a small microphone on the lapel of his suit coat and requested backup.
Jack ripped the tape off the back of Cody's limp hand and jerked at the needle. Blood erupted from the vein, soaking into the blanket and bed sheets. Jack put his thumb on top of the wound, pressed and looked up at the hit man, who smiled.
"Too little, too late, Detective McClellan."
"What'd you do to my brother?" Jack glared at the man in front of him, and realized he would kill him without a second of hesitation.
Before Lehmann could answer, Dr. Kitman, Rachel and a nurse rushed into the room, hesitating as a group at the sight of Aulers and Lehmann. Aulers nodded them on and the trio moved past. Rachel knelt by Cody's face, talking softly and gently checking the welt on her son's cheek.
Dr. Kitman strode to the other side of the bed, opened the hospital gown and looked in horror at the new damage to Cody's back. She raised her eyes to the killer, shock replaced by disgust. "I need a portable x-ray and a stitch kit in here," she told the nurse without looking away from Lehmann. He returned her stare, his smile chilling. The little doctor did not alter her gaze, challenging the assassin with her eyes.
"What did you do to my brother?" Jack asked again. He had moved away from Cody and the women now, and stepped toward Lehmann. He leveled his gun at the big man once more. "Tell me what you put in that IV."
"Or what? You'll have me arrested? Or shoot me in front of all these lovely witnesses?" Lehmann laughed. "Get out of my face, man."
"I'll start with your kneecaps," Jack said flatly.
Lehmann looked at Aulers, eyebrows raised.
Aulers stepped out of the way. "I wasn't in here when it happened," he said. "Don't know anything about it."
"Now, you son of a bitch, what did you do to him?"
Lehmann paused, his lips pursed, frowning. He looked at Jack with cold, emotionless eyes. "It's a neurotoxin," he sneered at last. "I reckon it's a little bit too complicated for you, though. Way over your head."
"What will it do to him?" Jack worked hard to control the urge to twitch his finger, just a little, and see how many directions the blonde's head would travel.
"It'll attack his central nervous system. Pain's goin' to get a lot worse before it's over, so you better batten the hatches, big brother. You both in for a long ride tonight." He looked smugly from the doctor to Jack. "And there ain't nothin' she can do, either. This is a special made thing. We was goin' to test it yesterday, but today'll do just fine. If it works right, and my stuff always works right, either his heart is goin' to stop, or he'll start havin' seizures and die 'cause of them. Either way's just fine with me. Just fine. I win. He dies." Lehmann raised his lip, either to smile or snarl. "Guess who's next?" He looked pointedly at Michael and Rachel and back to Jack. "Could be almost anybody."
Jack gritted his teeth, calling on every ounce of his strength to maintain control of his temper. The revolver felt hard and heavy in his hand, and it was all he could do not to raise it to the maniacal grin and pull the trigger. "How do we stop it?"
Lehmann grinned again. "That's the beauty of it. You don't. It just gets worse and worse 'til he dies."
By DeboraDyess
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Synopsis: Two years after the murder of Cody McClellan's wife in a robbery, his older brother decides it's time to take Cody on a camping trip to reconnect. Upon arriving at the state park, the brothers set up camp and Jack decides to take a nap. Cody goes on a 'photo safari', looking for great shots of nature. Hearing someone crying, he jogs to the top of a hill, where he stumbles into n assasination-in-progress.
He is shot. The intended victim runs into the dense woods and the shooters chase him.
Hearing the shot, Jack searches frantically for his younger brother, finds him and begins the arduous journey out of the park, fully aware that the hitmen will be hot on their heels.
The pair stumble upon a father and son who are setting up camp. They are hustled into the family's car as the assasins catch up to them, narrowly escaping.
Once at the hospital, Cody crashes. The doctor prepares to call time-of-death but Jack prays, begging God for his brother's life. The prayer works, and Cody's heart begins to beat again.
The next day, however, one of the hitmen shows up at the hospital, dressed as an orderly. He puts a syringe full of poison into Cody's IV. Jack again manages to rescue his brother with the help of an FBI agent, who is interested in the case.
End of previous segment:
Jack gritted his teeth, calling on every ounce of his strength to maintain control of his temper. The revolver felt hard and heavy in his hand, and it was all he could do not to raise it to the maniacal grin and pull the trigger. "How do we stop it?"
Lehmann grinned again. "That's the beauty of it. You don't. It just gets worse and worse 'til he dies."
"Get that garbage out of here!" Dr. Kitman ordered Aulers. She pushed her long, black hair behind one shoulder as she examined the fresh trauma to Cody's back. She looked at Lehmann, eyes blazing, and ordered, "Now!"
Aulers shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes off the big man in front of him. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm not going to do that. He's more or less secure in this room. I'm waiting for backup here. If he moves, I'll just shoot him. There's no way I'm losing him now."
"Then shut him up," the doctor demanded, her tone no less hostile.
Aulers nodded. "Keep your hands where I can see them," he told Lehmann. "Turn around. Face the wall."
Lehmann looked shocked. "An' miss the show?"
"The wall," Aulers repeated.
The big man shook his head sadly, sticking his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I'll do it," he whined, "but I ain't goin' to like it." He turned and Aulers produced handcuffs, securing them around Lehmann's wrists while Jack kept the revolver trained on him.
"And if he says another word," the petite woman added, "shoot him. Don't kill him. Just shoot him so I can treat him." Her voice held an unexpected, ice-cold edge.
Aulers smiled. "Yes, ma'am."
Lehmann didn't move or speak again.
Jack glanced toward Cody and caught sight of his nephew. The boy's face looked paper white, his eyes round with fear. Jack lowered his weapon, moved to stand beside the boy and wrapped his arms around him. Michael leaned heavily into him, crying and shaking. "Not my dad..." Michael cried hoarsely. "Uncle Jack, please ... not my dad."
Jack didn't have any words to comfort him. He looked down at the boy's dark hair. Michael was only a few months younger than Cody had been when their dad died. He looked up at the ceiling, frowned and swallowed hard. This couldn't be happening.
"Oh, baby," Rachel whispered. She reached back to take Michael's hand. "Come here."
Michael looked toward his grandmother, still hanging onto Jack. "Dad!" He catapulted away from his uncle, landing on his knees beside his father's bed.
Cody lay half on his side, eyes barely open. He blinked a couple of times, opened his mouth wordlessly and squeezed his eyes closed. When he opened them again, he worked hard to focus them on his mother. "Mom?" His voice sounded tissue paper frail.
"Right here," Rachel replied, laughing and crying at the same time. "Are you okay?"
Cody hesitated. "I ... yeah ... I ... I think so."
Jack looked at Lehmann. "You lose," he said to the man's back.
Lehmann didn't turn. "Just watch."
He still sounded too smug. Jack would have loved to take him by the throat, just like the man had taken Michael, and not let go. He turned back to his brother.
Dr. Kitman leaned over him, talking softly. "Mr. McClellan, I need you to tell me everything you're feeling right now."
Cody swallowed. "I'm cold. My ... hand burns. Feels like fire shooting up ... my arm to my ... my chest. But I'm so cold."
The doctor frowned. "Where is the pain?"
"I... I don't know ... "
"You're fightin' a forest fire, here," Lehmann piped in. "You ain't goin' to be able to do nothin'."
"Want me to shoot him now, Doctor?" Aulers asked dryly.
As Dr. Kitman glanced toward the agent she saw the syringe. It lay at Lehmann's feet. She stared intently at Jack, who looked up, caught her forceful gaze and studied her face. She nodded toward the syringe on the floor, her eyes speaking what she feared to say aloud. "Give me that, please," she said. She didn't change her tone or volume, afraid that Lehmann would catch on, see the syringe and step backward onto it, destroying their only hope.
Jack looked over, eyes widening, and quickly stepped around the foot of the bed. He bent and scooped the syringe into his massive hand as Lehmann realized the importance of the doctor's statement and glanced to see what Jack had.
"It don't matter," Lehmann said into the wall. "It's too late. Anything you do now's too late."
Jack started to reply, to tell Lehmann that it was only too late for him; that it was only over for him, but Cody groaned. The words stopped in Jack's throat and he glanced down.
Cody was paler than he had been only a minute before. His face, contorted in pain, glistened with sweat. "Get Michael ... out!" he cried.
"But, Dad!"
"Now!" Panic filled Cody's voice.
Rachel grabbed Michael by the forearm and dragged him out the door into the hallway. "No, Grandma," Michael screamed franticly. "Dad!" The door shut behind them, muffling the boy's protest.
Lehmann started to laugh, victory bubbling out of him. "He's sinkin' fast, big brother, and this time he ain't comin' up for air!"
Aulers hissed at him to shut up and Lehmann changed the laugh to a periodic snort.
"You're going to have to help us out here, Code. Doc needs to know where you hurt." Jack bent close to Cody, ignoring Lehmann and Aulers.
"Everywhere!" Cody moaned, teeth clenched. Sweat covered his face. He looked at Jack, eyes wild with pain and fear. Cody's back arched suddenly and then he doubled forward. Jack grabbed him and held him tightly, not knowing what else to do for him. After a minute the pain passed, and Cody collapsed onto the bed. He gasped in air, as if deprived for far too long.
"Hey, kid." Jack wiped Cody's face with his hand, shoving sweat soaked hair out of his eyes. "Still with me?"
"What'd he do?" Cody's eyes looked like hollow sockets, midnight black.
"Nothing we can't figure out." Heart racing, Jack felt less certain than he sounded. "You'll be dancing by dawn."
"Didn't bring ... the right shoes," Cody whispered.
Jack swallowed and took a slow breath. "Couldn't dance if you did. Shoes don't make the man."
"Pam talked ... too much."
Dr. Kitman looked over her patient to the man facing the far wall. "Tell me everything you know about this toxin."
"Me?" Lehmann shifted from one foot to the other. He scratched the side of his butt with his cuffed hands. "Nah ... I don't think so, ma'am. If I start talkin' too much, you told Frank there to shoot me, 'member? I'd hate to be under your care. No offense, ma'am."
"There's some toxin left in this syringe, and I'm not sure I'm above using it on you at this point."
Lehmann stiffened and hesitated. Aulers raised his eyebrows but otherwise his expression did not change.
"I mean it," the dark-haired woman warned, although she knew she did not.
"Use it on me," Lehmann challenged. "You won't get nothin' that'll help him. Ain't enough there gonna do nothin' much to me, and it ain't gonna keep him alive."
"Who developed the compound?" Aulers asked.
Lehmann looked over his shoulder at the agent, smiling. "I told you. I did."
"No offense, blondie, but you don't look like you have the intelligence to mix a martini."
"Give somebody a drawl an' a clear understandin' of what you race-mixers are all about, an' all the sudden you decide he's stupid."
"Race-mixers?" The doctor glanced up at the giant. "My mother is Hispanic. What does that make me?"
Lehmann turned his upper body to spit at her. "Inferior."
Before Aulers or Kitman could respond, a team of agents arrived to escort Lehmann away. Jack barely noticed.
Aulers laid a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find out what this is, Jack. We've made our toxicology lab available and we're the best. And, when we're not the best, we figure out who is, and get in touch with them. We will figure this out."
Jack nodded shortly, his thoughts too jumbled to comment. Too much had happened, way too fast. He wiped Cody's forehead with a damp cloth, never taking his eyes from his face.
Another attack hit Cody nine minutes after the first passed. Anguish tore from his throat in frenzied screams. Convulsions hit, one after the other, reminding Jack of the previous afternoon, crash cart sending massive charges of electricity through Cody's body. Except this would not end with Kitman looking in wonder, placing paddles to one side. This was death.
As the episode subsided, Dr. Kitman returned with two new doctors in tow. One, Jack recognized from the day before in the emergency room. He'd been called down to them to give a neurology consult. The other was a stranger. As the three scanned the machines monitoring Cody's vitals, Jack's frustration and anger erupted, targeting the team. "Do something!" he yelled.
The neurologist looked at him. "If I do the wrong thing I could make it worse than--"
"Than what?" Jack roared. "Than this? Are you crazy, or haven't you been paying attention?"
The neurologist bristled. He was balding, thick chested and hook-nosed. "We have the top chemists in the country working on this. The FBI lab is working on this. What else, exactly, do you suggest I do?"
"You're doctors!" Jack barked, his rage stealing control.
Staring steadily into Jack's dark eyes, the trauma doctor nodded. "That's right, Jack," she said quietly. "I'm a doctor. Not God, just a doctor. We have to be careful that we do the right thing--not just something." She knelt beside him. "Jack, we are trying."
Hook-Nose interrupted, "This isn't your case, Dr. Kitman. You're here as a courtesy."
She stood, turned to face him and squared her shoulders. "And I'm trying to be courteous. To you, Neil. You asked me to come and deal with the family. That's exactly what I'm doing. I have another five minutes before I have to be back downstairs. If you want my help, you need to shut up."
Neil the neurologist. That has to bite. He thought about how much Cody would like that. He hoped he could tell him later.
| Author Notes |
I prefer a critical review to nice words, but I'll take either. :)
I now this is a long chapter. I appreciate you reading. Blessings. |
By DeboraDyess
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
See book synopsis in author's notes
End of previous segment:
Hook-Nose interrupted, "This isn't your case, Dr. Kitman. You're here as a courtesy."
She stood, turned to face him and squared her shoulders. "And I'm trying to be courteous. To you, Neil. You asked me to come and deal with the family. That's exactly what I'm doing. I have another five minutes before I have to be back downstairs. If you want my help, you need to shut up."
Neil the neurologist. That has to bite. He thought about how much Cody would like that. He hoped he could tell him later.
"Jack." Cody's voice, barely a whisper, cut through his brother's anger like a machete. Jack dropped to his knees beside the bed and took Cody's hand. "What is it, buddy?"
"Hey, Jack, you ... you sound just like ... Coach White." Cody tried to smile, tried to focus on Jack as he thought of the over-bearing, obnoxious man from their past.
Jack turned the corner of his mouth up slightly, tightening his hold on Cody's icy hand. He tried to cover it with his to warm it.
"Remember him, Jack? Always ... yelling at everybody. Loudest guy I ... I ever knew." Cody coughed and grimaced.
"Yeah .... Made up for being short by being loud."
"And you're ... not short." A shiver racked Cody as he finished the sentence. .
With his free hand, Jack rubbed his eyes. They burned, they were so tired. "Yeah. You're right. Sorry about that, man."
Cody looked up at him. "She can't do what she can't do, Jack," he whispered. "She's stuck. Like you and me ... have been stuck--" He coughed again, moaning as he caught his breath.
"You're right, Cody. You're always right, aren't you. Have a way of putting me in my place, too." Jack looked up at the doctors. "I'm sorry," he said. His anger disappeared, replaced by hopelessness and a cold knot of fear. He wished he could pray like he had the day before. But it was gone, that spark of hope and faith that had lit his heart so briefly then. Today ... Today he couldn't find it.
The tiny brunette stood beside him, staring down at Cody. "Jack, I'm not on this case anymore, so you can call me Abby. I'm designated to a trauma team in the emergency area."
Jack looked up at her.
"These gentlemen will be Cody's primary care. You met Dr. Kreitz yesterday. He's the neurologist who came down to the emergency room."
Jack nodded. "Yeah, Neil the neurologist."
Hook-Nose looked irritated.
"And this is Samuel Lockwood, our leading cardiologist." She paused. "They are excellent doctors, both top of their field. If it were my brother in this bed --"
"Do you have a brother?"
Abby shook her head. "No. Let me amend that. If it were my father in this bed, I'd trust these men to save him. They lack quite a bit in bedside manners, but their records are exemplary."
Jack hated it. He didn't like Hook-Nose or the other one. Jack looked him over, trying to think of a terrible nickname for hm. All he came up with was Top Hair and that didn't seem bad enough. He didn't have a choice, he knew, but he wished the little trauma doctor could stay."I understand," he finally said.
As if on cue, Top Hair turned to the nurse. "He'll need to be restrained --"
"You're not restraining my brother," Jack interrupted harshly.
"Detective McClellan, it's for his own good. He could injure himself more severely during a seizure."
"You're not restraining my brother. I'll take care of him. I'll make sure he doesn't."
Hook-Nose took a deep breath, obviously struggling to keep calm. "The hospital--"
Jack stood again, shaking his head. "I don't really care what the hospital policy says, and I don't really care what you say, lady. You're not using restraints. I'll take care of him." He could feel adrenaline-filled blood pounding in his temples and realized he was still too ready to fight. He forced himself to relax his jaw and unclenched his fists. Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, he refused to look away from the doctors across the room from him.
"I don't have time for your crap," Top Hair said after a pause. "I am more than willing to call security and have you removed from the room. And the more of our time you waste, the more you reduce your brother's chances of survival. Now, which is it? Restraints or removal?"
The nurse retrieved restraints from a closet in the room and Jack stepped aside.
"I do have a brother," the cardiologist said. "I can't imagine what you're gong through, but I won't do anything to compromise the care of a patient. That includes your brother, sir." He offered his hand. After a pause, Jack took it.
"I have a call in to a toxicologist I met at a convention last summer --- a brilliant man, someone I think can help." Abby turned to leave the room. "I'll touch base with your mom and then harass his answering service again." She put a hand gently on Jack's arm as she walked to the door.
Jack sat and leaned his head against the rail of the bed, suddenly exhausted. He closed his eyes, not sure if he was going to pray or sleep, not sure that either would come.
Twenty-four minutes had passed since the doctors left the room to find answers. Cody endured two more attacks of pain, each slightly longer and more intense than the last. In between, he lay nearly lifeless on the bed, eyes half closed, breath coming in shallow gasps. Each spasm of pain eroded a little more of his energy. His breathing became increasingly labored and erratic. The nurse kept a close eye on the heart monitor but could do little else. Jack became a clock-watcher. If he were right, another seizure was due.
The door burst open and Rachel practically ran into the room. "Laine is here with Michael," she said in a rush. "I couldn't stand not being here. I saw one of his doctors in the hall and he thinks I need to be with him, too." She lowered the bedrail as she spoke, carefully sat on the edge of the bed and lifted Cody's head into her lap, stroking his hair, kissing his forehead.
Cody breathed in the sweet scent of his mother, felt the cool gentleness of her fingers. He seemed to relax in the few seconds of her caress, seemed to draw comfort from her nearness. For a minute he was little again, curled in her arms, waiting for her to make everything better. "I love you, Mom," he whispered hoarsely.
"I love you, too, baby."
Cody cleared his throat, trying to muster strength and conviction. "Jack, make her leave."
Rachel looked at Jack, hurt, but with the same steel-hard determination he'd seen in her face on a hundred occasions. He never won against that look. He knew very few people who had. "It's bad, Mom," he said.
"That's why I need to be here."
"You can't do anything."
Rachel sat tall on the bed. "I can hold him."
Jack hesitated, uncertain whether it would be worse on his mother--to see Cody in such pain or to be denied what could be the last few hours of his life. He knew that, if it were Travis in this bed, he'd die rather than leave his son.
"I left yesterday, Jack. I saw him for just a few minutes and I thought he was going to be all right and I left." Rachel swallowed hard, trying to remain calm. A tear broke the boundary of her pale eyeliner and coursed down her cheek. She closed her eyes, squeezed them for a second and looked up at her oldest.
"He was the most beautiful baby you can imagine, Jack. All smiles. Into everything, but so wide-eyed about it that you couldn't do anything but laugh." She looked down at him, lying still in her arms and more tears began their descent. "And he thought you hung the moon. He tried to do everything you did. For such a long time he thought you were right up there next to God. You got him into more messes..." She smiled sadly and sighed. She looked up at Jack and her expression changed suddenly. "I saw him through every fever and flu and held him when he cried at night. I won't leave him now."
"This isn't the flu, Mom."
"I've never left either of you when you needed me, Jack. Until yesterday. I won't leave him again. Not now. Not until I know for sure he's going to be all right. Or that he won't be. You'll have to pick me up and put me out of this room, son. And you won't do that."
Jack watched his mother, remembering her strength when their dad died, and in the days after Pam's murder. He nodded. He knelt beside his brother's bed and touched his face. "Sorry, Code. She stays."
The brief moment of calm passed. Cody convulsed forward, the pain sudden and consuming. Rachel flinched backwards, unprepared for the severity of the attack.
"Jack," Cody gasped as the pain grew in his chest, becoming something alive, "I can't ... again ..." He sucked in lungs full of air. "Momma! Momma ... "
Jack froze. He looked at Cody's face. There wasn't a spot on it not already bruised or cut or scratched. He couldn't.
Rachel pulled Cody close to her, trying to hold him as he fought the pain. He looked up, crying, "Oh, God ... please!"
Rachel looked at Jack, frantic for something to do to help her son. Jack swung upward, hitting Cody in the jaw. The blow knocked him back into his mother, causing her to lose her balance and fall back into the far bedrail. She caught herself and looked at Jack, horrified. Cody lay limp in her arms.
"No, God," Jack breathed the prayer, suddenly afraid, "don't let me have killed him." He checked for a pulse. He noticed his hand shook.
"Jack, how could you?" Rachel was as close to screaming as Jack had ever heard her.
He found the pulse and closed his eyes. "Mom, how could I not?" He tried to control the shake in his hands, and in his voice. "That guy could have killed him so easily, Mom."
Rachel frowned and looked away from Jack, blinking tears.
"He didn't want to do that; not just that. He wanted Cody to suffer. He couldn't take anymore, Mom. Neither could I. And I couldn't let you ..."
"Right idea, Detective McClellan, although that was a rather indelicate way to achieve it." Hook-Nose startled both Jack and Rachel, who'd been so intent on Cody that they missed his entrance.
Jack stood. "What'd you find?"
"Not enough," the doctor admitted. He looked at Jack, drew a deep breath and pointed to the chair beside the bed. "Things are not looking hopeful." he started. "His pulse is erratic, we can't stabilize his blood pressure and his body temperature is dropping. There's already some evidence of damage to his heart. It may not be permanent at this point, but if we don't start controlling the other problems, it won't matter."
Jack looked at the floor, squeezed his eyes shut and took a slow, shallow breath . He couldn't believe what he was hearing--didn't want to believe it. It occurred to him suddenly that the doctor so far addressed all the information to him and wondered why Hook-Nose was not talking to his mom. He looked at Rachel. Her face, pale and resolute, seemed stone. And he knew. The doctor had already spoken to her out in the hall, before she came into the room.
"To make things worse," Kreitz continued, as if he thought things could get worse, "we don't have a definite breakdown of the toxin. It's progressing quickly. But we're all in agreement--the tox lab and the neurologists that I've contacted---that putting Mr. McClellan into a drug-induced coma will greatly improve his chances."
Jack asked, "Why?" as Rachel said, "No."
"Mrs. McClellan," Dr. Kreitz turned his attention to Rachel, "I know it sounds frightening, but it would allow us to be more in control of his physical situation."I truly believe it's his best chance."
Rachel shook her head, eyes wide.
Jack rubbed the side of her neck gently. "Our dad was in a coma for a little while before he died." He didn't look at the doctor. "Lung cancer."
Kreitz knelt on the floor beside Rachel. "Mrs. McClellan, listen to me." He took Rachel's hands in his, his eyes bright and intense. "This is not the same. Your husband was dying; his body giving up a little at a time. This isn't the same situation. I'm talking about giving your son's body a chance to fight; a chance to survive. He needs to be able to focus all his energy on getting past this. He can't do that if he's dealing with the effects of the pain. You saw what he's going through. Jack was right just a minute ago--he can't take much more of this. The specialists I've consulted all feel like this is his best chance." He shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps his only chance."
Rachel looked at him, eyes shining, searching Kreitz's face.
"I'll take care of him," Neil the neurologist promised quietly. He didn't alter his gaze.
Rachel studied the doctor's face, riveted by the strength in the man's eyes. "All right, then." She raised a hand and quickly brushed tears from her cheeks. "Do it."
| Author Notes |
Again, critical over kind, please. :)
Appreciate you reading even though the chapter ending is long, but I hope engaging. It's getting close to time to start thinking about publication, so let me know any thoughts you have on that matter. Appreciate Y'all! Synopsis: Two years after the murder of Cody McClellan's wife in a robbery, his older brother decides it's time to take Cody on a camping trip to reconnect. Upon arriving at the state park, the brothers set up camp and Jack decides to take a nap. Cody goesgoes on a 'photo safari', looking for great shots of nature. Hearing someone crying, he jogs to the top of a hill, where he stumbles into n assasination-in-progress. He is shot. The intended victim runs into the dense woods and the shooters chase him. Hearing the shot, Jack searches frantically for his younger brother, finds him and begins the arduous journey out of the park, fully aware that the hitmen will be hot on their heels. The pair stumble upon a father and son who are setting up camp. They are hustled into the family's car as the assasins catch up to them, narrowly escaping. Once at the hospital, Cody crashes. The doctor prepares to call time-of-death but Jack prays, begging God for his brother's life. The prayer works, and Cody's heart begins to beat again. The next day, however, one of the hitmen shows up at the hospital, dressed as an orderly. He puts a syringe full of poison into Cody's IV. Jack again manages to rescue his brother with the help of an FBI agent, who is interested in the case. Characters Jack McClellan: mid 30s, police detective, husband and father of Travis (12). Jack is struggling with faith in God Cody McClellan: early 30s, private investigator, widowed, father of Michael (12) and Katie (7) Rachel McClellan: mother of Jack and Cody Laine McClellan: Jack's wife, kindergarten teacher Pam McClellan: Cody's wife, killed in robbery two years before this segment of story Abby Kitman; head of trauma team that treated Cody in ER Frank Aulers: FBI agent |
By DeboraDyess
The end of the previous chapter:
Kreitz knelt on the floor beside Rachel. "Mrs. McClellan, listen to me." He took Rachel's hands in his, his eyes bright and intense. "This is not the same. Your husband was dying; his body giving up a little at a time. This isn't the same situation. I'm talking about giving your son's body a chance to fight; a chance to survive. He needs to be able to focus all his energy on getting past this. He can't do that if he's dealing with the effects of the pain. You saw what he's going through. Jack was right just a minute ago--he can't take much more of this. The specialists I've consulted all feel like this is his best chance." He shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps his only chance."
Rachel looked at him, eyes shining, searching Kreitz's face.
"I'll take care of him," he promised quietly. He didn't alter his gaze.
Rachel studied the doctor's face, riveted by the strength in the man's eyes. "All right, then." She raised a hand and quickly brushed tears from her cheeks. "Do it. Do it now."
The days became a jumble of hospital and home, rushing from one place to another and back. It felt to Jack as though he had stumbled into a demonic revolving door from which he could not escape or had fallen down the rabbit hole into Hell.
Guilt became a constant part of his life; something he'd never been plagued by before, but now could not seem to shake. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he knew he was needed somewhere else. He sat for endless hours beside his brother's bed, arms propped on the thin hospital bed rail, head resting there. While he stared down at Cody's still face, he could think of nothing save Laine and Travis. And when he left to spend time at home with his wife and son, he ached to be back at the hospital.
The emotional avalanche battered them all. Laine had become impatient and nervous, traits which had never been a part of her personality, and Travis asked every night if he could sleep in their room. Jack finally made a pallet for him out of sleeping bags and blankets on Laine's side of the bed. He moved Rachel, Michael and Katie into the house, absorbing them into his household, adding to the strain. Jack and Rachel traded shifts at Cody's bedside, visiting briefly as they switched places.
Jack lost track of how much time he spent with Cody, how much time he spent with his family and once, frowning and staring out the window of the unmarked agency car, asked the spook assigned to bodyguard him which way they were headed. The agent responded, "Hospital," with a sidelong glance in his direction. Jack vowed silently to find a way to sleep.
The calendar became as meaningless as the clock. He kept track of time by events in the small room and with his family.
Monday mid-afternoon, for no apparent reason, Cody's vitals all crashed.
Abby Kitman had wandered up to check on the family before heading home. She'd almost made it to her car when she got a 911 message from a nurse on Cody's floor. She and Neil Kreitz literally collided as they raced toward the heavily guarded room. Pushing through the door, they found a team struggling to keep him alive. The group worked frantically for just over half an hour. As suddenly as the episode began, it disappeared, leaving everyone breathless and frazzled.
Abby stepped into the hall, trying to slow her breathing. She caught sight of Jack, who'd left the room just ahead of her. He'd leaned against the wall opposite Cody's room. "Trying to hold the building up?" She smiled at his look of confusion.
After a second, he shook his head. "Just trying to ..." He struggled for words. "Just trying."
"Go home, Jack."
Allowing his eyes to shift past her to the foot of his brother's bed, he shook his head.
"Go home," she repeated. "Your family doesn't need another person in a bed up here. Go find your own bed, in your own house, and get some rest. I'm going to stay. I promise I'll call if anything happens."
Jack shook his head, but the thought of stretching out on his own mattress, snuggling under the quilt that smelled like his wife, grew bigger in his mind.
"I'll call," she promised. "And I'm not leaving."
Jack relented.
He managed to sleep for five hours before he lumbered to his feet, washed his face and headed out again.
You're going to be here tonight for Travis' birthday party, aren't you?" Laine asked as he kissed her good-bye.
"I'll do my best."
His wife put her hands on her hips. "Let me rephrase, then, my love. You'll be here for your son's birthday party tonight. I'm not asking. Travis needs you just as much as Cody does. In fact, Travis needs you more. You will be here."
Jack kissed her again. He knew he'd lost. Any time she called him 'my love' it was time to give in. And, just as Laine predicted, he made it back in time for the party.
The family spent a solemn, quiet evening pretending to enjoy dinner, cake and ice cream, opening presents intended for a big birthday party at the skate park. Jack thought he noticed his son smile one time.
The next day, Jack awoke from a fitful nap to noise in the hall outside Cody's room. He rose, drawing his Glock from its shoulder holster. Two agents strong-armed a third man into the room, shoving him roughly ahead of them, slamming him face first into the wall. The young man struggled, although he had a better chance of lifting the building from its foundation than getting away.
Jack blinked the sleep away and recognized the boy."Let him go," he ordered.
One agent, Fielder, Jack thought, glanced his way, but neither man released their hold on the intruder. The boy continued to fight them.
"Fielder, right? And Morton?" Jack guessed at the second name and was absolutely certain he had gotten it wrong. "Come on, guys. I know this kid. Let him go! "
The agents backed off slower than Jack would have liked, still watching the young black man for any sign of hostility.
Ashton Evans turned to Jack, fury as evident in his features as the sunrise. "I wish we wouldn't have helped you!" the boy shouted. "I wish you would've found anyone but us! I wish they'd have shot you in the park!" Tears sprung to his dark eyes and he repeated quietly, "I wish we wouldn't have helped."
"
Jack closed the distance between them with three steps, keeping his face calm. His heart pounded wildly. "Hey, Ashton." He made an effort to keep his voice gentle, as if he were talking to a child. "What's going on?"
Ashton stepped backwards, bumped into one of the agents and half-turned, jerking away as if he'd bumped into a vial of acid. Jack took his arm gently and pulled him toward a chair. The boy pulled away, refusing to sit. He looked Jack in the eyes, angry and scared and confused. "They got my dad. Two white guys--your white guys. The ones you brought down on us."
Jack closed his eyes and rolled his head back, as if looking up at the ceiling. He couldn't take any more of this. When I am afraid -- Jack stopped the verse before it could get going. I know, he thought. I already know. But he didn't. He didn't trust God. He couldn't pretend. He couldn't try to fool himself into faith he didn't feel.
"What do we do now?" Ashton demanded. "My mom's terrified. She's scared they're still after us. I'm scared for my mom. She's done nothing but cry all day. What do we do? How do we make this go away?" His voice rose to a pinched, high-pitched cry, and Jack glanced toward Cody, wondering the same thing. "Make it go away!" the boy demanded between clenched teeth. "Make it like it was before!"
"I wish I could." Jack swallowed hard and looked back at Ashton. "When did it happen?"
"This morning." Defiance crumbled from the young man like a sand wall at high tide, leaving him weak-kneed and grieving. He sank into the chair. Jack knelt in front of him. "They hurt him so bad," Ashton started. He sniffed and ran his hand across his nose and mouth. "They hit him with a pipe. And they wouldn't stop. People on his route saw it and they said they just kept hitting him, even after he was on the ground. They hit him and stomped on him and even with people yelling that they were calling the police they still didn't stop. He's just all messed up." Tears rolled down the boy's dark face, leaving glistening, silver trails on his cheeks. "And they don't know if he's ever going to be better. Ever."
Surprise and hope kindled through Jack. It had not occurred to him that the Lehmann clan would lower themselves to anything less than murder. The one that came to the hospital had been willing to sacrifice himself in order to get to Cody. Why would the remaining two leave Evans alive? It seemed a careless mistake to make, especially considering the fact that they'd already made it once in the past week.
Unless they had bigger plans.
"Your dad's alive?"
Ashton nodded miserably. "In ICU. They don't know if he's going to live or not; they don't know anything."
"He'll live." Jack laid his hand on the boy's knee, remembering Joe Evans deep, rumbling voice, his calm eyes and simple, incredible faith. "He's too strong not to live."
The men's eyes met. Ashton looked away first. "I'm not sorry we helped you," he muttered. "My dad'd be ashamed if he knew I said that."
"Then we won't tell him."
The boy looked down, scratched at a small hole in his blue jeans and looked up, meeting Jack's gaze again. "It wasn't your fault."
Jack lowered his head, quite certain that it was.
When Lane showed up later that afternoon to relieve him, he relayed the newest part of the nightmare to her. She listened, her face clearly showing each emotion that rolled through her heart as the story unfolded.
"He's right," she said after a minute of hushed sadness. "This isn't your fault."
"Sure it is, Laine!" Jack said. Stress made him short tempered, and her back stiffened at his tone. He didn't back down, but continued in the same harsh voice. "If I wouldn't have insisted on dragging him up there, the Evans' lives would still be in one piece! Our lives would still be in one piece!"
Lane shook her head, scattering light brown curls from her forehead and eyes. "Then it's my fault, and Mom's fault, too. We suggested it. Or, it's Cody's fault because he didn't say no enough times to shut you up. Or the FBI, for not catching these guys before now. Or maybe it's Pam's fault, Jack, because she died." 'Lane choked out the last words, the threat of tears tightening her throat.
Jack blinked at the onslaught of his wife's tirade. 'Lane watched him for a minute, then hugged into him, pushing hard against his chest, making him hug her back. He closed his eyes and felt the magic of her heart beating against his.
"It wasn't your fault," she whispered. "You're a good man, Jack. But you can't see into the future, you can't change the hearts of other men, and you can't change what happened. That child was grieving for his father. He was afraid. No one blames you for any of this. Except for you." She held him, listening to his heart beat for as long as he let her.
He'd left her shortly after that, retreating to their home to fall, exhausted, into their bed. His sleep was haunted by a memory of charcoal-colored eyes and a deep voice alternately wishing he hadn't helped them and assuring him it wasn't his fault.
That had only been yesterday. Jack stared out the window of Cody's hospital room, watching the sidewalk two flights below.
Dr. Kitman examined the chart she held, made a note and put it on the bedside table.
"I thought you weren't his doctor anymore." Jack didn't take his eyes off the sidewalk.
"Just a note to a colleague," she commented. "Nothing to get upset about." She picked up the deck of cards sitting beside the chart she'd just lay down. "How about a game of 31? I'll deal."
| Author Notes |
And we take a sshort break from the intensity of the past few chapters. /wehw! :)
Remember: critical over kind. The first couple of drafts of this felt more like I was writing 'How I Spent My Summer Vacation' than this novel. (Not literally, of course; but it was stiff and �????�???�??�?�¢?�????�???�??�?�¦ boring as all get-out!) Please, please let me know if the tone or style doesn't fit the previous chapters. I can always give it another go, and would rather do that than leave it lame. hank you so much for reading and reviewing! The Bible verse Jack 'interrupts' has been in an earlier chapter. It is Psalm 56:3 -- When I am afraid, I will trust in You. Does that passage read okay? Thank you again! |
By DeboraDyess
Please see the book synopsis in the author notes. Thank you. :)
Jack stared out the window of Cody's hospital room, watching the sidewalk two flights below.
Dr. Kitman examined the chart she held, made a note and put it on the bedside table.
"I thought you weren't his doctor anymore." Jack didn't take his eyes off the sidewalk.
"Just a note to a colleague," she commented. "Nothing to get upset about." She picked up the deck of cards sitting beside the chart she'd just lay down. "How about a game of 31? I'll deal."
They'd spent many of the last 84 hours together. The small, dark-haired doctor tried numerous times to convince Jack there was no need for him to stay. "You're harassing the hospital staff, you're harassing the FBI ... I think we even got a complaint from the cleaning staff. If you're trying to improve your people skills, you're not doing a very good job," she told him earlier that day.
"You're breaking my heart, sweetie," Jack commented in a near-monotone. He had grown to like Abby, and knew she was giving him a hard time more for something to do than to get rid of him. "I have to go back to work in a couple of days, anyway, so you'll be done with me then."
"I might actually miss you." Abby smiled. She'd been in the room almost as much as he had. The constant flow of trauma cases kept her busy most of her shift, but the few quiet moments she found in her day she tended to gravitate to the McClellan room. The drive time from her home was too long, she explained, and the situation still too fragile. "Besides," she commented when Dr. Kreitz was in the room, "it gives me a chance to irritate Neil."
He hadn't looked up from his patient, shook his head and muttered "Just what I need" under his breath.
"It must be weird for you," Jack said as she shuffled the cards, readying them for the hundredth game of 31 that week.
"Not really," Abby answered, no clue as to what Jack meant. "I've been playing cards since I was a little bitty thing. My daddy was a real card player. He was the only doctor I've ever known who almost made more playing poker than practicing medicine."
"Was he a really bad doctor or a really good card player?"
"A really excellent card player. Poker, Spades, you name it. I think he even placed a bet on a game of Go Fish once. And, yes," she looked up at Jack and smiled, "he had a bit of a gambling problem back then. I could shuffle cards as soon as I could hold them. So this isn't weird at all."
Jack gave the obligatory chuckle. "No ... I mean being up here all the time. For us, for me and Mom and Laine, or us it's important. It's personal. But for you ... you don't even know him."
"Sure I do." Abby dealt them each three cards. "I spent the morning with your mom, remember? I could probably tell you things about your brother that you don't know."
Jack laughed, came to the tiny overbed table and sat across from the doctor.. "I bet you could. Cody's always been Mom's. I was Dad's, because of sports. Cody was just getting really into that when Dad died. And he likes going to concerts and museums and stuff that Mom likes."
"I thought he was a quarterback or something in high school."
"Oh, he was. Not the star of the team like I was, of course but, you know, he played." Jack looked at his cards, drew a four of hearts and discarded it.
"Your mom said they went to State his junior year."
"Yeah, but we won State the year I was a senior."
Abby grinned. "I see."
"He was on the drama team and in the choir, too. I never did figure out how he juggled all that junk."
Abby picked up the four and lay down a seven of spades. Jack folded his cards and laid them down, standing to walk to the window. Abby watched him, put her cards into a pile and waited. After a minute she said, "Tell me what you believe in, Jack."
Jack turned from the window. "Huh?"
"What you believe in. You know ... Do you believe in God, or voodoo, or the power of money?" She smiled at him, apparently amused that her question had taken him so aback.
"Better not be the power of money." Jack laughed nervously. "I'd be in trouble."
She waited, watching as Jack turned back to the window. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. "So, what, then, Detective?"
Jack cleared his throat. He'd been less than gifted at this, even when he knew what he believed and had time to plan what he wanted to say. Now ... "You'd better ask Mom or Lane that one. Or Cody when he wakes up." He walked back to the bed and pushed the ever-present stray lock of hair from Cody's face. Dealing with all the tubes connecting his brother to pieces of machinery was gut-wrenching, but he knew he'd have a harder time dealing with Cody in a coffin.
Abby crossed her ankles and leaned back in her chair. "I don't want to know what they believe. I asked you."
Jack looked at her. He stopped himself just before he shrugged his tight shoulders. "I don't know anymore."
The young doctor nodded as if she understood. "Well then, what did you used to believe?"
He looked from her to Cody. He thought about Abby -- her education, the sciences she embraced in her career ... She'd probably laugh at him. But she wouldn't be the first one. He hesitated but decided, after the week they'd all had, she probably earned at least a laugh. "I guess ... you know, what most people around here believe. Or, at least, what they say they believe. The basic Christian stuff. A merciful God, a loving Savior. Jesus died for the sins of the world ... that stuff."
"And now?"
Jack shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I kind of gave up on that the night Pam died. I mean, how merciful is God if He lets a ten year old kid sit in the front seat of a car and watch his mom get blown away? How loving is He to let my brother lose his wife and his baby in one night? Pam asked him to lead her and guide her. I heard her pray that a thousand times, if I heard it once, and that merciful god took her straight into a bullet." Jack shook his head, uncertain if he felt sad or angry or confused. Not that it mattered anymore.
"I guess that made her a little less than smart." Abby shuffled the deck again.
Jack turned and looked at her. "You don't have the right to say that, not even after all you've done for us." His voice held a sudden air of hostility. "She and Cody were ... perfect. She was so much alive and she packed every minute with something."
His gaze shifted over Abby's head and a slight smile warmed his features. " Cody'd only dated her for a few months when they got engaged. They'd known each other for a long time, but didn't even like each other at first.
"Mom about hit the ceiling, but Pam won her over. She was always concocting some crazy new family tradition that she'd convince us to try. She and Mom and Laine would get together and, man, Cody and I would just kind of back off and wait. They had so much fun together."
Abby didn't speak.
He walked to the window, looking down at the sidewalk below. He saw a blond haired man and a pregnant woman walking toward the hospital and stopped, watching the man -- the way he moved, his build, the shape of his face. After a minute he started again. "She was an incredible woman. Cody and I both found absolutely incredible women, and God took his away. I couldn't trust a god like that." He walked back to Cody's bed, obviously uneasy. "She was as much my sister as Code is my brother ... almost." He brushed Cody's hair back again. "It tore me up to watch Code go through that. I would've stopped it if I could have. I would've changed it."
"And God didn't."
"Yeah." Jack sighed. "God didn't."
| Author Notes |
Synopsis: Cody's wife is murdered in a robbery, leaving him to raise their children alone. Almost two years later, his brother, Jack, talks him into taking a long weekend to camp. Shortly after arrival at the state park, Cody goes hiking and Jack lays down for a nap. Cody stumbles upon an assassination attempt and is shot and left for dead. Jack finds him, realizes this is not an accidental shooting and begins the long trek out of the park, with a badly wounded Cody in tow. They know the hitmen are behind them. Jack loses the compass in a fall and isn't sure he's heading in the right direction to find their vehicle. They come across a father and son team who help them escape just as the assassins catch up to them. Once at the hospital Cody flatlines, but revives after Jack, who is deeply conflicted about his faith, offers a prayer for his brothers survival. When Cody awakens the next day he is met by an FBI agent, who confirms that the victim in the park was a state senator. Later one of the hitmen appears in the room dressed as an orderly. He injects Cody's IV port with a poison, but is caught before he can escape. Cody is put into a chemically induced coma. Now the family waits ...
Jack McClellan-- late 30's, police officer. Struggling with faith since death of his sister-in-law Cody McClellan-- early 30's, became PI after death of his wife, Pam Rachel McClellan--mom of the guys, widowed for several years Elaine (Laine) McClellan-- wife of Jack, school teacher Joe Evans-- camper who helps the brothers Ashton Evans-- Joe's son Rudy Sotello-- friend of McClellan family, used to be Cody's partner Michael and Katie Mc-- Codys children, 12 and six years-old, respectively Travis Mc-- Jack and Laines son Dr. Abby Kitman-- trauma doctor Frank Aulers-- FBI agent Lehmann-- racially motivated assassin Okay ... hmmm ... Who did I miss?! Thank Y'all again for reading. I appreciate each review, every comment. :) |
By DeboraDyess
Previously: After Cody is put into a chemically induced coma, Jack and Rachel trade off sitting in the room with him, keeping watch. Surprisingly, Abby Kitman joins them often, either during her lunch or off-hours.
Abby and Jack start to visit, and Abby pulls him into a conversation about his faith.
"She was as much my sister as Code is my brother ... almost." He brushed Cody's hair back again. "It tore me up to watch Code go through that. I would've stopped it if I could have. I would've changed it."
"And God didn't."
"Yeah." Jack sighed. "God didn't."
Background
When the McClellan brothers stumble upon a botched hit while camping, Cody is shot. With the hitmen in pursuit, Jack gets his brother to help. Soon, though, the men appear at the hospital, trying to eliminate witness. Now Jack wrestles with faith & fear
Jack didn't answer.
"Your son's name is Travis?" Abby asked. Jack nodded and she continued. "Has Travis ever gotten into anything that just tore you up to watch him go through, but you didn't step in and bail him out? Didn't intervene?"
"Yeah, but," Jack looked up at her, "that was different. I never killed anybody to teach Travis a lesson. I'd never let him take a bullet to teach someone else."
"God didn't kill Pam. I really believe that He's mourning for your loss of her, but He's not mourning for her. He has such a more complete picture of life than we do, Jack. For God, Pam didn't die. And He doesn't step in every time we need help. If He did where would faith come into the picture? He'd just be a giant Santa, checking the list, seeing what everyone wanted and mindlessly doling it out -- a cosmic vending machine, not God."
Jack looked down. Everything he knew about God, everything he'd learned from the Bible as a boy, everything inside him, knew that Abby was right.
"So what happened in the emergency room?"
Jack shrugged. "I guess I realized that I'd lose him and I hadn't done everything I could for him. Everything that he'd do for me."
"Because you hadn't prayed?"
"Yeah. Cody still believes, you know. He says, 'Gosh, Jack.'" He imitated his younger brother's voice almost exactly, although he knew Abby didn't know that. "'I can't even understand how the kid's game system works. I didn't get calculus. If I could understand God, He wouldn't really be worth much of my time, would He?'" Jack sat down. "Maybe he's right. He sure seems to be more at peace than I am."
"So you prayed."
"Yeah, but ... that didn't have anything to do with it. I mean, Mom's pretty sure that God gave us Cody back just because I asked Him to. But, I just don't ... I mean, I'm not exactly a man who's close to his creator, or whatever. I've pretty well told him to butt the hell out of my life, which I'm not sure I could take back, even if I wanted to. I haven't been able to pray in a long time. Until this week."
Abby Kitman considered all she'd heard. "Are you asking me if it's all just an incredible coincidence?" Jack looked at her, his eyes intent, and Abby admitted, "Maybe. We do see what other people would consider miracles happen in the ER -- not often, but it does happen. But what about the other stuff? What about everything else?"
"What other stuff?"
"I've heard you tell the story, Jack. Think about it. How long in between the two shots? Seconds, right? Maybe a minute? And yet, in that short amount of time, you managed to get the binoculars and locate Cody in the middle of a state park. And, even though you were being chased by trained assassins, even though your brother was critically wounded, you manage to beat them to the road. And you miss your own car by a mile, but literally stumble into a campsite with a car and driver right there"people who were willing to help you. Christians, at that. You think that Lehmann missing Michael from a few feet away was just a coincidence? And the bruises on that boy's neck ... Lehmann should have crushed his larynx. He should have died. It may have all been coincidence, Jack, but how many are we given in a day? How many do we get like that in a lifetime?"
Jack didn't answer.
"I'll tell you something, my friend. Matthew 6:8 says God can hear prayers our hearts can't even begin to say. I think that's what's been happening with you. You've been so hurt and angry that you couldn't begin to talk to Him. But your heart never stopped talking. And He never stopped listening. Or caring. The same way you were your brother's keeper when he literally couldn't go another step, Jesus has been your keeper, too. Helping you when you'd let him, leading you toward healing, whether you wanted him to or not, watching out for you. And listening."
Jack swallowed a lump in his throat. This wasn't at all what he'd expected. The doctor wasn't laughing at him"she was encouraging his faith, building him up in a way that Cody and 'Lane and his mom had been trying to do for a year and a half.
"Your heart's been frozen by a horrible, tragic event. You couldn't get past the harsh cold and the black clouds to see God. But He's still there, Jack. And it's time for your heart to thaw now. Time for your winter to be over." She picked up the deck of cards, slipped them in her jacket pocket and walked over to Jack. "God's already forgiven you, Jack. And He's certainly earned your trust back, if for some reason He needed to. Now the only thing left is for you to forgive yourself."
| Author Notes | Thank you for reading! Remember, critical over Kind, always. :) |
By DeboraDyess
Cody ran as fast as he'd ever run, but not fast enough. Every time he dared a backward glance, he could see the monsters ... smiling, leering. And closer. His breath came in shattered gasps. His heart threatened to explode in his chest. Once, Cody thought he'd lost his pursuers and collapsed beside a tree to rest. But a voice found him there, whispering, "Wake up now; it's time to die." Cody leapt to his feet and took a step away from the threat, but the ground disappeared beneath him and he fell. The world turned into a kaleidoscope of greens and blues and browns, everything indiscernible and chaotic. Jack caught him, dragging him away from the menace looming behind them, to some place called Bronco. "You can do it, Code. I'm getting you out of here."
But when they got to Bronco the nightmare was waiting there, too, turning evil, vicious eyes toward them. He grabbed Cody with fingers turned suddenly to Wolverine-knives, flinging him out of Jack's grasp.
He screamed.
A gentle squeeze on his arm snapped Cody to wakefulness. He stared at the hand on his arm, raising his gaze, taking in the uniform and badge. His heart pounded as he wondered if this would prove to be just another part of the nightmare, that the policeman above him would actually be the monster.
Black hair, dark eyes and a broad, swarthy face -- Rudy. Cody exhaled; unaware until that moment that he'd been holding his breath.
"Hey, Mac," Rudy leaned forward, concern clouding his dark face. "You were having a heck of a nightmare." 'Heck' had never been in Rudy's vocabulary before he'd been teamed up with Cody. It was a concession made out of respect for his ex-partner. "You okay?"
"I don't ... I don't know," Cody's voice sounded weak and small in the quiet room. His shoulder hurt, and his chest felt like iron bars had managed to wrap themselves around his ribs. But he knew that this was nothing compared to what had been before. He lay still, hoping not to awaken the pain that he could almost remember.
"You really gave us a scare, man."
Cody didn't answer. He looked past Rudy at the room. Realization set in like pieces of a puzzle.
Rudy watched him for a minute, a frown digging a trench in his broad forehead. "Do you know where you are?"
"I'm ... in a hospital."
Rudy grinned, nodding as if his friend had just unlocked the mysteries of the universe. "Good. That's real good. Last couple of times you woke up you were really out of it. Jack was scared you were more brain-damaged than you were before, but I knew that wasn't possible." He laughed at his own joke.
Trying to return the smile made Cody grimace and he touched his lip with the tip of his tongue. It was busted. No smiles for Rudy. But what had happened?
He could remember an urgent need to move quickly, and feeling first too hot to breathe and then ice-cold. He tried to recall more--to piece together the few clues he had to make sense of where he was.
His friend interrupted his thoughts. "Jack's been driving everybody crazy, trying to do their jobs for them. You know; 'Isn't he supposed to be awake by now?', 'Is he warm enough?', real Jack-stuff. And it'd take dynamite to get him out of here."
"He can be a pain in the neck," Cody agreed quietly.
"Lower," Rudy said, smiling. "Almost as bad as his brother.
You just missed your mom. She went home to get some rest. Well, back to Jack's, anyway. She and Laine and the kids are all safe. Don't need to worry about them. We've got a watch on them--got them covered real good. Everybody's okay."
Cody had never heard Rudy say so much at one time and he frowned slightly, trying to process everything. "Where's Pam?"
Rudy's already wrinkled forehead became a network of deep lines. He opened his mouth to answer, but looked away, his chocolate-colored eyes surprised and troubled.
With that look, Cody remembered. Pam was gone. He wasn't a cop anymore; Rudy wasn't his partner. Whatever had happened, it had nothing to do with the force. "Jack," he corrected, feeling a rush of emotions, pushing them away. "I meant Jack. Where's Jack?"
Rudy nodded to the other side of the bed, concern still clouding his eyes.
Cody allowed his attention to be drawn to the bedside table for a minute. Three flower arrangements and an ivy potted in an elaborate dish filled the space, along with the homemade Taz-and-Babs picture from his desk. Helium balloons of various bright colors bobbed near the ceiling. Four drawings, obviously Katie's artwork, were taped to the side of the table, hanging below the edge of the bed, making it difficult for Cody to see them clearly. What he could make out looked like a drawing of him, the children and Rachel with 'Get Well, Daddy' written in red crayon on a fluffy white cloud.
He slowly turned his head toward Jack, taking in his surroundings as he did so.
The walls were painted a pale green that Cody assumed was supposed to be calming. A painting of a woodland scene hung on the wall opposite his bed. His eyes paused on the painting. It was a poor imitation of Thomas Kinkaid, its setting sun spilling pink light from clouds onto the woods below. A shiver coursed through him at the sight of it and he looked away.
A television set hung on the wall, where The Twilight Zome spawned something strange and unimaginable in its black and white world, fractured as a shaft of light stabbed in from almost drawn drapes, like a beam from the alien ship on the show.
And, in a chair beside the bed, he found Jack.
He was sleeping, his giant frame uncomfortably stuffed into the tiny chair, his arms folded across his chest, legs sticking out in front of him like a ramp. "Jack," Cody said, his voice barely noticeable over the TV. He tried again. "Jack."
"Hey, sleeping beauty," Rudy bellowed.
Jack woke up like a tornado touching down. He was at the foot of Cody's bed, gun drawn, before he even realized who had called his name. He blinked at Rudy and then at Cody. Cody looked up at his ex-partner, who was giving Jack the same 'get-yourself-together' look Cody had seen as a young cop. He frowned, looking again at Jack, who was fumbling to reholster his gun.
"He's awake," Rudy said dryly, although Cody wasn't sure if he meant Jack or him. "Go easy. He's still a little confused." Rudy returned to a chair near the door.
"Hey," Jack rubbed his eyes, speaking softly. He touched Cody's arm gently, as if he was afraid his brother might break. "It's good to see you."
"Good to be seen." The exchange was a favorite of their father's. The brothers had heard it their whole lives, but it had never meant as much as it did now.
"You feel okay?" Jack yawned and resumed his place on the little chair next to the bed.
"I think I feel okay." His head decided to join the aching in his shoulder and chest and he lay unmoving . "Am I okay?"
Jack nodded. "Weak. Lots to heal up still, but you'll eventually be back to normal. At least, as close to normal as you were before."
"How long have I been out?" Cody asked, realizing that The Twilight Zone wasn't on Saturday afternoon TV.
"Six days."
Cody's eyes widened in surprise. "Six days? For what?" He shook his head. "Six ... So it's already Thursday? I had a conference with Michael's teacher yesterday. And I was supposed to testify in the Baker case on Monday."
"Don't worry about it -- any of it. Mom did the conference. Michael's not quite a juvenile delinquent yet. Actually, they're recommending him for some brainiac classes that start next semester. And the lawyers had your deposition for the Baker thing." He paused, pushing hair out of Cody's face. "And it's Friday."
He watched Cody mentally count six days from Friday and frown. "It can't be Friday."
"You woke up for a while on Saturday." Jack looked briefly at the TV, not wanting to have to lie but unwilling to go into the Lehmann issue right off the bat. He watched as a man, blind without his glasses, grabbed a book and sat down to try and read, all the time in the world and no distractions.
"So, just how much trouble are we in?"
Jack looked back at his brother, the expression on his face entirely too bewildered to be believed. "What do you mean?"
"It doesn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure this out, Jack. Rudy's here on duty. He's not visiting. You have the families together to make it easier to watch them, right? And you ... " He shook his head. "I haven't seen you this jumpy since the day of your wedding. And you weren't carrying a gun then."
Jack grinned. "I'm not jumpy. I'm tired."
Cody shook his head. "I've seen you tired. Tired, you pinball around like some drunk zombie, looking for half dozen cups of coffee. This isn't tired."
"You know," Jack leaned forward, "with a mind like that you ought to become a private investigator."
"Think so?"
"Absolutely."
"So, just how much trouble are we in?" Cody leaned into the pillows, already beginning to tire.
"You're like a bull dog when you get a hold of something, kid." Jack glanced at the clock on his phone, hoping the conversation might be interrupted by doctors, nurses or their mother.
"So I hear."
Jack frowned. "What's the last thing that you remember?" He watched as his brother shrugged, let his gaze drift for a minute and saw some recollection light his eyes.
"I remember ..." Cody studied the ceiling, as if the answers might lie above his head. "Breakfast. That waitress. She was ... a little friendly."
"Yep."
"I went hiking after we got there ..." Cody inhaled sharply. His eyes widened, then studied Jack's face. "I got shot?"
"Yeah."
Leaning into the pillows, Cody blew slowly through his mouth, cheeks puffing slightly as he processed and remembered. "And then we walked. For days, right?" He looked at Rudy, who was pretending not to listen, then back to his brother. "Did we walk to the hospital?"
"No."
Shaking his head slowly, Cody murmured, "No, that doesn't make sense."
"I bet it felt like days, Mac," Rudy said when Jack didn't answer.
Cody ignored him, instead looking steadily at Jack. "Thanks for not leaving me."
"Anything else?" Jack asked the question casually. He wasn't sure how much Cody even needed to remember about the last week. Things had gotten too weird lately.
Cody started to shake his head but stopped. "Was there an FBI guy?"
Jack nodded.
Cody tried to sit up,but Jack put a hand on his forehead and shoved his backwards. "Stay."
Cody blinked. "Then this is bad. This is really, really bad."
| Author Notes |
Thank you for reading. Please find any little nit you can. :) I love a hard, critical review, so feel free to take the kid gloves off.
Be blessed, Deb |
By DeboraDyess
"I remember ..." Cody studied the ceiling, as if the answers might lie above his head. "Breakfast. That waitress. She was ... a little friendly."
"Yep."
"I went hiking after we got there ..." Cody inhaled sharply. His eyes widened, then studied Jack's face. "I got shot?"
"Yeah."
Leaning into the pillows, Cody blew slowly through his mouth, cheeks puffing slightly as he processed and remembered. "And then we walked. For days, right?" He looked at Rudy, who was pretending not to listen, then back to his brother. "Did we walk to the hospital?"
"No."
Shaking his head slowly, Cody murmured, "No, that doesn't make sense."
"I bet it felt like days, Mac," Rudy said when Jack didn't answer.
Cody ignored him, instead looking steadily at Jack. "Thanks for not leaving me."
"Anything else?" Jack asked the question casually. He wasn't sure how much Cody even needed to remember about the last week. Things had gotten too weird lately.
Cody started to shake his head but stopped. "Was there an FBI guy?"
Jack nodded.
Cody tried to sit up,but Jack put a hand on his forehead and shoved him backwards. "Stay."
Cody blinked. "Then this is bad. This is really, really bad."
Concentrating on keeping his voice calm and his expression level, Jack tried to figure out how to move forward with the conversation. "We're okay."
"Sure, Jack. 'Cause any time the FBI gets involved in your life, it's an indicator that everything's okay." Cody shut his eyes. "I don't think I could've sat up, Jack. If you hadn't stopped me, I probably would've fallen flat on my face.. Did the old guy make it?" He opened his eyes and looked at Jack, surprise on his face. "There was an old guy, right?"
Rudy caught Jack's eyes. "You gotta tell him something," he said in the loudest whisper either brother had ever heard.
Jack slowly picked up the television remote and muted Rod Sterling's monologue. "There was an old guy. Do you remember that news report you were so hot on listening to at the diner?"
Cody hesitated. "Maybe ... Yeah ..."
"The man you saw in the park was Richard Arriaga."
Cody's eyes widened and he sucked in air, stunned. "Senator Arriaga?" He thought for a minute. "It sure was." He frowned and looked at his brother.
Jack tried to smile, to alleviate his concerns, but couldn't. Cody knew him too well. "Aulers--he's the FBI agent dealing with all this mess--he has a pretty tight net around all of us. He really wants to catch these guys."
Cody stared past Jack, remembering a tall man, taking notes on a small, hand-held device. I want these guys caught,' the man had told him. 'Badly. He tried to remember more, but the scene was as illusive as the threads of a dream.
The ache in his shoulder and chest began to clamor, and he closed his eyes for a minute. With the prattle of the TV gone, he realized that, from near his bed, a music player quietly streamed Christian music. Cody breathed in the words and promises of the tune.
Not too many weeks ago, he'd found himself at Michael's door as this song screamed from inside the room. When his son didn't answer a simple rap on the door, he'd pounded on the hardwood and called, "You'll be deaf before you graduate if you don't turn that down!" He'd never imagined he'd sound so much like his own father.
A smile began to pull at the corners of his lips when another scene erupted in his mind. His son in this room, crashing to the floor, the blond-haired man's silenced revolver spitting its death in Michael's direction.
He jerked upward. "Michael!" he cried in an anguished voice. "Oh, God, Jack! He shot Michael!"
Jack grabbed him, held him for a second to make eye contact. "He's alright, Cody. Lehmann missed. Mike's okay."
"He couldn't have missed!"
"He did."
Heart pounding, near tears, Cody looked for signs of a lie in his brother's face. Jack met his gaze. When Cody didn't speak Jack helped him lay back onto the pillows. "He's okay, Code. I swear. He's at my house, probably playing some stupid game, or sending email to that kid he likes up in Oregon, or England, or wherever."
Cody sank back onto the bed, shaking. He raised a hand to run it through his hair and saw the IV line. He frowned. "Take that out," he ordered his brother.
"I can't do that, Code."
Cody felt fear twist his stomach. "I want it out," he said flatly.
"Why?"
Cody hesitated. "I want it out of my hand, Jack. Rudy," he raised his voice. "Take this damn thing out of my hand."
"You know I can't do that, Mac." Rudy had risen to his feet and stepped toward the bed.
"You get it out of me or I will." Cody's voice twisted with an edge of fear.
"Hey," Jack laid a hand on Cody's arm. "Look at me. You're safe, Code." He gently pushed Cody's left hand away from the IV in his right. "A lot has happened in the past few days. Half the orderlies on this floor are FBI. They have an agent undercover as a patient. This guy looks like a truck hit him--"
"A big truck," Rudy interjected.
Jack glanced at him and then back to Cody. "He's just waiting, Code. They even have a MD assigned to the hospital. He's FBI, but he's also a doctor. They have it covered. There's no way the Lehmanns can get at you again."
At the mention of the name Cody felt cold fingers clutch the nape of his neck. "Lehmann," he whispered.
| Author Notes |
Thanks for reading, especially to my fiathful reviewers; your help has been invaluable. Please leave a comment--positive or negative. Synopsis: Two years after the murder of Cody's wife, Jack and Cody McClellan go camping 'to get away' for a long weekend. While Jack naps at the campsite, Cody takes a camera and goes in search of interesting shots. Instead, he interrupts the assassination attempt of a state senator. He is shot and left for dead. Jack hears the shots and finds him, dragging him out of the woods and to safety, with the help of other campers. The hitmen follow, and an attempt is made on Cody at the hospital. In a desperate attempt to save him, he's placed in a chemically induced coma. Jack struggles to understand how a loving God could not only allow these events, but allow the murder of Cody's wife, Pam. As he vents to the doctor he finds help in her faith. Last chapter, Cody woke from the coma, still confused about the events that led him to the hospital. Characters in this segment: Jack McClellan--mid-30s, husband and father, police detective. A devout family man, he struggles with his faith since the death of his sister-in-law. Cody McClellan--early 30s, Widowed and raising two children, he left the police force to become an investor and a PI. Loves his kids and family, loves God. Rudy Sotello--family friend, Cody's ex-partner Michael McClellan--Cody's 12-year-old son Special Agent Frank Aulers--agent assigned to murders of prominent minorities. the Lehmann brothers--four brothers. White extremists responsible for the deaths of several prominent minorities. Senator Richard Arriaga--kidnaped and killed by the Lehmann brothers. Cody briefly interrupted the attempt, but didn't stop it. And I THINK that's all! Did I miss anyone? Thanks again, and blessings, Deb |
By DeboraDyess
"They have it covered. There's no way the Lehmann brothers can get at you again."
At the mention of the name Cody felt cold fingers clutch the nape of his neck. "Lehmann," he whispered.
"Yeah. The root of all evil, evidently."
"Brothers?"
Jack nodded.
"There were four, right? When I saw them there were four of them."
"Yeah. Three now, and we have one of them in custody. Well, the feds have one of them in custody."
Cody glanced at Rudy, who had resumed his place at the door, pretending again not to eavesdrop. "So there's two?"
Jack nodded. "Two still at large, yeah."
"What happened to the other one?"
"He, uh ... " Jack glanced away from Cody, walked to the window and stared down at the sidewalk. "He was killed." He turned to face the room again but avoided Cody's gaze.
Cody blinked, remembering a voice, hard as concrete, and a man leaning over him, spitting words at him. 'That little booby trap your brother left on ya'lls trail ... my brother fell into it. Cut him up on the insides. I sat and held him while he died.' Cody stared up; Jack's face was a mask.
The intercom above them crackled to life, its disembodied voice startling them both. "I'm on my way," a low, feminine voice informed them. "Dr. Gates and Dr. Kreitz are with me."
"Kreitz is your neurologist. Great guy. Kind of a stick in the mud, but as Mom pointed out, we already have friends. We needed an excellent doctor and Kreitz is that." Jack lifted his revolver from its holster and wiggled his eyebrows at Cody. "Gates is the agent I told you about—Dr. Fed. She doesn't particularly like him. Says he's a cold son of a duck. She's the one that started calling him Dr. Fed. Calls him other things too, none of them too lady-like." He took a position at the foot of the bed.
It crossed Cody's mind to ask who 'she' might be, but he glanced toward the door. Rudy had drawn his weapon, as well, and moved to stand in the doorway of the connecting restroom, his back pressed into the door frame, revolver ready to destroy whatever face walked through the door. Tension settled into the room, as thick as Friday afternoon smog. Cody watched, uneasiness growing as the seconds ticked by.
Jack looked over at him. "Gotcha covered, Code." His voice held no hint of anxiety. "No sweat."
The door swept open, admitting a dark-haired woman no taller than his mother and two men, one, balding and middle-aged and the other, tall, and graying with small, intense eyes . All three wore the long, white coat that signified their profession. The older man seemed more interested in his surroundings than in any particular person around him. He scanned the room and stepped past Rudy, stood just inside the small entryway to the main part of the room and stopped, his attention now directed at the closed door.
The other man, the neurologist, Cody guessed, came directly to him, but Cody's attention was drawn to the woman.
She never glanced up from the chart she read as she entered the room. "You can put your weapons down now, gentlemen."
Jack grinned and re-holstered his revolver, as did Rudy.
Abby Kitman looked up at Cody and smiled. "Good," she said, her face softened by the smile, "you're awake and alert. How're you doing?"
Cody blinked. "I ... uh ... I'm g— I'm ... Good." He felt suddenly tongue-tied and light-headed, and had a mental image of Jack saying, 'She doctor', you patient' like an old Johnny Weissmuller Tarzan. He swallowed, took a slow breath and answered again. "I'm okay, I think. A little tired."
"That's to be expected." Kreitz didn't seem too interested in bedside manner, but instead examined the read-outs he got from the equipment around Cody's bed.
Abby smiled down at him. "Your body has been through a lot. Give yourself a chance. Tired is to be expected right now."
As the woman felt his pulse, Cody shot a quick look at his grinning brother and felt color rise in his face. He imagined all the things Jack would love to do or say at this moment and prayed that he'd have sense enough to stay silent. He realized she was talking to him and tried to focus on her words.
"...but after all you've already been through it should be a breeze. Do you have any questions about that?" She looked solemn, as though she'd delivered some important piece of information to him. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly when he didn't answer right away and she cocked her head slightly. "Mr. McClellan? Did you understand?"
Cody frowned, feeling stupid. "I'm sorry. I wasn't ... I didn't ... hear ..."
"I think his brain's still a little muddled, Doc," Jack said. He nodded from her to Cody and, upon seeing the look on his younger sibling's face added, "What?"
"Oh! You don't even know me,do you. I'm so sorry. I'm Dr. Abby Kitman. I'm not technically on your case, but these fine gentlemen are kind enough to allow me to tag along." Abby smiled again, magically changing back into the breathtaking beauty. "It's okay," she said, her voice soft as snowflakes. "Give yourself some time. Now that we have you awake, we'll be running tests, but right now, at least, everything looks pretty good, isn't that correct, Dr. Kreitz?"
Kreitz grunted.
Abby kept speaking, as if she never expected an answer. "We're hoping for what will be very close to a full recovery. Jack's read all the information on the physical therapy. So have your mother and sister-in-law. Any of them can probably tell you as much about it as I can. And the physical therapist will be in starting next week, so you can ask him anything they can't answer." She touched his arm again as she stood. "I'll check in on you in a while. You get some rest."
As the door swung shut behind the three doctors, Jack laughed. "Oh, Bubba," he snorted.
"Oh, Bubba, what?" Cody didn't waste a look at Jack, but studied the closing door.
Jack raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Nothing. Just, 'oh, Bubba.'"
| Author Notes |
Thanks for reading, especially to my fiathful reviewers; your help has been invaluable. Please leave a comment--positive or negative.
Synopsis: Two years after the murder of Cody's wife, Jack and Cody McClellan go amping 'to get away' for a long weekend. While Jack naps at the campsite, Cody takes a camera and goes in search of interesting shots. Instead, he interrupts the assassination attempt of a state senator. He is shot and left for dead. Jack hears the shots and finds him, dragging him out of the woods and to safety, with the help of other campers. The hitmen follow, and an attempt is made on Cody at the hospital. He is left in a coma. Jack struggles to understand how a loving God could not only allow these events, but allow the murder of Cody's wife, Pam. As he vents to the doctor he finds help in her faith. Last chapter, Cody woke from the coma, still confused about the events that led him to the hospital. Characters in this chapter: Jack McClellan--mid-30s, police detective. A devout family man, he struggles with his faith since the death of his sister-in-law. Cody McClellan--early 30s. Widowed and raising two children, he left the police force to become an investor and a PI. Loves his kids and family, loves God. Rudy Sotello--family friend, Cody's ex-partner Dr. Abby Kitman--head of the trauma team that treated Cody upon his arrival at the hospital the Lehmann brothers--four brothers. White extremists responsible for the deaths of several prominent minorities. ATM to pay for his birthday cake Assassination briefly HOpe that helps. :) |
By DeboraDyess
End of previous chapter:
We're hoping for what will be very close to a full recovery. Jack's read all the information on the physical therapy. So have your mother and sister-in-law. Any of them can probably tell you as much about it as I can. And the physical therapist will be in starting next week, so you can ask him anything they can't answer." She touched his arm again as she stood. "I'll check in on you in a while. You get some rest."
As the door swung shut behind the three doctors, Jack laughed. "Oh, Bubba," he snorted.
"Oh, Bubba, what?" Cody didn't waste a look at Jack, but studied the closing door.
Jack raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Nothing. Just, 'oh, Bubba.'"
Thanks for reading, especially to my fiathful reviewers; your help has been invaluable. Please leave a comment--positive or negative.
Synopsis: Two years after the murder of Cody's wife, Jack and Cody McClellan go camping 'to get away' for a long weekend. While Jack naps at the campsite, Cody takes a camera and goes in search of interesting shots. Instead, he interrupts the assassination attempt of a state senator. He is shot and left for dead. Jack hears the shots and finds him, dragging him out of the woods and to safety, with the help of other campers. The hitmen follow, and an attempt is made on Cody at the hospital. He is left in a coma. Jack struggles to understand how a loving God could not only allow these events, but allow the murder of Cody's wife, Pam. As he vents to the doctor he finds help in her faith. Last chapter, Cody woke from the coma, still confused about the events that led him to the hospital. As fragmented memory returns, he's informed th+at the FBI are involved in the case, and that they've made the hospital floor secure. Doctor Kitman, Dr. Kreitz and an FBI medical doctor, Dr. Gates, come and go. Cody is taken by Abby Kitman, much to the amusement of his older brother, Jack.
Abby Kitman glanced at her watch as she stepped out of the elevator, from the utter chaos of the first floor to the convent-like quiet of the third. Already a little after 4 AM. She sighed. Too many late nights, she decided. But, try as she may, she'd never figured out a way to convince people to avoid trauma in the middle of the night to make her life easier.
The silence of this floor seemed like a sanctuary after the noise and rush of the emergency room. The quiet calmed her clanging nerves and she made an effort to leave the past few hours behind her, mentally sending it back down to where it belonged as the elevator doors slid shut.
She walked to the nurse's station, smiling at the woman behind the desk. "Hey, Laura." Her voice sounded amplified in the empty halls.
"Hey, yourself. What you doin' up here?" The nurse put her hands on her hips, looking for all the world like an inquisitive mother.
Abby raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "Drunk driver."
"Well, I was hoping you'd just come up for a visit. At four in the morning."
"Thought I'd check on Mr. McClellan while I was here."
The smile broadened. "That Mr. McClellan sure is a cutie."
"Which one?"
"Take your pick, girl. But since the one is married, I'd pick the other one."
Abby raised her eyebrows again in mock concern. "Oh, Laura! Are you and David having trouble? I had no idea!"
"Not for me, single dumb-woman. For you! How am I ever going to get you married off with an attitude like that?"
"Who says I want to be married off?" Abby picked up the chart labeled '318: McClellan, Cody T.' and examined it.
"Who says ... " Laura shook her head, clicking her tongue against the back of her teeth. "Have you looked at this man? Have you spoken to him? Have you talked to him? He's gorgeous, he's smart, he's nice. His kids are gorgeous and smart and nice. In fact, he has this whole huge family of gorgeous, smart, nice people. Tell you what. If you don't want him I'll let you have David and I'll take him." She looked up at her friend, feigning hopefulness, her black eyes big and full of laughter in her round face.
Abby grinned, lowering the chart. "What makes you think I want David?"
"Girl," Laura said, "I think I figured out why you're still single. You're impossible to please. No, I take that back." She returned to the chair at the station, letting a deep sigh escape as she sat. "You're just impossible."
"You got that right." Abby turned to walk down the hall.
"You gonna want a cup of coffee?" Laura called after her.
"Please," Abby answered over her shoulder. "A couple a' dozen will probably do the trick." She walked down the quiet, antiseptic hallway, reviewing the events in the ER earlier, and then the events of the day. She smiled at Laura's description of the McClellan clan. She had been right. A multitude of McClellan aunts, uncles and cousins had descended on the hospital in the last couple of weeks. They came from all points of the state to lend their support and best wishes. The McClellan children had been so well cared for by relatives that she hadn't had a chance to really meet them until earlier that day.
She'd started into the waiting room to ask Rachel a question. The matriarch was not present, but Michael sat in a chair holding Katie's head in his lap. "Daddy looks awful," Katie said.
Abby stopped in the doorway.
"He looks better than he did." Michael played with Katie's blond curls, his eyes half closed.
Katie considered. "Do we have a godparent?"
"No; I think that's kind of a Catholic thing. Maybe. I don't really know."
"So we're not Catholic?"
"No."
Katie frowned up into Michael's face. "What's the other one, then ... Democrat?"
Michael smiled. "Protestant, silly." He ruffled her hair again.
Both children were quiet for a minute. Katie yawned. "Why did those men want to hurt our daddy, Michael? He wouldn't hurt them."
Michael put his head back and squeezed his eyes closed. It struck Abby how much he looked like his father. "Those guys did something really bad, Kate. They knew Dad would tell on them if he got a chance. They wanted to stop him."
"They shot somebody in the head." Katie said the words with a degree of morbid wonder, unable to imagine that happening in real life.
Michael's eyes popped open and he stiffened. "Who told you that?"
"I heard Uncle Lloyd say it to Uncle Terry."
"You shouldn't have been listening."
"But they did it, huh? Shot a man in his head."
"Yes, they did."
"Bad guys shot Mommy, too. For just some money." Katie sighed. "There must be a lot of bad guys out there, Michael."
Michael opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything. He swallowed hard and rolled his head from side to side, trying to relieve some of the tension in his neck. "Seems like it, sometimes, doesn't it?"
Abby stepped into the room and both children looked at her, eyes briefly wide, startled. She sat in a chair across from them. "Your dad is okay," she started, seeing alarm in Michael's eyes.
"Grandma says so, too," Katie confirmed. She looked up into her brother's thin face. "See, Michael?"
A gentle smile softened Abby's serious face. "Where is your grandma?"
Michael frowned. "In the cafeteria with her sister. Do you want me to go get her?" He was already beginning to stand, urging Katie to sit up to free him.
Abby shook her head, motioning him to sit back down. "I'll catch her later. It's not that important." She sat still for a minute, looking at the children. "I know sometimes things seem scary, and bad guys make us feel like we can't be safe. Is that how you feel right now?"
Katie nodded. Michael looked away.
"I think the good guys are stronger. Want to know why?"
Katie sat up and leaned toward Abby, watching her with six-year-old intensity. She nodded.
"Because we still have laws that say what the bad guys do is wrong."
"If it's wrong why does God let them do it?" Katie asked. She cocked her head to one side, and leaned into Michael..
"God gives us all choices, Katie. Some people choose to do bad things because they don't care about how other people feel. They only care about themselves. They don't understand that God loves them and only wants good things for them, so they act badly sometimes."
"God should make them stop," Katie said. She looked at her brother. "He could do that, right?"
Michael hugged her around the shoulders. "I guess so ..." He looked at Abby.
"Then why doesn't He?" Katie's voice sounded pouty and cross. She looked up at the ceiling, to Michael and then back to Abby. "If He would do that my daddy wouldn't have got hurt."
"Because He wouldn't be loving us then." Abby thought about this a lot. With all of the death and injury she saw in her profession, all the trauma to body and soul, she had dealt with this question before. "If He made us with no ability to decide for ourselves who we' want to be and what we do, then we would be like a bunch of little dolls." She reached across the narrow aisle and took Katie's doll from a chair beside the girl. "What's her name?"
"Moira."
"I know you love Moira, but does she love you back? Really love you?"
Katie hesitated and looked at the doll. "No..." she admitted. "And," she looked at Abby and lowered her voice to a whisper, "I don't really love her the way I do Daddy and Grandma and Michael."
Abby nodded. "And that's why God has to give us choices."
She handed the doll back to Katie's waiting arms. The girl held onto her hand for a second and nodded. Abby hoped she'd expressed herself in a way the little one would understand. She didn't have much experience with kids. She smiled and nodded back.
"Okay,." She stood. "I'm off to find your grandmother."
"Hey." Michael stopped her at the door. "Thank you."
| Author Notes |
Thank you for reading and reviewing. Please feel free to let me know what you think. I prefer critical to kind, although kind is nice, too. :)
Synopsis: When the McClellan brothers decide to take a weekend camping trip, it doesnt' take them long to stumble into trouble. While Jack pretends to nap, cody takes a hike. He heads for a nearby hilltop to take pictures of the fall trees from above. Instead, he interrupts the assassination attempt of a state senator. He is shot and left for dead. Jack hears the shots and finds him, dragging him out of the woods and to safety, with the help of other campers. The hitmen follow, and an attempt is made on Cody at the hospital. He is left in a coma. Jack struggles to understand how a loving God could not only allow these events, but allow the murder of Cody's wife, Pam. As he vents to the doctor he finds help in her faith. Last chapter, Cody woke from the coma, still confused about the events that led him to the hospital. Things clear as time passes. The young trauma doctor who treated him in the ER befriends the family. Characters mentioned in this chapter: Cody McClellan--early 30s. Widowed and raising two children, he left the police force to become a PI. Loves his kids and family, loves God. Dr. Abby Kitman--head of the trauma team that treated Cody upon his arrival at the hospital Michael McClellan--Cody's 12-year-old son Katie McClellan--Cody's 6-year-old daigjter Laura--nurse on the floor where Cody is a patient; friend of Abby Kitman. Husband is David Jack McClellan--mid-30s, police detective. A devout family man, he struggles with his faith since the death of his sister-in-law. Laine McClellan--Jack's wife, kindergarten teacher Rachel McClellan--mother of Jack and Cody, moved in with her son and 2 grandchildren upon the death of Pam. Thanks again, and blessings. Deb |
By DeboraDyess
End of previous chapter:
Katie's voice sounded pouty and cross. She looked up at the ceiling, to Michael and then back to Abby. "If He would do that my daddy wouldn't have got hurt."
"Because He wouldn't be loving us then." Abby thought about this a lot. With all of the death and injury she saw in her profession, all the trauma to body and soul, she had dealt with this question before. "If He made us with no ability to decide for ourselves who we' want to be and what we do, then we would be like a bunch of little dolls." She reached across the narrow aisle and took Katie's doll from a chair beside the girl. "What's her name?"
"Moira."
"I know you love Moira, but does she love you back? Really love you?"
Katie hesitated and looked at the doll. "No..." she admitted. "And," she looked at Abby and lowered her voice to a whisper, "I don't really love her the way I do Daddy and Grandma and Michael."
Abby nodded. "And that's why God has to give us choices."
She handed the doll back to Katie's waiting arms. The girl held onto her hand for a second and nodded. Abby hoped she'd expressed herself in a way the little one would understand. She didn't have much experience with kids. She smiled and nodded back.
"Okay,." She stood. "I'm off to find your grandmother. I just wanted her to join me for a cup of coffee."
"Hey." Michael stopped her at the door. "Thank you. You helped ... Katie."
The memory was fresh and pleasant and, as she pushed into room 318, a shaft of light from the room cut into the dimly lit hallway. Abby felt brief surprise. With all the FBI presence on the floor, a patrolman no longer guarded the room, and Laura had failed to mention that any of the McClellan family had stayed over. "Jack?" she stage-whispered as she entered the room. He was nowhere in sight.
"Hey, Doc." Cody put a paper and pencil on the bedside table. He looked tired, his eyes hollow, his face still haggard. "You expected someone else?"
"Yes, Mr. McClellan. When I saw the light, I expected to find your brother here for the night."
"With that 'Jack' and 'Mr. McClellan' thing you have going on, you're making me feel more like Jack's father than his brother." Cody smiled again, and Abby noticed the dimples. "It's Cody," he told her. "Jack and Lane's anniversary was tonight. She basically told him that they either had a special dinner tonight or a special divorce tomorrow."
"Dinner sounds like the better choice." She glanced at his chart. "If you're in pain, I could get you something. It's been quite a while since your last dose of medication." She knew his answer before he gave it. He tended to refuse pain medication until he had no choice, agreeing only when his face paled and his hands shook. She'd explained the concept of 'pain management' to him, but he didn't seem to get it.
"No." He hesitated, glanced at the paper and back at her. "I just couldn't sleep. I decided to get something done instead of lay and count the ceiling tiles again. I wrote a couple of thank you notes for flowers and finished a letter to my grandma."
"Your grandma?"
"Yeah," Cody smiled. "Evie Curry Mcclellan. She's 90, and she'll probably outlive us all. 'Lane told me she's called every day to check up on me. She won't call me directly, of course, because she's decided I need to rest as much as I can. So she bugs Laine to death instead. Today she threatened to come down here and set all you doctors straight. I figured, since you saved my life a couple of times now,
I'd return the favor."
Abby laughed. "She's pretty tough, huh?"
"She's pretty tough," Cody confirmed. "Her sister's husband died a couple of months ago, and she moved up to Tennessee to take care of her. The fact that Aunt Min is twelve years younger than her didn't seem to cross her mind."
"She sounds wonderful."
"She is."
"Wonderful enough for you to get up at 4:00 in the morning to write a letter?"
Cody looked away from her, to the dark window. He bit his lower lip, looked back at her and attempted a weak smile. "I'm having nightmares like a little kid." He ran his hand over his tired eyes and pushed his bangs out of his face. "I mean, I know that they don't mean anything, but I wake up ... terrified." He stopped, deciding whether he wanted the doctor to hear anymore. He took a shaky breath. "In the dream they're in my house. After my kids."
Abby looked into Cody's eyes. She felt a strange uneasiness about his nightmare. The Lehmann she met would think nothing of going after children to exact revenge. She'd heard enough whispered conversation among the special agents guarding the halls to know that. She remembered Katie's intense stare and Michael's weary smile as she stood to leave them after their visit the day before. She pushed the thoughts away, still striving for some degree of detached professionalism. "I think, after everything that's happened, it would be unusual for you to not be having nightmares," she said. "I know that may not help any, but ... I could refer you to someone to talk to if you'd like."
Cody forced the corners of his lips into a smile and looked down at his hands. "Cap'n suggested that, too."
"Captain?"
Cody nodded. "Cap'n Hunter. He was my boss on the force."
"I think it would be a good idea. For you and Jack both. And maybe even for the rest of the family."
Cody nodded. "I'll see to it in the morning." He shook his head slightly and corrected himself. "Later in the morning."
Abby moved toward the bed, glancing at the paper Cody had lain aside as she entered. It was a sketch of a man. The sketch looked a lot like the one who had tried to kill him two weeks ago. "This is the nightmare?"
Cody nodded. "Yeah ... You got that right," he said quietly. "I'm pretty sure this is the one that clubbed me in the woods. I don't know if the feds need a sketch, now that they have a name, but I thought it may help."
"I'm sure it will." She studied the pencil sketch. It was as good as any she'd seen anywhere. "You're very talented. This is excellent ." she studied the picture, staring into the eyes of the man in the sketch and felt goose bumps on her arms and neck. Those eyes contained a darkness, even on paper, that felt evil.
Cody smiled slightly at the compliment. "Here." He pushed the sketch of Lehmann away, pulling other drawings from beneath it.
Abby examined the pages, spending time on each picture. Most were drawings of his family. The first, one of Jack slumbering in the chair next to the hospital bed, made her chuckle. She'd seen him in this position nearly as often as Cody had. The next was a picture of Rachel. But not the Rachel she had met to this point. Not a concerned, tired woman nursing an injured son through a lengthy hospital stay, but a laughing, vibrant woman, pitching a Frisbee to a collie pup.
"That's Mollie the Collie," Cody told her, pointing to the dog. "I have a German Shepherd the kids named Herman the German. I always feel kind of sorry for our dogs because of the names they end up getting stuck with. Michael has a twisted sense of humor."
Abby laughed and nodded. She continued to study the drawings; one of each of the children, a sketch of a woman she didn't recognize, a relative, she assumed, because she looked a lot like Katie, only much older. Another picture of his children, this time bent over a checker board. Michael smiled at Katie's victorious hoot. Abby could almost hear the sound. The last sketch was of a beach, the foreground primarily filled with shells and the footprints of a young couple walking away, arms linked around each others waists. Each drawing caught the character of the people in it. Katie's innocent smile reached up to her from the paper. Micheal's eyes, dark and warm, seemed a bit stand-offish, even in the sketch. Even the picture of the sleeping Jack caught his strength and calm.
She returned Cody's gaze, deciding to give up on distancing herself, if that were even still possible. She'd spent too many hours already with the family. She had invested too much of her energy in this case for it to remain just a case. "You want to grab a cup of coffee and see if we can find an old movie on TV?" she asked, impulse turning into words before she had a chance to think.
Cody raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't you be going home? I'm told that even trauma doctors have to sleep."
Abby shook her head. "No. By the time I get home it'll be close to time to be back up here. When I have to come up this time of the morning I almost always stay. I read or watch some TV." She grinned. "Anyway, haven't you heard? We trauma docs are closely related to vampires. See?" She bared imaginary fangs.
Cody didn't respond to her joke, although his eyes returned her smile. "Are your babysitting rates the same as your doctor rates?"
Abby flicked her dark hair behind her shoulder and reached for the nurse call button. "More," she said. "Laura, could you bring a couple of cups of coffee to Mr. McClellan's room, please?"
"I certainly can," came her friend's reply, followed by a peal of laughter.
Abby flushed and Cody grinned.
"What was that all about?" he asked.
"I have absolutely no idea." Abby picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. She glanced sideways at Cody and smiled.
| Author Notes | aaajjjbbbded |
By DeboraDyess
Please see author notes for characters and synopsis.
Cody sank into the leather recliner he'd been in virtually every minute since his release from the hospital that morning. His mother had spent the last several hours hovering over him, anticipating every need, and had driven him quietly crazy. He finally sent her to his home office after a book. "I was in the middle of it when I left with Jack," he'd explained. "I'd like to try to finish it now. I certainly seem to have the time. You know, though, Mom ... it might be upstairs on the bookcase in my room." It was a wild goose chase; he knew exactly where he'd left the book--on the nightstand in his bedroom--but it was a move of desperation, designed to give him a little time alone.
Laine watched him leave, concern scoring her forehead and narrowing her eyes. "Are they safe out there?"
"It's FBI approved," Cody answered. "The privacy fence helps, and I told Herman and Mollie to guard the kids. Nobody could get close without the dogs raising Cain, and anybody coming in through the fence, well...” He shook his head and arched his eyebrows to leave it to Laine’s imagination to envision their fate. “The cedars are a lucky break.”
“The Lehmanns will sneeze themselves to death?” Laine’s voice almost sounded light.
“No. They’re evergreens. They’ll give good cover from any of the houses around here. And the only other two-story is down the block, around a curve. There’d be no way to get a good shot into the yard from there.” He ignored the looks that crossed his mother’s and sister-in-law’s faces. “There's the FBI team up the street keeping an eye on us, just like at your house. We’re as safe here as we would be anywhere else."
Laine nodded, watching the door and absent-mindedly chewing on a perfectly manicured nail. Jack laid one reassuring hand on her shoulder, used the other to pull her hand away from her mouth, and she tried to smile.
"Laine, let's get the tamales warmed up and the sodas cold." Rachel moved from her spot, breaking the tension that was beginning to build in the room. "I have everything for a salad, and I'm hungry. Poor Michael hasn’t eaten in at least two hours. I’m surprised he’s not in there now, raiding the refrigerator. How’s Travis doing today?"Laine shot one last look at the backdoor and followed Rachel into the kitchen.
Michael entered, sweat-covered and dirty.
“What in the world are you guys doing out there?” Cody asked, surveying the condition of his eldest.
Michael grinned mischievously. “I’m teaching Katie to dig like a dog. Mollie and Herman are going crazy.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Dig like a dog?”
“Yeah,” Michael chuckled. “It’s pretty funny to watch.”
“Ah-ha. Come with me.” Jack took his nephew by the shoulders and steered him toward the foot of the stairs, where they sat together, out of Cody’s sight but not out of earshot.
“What’s up?” Michael eyed Jack from beneath his bangs, trying to read his expression.
“How you doing, kid?”
“Okay.”
“Yeah? And how are you really doing?” Jack leaned down a bit and looked Michael in the eyes.
“I’m really okay. A little shaky today because…” The boy shrugged. “I don’t know … I guess all the changes of Dad coming home, but I’m standing firm.”
“You’re sure? All of you being home is a big change. Got fear?”
“Some, but I’m dealing.”
“No fumbles?”
“No big ones. How about you? Any fumbles?”
“Nope. Standing firm.”
“Cool.” Michael paused. “Thanks for checking, Uncle Jack.”
Jack nodded. “That’s what we do for each other.”
“Can I go back outside then? Travis is going to get a video clip of Katie doing her dog-dig thing. It’s totally hilarious, and we’re going to win a ton of money for it. She’s taking it so seriously!” He started for the door and added, as he passed his father, “I told her you’d get her a collar if she got it down perfect before dinner.”
“A collar?” Cody asked as his son reached for the doorknob.
“Yeah. Pink with those goofy looking rhinestones on it.” The door opened and Cody caught a glimpse of Katie, hunched over the sand pile, throwing sand behind her in great handfuls, Mollie digging furiously beside her.
| Author Notes |
Remember: critical over kind, please. :)
Synopsis: Two years after Cody's wife is murdered in a robbery, his bother talks him into going on a long weekend camping trip. They arrive at a state park, set up camp and Jack promptly decides to take a nap. Cody grabs his camera and hikes out to find interesting shots. Instead, he stumbles across the botched assassination-attempt of a state senator. Cody is shot by the hitmen and left for dead. Jack is able to find him and the two brothers begin a nightmarish trek out of the park. Aided by other campers, they manage to escape seconds before the assassins catch up to them. Once in the hospital, Cody crashes. The doctor is ready to call time of death when Jack, desparate, prays for the first time in months. Without medical explanation, Cody's vitals return and he survives. But the hitmen aren't finished. One attacks him in the hospital, introducing poison into the IV. Again, the attempt is thwarted by Jack and an FBI agent, who is assigned to the case of these evil men. Now on the road to recovery, Cody is allowed to be home. Characters in this chapter: Cody McClellan: early 30s, single dad, gave up job at the PD to become an investigator. Jack McClellan: Mid-30s, detective for the PD. Rachel McClellan: Cody and Jack's mom Michael and Katie McClellan: Cody's kids, 12 and 6, respectively Laine McClellan: Jack's wife Travis McClellan: Jack's son, 12 years old. Abby Kitman" trauma doctor that treated Cody at the hospital Dr. Kreitz: neurologiest Dr. Gates: FBI agent/MD who worked at the hospital while cody was there. And I think that's all in this chapter. Did I miss anyone? :) Blessings, y'all! Deb |
By DeboraDyess
Jack wandered back into the living room, stretched, sank onto the sofa and leaned back into its plush cushions. He smiled, obviously pleased with himself.
Cody watched him, mystified. "What was that all about?" he asked when Jack didn't offer the information on his own.
"Oh. Me and Mikey had a talk the other night at my house."
"About?"
Jack hesitated, thinking back, trying to figure out how to summarize their conversation.
"Never felt sorry for guys in prison before," he had announced on that night, slouching onto the couch beside his nephew. He'd propped his feet on the coffee table before him and slouched down onto the comfortable old sofa, adjusting his shoulders against its high back.
"You do now?" Michael asked.
He had nodded. "Them and politicians."
The boy grinned. "Interesting combination there, Uncle Jack--politicians and criminals."
"Yeah." Jack put a plate of nachos between them. "Don't tell Aunt Laine I brought food in here, okay?"
"Talk about criminal." The boy took a heavily loaded chip and stuffed it into his mouth, wiping a stray drop of the yellow, saucy cheese from his blue-jeaned leg.. "She'd exile you to the garage forever."
"She'd do worse than that." He pointed to Michael's near-miss. "Be careful."
The two sat for a minute, watching a rerun of some Rose Bowl from years back, commenting on plays and strategies.
"So why do you feel sorry for crooks and politicians?" Michael asked during a lull in the game.
"Being stuck in this house is like a prison. And every time I go out I have some spook chaperoning me around."
"They prefer the term 'agent'."
"I don't really give a rat's ...' he settled on the word, "patootie what term they prefer."
Michael grinned. "Nice expression, Uncle Jack--very G-rated."
Jack grunted.
"Gets a little old, huh."
He put a third jalapeno on the nacho he held and nodded. "It's way past a little old,
"You bummed about not getting to go back to work?"
Jack grunted again and watched as the quarterback from the Texas Longhorns threw the game winning touchdown. He smiled. "I remember this game. I watched it with your dad, sitting right here."
"I miss him," Michael said simply, and something in his voice made Jack look at him. Tears brimmed, threatening to escape from the boy's eyes and down his face.
"Me, too, but he'll be home soon . We're counting days now, instead of weeks." Jack reached across the small space separating them and squeezed the boy's shoulder.
“I miss my mom, too.” Michael closed his eyes, inadvertently forcing tears onto his thin cheeks. "I miss my mom, too."
"Yeah... “ Jack agreed quietly. He sat up, moving the nachos from between them to the long coffee table in front of them.
"Sometimes I can't really remember her," Michael continued in a whisper. "I try real hard to hang on to her, but ... it's like she's fading, you know?" He glanced up at his uncle. "Like an old paper from school, or an old photo. Like a ghost. I can kind of remember some of her, but some of her is gone, and I'm scared that I'll never get that part back. I'm scared that soon all I'll have left will be all faded and dim."
A vision of Pam crossed thourgh Jack's mind, followed by a memory of his father laughing on their last outting. He cleared his throat and nodded. "The best way to keep that from happening is to talk about her. What don't you remember?"
Michael shrugged and studied his hands, which were busy twisting around each other. "The way she sounded when she talked, her laugh ... I remember she laughed a lot, but I can't remember what she thought was funny." He made eye contact with his uncle, and then shifted his gaze to a candle flickering idly on the entertainment center. The tiny flame caught a draft from somewhere and struggled for life, its flickering light sputtering into near nonexistence. "I know she was always getting tickled about something or another when you guys were playing cards and barbequing and stuff, and Dad and Aunt 'Laine would always give each other these frustrated looks and roll their eyes."
Jack smiled. "Yeah; we kind of drove the two of them nuts." He looked at the boy. "She had the same sense of humor I do -- kind of weird and off the wall. We'd kind of set each other off sometimes, you know? She'd say something that I thought was funny and after that it was one stupid thing after another, both of us cracking up the rest of the night. Your dad and 'Laine are so serious that they didn't always get us."
Michael nodded. He stared at the TV for a minute, and Jack watched the dims and brights bounce off his intense eyes. "I don't get God." Michael reached forward and snagged another nacho, but didn't put it in his mouth. He held it, turning it in his hands as though he was searching for an answer in its arrangement of ingredients. He glanced sideways at Jack and dropped his gaze back to the chip almost immediately. Above the television set the candle flame sputtered, disappeared, and jumped to life again.
"What don't you get about Him?"
The boy hesitated. "Do you think God really cares about what goes on with us? Do you think He even knows what we're going through? I have a friend that says God just set everything all in place and is, like, on vacation or something. That He doesn't care. It just seems like ... Sometimes it just seems like that's not real."
"Like God's not real?"
Michael shook his head, searching for the exact way to express his thoughts. "Like ... God caring about us isn't real."
Jack felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. His own bewilderment from the recent past was now coming out of Michael's mouth. He tried to think about what someone might have said to him to alleviate some of his confusion and fear. "That was quite a game," Jack said.
Michael looked at him, confusion and betrayal clear in his eyes.
"I wasn't so sure the 'Horns were going to pull it off right at first. In fact, your dad got so mad at that quarterback that he left the room and missed most of the third quarter and part of the fourth. Went out into the garage and banged around, checked on you kids and then came back for the end of the game."
Michael glanced at the TV set as if it held the answer to his uncle's mysterious delve into football memories.
"He pulled it out of the fire, though"the quarterback, not your dad. And what happened?"
"Texas won." Michael's voice was low and quiet.
"Life is like that game, Michael. Things make no sense at all. And yet, somehow they work out. All things work together, you know?" He looked at Michael and knew he was missing the mark. "That coach stayed on the sidelines the whole time, didn't he?"
"Well, yeah. It's his job."
"He never left, even though things were going bad. He never gave up on his players or his strategy. He just kept on doing what he does, and in the end he won."
"He might have just gotten lucky, Uncle Jack."
Jack paused, thinking through his poor analogy. "You're right. Maybe the team just got lucky. And the coach certainly didn't have knowledge of how the game would turn out before it ever started. But God has to let things play out, Michael. It's what makes Him who He is. It's what makes us who we are, too, and lets us know that He really does love us. Sometimes letting us fumble the ball is the best thing He can do for us, even if it doesn't seem like it at the time. It lets us grow."
"Yeah, that's what Dr. Kitman said, except not with football. She said that if He made us all act a certain way we'd just be puppets, not loving anyone, and not being really loved by anyone."
"Clever woman, that doctor." Jack studied Michael's face, knowing he'd fallen far short of reassuring him.
Michael stared at the TV, avoiding his uncle’s eyes. "Would you feel this way if Dad had died instead of getting better?"
It wasn't a question Jack hadn't considered himself. He closed his eyes, prayed quickly. "I don't honestly know, Michael. I was so angry. But I was ready to hear from God, too, so I think I would. I hope I would." He changed tactics. "You know how much your dad loves you, right?"
Michael nodded and dared a look at him.
"And that he loves Kate just as fiercely, and loved your mom the same way?"
The boy stared into his face, taking in every word, his dark eyes hopeful.
"I finally figured out that God feels that way about me. And about you and your dad and our family. But He also feels like that about the Lehman family, Michael."
Michael frowned and shook his head slightly.
"Yeah, no matter how bad, how purely evil they are, no matter what crimes they commit. He loves them enough to send a savior for them, just like He sent one for us. And He feels that way about every other family, and about every individual on this whole planet. He wants us all to come to Him. I'll never get that, really. I'll never understand the whole picture or get the scope of who He is and how He feels. But coming close, just coming close, helped me see that He can do things we don't understand in order to do what needs to happen. Our job is to stand firm in Him and trust His ability to see more than we can."
The boy let his gaze return to the television set.
"I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm not too good with words. Your dad could probably talk to you about this and actually make some sense."
"No." Michael looked at him. "You did fine. I kind of get it. I mean, I get that I don't have to get it." He got a handful of the cheesy nachos and stuffed them into his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully, got it down to a manageable size and said through a full mouth, "I thtill with' He would've jus' zapped them, though."
As Jack recalled the moment, explaining each bit of the conversation to his brother, Cody watched him, showing surprise at some of the revelations, pride at others.. "That's my boy," Cody smiled as Jack relayed Michael's final comment. He sobered. "I kind of agree. Zapping the Lehman clan doesn't seem like such a bad idea right at the moment."
| Author Notes |
Synopsis:
When brothers Jack and Cody McClellan stumble across an assasination attempt while on a camping trip, Cody is severely injured. Jack manages to rescue him with the assistance of other campers nearby. But the assasins follow them to the hospital and make another attempt on Cody's life. Thwarted by the FBI agent assigned to the very complex case, only two of the bad guys are left. Jack, who has struggled with his faith in God since the murder of his sister-in-law, feels more disalusionment with a god that doesn't seem to be paying attention to people who love Him. But after a conversation with a do tor in the hospital, he begins to understand more about God and returnss to his faith. Cody and the ER trauma doctor, Abby Kitman, skeem to be developing a relaitonship while he's in the hosp[ital. (That's a t>RRIBLY written synopsis! My apologies. I'll try to come back and fix it up a bit!k) Characters: Cody McClellan - early 30s, widowed, father of two. Private INvestigator since the death of his wife, Pam. Jack McClellan - mid 30s, brother to Cody. Detective in the local police department. Laine McClellan - Jack's wife Rachel Mc - Jack and Cody's mom Michael and Katie Mc - Cody's children, ages 12 and 6, respectively Travis Mc - Jack and Laine's son 12. |
By DeboraDyess
"I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm not too good with words. Your dad could probably talk to you about this and actually make some sense."
"No." Michael looked at him. "You did fine. I kind of get it. I mean, I get that I don't have to get it." He got a handful of the cheesy nachos and stuffed them into his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully, got it down to a manageable size and said through a full mouth, "I thtill with' He would've jus' zapped them, though."
As Jack recalled the moment, explaining each bit of the conversation to his brother, Cody watched him, showing surprise at some of the revelations, pride at others. "That's my boy," Cody smiled as Jack relayed Michael's final comment. He sobered. "I kind of agree. Zapping the Lehman clan doesn't seem like such a bad idea right at the moment. Sure would have made the last few weeks a lot easier."â??
| Author Notes |
Synopsis:
When brothers Jack and Cody McClellan stumble across an assasination attempt while on a camping trip, Cody is severely injured. Jack manages to rescue him with the assistance of other campers nearby. But the assasins follow them to the hospital and make another attempt on Cody's life. Thwarted by the FBI agent assigned to the very complex case, only two of the bad guys are left. Jack, who has struggled with his faith in God since the murder of his sister-in-law, feels more disalusionment with a god that doesn't seem to be paying attention to people who love Him. But after a conversation with a do tor in the hospital, he begins to understand more about God and returnss to his faith. Cody and the ER trauma doctor, Abby Kitman, skeem to be developing a relaitonship while he's in the hosp[ital. (That's a t>RRIBLY written synopsis! My apologies. I'll try to come back and fix it up a bit!k) Characters: Cody McClellan - early 30s, widowed, father of two. Private INvestigator since the death of his wife, Pam. Jack McClellan - mid 30s, brother to Cody. Detective in the local police department. Laine McClellan - Jack's wife Rachel McClellan - Jack and Cody's mom Michael and Katie McClellan - Cody's children, ages 12 and 6, respectively Travis McClellan - Jack and Laine's son 12. |
By DeboraDyess
Summary
Oh, so much to summarize! Thirty-six chapters in a nutshell...let's see...
When brothers Cody and Jack McClellan go to the state park for a 'men's weekend', Cody goes hiking and stumbles across a botched assassination attempt. Shot and left for dead, he is rescued by his brother, who drags him out of the park in search of their car. Chased by the hitmen, lost and trying to keep Cody alive, Jack keeps hearing Bible verses he learned as a kid. Angry at God, he refuses to pray, but depends on himself and fellow campers to save his brother.
They escape the woods, but the hitmen aren't finished.
At the hospital, Cody crashes. With the heart monitor blaring 'flat-line', Jack begs God to allow his brother to live. Without any more medical intervention, the monitor blips to life again and the trauma team, headed by Abby Kitman, stabilize him and rush him to surgery.
Cody awakens the next day to find one of the Lehman clan (the hitmen) bending over his hospital bed. Dressed in orderly's garb, he adinjects a toxin into Cody's IV tubing. Again saved by Jack and Abby, Cody is put into a medically induced coma until an antidote can be found.
Because the Lehman's are high profile killers, the FBI is involved in the case and assist in finding a way to save Cody. But it's weeks before he is strong enough to return to his family and home.
It's his first night out of the hospital. Jack, Laine and Travis have come over with tamales for dinner.
Laine walked in from the kitchen then, her face more relaxed, the red in her loose cotton blouse making her look flushed. "Time to wash up for dinner, gentlemen," she announced. "I'll get the kids."
"Laine, I just got down a few minutes ago!" Cody looked up at his sister-in-law, brows furrowed.
She smiled. "I guess we can make an exception for you, sweetie."
Jack had started to rise from the couch, but dropped back down, sighing. "Thanks, hon."
"Not you." Laine didn't even slow down as she walked past her husband. "You wash or you don't eat."
"Told you Ma likes you best," Jack whined in a stage-whisper as he stood again and started for the downstairs bathroom.
He veered toward the front door as the bell rang, lifting his revolver from its holster and positioning himself to the side of the door. He motioned with his free hand. "Babe, get back."
Laine froze. "They wouldn't ring the bell, would they, Jackie?" Her voice sounded tight and high-pitched, strained like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point.
Jack didn't answer, his attention consumed with whatever might be fixing to happen at the door.
Leaning forward, every sense on high alert, Cody glanced through the glass panes of the backdoor. He could still see Katie playing with their collie pup. If he got up right now, if he hurried, he might be able to get the kids out of harm's way before –
As Jack peeked through the peephole, he sighed with relief and re-holstered the gun. "Run a hand over your hair and try to look decent, little brother. It's for you." He opened the door to Abby Kitman.
"Hey, Doc!" He looked pointedly from her to Cody and back.
Cody blinked in surprise. Without meaning to, he brushed his hair out of his face, the right half of his mouth turning up into a crooked smile. "Abby! Hey." He sounded as ridiculous as the first time he remembered meeting her, he realized, and added, "It's good to see you."
The young doctor smiled shyly past Jack at Cody and stepped inside. "Hi. I hope you don't mind ... I was on my way home and decided to see how your first day of freedom was going."
Jack glanced outside at the darkening sky, only partially aware of the conversation. He barely noticed the light purples and oranges of the setting sun, seeing instead dark branches of leafless trees, groping the sky like arms reaching up from the grave. He shook his head. Cody had really gotten to him. He looked at the neighboring houses again, scanning them for anything out of the ordinary. Everything looked calm. The streetlights blinked on as he shut the door and slid the lock. "You mean you actually go home? We thought they kept you locked in some dark little room up there at the friendly neighborhood hospital."
"Ignore him," Cody advised. "we all do. Once he's in familiar surroundings he acts even worse than what you saw at the hospital . And this," he indicated the house, "is, unfortunately, familiar to him."
The children, alerted by Laine, made a dash through the living room on their way to the bathroom. The boys said a hurried, muttered 'hello' to the doctor, but Katie stopped, squealing at the sight of Abby, and ran to her. Half-way across the living room floor, she stopped suddenly and frowned. "Is my daddy okay?" She took a tentative step backward.
"Your daddy is wonderful," Abby answered. She flushed slightly, shot a quick glanced at Cody, and then back to the little blond. "He's fine, sweetie."
Katie hugged her around the middle and gave her a grimy smile. "I won a collar with jewels on it because I can dig just like Mollie. Travis showed it to me on his phone, and he says I'm going to go virus!”
“Viral!” a boy’s voice yelled from the bathroom.
“I'd show you, too, but Aunt Laine says I have to go wash my hands for dinner now."
Abby laughed. "Don't forget your face."
"Okay," Katie nodded and ran after the boys.
Rachel came in from the kitchen. "Abby! I thought I heard an intelligent voice in here. I'm so glad to see you! You're joining us for dinner, I hope."
Abby shrugged. "I haven't been asked," she said, and Jack noticed the same quick, shy look in Cody's direction.
"I'd – we'd all be delighted if you'd stay," Cody smiled from his spot on the recliner. "Please."
Abby seemed to consider, unbuttoning the top button of her light-weight sweater as she stood. "Perhaps it would be better if we do it another night. You've already had a pretty full day and--"
"I'm not going to do anything but sit in here with a TV tray and eat," Cody interrupted. "You being here won't change that. And it's homemade tamales -- best in the state."
"Is there enough?" Abby looked at Rachel.
"More than plenty."
Abby smiled, looking from one McClellan to another. "Well, then ... I'd love to."
Jack pulled out a fifth TV tray and directed Abby to sit on the couch as Rachel and Laine carried in platefuls of food. The children, relegated to the dining room, laughed and visited over dinner, acting as if they hadn't seen each other in weeks instead of hours. The adults shared idle chit-chat about people they now all knew from the hospital. Periodically Cody grew quiet, smiling as he listened to the chaos of normal family activity.
"Doctor Kitman," Katie's voice called after a few minutes of serious whispering from the dining area, "are you my daddy's girlfriend?"
Color exploded in Cody's face and he dropped his fork. "You're supposed to be eating in there!" he said loudly.
Laughter, mostly Michael's and Travis', poured from the dining room. Jack looked at his plate and cleared his throat to keep from laughing with them. He felt Laine's elbow dig into his ribs and looked up. Cody was glaring at him with dagger eyes. "Nearly choked," Jack explained, eyes watering. He hit his chest a couple of times, trying to sell the act. "Swallowed too fast."
"So..." Michael's voice drifted in, "she's not your girlfriend?"
Travis' contagious laugh erupted from the doorway, joined by the other two. Jack could imagine the scene – the three conspirators huddled around the table, choking on peals of laughter. He smiled down at his plate.
Abby cleared her throat, her cheeks slightly reddened. "Not to intentionally change the subject, but I actually intended to ask you a question when I came over here tonight," she said, interrupting the children's hysterical giggles. She looked slightly uncomfortable and shifted before she made eye contact with Cody. "Do you know if Aulers has someone following me?"
Cody's face changed from relief at her smooth change of subject to a total blank. He and Jack exchanged glances.
"You do know." Abby accused.
Cody shifted in the recliner, aware that his attempt at innocence had fallen short. "Aulers is having several people watched right now," he told her. "All of his information leads him to believe that the Lehmans are no longer in state, but he felt like it would be the wisest move. He opted not to tell you because he thought you might be somewhat less than ..."
Jack arched an eyebrow, interested in how his brother would extricate himself from his blunder into the truth.
"He worried you might be somewhat less than enthusiastic. That you might be..."
"Uncooperative?" The dark haired woman seemed to bristle. She looked from Cody to Jack, her eyes ablaze. "Did he call me uncooperative?"
"Well, he just knows that you're..."
Jack watched, trying not to laugh as Cody fumbled for a nicer way to voice Aulers' assessment of the doctor's willful personality. He decided it was his brotherly duty to step in and save Cody from himself. "Independent," he supplied. He'd never seen his brother at such a loss for words.
"So he has men babysitting me."
"No," Cody started. He smiled and tried to laugh through the single syllable.
"Babe-sitting," Jack interjected.
"No!" Cody shot him an irritated look, silencing him.
Jack cocked his head in feigned confusion.
"I don't need a babe-sitter!" Abby looked at Jack as she used his terminology, but kept the bulk of her attention on Cody.
"Evidently Aulers doesn't agree."
"It's a waste of someone's time."
"They'll get paid, whether it's a waste of time or not. Just let them do their job. Everybody'll feel better about it."
" I won't feel better about it." Abby looked at her tamales for a minute, AS IF trying to discern the ingredients from a visual inspection of the remnants on her plate. After a minute she drew in a deep breath and, without looking away from her plate, asked, "Am I in danger?"
"Yes. We think you may be." Cody said the words carefully, almost gently, trying to pad the blow they would surely have on this woman. She had seen the Lehmans at their worst.
She looked up at him, eyes confused and scared. "Why? What did I do to them?"
"They don't like your doctoring," Jack answered, when Cody seemed unwilling to do so. "You saved Cody, not once, you know, but twice. Doesn't exactly put you on their Christmas card list."
By DeboraDyess
Summary
Hmm...Here we go in a nutshell...
When brothers Cody and Jack McClellan go to the state park for a 'men's weekend', Cody goes hiking and stumbles across a botched assassination attempt. Shot and left for dead, he is rescued by his brother, who drags him out of the park in search of their car. Chased by the hitmen, lost and trying to keep Cody alive, Jack keeps hearing Bible verses he learned as a kid. Angry at God, he refuses to pray, but depends on himself and fellow campers to save his brother.
They escape the woods, but the hitmen aren't finished.
At the hospital, Cody crashes. With the heart monitor blaring 'flat-line', Jack begs God to allow his brother to live. Without any more medical intervention, the monitor blips to life again and the trauma team, headed by Abby Kitman, stabilizes him and rushes him to surgery.
Cody awakens the next day to find one of the Lehman clan (the hitmen) bending over his hospital bed. Dressed in orderly's garb, he injects a toxin into Cody's IV tubing. Again saved by Jack and Abby, Cody is put into a medically induced coma until an antidote can be found.
Because the Lehmans are high profile killers, the FBI is involved in the case and assists in finding a way to save Cody. But it's weeks before he is strong enough to return to his family and home.
It's his first night out of the hospital. Jack, Laine and Travis have come over with tamales for dinner. But as they're preparing to eat, the doorbell rings.
Jack approaches the door, revolver drawn, but is relieved to find Dr. Abby Kitman there. The chemistry between the young doctor and Cody was obvious, even to the children, who make sport of it while they eat.
Abby asks if FBI is having her followed and is angry that agents have been assigned to her but realizes that the concern is real.
End of previous segment:
She looked up at him, eyes confused and scared. "Why? What did I do to them?"
"They don't like your doctoring," Jack answered, when Cody seemed unwilling to do so. "You saved Cody, not once, you know, but twice. Doesn't exactly put you on their Christmas card list."
"Should I be afraid?"
"I am." Laine's voice was hushed, almost too quiet to hear. She glanced at Abby and then away.
*****
Jack squeezed his wife's knee, kissed her forehead and pulled her into his arms.
The mood in the peaceful, quiet living room turned dark, as if someone dropped a heavy curtain over a sun-lit window without warning. No one seemed willing to speak, and the ticking of the grandfather clock filled the silence. The children's conversation, mostly muffled by the wall between them, floated in; Katie's high chatter and the boy's deeper responses, punctuated every few minutes by laughter. Katie's voice chimed, clear and loud, "To get to his other side, sillies!" followed by
Michael and Travis' moans and 'boos'.
Jack took the cue, smiled and cleared his throat. "Rudy told me a joke today."
"No," Rachel said before Jack could continue. She made eye-contact with her oldest and, arching her eyebrows, picked her tea glass up from the coffee table and took a sip. She never let her gaze lower from him.
"It's not that bad."
"Not in my house," Cody said, taking another bite of dinner. He chewed, looking at his brother. "I was his partner for a long time, Jack. I know all his jokes, and ..." He cocked his eyebrows, mimicking his mother's expression to a tee. "Not in my house."
Abby frowned, ignoring the fledgling banter, caught in her own thoughts. Uncomfortable with both the idea of evil chasing her in the night and of federal protection, she felt trapped between the two, and wondered how best to proceed. She pushed her long hair over her shoulder just as Cody shoved his bangs out of his face. Neither noticed the similarity of their movements. "I heard one today at work," she started, deciding to table her concerns for the time being. It didn't seem to belong in a room full of family, so near the chatter of children. "A patient went in to see his doctor, and the doctor tells him he has good news and bad news.'The test results weren't good,' he says.'I'm going to give you a prescription, and you're going to have to take it for the rest of your life.' The patient nods, obviously relieved. 'I thought it was much worse than this,' he thinks. 'Medicine for the rest of my life isn't so bad.' So he goes off to get his prescription filled." Abby smiled, keeping her eyes on Laine, Jack and Rachel, never even glancing in Cody's direction. "Well, he gets home and looks at the prescription bottle and sees that there's no refill. He grabs his cell phone and dials the doctor's phone number. 'Doc!' he yells. 'Doc! There's no refill on this prescription! I thought you said I had to take it for the rest of my life!'" She grinned, eyes dancing, ready to drop the punch line.
"No refills--that's the bad news," Cody interrupted.
Abby turned to him, wide-eyed, her mouth pouty and slightly opened. "You killed my joke!"
"I didn't kill it," Cody protested as he lifted his tea glass and sipped. "It died of old age."
Abby's eyes widened even more, and she allowed her jaw to drop. "Old age! Old age? That joke is not old!" She turned to Rachel. "Did you know it?"
"She's calling you old, Mom!" Cody tried not to laugh.
Rachel acted like she didn't hear her youngest and nodded reluctantly. "I do. I know a lot of jokes though, honey."
"Laine? Did you know it?"
"I live with Jack. I know every old joke ever told." She smiled sweetly at her husband, who frowned, trying to decide how to take the comment.
He decided to take his mother's lead and ignore it. "Oh, honey," he laughed, "my daddy used to tell that joke. It's as old as you are!"
"No, it's not," Abby protested, giving in to the giggles that were beginning to rise from them all.
"Well, then," Michael called from the other room, "it's at least as old as me!"
"Oh, yeah?" Abby shot back. "Not impressed, infant!"
Cody grinned. It occurred to him that she seemed to fit in well. He felt his face flush at the thought and hoped Jack didn't pick that particular moment to glance in his direction.
"Hey," Abby called into the dining room again, "I heard a good one that I bet you don't know! It's a knock-knock joke. You start, okay?"
"Okay, but knock-knock jokes are for old, lame people," Michael responded. "Knock-knock."
Abby smiled, bait taken. "Who's there?"
Silence floated in from the other room, followed by a hoot and Travis' laughter, which actually did turn out to be contagious.
They finished the evening with ice cream, stupid jokes and tales of the pranks and practical jokes they'd pulled in college, medical school, and the police academy. Abby stood as the old grandfather clock chimed a stately nine times.
"Have to go." She looked down at Cody, resisting the urge to touch his shoulder. "You need to go to bed even worse than I do."
Cody nodded. "I'm glad you decided to come over though," he said as the doctor walked to the door. She glanced over her shoulder, allowing a tiny smile to pass between them. He stayed in the living room recliner as the other adults moved, first to the door to see Abby off, and then to the kitchen to straighten up.
"I'll help you get Cody upstairs before we go," Jack offered. "School tomorrow. Maybe. Still haven't heard from Aulers about the kids going back, have you?"
Rachel dropped a plate into the dishwasher. The clatter brought the three children running to see what had broken. "Go check on your dad, kids," Jack ordered and motioned Travis to follow.
The door had barely swung shut behind them when Rachel looked up into Jack's face. "How much longer, Jack? How much longer do we have to live this way ... to feel this way?"
"I know we're going to get these guys, Mom," Jack lied. "It won't be much longer."
She raised her face to meet his eyes, studying them intently. "I wish you lied better than your brother," she whispered. She turned before he could answer, dried her hands and took a cup of hot tea from Laine, who had been preparing it quietly as she and Jack talked. As she left the kitchen, carrying the drink to Cody, she heard Michael cry, "Dad, it was a set up! How did you fall for such a dumb trap? He shot you!" She stepped quickly to the game console and cut off the game. "Time for a bath," she said. The grouchiness of her tone surprised her. "Michael, you're first."
"Oh, Grandma!" Michael stared at the dark screen of the television as if trying to pull the system back on. Giving up, he dropped the controller on the couch beside him and frowned at her.
"Hey," Cody cut in. "We can play again tomorrow. I've got nothing but time for now, kiddo. Mind your grandma."
He looked up at Rachel, and she could see from the shadow in his blue eyes that the game had been a little too close to reality for his liking, as well. She gave him a weary smile. "I'm bringing Katie up in 20 minutes," she said to her grandson's retreating back. "Be done by then, please."
Michael had started for the stairs. "Love you, Dad."
Cody smiled in his direction, but the smile only served to make him look more tired. "See you in a few."
Rachel looked down at her granddaughter. "Don't let your daddy do anything he's not supposed to do, sweetie."
"What's he not supposed to do?"
"Almost anything." Rachel tapped Cody on the head and followed Michael out the door, calling, "Don't forget your towel this time, Michael."
Katie carefully crawled onto Cody's lap, snuggling against him. "Don't worry, Daddy. I'll take good care of you." She sighed, indicating complete satisfaction. "Make my hair dance, Daddy," she whispered. Sleepiness slowed her voice and dropped it to a whisper
Cody smiled and began to gently blow into her golden curls. It had been their special goodnight game since Katie grew her first pale locks. The grandfather clock ticked the minutes in the quiet house, competing with only the occasional clink of dishes from the kitchen and a splash from the bathtub upstairs.
"Okay, Katie, m'darlin'," Rachel started as she stepped off of the stairway a few minutes later, "it's your -"
She was hushed by both Jack and 'Lane, who pointed in unison toward the recliner. Cody sat, eyes closed, breathing slowly. Katie had curled up against him, padding his casted arm with her doll blanket, and now snored softly beside him. "I think bath can wait 'til morning," Jack said.
As he lifted his niece into his arms to carry her upstairs Rachel touched Cody lightly on the cheek. He started from sleep and grabbed her wrist, holding it in a death grip, not fully awake.
Rachel winced and gasped through clenched teeth. "Cody," she said firmly, "let go. You're hurting me."
His hand opened as if he'd grabbed hot coals and he blinked away the last of sleep. "Mamma, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine." Rachel rubbed her arm, delivering a smile that almost convinced him she was telling the truth.
"I was dreaming ..."
"It's okay, son." There was an edge of tension to Rachel's voice. "It's going to be okay." She paused, then reached for the Bible on a nearby end table. Pulling her glasses from a front shirt pocket she put them on, flipped through several pages of the old book and put in in Cody's lap.
He looked down and read the verse from Deuteronomy that she indicated. Do not be afraid of them; the Lord your God himself will fight for you.
He stared down at the words for a minute and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mom."
Jack stood quietly, watching the two of them. His fledgling faith struggled with the thought that evil lurked outside, waiting for them to let their guard down for even a second.
| Author Notes |
Characters:
Cody McClellan: early 30s, widowed, father of two. Private investigator Jack Mc - mid-30s, husband and father, police detective Laine Mc- Jack's wife Rachel Mc - Jack and Cody's mom Michael and Katie - Cody's kids, 6 and 12, respectively Travis - Jack and Laine's boy, also 12.Frank Aulers - FBI agent assigned to the Lehman case Dr. Abby Kitman - ER trauma doc Lehman brothers - the bad guys, of course! They are assassins who target minority civil rights and political people |
By DeboraDyess
Summary
Well, the summary is getting longer, folks!...Here we go in a nutshell...
When brothers Cody and Jack McClellan go to the state park for a 'men's weekend', Cody goes hiking and stumbles across a botched assassination attempt. Shot and left for dead, he is rescued by his brother, who drags him out of the park in search of their car. Chased by the hitmen, lost and trying to keep Cody alive, Jack keeps hearing Bible verses he learned as a kid. Angry at God, he refuses to pray, but depends on himself and fellow campers to save his brother.
They escape the woods, but the hitmen aren't finished.
At the hospital, Cody crashes. With the heart monitor blaring 'flat-line', Jack begs God to allow his brother to live. Without any more medical intervention, the monitor blips to life again and the trauma team, headed by Abby Kitman, stabilizes him and rushes him to surgery.
Cody awakens the next day to find one of the Lehman clan (the hitmen) bending over his hospital bed. Dressed in orderly's garb, he injects a toxin into Cody's IV tubing. Again saved by Jack and Abby, Cody is put into a medically induced coma until an antidote can be found.
Because the Lehmans are high profile killers, the FBI is involved in the case and assists in finding a way to save Cody. But it's weeks before he is strong enough to return to his family and home.
It's his first night out of the hospital. Jack, Laine and Travis have come over with tamales for dinner. But as they're preparing to eat, the doorbell rings.
Jack approaches the door, revolver drawn, but is relieved to find Dr. Abby Kitman there. The chemistry between the young doctor and Cody was obvious, even to the children, who make sport of it while they eat.
Abby asks if FBI is having her followed and is angry that agents have been assigned to her but realizes that the concern is real.
Once the reality-moment of the evening passes, though, Abby and the family visit and get to know each other in a more personal setting.
End of previous section:
"Okay, Katie, m'darlin'," Rachel started as she stepped off of the stairway a few minutes later, "it's your -"
She was hushed by both Jack and Laine, who pointed in unison toward the recliner. Cody sat, eyes closed, breathing slowly. Katie had curled up against him, padding his casted arm with her doll blanket, and now snored softly beside him. "I think bath can wait 'til morning," Jack said.
As he lifted his niece into his arms to carry her upstairs Rachel touched Cody lightly on the cheek. He started from sleep and grabbed her wrist, holding it in a death grip, not fully awake.
Rachel winced and gasped through clenched teeth. "Cody," she said firmly, "let go. You're hurting me."
His hand opened as if he'd grabbed hot coals and he blinked away the last of sleep. "Mamma, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine." Rachel rubbed her arm, delivering a smile that almost convinced him she was telling the truth.
"I was dreaming ..."
"It's okay, son." There was an edge of tension to Rachel's voice. "It's going to be okay." She paused, then reached for the Bible on a nearby end table. Pulling her glasses from a front shirt pocket she put them on, flipped through several pages of the old book and put in in Cody's lap.
He looked down and read the verse from Deuteronomy that she indicated. Do not be afraid of them; the Lord your God himself will fight for you.
He stared down at the words for a minute and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mom."
Jack stood quietly, watching the two of them. His fledgling faith struggled with the thought that evil lurked outside, waiting for them to let their guard down for even a second.
It took almost fifteen minutes for Cody to navigate the stairs from the ground floor to the second story, but he stubbornly refused to sleep in his office. Jack hovered first beside him and then behind him, ready to catch his falling body should the need arise. He pretended to be packing in the last few minutes of visiting before he left, as if it had been weeks since they'd had time to talk instead of weeks with nothing else to do.
Cody stopped at one point, looking up the stairs that seemed to never end.
"Like Mount Everest, isn't it." Jack leaned against the stair rail behind his brother, trying to imagine it from Cody's perspective.
"Kilimanjaro, at least."
"Good thing. People climb that all the time."
Cody shot him a death-glance and Jack decided silence was his best response from then on...at least until they reached their summit.
When they stepped onto the top landing, Cody looked at him, face etched with exhaustion. He made eye contact with his older brother and tried to sound firm. "It's impossible for me to fall down the stairs now, so I don't need a babysitter. What I want now is to finish this on my own. I appreciate you, Jack, but..." He stared toward his bedroom door, "Disappear."
His older brother arched an eyebrow in silent surprise, nodded and veered off to the upstairs bathroom, where he watched from the door. Glancing down the stairs as Cody grabbed hold of his door jamb, Jack noticed Rachel watching her youngest intently and understood Cody's irritation. He peeked into the bedroom a few minutes later. Cody sat on the edge of the bed, obviously more tired than he had expected to be.
"You okay?" Jack asked.
Cody nodded wordlessly, looking up at his brother through the dark hair that had fallen into his eyes. He drew a deep breath and tried to turn the corners of his mouth into a smile. "Made it."
"Yes, you did. Mount Everest, right? Now I'm going home to find my bed. See you tomorrow." With that he was gone, leaving Cody to his own thoughts.
The room made him feel more at home than he had felt all day. This was the place he'd wanted to be, dreamed of being, for weeks now. The lodge style bed was comfortable, his books and pictures surrounded him and he felt relaxed. A tap sounded on the door.
"Can I come in?" Rachel's soft voice asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
His mother pushed in, smiling. "Are you really okay?" She glanced around the room, looking for anything she could do to make it more of what he needed.
Cody nodded. "I'm fine, Mom."
"Jack says he can come up and help you change if you want him to."
"No. I just got rid of Jack." Cody shook his head. "I'm just sleeping in these, I think." He looked down at the tee-shirt and sweat pants he'd spent the day in. "I don't think they're dirty, and I'd rather try dressing in the morning, anyway."
"Okay." Rachel picked up a cup and poured a bit of water from the pitcher she'd set on the bedside table. She held it out to Cody and then offered two pills from a bottle she produced from her pocket. "Your prescription," she said, as if he might not know that already. "Abby said to give them to you tonight and make you take them." She held her hand out, even though Cody made no move to take the tiny white tablets. "They'll help you sleep, and ease some of the pain."
"I feel fine, Mom." Cody looked away from her and back, catching the doubt in her eyes.
"And I've known you your whole life, son. You don't feel fine. And Dr. Kitman said to take these."
Cody smiled to himself. He'd noticed several times that his mother only referred to Abby as 'Dr. Kitman' when she wanted to wield the power of that title. He hesitated a minute longer, then reached out and took the pills from her hand. He put them into his mouth and took a drink. "Okay?" he asked.
Rachel kissed him on the top of the head. "Okay. Now, sleep well, sweetheart."
She left and Cody listened to her retreating footfall, then the sound of her going downstairs. He spit the pills into his hand and dropped them into the trash can beside the bed, grimacing at the bitter taste left beneath his tongue. He swished the remaining water around the inside of his mouth, swallowing the unpleasantness and lay carefully on the bed. Staring at the ceiling fan revolving above his head, he sighed and bit his lip.. No matter how bad the pain got tonight, Cody knew he couldn't take anything that may slow him down.
If he were the two remaining Lehman brothers, he would strike tonight.
| Author Notes |
Characters:
Cody McClellan - early 30s, widdowed, raising his two children. Ex-cop, he's not a PI. Jack McClellan - mid 30s, husband and dad. Police detective. Rachel McClellan - Mother of Jack and Cody Laine McClellan - Jack's wife Michael and Katie McClellan - Cody's kids, 12 and 6, respectively Travis McClellan - Jack and Laine's son 12-years-old Abby Kitman - head of the trauma team that saved Cody in the ER. She's taken an interest in his family (and, especially, in him). Lehman brothers - a family of assassins who tends to target minority politicians or civil leaders. They're REALLY evil! |
By DeboraDyess
| Background After witnessing an assassination attempt, brothers Cody and Jack try to return to normal lives, aware that the evil men will go to any length to silence them. See a brief summary in author notes |
| Author Notes |
Summary:
Brothers Cody and Jack McClellan interrupt an assassination attempt on a camping trip. Cody is shot and left for dead while the hitmen chase their original target, who takes the opportunity to run for his life. Jack finds and rescues Codywith the help of other campers. At the hospital, one of the Lehman clan appears in cody's room dressed in orderly garb. He makes a second attempt on Cody's life, only to be thwarted by Jack and an FBI agent, assigned to the Lehman case. Out of the hospital weeks later, Cody has his first family night at home. but fears the Lehmans will attempt to eliminate any witnesses to their crime. Cast of Characters in this chapter: Cody McClellan - early 30s, widowed, father of two. Private investigator Jack McClellan - mid 30s, husband and father. Police detective. Rachel - Jack and Cody's mom Michael and Katie - Cody's kids, 12 and 6, respectively Lehman - one of the hitmen. These guys tend to target minority politicians and civil leaders. |
By DeboraDyess
Summary: When Cody stumbles across an assassination attempt on a camping trip, the hitmen shoot him and leave him for dead. His brother, Jack, finds and rescues him with the help of other campers.
At the hospital, one of the evil Lehman brothers shows up again. Dressed as an orderly, he injects toxin into Cody's IV. Jack and the FBI agent assigned to the Lehman case burst into the room. Cody is placed into a medically-induced coma for weeks to allow the poison to clear his body.
Home after almost six weeks in the hospital, his first night is spent with Jack and his family and the ER trauma doctor who originally treated him.
As night falls, he fears the worst. He is awakened in the middle of the night by noise in the house. HIs mother (who also lives there) is roused from sleep, as well. When they try to call 911, they realize the killer has blocked the cell phones and has the downstairs receiver. He orders Cody downstairs. In order to keep Lehman from coming upstairs to 'fetch him', he agrees to go down.
End of the previous segment:
Cody clutched the phone, squeezing it to keep from dropping it. He felt like throwing up, or passing out. God, he thought, you've got to help us.
"Get down here, McClellan, or I'll come up and get intimately acquainted with the kiddos and your pretty little momma."
"I'm coming," Cody replied, and hung up the phone. He sat, feeling fear and sorrow at the thought of all he would miss. His indecision disappeared and grim resolve settled across his face. He would do whatever he had to do to save his family. He would sacrifice anything –everything – to keep them alive.
Even in the dim lamplight, Rachel paled noticeably at the expression in his eyes. Her breath became strained, breathing itself becoming difficult. She raised a shaking hand to her youngest, stopping just short of his shoulder to put a balled fist against her mouth. She took a deep breath and moved her hand to her throat. "Cody you can't! You can't go down there! You know what he'll do to you!"
"I know what he'll do if I don't, Mom."
Michael suddenly realized exactly what was happening. "One of them is here?" Horror elevated his voice, making him sound younger than his 12 years. "In our house?"
"I'm going to take care of it, Michael. And I need your help." Cody touched his son on the face, feeling the softness of his cheek, staring into his eyes. For the last time. "I want you to help Grandma take care of Katie. I need you to help make them safe and keep your sister quiet. So I can deal with the creep downstairs. Understand?"
Michael’s eyes shone in the muted light of the lamp. "I want to come with you, Dad. I can help you. You need me."
Cody shook his head, almost involuntarily. "No. No. I know you could, Michael, but I need you here. To help Grandma take care of Katie. That's really important. The only important thing. And how much I love you, and that I'm proud of you." He wanted to say more, to say enough to hold Michael through this night and through all the nights in the years to come, but there was no time. The killer could be starting up the stairs at any minute.
"I love you, too, Dad." Michael's voice was thick with tears. He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around his father's waist and then sat back. He squared his shoulders, obviously trying to look braver than he felt. "Don't worry about me and Katie."
Cody kissed his little girl on the cheek and she stirred, frowning and muttering softly in her sleep. He looked at his mother. "Go into the attic, Mom." Cody rose, tucking his revolver into the elastic waistband of his sweats. "The entrance is pretty hard to find unless you know where to look. I think you’ll be safe there."
"Do you want us to stay there or leave through the attic window?" Tears started to streak Rachel's face but she didn't try to swipe them away .
"Stay." Cody looked away from her, to Katie. Her blond hair lay spread across the pillow, framing her face with a spray of gold. Her lower lip pouted out slightly and she stirred again, her sleep disturbed by the sounds of their voices and the presence of the dim light. He wondered if she’d remember him, or if he’d join Pam in the far reaches of her subconscious. He thought again about the attic, about the window half obscured by the big oak in the side yard. "No," he decided. "I don't know where the other guy is. He might be outside." He fought the impulse to walk to the window and look. "Don't leave the house unless you absolutely have to." Rachel started to talk, but Cody didn't let her interrupt. "And don't come down, Mom. No matter what he says, what he tells you. No matter what I say. Don't come down unless you hear Jack or Rudy. Or Lt. Henry or Aulers. No matter what, Mom. You understand, right? No matter what." He kissed her lightly on top of the head and wiped the tear with his thumb. "Take care of my babies, Mom." He kissed her again. "I love you."
He turned and left without another word, not giving Rachel a chance to try to talk him into another course of action. He tried not to think about what waited for him downstairs, tried not to hear the thoughts that there may still be a better way, a safer way, than to face the monster like the sheriff in an old black-and-white western.
He cleared his mind and crouched at the top of the stairs, listening. Holding his breath, he strained to hear the slightest sound. The grandfather clock ticked loudly, its familiar sound seeming to have gained volume in the quiet house. His heart pounded and Cody realized he couldn't hear anything else. He focused on any noises behind him. If Rachel and the kids had started into the attic, they were doing it in total silence. There was nothing to cue Lehman in to where his family might be hiding, which was good. Maybe they'd be safe.
But there was nothing to let Cody know the man’s whereabouts downstairs, either. He hesitated a minute longer.
"Oh, come on, McClellan," a voice boomed suddenly. "If I'd a' wanted to do something as boring as just kill you I could've done that while you slept. Get down here or, I promise you, you won't like what I do next."
Cody started at the sudden burst of Lehman’s voice, breathed a prayer of protection for his family and cautiously started down the stairs. He could see nothing in the area below except a single shaft of moonlight sweeping from the back door to halfway across the living room. It shifted slightly and Cody froze, watching for more movement. After only a second, he realized the shadow intersecting the light beam was a branch from the tree outside and began to move again.
Almost immediately, he heard the 'pop' of a silenced gun, felt fire-brand heat slam into his left leg and fell, crashing to the floor. He lay still, stunned, unable to even think or move.
Lehman laughed again, and Cody rolled to the couch, seeking cover behind it, grateful for Pam’s insistence that it not sit flush against a wall.
"Imagine that." Lehman's disembodied laugh filled the large room. "A killer and a liar, too. Think I'll go to Hell for that, McClellan? Good Christian man like yourself ought to warn a rotten ol’ sinner like me ‘bout the error of my ways."
Cody pulled the Glock from his waistband. Lehman was back by the dining room. Cody pictured the room, certain there was nothing big between them. If he got lucky he may be able to target the man by his voice and get him before Lehman realized what was happening. He had to keep Lehman talking, which seemed to be part of the man’s plan anyway. "You believe in Hell?" he called.
"Sent enough men there. I reckon I'm Hell's head realtor." A harsh bass laugh cut the darkness of the room like steel through flesh. "All those men. I've watched their faces as they die – their eyes. And they just glaze over. No burning inferno waiting there, McClellan. No golden streets. No angels or harps or mansion for you, boy. That time you spent serving an all-knowing, all-caring god was just a waste of what little time you had. That pretty blond woman of yours is just rotting in the dirt, turning into somethin’ foul, then into dust herself. God ain’t there, McClellan. Just a bullet and a dark hole in the ground. Your god ain't going to save you. No more than Mickey Mouse, bustin’ through that door like the calvery." Lehman sounded somber, but laughed dryly.
Cody briefly considered Lehman's last comment. God had chosen not to save Pam from the junkie by the ATM. It was possible that no help would come – that God would choose not to save him from Lehman. Many good men died, praying and counting on salvation that never arrived. 'Nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus', he remembered, and then as if shouted into his brain, 'The Lord is my helper; I shall not fear what man shall do unto me'.
Words he'd heard somewhere, in a movie or a book or maybe just God whispering at him now, came to him gently. "He already has saved me," he responded to the assassin. "You can't see Him any more than you can see the air you breathe, but He's there, just as real and just as vital. And if He chooses not to save me from you then I go to be with my wife, and with my God."
"Oh, yeah, sure thing. You just keep on tellin' yourself that." Lehman snorted sarcastically.
He was moving, Cody heard. He moved from the distance of the dining room toward the front door. Cody raised up from his protection, aimed at where he supposed the killer to be, fired, and dove to the floor.
Bullets passed immediately through the back over the couch just above Cody's head as Lehman returned fire. The big man cursed.
"This is my game, McClellan," he said after a pause. "My rules. And my rules say only one gun in the game. Mine."
Anguish washed over him at the sound of the murderer’s voice. He'd missed. He'd probably cost his family their only chance.
"You still there, McClellan? Hope I didn't end the game too soon." Lehman paused. “McClellan? You there?”
Cody wondered if his neighbors had heard the shots. Lehman's gun was silenced, but his was not. With the increased police presence in the area, a call for help could bring someone in time to save his mom and children. He needed to attract some attention. Even at
3:30 in the morning someone should hear the gunfire. He briefly wondered about his dogs, about the silence ominously filling the backyard. Lehman hadn't taken any chances. Cody sat up, feeling the floor around him sticky and warm with blood from the hole in his leg. He pulled the trigger, sending two more bullets in the direction of the assassin. Lehman yelped. He'd either hit the man or scared him. Cody took grim pleasure in either. He dropped to the floor again, but Lehman didn't return fire.
He was moving, Cody realized. Away from the door. Toward the stairs. Oh, God, hide my family from him. Blind him to their hiding place.'
"I love this game," Lehman said from off to Cody’s left. "I love the plannin' and the stalkin'. I love the look on peoples’ faces when they realize that they've lost. The money is great, a' course. And a man should get paid for what he does well. But I love the game. My brother … the one I got left … he don't think the way I do. For him it's just another job. Like the military or politics or any other job where you kill people." He laughed. "He just does the job and is done and gone. He's prob'bly already finished with your brother and his family. He's prob'bly done with the doctor, too, and is on his way –"
Anger and unbearable grief overwhelmed Cody, crushing the breath out of him, sending waves of pain through his chest. They'd killed Jack. "No!" he screamed. He stood, planning to shoot into the muzzle flash as Lehman shot him down. As he did so, he realized that the killer had moved again, either with incredible speed, or knowing that his words would distract his victim. He stood directly in front of the couch now, and grabbed Cody's tee-shirt as he rose, hitting the revolver out of his hand and swinging back to hit Cody in the face with the butt of his revolver.
Cody sagged. "Stupid, McClellan. Very stupid." Lehman put the muzzle of the revolver under Cody's jaw, shoving upward and inward. "I'd expected more of you, considerin' what all I read about you. Your credentials led me to believe the night would go much better." He pushed harder into Cody's throat, making him gag. "It's okay, though. I think I can still save the evenin'."
| Author Notes |
This is a bit longer than usual, folks. Hope it wasn't a problem but there just wasn't really a good place to stop the action!
Characters in this Chapter: Cody McClellan - early 30s, widowed and father of two children. Private investigator who interrupted the assassination of a state senator. Rachel McClellan - Cody's mother MIchael and Katie - Cody's children, 12 and 6, respectively Lehman - one of four killers Cody stumbled across on a camping trip. Wanted by the FBI for murdering mostly minority civil rights leaders and politicians Pam - Cody's wife, deceased Jack - mid 30s, police detective. |
By DeboraDyess
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Summary: When Cody stumbles across an assassination attempt on a camping trip, the hitmen shoot him and leave him for dead. His brother, Jack, finds and rescues him with the help of other campers.
At the hospital, one of the evil Lehman brothers shows up again. Dressed as an orderly, he injects toxin into Cody's IV. Jack and the FBI agent assigned to the Lehman case burst into the room. Cody is placed into a medically-induced coma for weeks to allow the poison to clear his system.
Home after almost six weeks in the hospital, his first night is spent with Jack and his family and the ER trauma doctor who originally treated him.
As night falls, he fears the worst. He is awakened in the middle of the night by noise in the house. His mother (who also lives there) is roused from sleep, as well. When they try to call 911, they realize the killer has blocked the cell phones and has the downstairs receiver. He orders Cody downstairs. In order to keep Lehman from coming upstairs to 'fetch him', he agrees to go down.
As he descends the stairs, Lehman shoots him in the leg and he falls. Rolling behind the couch, he tries to track the man from his voice, but his shots in that direction fail to hit their target. He's told that Jack and family are already dead and that the young doctor who saved his life is also a target of their rage.
End of the previous segment:
Anger and unbearable grief overwhelmed Cody, crushing the breath out of him, sending waves of pain through his chest. They'd killed Jack. "No!" he screamed. He stood, planning to shoot into the muzzle flash as Lehman shot him down. As he did so, he realized that the killer had moved again, either with incredible speed or knowing that his words would distract his victim. He stood directly in front of the couch now and grabbed Cody's tee-shirt as he rose, hitting the revolver out of his hand and swinging back to hit Cody in the face with the butt of his weapon.
Cody sagged, his knees no longer able to support him.
"Stupid, McClellan. Very stupid." Lehman put the muzzle of the revolver under Cody's jaw, shoving upward and inward. "I'd expected more of you, considerin' what all I read about you. Your credentials led me to believe the night would go much better." He pushed harder into Cody's throat, making him gag. "It's okay, though. I think I can still save the evenin'."
Lehman pulled him around the side of the couch, dragging him to the stairs. Cody stumbled, the ringing in his head too loud and insistent for him to focus or regain his balance. Lehman laughed; a loud, booming declaration of victory that filled the living room and rolled ahead of them up the stairs. "Time for a little family reunion, McClellan. I figure I'll take out your mom and daughter first. We'll take our time. Your mamma is quite a looker for an old gal, and I've always had a fondness for little girls -- always so scared, so hopeful that they can do somethin' to get out a' death. Yep, we'll take our time with the women. And don't worry; I'll let you watch." He laughed again, and Cody tried to understand the rush of words. "Then the boy. I don't know why the stuff Ethan shot into you in the hospital didn't kill you like it should have, but we'll figure it out together. I have another shot all ready for your kid --"
As they began to mount the stairs, Cody's left hand brushed into Michael's ugly, tissue paper covered rock on the small table beside the landing. He grabbed it, lifting it and fiercely swinging it into the killer's face. He hit the man hard, on his right cheek. Lehman squealed and Cody felt warm blood splatter across his arm.
Both men crashed to the bottom of the stairs, stunned. The back of Cody's head slammed into the hardwood floor and stars exploded around him. He lifted his hand unsteadily to his face, pushing against his eyes. He had to get up, had to stop Lehman before he could mount the stairs and discover the entry into the attic. He turned his head to the right, squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, hoping that the dizziness and lightheadedness had passed. His Glock lay two feet away, wedged between the bottom of the couch and the floor.
Lehman rose slowly to his feet, gingerly touching the bloody gash on the side of his face, weaving as he stood. "Blood!" he roared. "My blood!" He kicked Cody's legs. "Look at me!" he raged, "I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to find your family. They'll suffer because of you, McClellan, more than you can imagine!"
Keeping his hand over his eyes, Cody moaned loudly and bent his left knee. Pain arced from the wound in his upper leg to his head, assaulting everything in between. He concentrated on the gun, trying to judge exactly how far to reach, how quickly he could grab the weapon and roll back to face his assailant.
"Look at me, McClellan!" Lehman screamed. "I want you to see this coming!" He kicked again.
Cody rolled toward the Glock, pushing hard with his left leg and rolling over his wounded shoulder and arm. Pain tore through him as he grasped the butt of the gun and jerked it free from its resting place, nearly dropping it as it came free.
Two gunshots sounded, almost simultaneously. He felt one burn across his back, heard it bite into the wooden floor behind him as splinters exploded upward. He rolled back to face Lehman, raising the gun to where he estimated the man's head to be.
He was not there.
Cody froze, aiming his revolver at the empty air. His heart pounded and he gasped for breath. His frazzled mind struggled for some explanation. The room felt suddenly calm again, but there was no peace in that. The old, reliable grandfather clock chimed the half hour. Cody swallowed.
Someone moved at the front door, and Cody swung his weapon that direction, craning his neck to see.
It was Jack. Cody blinked and frowned. It couldn't be. The Lehmans had killed Jack. They'd killed everyone.
"Hey, Code." Jack lowered his weapon and took a step forward. His voice was calm and quiet, like he was talking to a baby or an injured animal.
Cody had a sudden memory of Jack kneeling beside him the night Pam died, speaking in this same soft, gentle voice. He kept his gun pointed at the approaching apparition.
Jack put his free hand out, palm toward his brother. "Cody, it's me, man. Put your gun down, huh?"
Cody squeezed his eyes shut and gulped in a lungful of air. It hurt; everything hurt.
Jack took another step forward.
At the sound of his footfall, Cody opened his eyes and followed his movement with the Glock. How had the Lehman gotten over by the door? Why did he look like Jack? His hand began to shake again.
Jack called up the stairs. "Mom? You up there? I think I may need you down here." He never took his eyes off of his brother. He bent and lay his revolver on the floor, rose and kicked it away from him. "Look, man. I put mine down. You put yours down, too, okay?"
Cody held the gun steady at Jack's chest, adjusting his aim as his brother moved forward. From above, the men could hear the clatter of Rachel and the children making their way out of their hiding place in the attic.
It occurred to Jack that Cody may well shoot him and that, very probably, his mother, niece, and nephew would see it happen. He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Even if Cody didn't pull the trigger, Aulers and his band of merry men would be arriving at any minute. If he couldn't get his brother to lower his weapon before then, the end could be the same, with Cody as the victim instead of him. He was sure the feds wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in Cody if they thought he was going to shoot them.
He stopped and looked down, prayed, then cleared his throat. "Cody, pay attention." He used the same tone he would for a perp just before an arrest. "I told you to put the gun down. Now do it . I'm not messing around, and I'm not telling you again."
Cody's hand, already trembling, began to quake and his whole body shook. He bit his lower lip, closed his eyes again and forced his hand to open from around the butt of the gun, balancing the weapon on the palm of his open hand.
Jack stepped forward and took it. "How are you doing?" he asked, putting the gun in his own empty shoulder holster.
"Same as always," Cody responded. "Shot and broken and smacked in the face."
Jack knelt beside his brother, found the wound in Cody's leg and pushed hard against it. "Gee, Code," he said, "didn't I tell you not to do this again? If you really want to see the good doctor you can always just call her on the phone. Invite her out for coffee or something. Probably be a lot less traumatic, for both of you. I know it'd be cheaper."
Cody tensed suddenly, pulling air into his lungs in a rush and cried out as he jerked himself into a sitting position. Jack tried to push him back down but Cody fought him. "He's up there, Jack! Lehman! He's after Mom and the kids! He's still here! I didn't get him! We've got to go --" He stopped suddenly as Jack pulled him up and pointed .
Lehman lay several feet from them. He was on his back, staring sightlessly up the stairs he had wanted so badly to climb. His gun lay in his limp, lifeless hand, no longer the threat it had been only seconds before. His blond hair looked white and ghostly in the slab of moonlight shining through the curtained windows. The movement of the tree outside played across the man's face, hinting at life that had fled.
"I think I owe you a new rug," Jack said flatly. "I don't know if this one can be saved."
Cody sagged in his brother's arms. "It's done?"
"It's done." Jack lowered Cody gently back to the floor, returning his attention to the injured leg.
Cody raised a hand to his face, wiping the blood away from his mouth, moaning softly as he moved. "I'm so tired of those guys hitting me in the face."
"It won't happen again. I promise."
Cody blinked up at the ceiling, dragging in shaky breaths. "I thought they got you," he whispered.
"They tried. Our Lehman snuck in the kitchen door."
"You heard him?"
"No; not me. Laine had gone into the kitchen for a midnight snack. No lights, of course, because she was cheating on that stupid diet she's always pretending to be on. She heard him. She ... she shot him with the gun I keep in the top of the cabinet in there." He paused, thinking about how hard it had been to see his wife holding the weapon, her face white, eyes fixed on the intruder; of how difficult it had been to remove the gun from her iron grasp. "Kind of an embarrassing way for such a big deal hitman to go out, I guess. Taken down by a cute little thing with no more experience with guns than watching me at the target range."
"It was enough."
"I guess."
Cody shivered at the thought of his sister-in-law going face to face against the Lehman brother. The thought of her gentleness against the madman's violence made him sick to his stomach and he exhaled sharply. Or maybe, he thought, the evening was beginning to take its toll. "She's okay?" He focused on Jack, trying to read through his older brother's closed expression.
"Mad. Furious. Maybe even a little scared now that the initial shock is over. But she's okay." He knew that would pass, that she would be tormented by this night for the rest of her life and that even knowing she had no choice would not save her from the demon that was now a part of her soul. "She's okay," he hoped aloud again.
"Thank God." Cody's tone carried more true gratitude than relief.
"I already have," Jack said quietly. "Several times. I have a feeling I'll be thanking Him for tonight every day from now on."
Cody stared at the dark ceiling a second longer. "Heard from Aulers?" He heard the noise of his family nearing the top of the stairs and turned his eyes in that direction, watching as they began the short descent. They were safe, he realized, really safe now. Tears welled behind his eyelids, stinging, threatening to spill down his face.
"He ought to be on his way here by now. I decided not to wait." As Jack spoke sirens wailed faintly in the distance. "And there comes the Calvery now," he observed. "Right on time ." He smiled down at Cody. "You owe me big time, little brother. Three times in a month I've dragged your backside out of the fire."
Cody nodded slowly. "It's been a good month."
"How do you figure that?" Jack raised an eyebrow.
"You've been there every time."
Rachel, Katie and Michael reached them, scared and relieved and crying. They crowded around the men, hugging and laughing through their tears as the sirens grew closer.
| Author Notes |
Nearly done, y'all. I know this is long, but it didn't seem right to chop this part up. Thank you for understanding. :) Is the font too small? I have it et at 'cursie' size 22. and it still seems too little for comfortable reading...
Cast of characters in (or mentioned in) this segment: Cody - early 30s, widowed, raising his two children with the help of his mom. Private investigator. Wandered across an assassination in the middle of a state park. Jack - mid 30's, married, father, and a police detective. Cody's brother. Rachel - jack and Cody's mom Michael and Katie - Cody's children, 12 and 6, respectively. Lehman - a killer who, along with his family, targets minority civil rights leaders and politicians Aulers - FBI agent assigned to the Lehman case before Cody and Jack's encounter with the killers. Abby Kitman (the good doctor) - the ER trauma doctor that first treated Cody at the hospital. |
By DeboraDyess
Jack leaned against the doorjamb of his brother's immaculate bathroom, smiling at Cody's futile attempt to master a tie one-handed. In the eleven weeks since his release from the hospital, he'd learned to do most of his everyday routine with only his left hand, but a necktie was a little ambitious, even for him.
Cody caught Jack's gaze in the mirror. "Oh, yeah," he muttered, "this is hilarious. Watch the gimpy guy try to tie a tie."
"Gimp is leg."
Cody frowned into the mirror.
"Gimpy. It's a leg thing. You are gimpy, of course, but that doesn't have anything to do with the tie. That's an arm thing. You'd call that ... what? Leftie, I guess. Which you are, so that's not really derogatory the way gimpy is."
"Whatever." Cody threw the neckwear onto the bathroom countertop in frustration. "It would've been a nice birthday present to get this thing off today." He indicated the cast on his right arm with a nod of his head.
"They didn't know it's your birthday, Code."
Cody glowered. "It's in the chart. The doctor even wished me a happy birthday. Which he could have given me if only he'd taken this..." Cody searched for a word that he could use without Jack making a face at his profanity, "this piece of cast off my arm!"
"Clever." Jack nodded in approval. "Piece of cast. I like it. And four more weeks isn't all that long." He didn't ask about mobility in the hand; his mother told him after the appointment that, try as he might, Cody could barely move his fingers when the doctor ordered. Talk of physical therapy and time was not well received. "I mean, it's only four weeks, for crying out loud."
"For you," Cody pouted. He retrieved the tie, made one more attempt and stopped, irritation making his face flush. "And you could offer to help me instead of standing there gawking."
Jack didn't move. "You're more entertaining than anything on TV right now. Anyway, I wasn't gawking. I'm a well-educated, respected member of this community. Well-educated, respected members of the community don't gawk."
Cody smiled in spite of himself. "I think our community might be in serious trouble, then."
Jack chuckled and took the tie from him, placing it around Cody's neck and beginning the knot. "You know, most guys wear a clip-on these days."
Cody nodded without answering, watching Jack's progress in the mirror.
"So it must be some fancy place you're going tonight, huh?"
"Yeah." His brother nodded. "Carnagee's. She mentioned once how much she likes it."
"Carnagee's?" Jack whistled. "Don't tell Laine; you'll make me look bad."
"I always make you look bad." Cody grinned, one eyebrow arching crazily. "Ought to be used to it by now."
Jack let the corners of his mouth tip upward. "Need a loan?"
"Only to cover the sitter," Cody replied quickly.
Money was not a problem. Shortly after their last encounter with the Lehmans, checks had arrived in each of their mailboxes. The amounts were staggering, and a note, signed by Special Agent Frank Aulers, indicated that the money was 'in appreciation for the assistance rendered in the apprehension of the perpetrators'.
"Assistance, huh?" Jack had laughed. "It's a good thing we didn't have to apprehend them all by ourselves! Guess that makes us bounty hunters, huh, Code?"
Cody hadn't said a word. The amount had covered, almost to the penny, the income he expected to lose in the months of recovery and physical therapy to come. More checks showed up periodically, some from family members of victims, some from strangers who, having heard the tale, felt compelled to help the family in any way they could. Cody would open the envelope and read the note or card, then look at the check, quiet with amazement and gratitude.
Jack chuckled softly.
"I'm afraid to ask," Cody said, looking into Jack's dancing eyes.
"Just remembering," Jack said as he finished the knot. "I fixed your tie for your senior prom. You were a wreck then, too -- hands shaking, sweating. I thought for a minute you were going to barf when the doorbell rang. You were pathetic. Morgan Phillips. What a knock-out!"
Cody looked at Jack, surprised. "You remember her name? I barely remember her name."
Jack wiggled his eyebrows. "I'd have gone out with her myself if you hadn't seen her first."
"I don't think so," Cody countered, running a comb through his thick hair. "You were an old married man by then."
"Oh, yeah; I guess I was." Jack pretended to be mildly chastised and shrugged. "But she was a knock-out."
Cody lay the comb down on the counter and frowned at himself in the mirror. He ran his hand through the newly acquired gray scattered through his hair and sighed. It still surprised him to look in the mirror and find the gray salted through the darkness he was used to. When his bangs fell forward there would be an instant, as he reached up to push them back, when several strands of it caught his eye. His hand would freeze for a fraction of a second as he realized this really was his hair. He looked at the thin scar under his left eye. That took some getting used to as well, and he wasn't there yet.
"Makes you look distinguished," Jack offered, watching Cody's face.
"Makes me look old."
Jack studied his younger brother for a minute. "You know, Code," he said, "for a while there it didn't look like we'd have occasion to celebrate another one of your birthdays. Whether we'd need to pick between your long-hair music and a book or choose chocolate or white cake." Cody looked at him in the mirror. "But here it is: your birthday. Miracle of miracles, Code. A little gray hair and a couple of scars don't seem to be so bad."
Their eyes met. They'd seen and experienced a lot -- too much -- and it had certainly taken its toll. They knew life in a different way, now. Their families would never be the same; their children would never be quite as innocent. But they knew God in a different way now, too, knew they could count on His faithfulness even when they couldn't understand the purpose or situation.
Cody nodded, putting graying hair and a small scar into perspective. "Yeah,that's true. It could've been worse. I could've ended up looking like you."
Jack smiled broadly, the serious moment between them dissolved like salt in water. "You're not that lucky, kiddo. Anyway, Doc's seen you looking lots worse than this."
"Yeah."
Jack watched Cody a minute longer. He'd grown somber, staring at himself in the mirror, but looking at something far away. "What's up?"
Cody turned up the corner of his mouth and shook his head. "I was just thinking."
"Man, that could be dangerous."
Cody turned from the mirror to look at his brother and hesitated, searching for words. "It's just...I don't know if I can love anybody the way I loved Pam, you know? What if I end up with Abby, or anybody else, and realize I can't love her the way I loved Pam?"
Silence stretched between the brothers for a minute. "I don't think you're supposed to love anybody the way you loved her. She was your wife, Cody. You guys had a relationship that won't be anything like anything else. If you end up loving Abby, then you'll love her the way you love Abby. It'll be different. But that doesn't mean it'll be less."
Cody looked down at the floor, exhaled in relief and returned his gaze to his brother. "When did you get so smart?"
Jack smiled broadly. "Oh, I've always been smart, little brother. You were just never smart enough to notice before."
"Does she remind you of Pam?" Cody turned back to the mirror slowly as he asked the question, keeping Jack from seeing his expression.
"The good doctor?" Jack asked, surprised. "No, not really. Crazy sense of humor like Pam, smart girl, incredible faith. They both put up with you. Other than that ... no."
"Me, neither. I don't know if that's good or not."
"It's not good or bad. It just is. And I think Pam would approve."
Cody looked at Jack, grateful for the last comment. "You're sure you guys don't mind babysitting?"
"Well, let's see," Jack drawled slowly. "The first time in recorded history that you and Mom have a date on the same night. If I'd said 'no' to this, Laine would have strung me up by the heels. . Who'd have ever guessed our mother with Lt. Henry?"
Cody raised eyebrows at him. "Does he remind you of a basset hound?"
Jack struggled to keep his face straight. "I thought I was the only one who noticed!" He looked away from Cody's reflection and then back, and the two of them burst into laughter. "I wonder if Mom knows," Jack said after they'd recovered, and the thought sent them both into uncontrolled peals again.
"I think we'll all be fine, Code," Jack said after a minute, wiping his eyes, and realized he really did believe that; not just about this night, but about their futures. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
Cody looked at himself in the mirror again, wondering the same thing himself.
They stood quietly, listening to the radio in the bedroom exhorting them to drink a better cola, and to the sounds of kids playing in the backyard. The high-pitched 'yips' of young puppies, one collie and one shepherd, accompanied indistinct hoots and yells. But they were happy, contented yells, as if signaling to their neighborhood that all was well.
That truth had hit Jack three nights before, lightening his heart. He'd dropped in on his brother's family to return a borrowed movie and found them all in the front yard, staring upwards in the dark at a near-moonless sky. Cody held Katie in his arms and Michael was pointing to stars, helping her find Orion.
"You see it now?" he asked as Jack got out of his car.
Katie nodded. "I do, now ... I just thought there'd be more of him. You should'a told me it was just his shoulders and feet. I was looking for a whole guy up there."
Cody laughed, the sound of his baritone levity filling the chilly air. "You did, huh?"
Katie nodded.
"Your momma loved that constellation. She'd always point it out to you when she brought you out here at night. Do you remember that?"
Katie frowned, wrinkling her miniature nose in effort. "Kind of. Why'd she do that, Daddy?"
Cody shrugged. "I'm not sure. They were her special stars."
"You don't know? Really?" Michael looked at his father, surprised. He looked back upward, letting the minimal light of the stars shine on his face. "She told me once. She said Orion reminded her of Jesus. He's always there, watching over us, even when we don't understand what his plan might be for our lives. He never changes. She said they're both warriors, Jesus and Orion, and that she could never doubt God's love as long as she could step outside and look up to find Orion."
They'd all lifted their faces then, breathing in the cool air and looking up at Pam's Orion.
Jack smiled at the memory and listened to the lyrics of a song playing on the radio. He fights for me...He always has, He always has my victory...It's in His hands, In His hands...The God of Heaven...is my defense. "Yes, He is," he murmured. Looking at his watch, he sighed dramaticly. "I think she stood you up, Bro."
"She'll be here." Cody's calm words were undermined by a nervous push of hair from his eyes. "She's just waiting for you to run out of dumb jokes."
"In that case you'd better make yourself a sandwich." Jack smiled warmly at his brother.
The doorbell rang. Jack leaned forward, pushed away from the door with his rear, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You're not going to puke, are you?"
Cody ignored the question and took one last critical look at himself in the mirror. The brothers walked down the stairs and across the living room toward the front door in silence.
Cody still walked with a noticeable limp. Told that he always would, he decided to ignore that piece of information. The same doctor told him he wouldn't be able to walk without a cane for at least four months. He lost the walking stick a week ago. He'd looked for it for a while and given up, walking almost as well without it as he had with it. It remained hidden under Katie's bed, where she'd stashed it when he wasn't looking.
As they neared the door, Cody swiped at an imaginary imperfection on his pants leg.
"Man..." Jack exhaled loud enough for Cody to look at him. "I'd forgotten how nerve-wracking this dating thing can be. Know what you need after all this stress?"
Cody looked at him for a response, raising an eyebrow and brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. "What?"
Jack grinned. "You need a vacation."
As they passed the couch, Cody bent, grabbed a pillow and smacked Jack in the head.
END
| Author Notes |
And that's it. I feel like i've crossed a mighty ocean or climbed a mountain with this one. It was exhausting! Thank you for faithfully reading! Each of you has a special place in my heart. You are my 'special stars'.
Summary:Brothers Jack and Cody McClellan go for a 'men's weekend' camping trip. Cody goes on a photo safari and stumbles upon what is obviously an assassination. At his interruption, the intended victim escapes, cody is shot and left for dead and the hitmen pursue their original target. Jack finds his brother and manages to escape the park with the help of other campers, with the killers in hot pursuit. At the hospital, Codyflat-lines. For the first time Jack, who has been angry at God for a couple of years, prays. Cody's heart begins to beat again without further medical intervention and he's rushed to surgery. The next day, he awakens. An FBI agent speaks with him about what he saw. The hitmen are wanted for several murders of prominent civil rights leaders and minority politicians. One of the killers sneaks into Cody's room later, garbed in a stolen orderly's uniform. He injects a toxin into Cody's IV. Cody's son, Michael, walks in on this deadly attack, screams for help, and gets the attention of Jack and the FBI agent, Aulers. Cody is placed in a medically-induced coma to allow the poison to clear his system. Returning home six weeks later, Cody feels like the family Is in the ultimate danger, that the remaining Lehman brothers will attack that night. He is correct. Lehman blocks the cell phones and is holding the downstairs phone receiver when Cody tries to call o11. He promises to come upstairs if Cody doesn't go down, so, in order to provide his family with time to hide, Cody agrees. In the fight that follows, Cody manages to hit the evil man hard enough to stun him. He grabs his Glock off the floor, but when he turns to fire at Lehman, the killer is already down, felled by Jack, who arrived in the nick of time. The fourth Lehman was killed at Jack's home, attacking there. This is the epilogue, so if you're just now joining us, I hope this helped. :) |
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