Watch Your Back
This story first appeared in The Sentry Post - Vol 1. Published by GRAPHICSONE.
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Blair knew that he was in trouble, desperate trouble. The young boy who stood before him could have been no older than fourteen, and yet he was brandishing the gun with an expertise that bespoke years of practice.
"Okay," the boy yelled, waving the weapon about as he spun about to cover the three men in the store. "Everybody down on the floor... on the floor... NOW, otherwise I'll shoot."
The skinny clerk behind the counter and Blair hurried to obey his command, but the old man-who looked as if he were the owner of the small store-had begun to protest violently, waving his arms about and demanding that they leave. The other youngster just stepped up to him and forced him down with brute force, his face betraying his fears as he beat the guy. This boy also looked to be in his early teens.
"Nobody move, otherwise I'll blow you away," the gun-wielding kid informed the captive people.
Blair closed his eyes and wondered how he had, yet again, become embroiled in such a situation.
He had been working late at the University, marking papers, and on the way home had remembered that he'd used the last of the coffee that morning. Being aware of how grumpy Jim could be first thing in the morning without his coffee, he had decided to drop into the small convenience store on his way home.
The three youths had followed him in, but he had not taken any notice as they had made their way to the back of the store where the checkout counter stood while he had begun to browse along the aisles, looking for Jim's favorite coffee. Once that had been found he had started toward the register, only to pause as he heard raised voices. The kids were demanding to buy beer, but the clerk was insisting on seeing some form of ID. The boys produced some but were denied by the gaunt clerk behind the counter, who refused to sell them the alcohol. Blair didn't blame him, though; the boys looked as if they had had enough to drink already. The situation had deteriorated from there into a shouting match, drawing the attention of the older shop-owner, who informed the boys that he had called the police. At this point, the gun had been produced and the threat made.
Blair risked looking up at the third teenager who had moved to stand behind him, effectively covering the front entrance. The boy, seeing his glance, snarled and lashed out, kicking the prone man into the shelving behind him. The pain radiated up from Blair's ribs and back as he slumped to the ground. He gasped and rolled onto his side as he fought for breath.
"Here..." cried the second kid, who had gone behind the counter. "Look what I found." He held up a shotgun and pistol, waving them about in the air like trophies.
The third boy lost interest in Blair's gasping body and moved to snatch the shotgun from his friend's hands. "Give me that, Jack," he snarled at the same time.
Jack relinquished the weapon with a small gasp of protest, but then fell silent as the third boy expertly opened the weapon to check for ammunition. The third boy looked up and smiled, saying, "Here Pete, it's fully loaded and ready to go."
Pete glanced over at his two friends, a look of disgust upon his handsome features, before snarling, "Look in the cash register and take whatever's there."
This earned a splutter of feeble protest from the shop-owner, which in turn earned him a vicious kick from the leader, Pete. The man fell silent.
The cash register was rifled, and Jack and the second boy shouted with pleasure as they stuffed money into their coat pockets.
Just then the sound of screeching sirens filled the air and all motion ceased as the three thieves listened to see if the sound would pass them by. With a feeling of dread, Blair realized that it wasn't going to and saw the flashing lights of police cars as they drew up outside.
"Oh shit," said the second boy, whose name had not yet been revealed. "The old guy really did call the cops."
"Shut up," snapped Jack, his tone laced with fear as he frantically looked about the store for an escape route.
Blair licked at dry lips and offered, after clearing his throat, "Man, if I was you, I'd give up now. Those guys don't mess around."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that it had been a mistake to speak. Pete swung his gun round and tightened his finger on the trigger. The sound deafened Blair and, for a second, he thought that the shot had missed him. Then agony flared, and he instinctively reached for his upper arm and swallowed hard as he realized that the dampness he encountered was blood. Glancing down, he nearly passed out as he saw the gaping hole that had appeared in his upper arm. It was pumping blood at an incredible rate.
"I said SHUT UP," Pete shouted, his eyes looking from Blair back to the front of the shop and the flashing lights.
"Oh, man," Blair gasped under his breath as he tried vainly to staunch the flow of blood. 'Jim's going to kill me.'
Suddenly another sound penetrated the small store as one of the police officers outside yelled, "This is the police... throw your guns out and come out with your hands up."
For an answer, Pete moved cautiously towards the front of the store and, using a pile of shelving for cover, he opened the door slightly and fired two shots at the police cars.
***
Jim glanced at the clock and then back at the TV. Blair had called earlier to say that he had finished his grading and would be home soon. That had been over two hours ago, and Ellison was starting to get concerned. He flicked through some more channels, and then finally switched the television off so that he could concentrate on listening to the sounds of approaching cars outside the loft.
After several minutes he decided to call Sandburg's cell phone, and hoped that the kid had remembered to take it with him. Jim remembered the last time he had called, only to hear the ringing issuing from Blair's bedroom where his roommate had left the phone.
Just as he reached for the phone, it rang and, snatching it up, he snarled, "If that heap you drive has broken down again, Sandburg, I am not going to be pleased."
Dead silence filtered down the line before Simon Banks, Jim's captain, asked, "Is that you, Ellison?"
Jim threw his glance up towards heaven and offered, "I'm sorry, Simon, but I thought you were Sandburg." Again an uneasy silence filled the line. Fear suddenly clenched at Jim's guts as he ground out, "What... what's happened?"
"There's been a holdup at the store near the university; it's turned into a hostage situation. Jim, I'm sorry but..." Simon began, deep regret clouding his voice, "shots have been fired and..." he paused again before finishing, "Sandburg's car is parked out front."
"Oh hell," Jim said with a deep feeling of dread. "Do you know if he's in there?"
Jim could almost picture Simon's frown as he listened to the other man continue, "Don't know... from what I can gather it's just kids in there, but-like I said-shots have been fired.... I just got the call because Sandburg's car is registered at the station because of his observer status."
"Where is it, Simon?" Jim asked, his tone one of great weight.
"It's an all-night convenience store called 'Nightshop'-it's over on..." Banks began, but Ellison cut him off.
"I know where that is." It was one of Blair's favorite places to drop into on the way home from the University, as it was open all night.
"I'll meet you down there," Simon said, before breaking the connection.
Jim replaced the receiver, resisting the urge to slam it down. 'Why in the name of God did these things keep happening to Sandburg?' he wondered as he reached for his car keys and left the loft at a run.
***
Blair was not enjoying himself. The wound in his arm would not stop bleeding, and the boys with the guns would not stop waving them about and snapping at each other as the tension grew. To Sandburg's mind, this was a no-win situation. Jack, the boy with the shotgun, had taken the attitude that they were in a western shoot-out and they were the good guys. Pete, the leader, appeared to be running out of sanity as he continued to fire potshots at the waiting police officers, who had withdrawn to a safer distance, and the third teenager, whose name appeared to be Matt, had ended up sitting on the counter, quietly crying while swinging his gun from Blair to the quivering clerk. Of the owner, hidden by the counter, there had been no sound.
Finally Sandburg could stand it no longer and he gasped faintly, "I've got to tie this up, man, otherwise I'm gonna bleed to death here." His voice sounded distant even to himself. He was starting to lose touch with the situation, and he didn't know if it was due to loss of blood, or shock setting in.
"Shut up," Pete snarled, turning back to look into the store.
"No, Pete..." Jack suddenly spoke up, his voice almost calm as he informed his friend, "he bleeds to death and they will hang us for sure." Blair just looked at the boy who had spoken. They did not kill children in this State for murder and they certainly didn't hang people; that method of killing had passed by long ago.
With a sinking feeling, he could see that Pete was still inhabiting his own dream world, but Jack's words seemed to have had an affect on Pete, who motioned towards the cowering clerk and ordered, "Get some stuff and tie his wound up... but keep where I can see you, otherwise you'll have your own hole to worry about."
The clerk threw Blair a look of great annoyance before he slowly stood up, keeping his hands clearly within sight, he moved to the pharmacy section of the store and began looking for a bandage with which to bind Sandburg's wound.
The clerk returned and, helping Blair into a sitting position, he began to wind the bandage about his bullet wound. Sandburg noticed that there was only an entrance wound, which meant that the bullet was still lodged inside. With a gasp of pain, he realized that the young clerk had no medical training and didn't much care if he hurt the man he was treating. Blair suppressed a groan and slumped against the shelving as the boy finished, beads of sweat standing out on his brow and fighting to remain conscious.
"Shall I see to Mr. Henderson?" the clerk asked, his tone one of building fear.
"Who?" demanded Pete, annoyed at having been disturbed again.
"Mr. Henderson," the clerk continued, pointing towards the counter. "The owner," he said, as if that explained everything.
Pete waved his gun, saying disinterestedly, "Yeah... yeah... just keep it quiet." The clerk slowly raised to his feet and, sliding past Matt who was still sitting on the counter, he went behind it and fell to his knees beside his boss. Jack followed and kept him covered with the shotgun.
Suddenly the phone rang and everyone jumped at the loud noise. After several moments, Jack said, "Pete, you'd better answer it... it's got to be the police."
"Yeah..." Pete snarled, "and what do you want me to say to them?"
Jack looked nonplussed for a moment, before he smiled and answered, "Give them our demands."
"What demands?" Pete queried, as an interested look flashed across his features.
"You know... like on TV.... We ask for pizza and stuff like that while they get a car or helicopter ready for us to escape in."
Pete gave Jack an intense look before asking, "You think they'll do that?"
Jack smiled and waved his shotgun slowly over the three hostages. "Yep, otherwise we'll kill them, one at a time."
Blair felt suddenly sick as he realized that these boys were serious in their intent. As far as their rules went, killing the three men was well within the game-plan.
***
Jim's vehicle screeched to a halt as he leapt from the cab. He could see the police cars lined up in front of him, covering the front of the store. He could also see that the SWAT team had arrived and were setting up positions about the perimeter of the store. With swift steps, he made his way over to the nearest police car. "How's things, Steve?" he asked the uniformed policeman who turned to greet him.
The older man took off his cap and wiped at the sweat that gathered upon his brow. "Not good," he began, replacing his hat. "It's kids... from the sound of it, the oldest is fifteen or sixteen." He paused, then added with the tired tone of a man who had been on the police force too long and had now heard it all, "They want pizzas while we get the helicopter ready for them."
"Pizza... helicopter..." Jim repeated with a sinking feeling. "Jesus." He knew from experience that these boys thought of themselves as being immortal, and that made them the most dangerous kind of hostage-takers.
"Hey, Jim!" Ellison turned at the sound of Captain Banks calling his name. He saw the other man approach, his expression telling him that the news he had was not good.
"Is he...?" Jim began, but Simon interrupted before he could continue.
"Yeah, they threw out his driver's license. He's in there along with a Mr. Al Henderson who's the owner, and a Paul Denver who's a night clerk."
"This is a mess, Simon," Jim began, moving closer to the store. A hand upon his arm pulled him up short.
"He's been confirmed as one of the injured," Banks continued.
"Oh, God..." Jim gasped, swallowing the feeling of nausea that flared within his gut. "What the hell happened?"
"From what I can make out from the call, he's been shot in the arm... Mr. Henderson is also unconscious, but I'm not sure if he was shot or not... that damned kid was spacing out all over the place when I spoke to him." Banks paused again. "Did you hear about their demands?"
Jim closed his eyes and nodded before adding, "Yes, pizza and a helicopter... they're treating this like some form of TV show," he said in disgust.
"I know, Jim." Simon stopped and glanced over at some SWAT members, who were checking their rifles and positioning themselves so that they could cover the door and the large window that overlooked the parking lot. "I've been assigned, and we're waiting for a proper hostage negotiator to arrive."
"Does Blair have that long?" Jim asked, almost under his breath, so Simon nearly didn't hear the words.
Seeing the look of absolute fear that filled his friend's eyes, Simon offered, "Let's hope so." Then, realizing that the other man had tuned him out, he fell silent, knowing that Jim was not listening to him any longer but to the situation within the convenience store.
***
Blair was starting to drift. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and concentrating on the three armed teenagers was becoming almost impossible. He knew that several hours had passed since the siege had begun; he could not understand why he felt so tired-the bleeding had stopped and, if he held his arm really close to his body and really still, he could even pretend that the pain was bearable. With a shiver, he realized that the tiredness was more than likely his body's way of dealing with the shock and stress of his present situation.
"Where the hell's that pizza?" Pete demanded, moving carefully to look out the front window, remembering to keep well covered.
"Give them a call and tell them we'll check the old man out unless it's here in five minutes," Jack said, eyeing the body that Blair could not see.
"Maybe we should just toss a body out, anyway, to show that we mean business," Pete snickered.
"Are you crazy, man?" Matt finally seemed to snap out of the shock he'd slipped into when the police had arrived. "That won't help us."
"Help us...?" Jack snarled. "Help us...? You've been sitting there crying like a baby for the last couple of hours, and now you're telling us how to run it?"
Matt looked at his shoe and then slowly slipped off the counter, saying, "It's not that, Jack... but if we hurt anyone else, then they won't let us out of here."
"What do you think, man...? You were full of advice a few hours ago," Pete suddenly asked the question. Having slipped further back into the store, he crouched down in front of Blair.
Sandburg blinked, surprised to suddenly have the boy so close to his face. He swallowed and answered in a low, subdued tone, "I think he's right... you hurt us any more... and they won't think that they can trust you." He felt the words catch in his throat and knew that his tone carried the pain he was feeling. He blinked owlishly again, wishing that he had the strength to fight the lassitude that was seeping through him.
"Jack," Pete said, standing suddenly and pointing the gun towards his friend. He motioned towards the phone. "Tell them they've got five minutes, otherwise we start blowing holes in people's hands." As he spoke, he reached out his foot and stepped on Sandburg's uninjured wrist, forcing his hand flat against the floor, then he continued, "And we start with curly here."
***
Outside, Jim suddenly lost all color and swayed dangerously. Simon reached out to steady him, saying at the same time, "What? What the hell's happening in there?"
"Get that damned pizza here, now," Jim gasped, his tone barely above a fearful whisper. "Simon," he continued, the disbelief clear in his tone, "they're going to shoot Blair's hand off if we don't get the pizza in there now." He had been using his hearing to follow the conversation, and knew that the one called Pete was standing over his friend, pointing his gun downward.
"Dear God," Simon muttered as the implications sank in. Just then the phone rang and Simon snatched it up. He listened intently for a few seconds, then snarled, "If you hurt anyone-I mean anyone-then all deals are off... the pizza and the helicopter." He listened again, his face hardening as fury flared. Before he could answer, whoever it was had rung off.
Ellison had heard the voice on the phone and knew that the kid had laughed at Simon's words, tossing off that he didn't want to live forever, anyway.
"I've got to get in there, Simon. Sandburg needs me..." Ellison suddenly said, moving towards the shop, almost as if he didn't even realize that he was moving.
Simon reached out and roughly pulled him back, snarling into his face, "That won't help the situation or Sandburg, and you'll only end up getting yourself killed."
Jim looked at him for a long moment before his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he offered by way of an apology, "I'm sorry, Simon.... But you don't understand... I can't just wait out here for that young punk to blow Sandburg away... I need him," he confessed in a low tone, his voice carrying his own desperation. "Can't you understand, Simon...? I need him... he anchors me. Without him, this thing I have..." he waved his hands over his body, "will drive me crazy..."
Banks opened his mouth to fire off another smart-ass reply, but snapped it shut when he realized that Jim was not just talking about his friend being in there, he was also talking about his Guide... his lifeline to his own sanity. He swallowed hard. While he never pretended to fully understand what Jim's Sentinel powers were really about, he did know that for some reason the crazy anthropologist, with his long hair and fast-talking mouth, did manage to keep Jim grounded; stopped him from losing what little control he had over his abilities and his life.
"They did agree to allow a medic to go in with the pizzas and take a look at the injured..." he finally said. Looking hard at Jim, he offered, "See if you can get some stuff from the paramedic and a coat that fits." Looking about, he continued, "I'm going to see what's keeping that damned pizza."
Jim looked at Simon and smiled; it was the first smile he'd given since arriving at the scene. "Thanks, captain," he said with feeling, before he sped off towards the waiting ambulance and crew.
Within minutes the pizza had arrived, and Jim had changed into a borrowed paramedic's uniform. It was a tight fit, but Ellison wasn't about to complain.
Simon picked up the phone and placed a call to the store, insisting that they keep their side of the bargain and allow a paramedic to deliver the pizza and to check on the hostages. Jim heard the brief argument within the store as the boys discussed allowing anyone to enter, but the one called Pete, who Jim had now tagged as the leader, quieted his friends by saying, "If nothing else, it gives us another hostage."
Jim smiled when he heard this; it was a feral grin and caused Simon to look at him sharply, but Ellison toned it down and then shrugged. He didn't want to inform his captain of what he'd just heard, knowing that Banks would not let him near the place if he knew that.
"All right," Simon was saying. "You take the pizza in, check on Blair and Mr. Henderson, and then come back out again." He spoke as if he was trying to persuade Jim to do as he asked.
Ellison nodded. He didn't mention that he had every intention of tearing those boys limb from limb if they hurt his Guide again. He knew that the feelings were beyond his understanding, and also knew that Blair would be able to explain the building anger he'd been feeling ever since he'd arrived. That anger was coupled with the desperate need to get within touching range of his friend. He felt that if he could just touch Sandburg, then the feeling of anger would disperse.
***
Jim carefully balanced the three pizza boxes and the small medical bag with great difficulty in one hand, while he held the other one up, palm outwards as he had been instructed to do.
"All right, you can come in," the youthful voice yelled, "but any funny business and I'll kill one of the hostages... understand?"
"I understand," Jim replied as he edged towards the door. He could hear Simon behind him telling his men to take it easy. He could also hear the SWAT team preparing for action as they readied their weapons, in case the deal went wrong. Jim hoped that Simon could keep them on a short leash. He had discussed a plan with his captain shortly before he began his trip towards the store, and only hoped that he would get the opportunity to use the code words that would give Banks the information he needed to act upon their plan, fifteen minutes after they were given.
Ellison lowered his hand and reached for the door. Opening it, he gingerly entered and slowly made his way towards the counter at the back of the store. Once he was out of sight of the window and a direct shot, he was confronted by a very young boy who pressed a gun hard against his ribs at the same time as he snatched the boxes and bag from him. They were handed behind him, where another, larger boy, began to open and check the contents of each box and finally he rummaged about in the small bag.
Meanwhile, the first youth patted Ellison down, his actions speaking of an experience that worried the detective. Finally the young thief stood back, gun still firmly pointing at Jim's stomach as he commented with a sneer, "So, you're the hero who got the short straw."
Jim didn't bother to answer; his attention was totally focused on the slumped body of his friend and Guide. With an effort, Blair tilted his head up to glance at the man who had entered the store. Seeing Jim, he straightened slightly as he recognized him. He had the sense not to comment as Ellison answered, "I'm just a paramedic who volunteered to come in and check on the hostages."
"Right," snarled Pete. "Matt... anything in the bag I should know about?"
"Only these, Pete," Matt replied, holding up some scissors, testing them by snipping them in the air.
"I need those to cut his clothes... to get to the wound," Jim answered, pointing towards Blair and his bloody arm before Pete could question their necessity.
"Well, I think I'll just hold onto these, and when you want any cutting done..." he smiled evilly, snipping at the air much as Matt has done, "I'll do it." Then turning, he took the bag from Matt and roughly tossed it over towards Jim, who caught it easily and waited for the boy to continue.
Pete looked at the pizza that Jack was devouring with eagerness, and then back at Jim. Finally he waved Ellison forward, saying sarcastically, "Well... do your thing, but make a wrong move and they will be sending in a friend of yours to remove a bullet from you."
Jim needed no further bidding and dismissed the three teenagers as he knelt down beside his young Guide. "How you doing?" he asked gently, unable to hide the concern from his tone as he reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair from Blair's sweating face.
Blair smiled slightly at this action and offered weakly, "I've been better."
"Here," Jim continued, keeping his voice low as he began, "let me have a look at that." He winced as he saw the extent of damage done to the arm. Then, becoming totally professional, he reached for Blair's injured arm and slowly straightened it, feeling the pain this caused by the sudden tension that filled his friend's body. "Can you cut this for me?" Jim asked the now-eating Pete, as he motioned towards the clothes that were preventing him from tending Sandburg's wounds. The boy considered the request for several seconds before slowly placing his pizza down.
"Keep your gun on him," Pete said to Jack as he moved towards Blair, confident that his friend was positioned to cover the paramedic with his shotgun. "You," he motioned towards Jim, "get back." Ellison did as requested and felt his anger rise when he saw how roughly Pete grabbed at Blair's arm and cut the clothing away, totally heedless of the pain he caused.
Blair howled with agony and writhed helplessly upon the floor as his arm was further abused, then realizing how Jim would react to this act of mindless cruelty, he turned pleading eyes upon Jim, silently begging him not to react, as it would mean his life. Jack was holding the shotgun steady and watching with a slight smirk upon his face, as if daring the other man to move.
Jim swallowed hard and vainly fought against the red haze of rage that began to fill his body and almost overpowered his senses. His initial anger had faded slightly when he'd caught sight of his Guide, been able to touch him, but this brutal treatment had brought it flaring back with a vengeance.
Pete tilted his head towards Ellison, gauging his reaction, almost reveling in it until he finally seemed satisfied by what he saw. He smiled sweetly and, standing slowly, he wandered back to his pizza, purposefully turning his back on the seething Ellison.
Jim ignored the young criminal's posturing and swiftly returned to Sandburg's side, where he carefully and gently tended Blair's arm, cleaning and applying a firm bandage to the gaping hole, making sure that it was tight enough to prevent any more blood loss. Blair was breathing heavily by the time he had finished, and the look in his eyes informed Jim that he was a mere breath away from losing his stomach upon the floor. Reaching out, he gripped his friend's uninjured arm to offer as much silent support as he could. Delving back into the little bag, he removed a syringe and filled it with a clear liquid. Finding a vein, he pushed the plunger home, watching the effects flood over his friend's body. "The bullet's still in there, and he's bleeding pretty bad and suffering from shock," he stated firmly, looking directly at the boy who appeared to be the leader. "This man should be in the hospital."
Blair swallowed hard a few times, almost gulping as he fought to keep the nausea from overpowering him at the thought of the lead still imbedded in his arm. The injection that Jim had given him was easing the pain considerably, but he was desperately fighting the effects. He knew that before this ordeal was over, his Sentinel would need his Guide.
"Once we get the helicopter, then we'll let them go. Until then, he stays right where he is," Pete advised, wiping some sauce from his mouth.
"Jim," Blair spoke quietly and Ellison knew that none of the boys had heard him use his real name. "They hit Mr. Henderson pretty hard." Ellison looked about for the other man, but Sandburg continued, nodding towards the counter, "He's behind there."
Once Jim was satisfied that he had done as much as he could for Blair's injury, he slowly stood, saying quietly, "The injection will help, Blair, but you must understand that I've got to make my move if the opportunity arises. These kids..." He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, gauging if anyone was taking an interest in them. Seeing that the others were still engrossed in their meal, he continued, his tone desperate, barely above a whisper as he used his will alone to meet and hold his Guide's glance, impressing upon him the necessity of his next words, "When I do, I want you to get to cover." Seeing that Sandburg was blinking owlishly at him, he leaned nearer and insisted, "Blair... I want you to promise me that you will. I can't do this if it's going to put your life in danger," he finally admitted, his own anguish at his weakness shaking his voice more than any fear could.
Blair gasped at the raw pain he saw barely hidden within his friend's face. He knew that he had to make this promise, if for no other reason than to release Jim from his role of blessed protector just long enough for him to use his ability and training to end this situation before any lives were lost.
Licking at dry lips, he whispered back, his eyes reflecting his conviction, "I promise." He reached up with his uninjured arm and gently rested it upon the hand that lay clenched upon his shoulder.
Slowly it relaxed, as did the rest of Jim's body as he stood and spoke out loud, saying, "Try to keep it as still as possible." Then, with a parting smile of thankfulness, Jim turned and moved towards the counter, asking the clerk who was sitting by his employer, "How long has Mr. Henderson been unconscious like this?" His tone informed Blair that the Sentinel did not like what he saw of the store owner.
The young man swallowed convulsively a few times and answered with fear, "Since they attacked. He was kicked in the head," he finished, throwing Pete a dirty look. Luckily for him, the self-appointed leader was still too engrossed in his food and watching Jim to notice the look.
After several minutes of tending to the store owner, Jim finally stood and informed the hostage takers, his tone one of firm conviction, "This man could die if he doesn't get proper treatment... soon."
The boy called Matt paled at his words and shot a frightened look towards Pete and Jack, who both just shrugged with non-interest, still intent on eating the pizza that the police had provided. Only the guns that rested casually in the direction of the hostages revealed that they were not as disinterested as they portrayed. Standing casually, Jack moved to the glass fronted refridgerator and withdrew two cans of beer, then moving back to Pete he offered one, which was accepted and opened, ignoring the standing man.
Jim took another steadying breath as anger rose again, and he persisted, "Look, you can't take him with you when the helicopter arrives, so why not let him go now...? At the moment you've only got armed robbery with assault against you..." he pointed towards the unconscious old man, emphasizing his words slowly, to make sure that they fully understood, "if he dies... it will be murder, and you know that's a whole different ball game as far as the police out there are concerned."
"I don't want to go down for murder," Matt whined, his face filling with fear as he moved towards Pete, his tear-streaked face looking even younger in the harsh light. "Jesus, Pete... we only came in here... to get some beers..."
"Shut up," Pete snarled; his face had also taken on a pensive look at Jim's words. Rubbing his forehead with the hand that held the gun, he continued, "Just shut the fuck up, Matt... I need time to think."
Silence filled the room for several minutes until finally Jim offered, his tone one of calm reasoning as a plan began to form itself within his mind, "Look, what if... what if I agree to stay...?" He paused, letting his words sink in, then shooting a look across to Blair, he offered, "Let Mr. Henderson and the other injured hostage go, and I'll stay in their place."
Pete shot Blair a deep, considering look, then shaking his head slowly he said to Jim, "No way, man... you stay... and I'll let the old man go... but he can still walk..." he pointed his gun at Blair, whose eyes widened in fear to be looking down the business end of the weapon again, "so he stays."
Jim resisted the urge to wrestle the gun and remove it from the boy's hands. He desperately wanted Blair out of this situation and in a hospital anywhere that was safe, but looking down at the store owner he knew that the man would not survive if not properly treated soon. He considered his options, but before he could continue his argument, Blair answered in his stead.
"I'll stay, man..." he panted, knowing that his words would anger his friend, but he also knew that if Jim was that concerned for the store owner then he must really be in a bad way. "Just get Mr. Henderson out of here and to the hospital..." he stated breathlessly, before tilting his head away, unable to meet the look of anger that flared in his Sentinel's eyes.
"It's settled then," Pete said, leaning back against the counter and looking very pleased with himself. "Now, you..." he pointed the gun at Jim, "call that guy out there and tell him what's going to happen."
Ellison moved to the phone, aware that Jack's shotgun was now firmly directed at him and, after a swift, intense conversation with Captain Banks where he casually dropped in the code word they had agreed on earlier, he replaced the receiver, saying, "They agree... but Mr. Henderson must be brought out now, no more delays." While he explained the conditions, he hoped that Simon had realized that this was the break they had been looking for, and that they would only have the one chance. He had tried to place a few chosen words to alert Banks, but he had no way of knowing if the other man had recognized them. Glancing at Blair, Jim swallowed and hoped that his Guide would abide by his promise when the bullets began to fly. Sandburg was watching him with sudden intent, as if he knew what Jim was planning, and for some reason that frightened the older man.
"Right," Pete began, dragging Jim's attention away from Blair. "Jack, you get in position near the door and keep your shotgun on this guy..." he motioned towards Jim. "And you," the gun moved towards Ellison, "drag the old guy out, do what you've got to do and then come right back-otherwise..." He moved to kneel beside Blair, his intention clear as he lifted the gun and rammed it into the injured man's neck. Ellison winced, knowing that it must have hurt and that the pale neck would be bruised by morning, if he lived that long. Glancing at the clock, Jim knew that he only had about eight minutes before Simon acted upon his coded words.
Ellison slowly shook his head, saying, "That's not going to work here." Neither his tone nor his expression showed just how terrified he was of the gun that was pressed against Sandburg's throat; if Simon followed the plan now, Pete would shoot Blair for certain when it was executed-and, at that close range, he was not going to miss.
Pete's expression faltered and then turned cold as he looked at the man before him. "What?" he demanded, his tone giving every indication that he would shoot if Jim didn't explain quickly.
"If I drag that man..." Jim pointed angrily towards the elderly man laying behind the counter, "out there in his condition, then you might as well put your gun to his head and shoot him because he isn't going to survive."
Pete opened his mouth to snarl back a reply, but then snapped it shut. For the first time that night, Jim saw the flash of fear and uncertainty within his eyes. The alcohol that had sustained him during the beginning of this ordeal was starting to lose its effect, and he was slowly starting to realize that he just might not live through this. Pete licked nervously at his lips and, rising from his position beside Sandburg, he demanded, "Get on that phone and tell them we want the helicopter here, now... otherwise we're going to start killing people." He shot a glance about the room and added, "We'll leave the old man here, and once we are gone they can come and get him."
"That isn't going to work either," Jim offered mildly, wishing that he could turn back the fast-ticking clock. Pete was still standing over Sandburg with the gun and, while it was now not actually pointing at his Guide, it was still too close for comfort. "They know he's badly injured and they want him out now, otherwise all deals are off..." He paused as if considering his options, before he offered, "Look, you..." he pointed to Pete, "help me get him to the door and I'll carry him the rest of the way." Ellison put every ounce of his persuasiveness into his tone, and he nearly fainted when the boy nodded his head in agreement.
"Jack," Pete said to his friend still waiting by the front window, just out of sight of the police snipers, "you keep your gun on him." He pointed toward Ellison. "Matt, get the clerk over by Curly, here, and keep them both covered."
Jim held his breath as the orders were given and knew that his luck was changing; both Pete and Jack would be at the front of the store when Banks acted, while Matt-who, out of the three boys, seemed the least dangerous-would be with Blair and the night clerk.
Picking Mr. Henderson's upper body up carefully, he muttered a silent word of apology to the old man while the leader of the young gunmen reached for the unconscious man's feet. He knew that Pete's first reaction to the attack would be to drop the man, but Jim had exaggerated his injuries and knew that the tumble would not unduly hurt the shopkeeper any further.
Right on cue, the attack began and lights along the entire block went out, plunging the store into darkness. As predicted, Pete dropped the old man as he reached for his gun, but Jim was upon him before he could react further, and a vicious sharp left-hook sent the boy ploughing into the shelves, from where he tumbled to land upon the floor in a crumpled heap. He lay still, no longer interested in the events of the night.
Jack's reaction was louder as he fired his shotgun out the window, causing the glass to shatter into a million pieces. Realizing that the immediate danger was nearer at hand, he spun inwards, turning the shotgun towards the last known position of the paramedic, but Jim was no longer there. He had used his Sentinel sight to move upon the young gunman in the dark. Ellison grabbed the handle of the shotgun, pulled it roughly from the boy's smaller hands and then used the stock to tap the kid sharply upon the chin. Jack went down without a murmur.
Spinning with a speed that belied his build, Jim headed toward the last of the boys, only to pull up short as he witnessed Blair straddling the prone body of Matt. He was kneeling over the unconscious kid with a leg on either side, and a can of beans held firmly in his good hand. Sandburg's intention was clear if the boy so much as moved. Jim saw that another can was spinning nearby, and watched in fascination as it came to a slow stop after having obviously been bounced off the boy's head. "Nice shot, Chief," he said, his voice full of admiration as he advanced towards them, only to speed up when he saw Blair slump forward over the teenager as consciousness fled him.
Gently, as if lifting a most precious object, Jim eased Blair from the other's body and, after checking that he had only fainted, he laid him carefully upon the floor and checked his arm. It had not started bleeding again. Satisfied that his Guide was not in immediate danger, he smiled at the clerk before realizing that the boy was still totally in the dark and unable to see a thing. Taking a steadying breath, he stood and made his way to the phone, intent on contacting Simon and getting Blair to the hospital as soon as possible.
***
Jim walked along the hospital corridor towards his Guide's room. He had spent the remainder of the night and most of the morning at the hospital. Returning home for a shower and change of clothing only after the doctor had confirmed that Blair had made it safely through the operation to remove the bullet from his arm. Blair would be out to the world for quite a few hours and consequently not allowed visitors until later that afternoon. However, the doctor had finally given in and allowed Jim a quick peek at his friend while Blair was still in recovery. Simon had informed the doctor that Jim wasn't going anywhere until after he'd seen his friend for himself.
Now Ellison was back and determined to see his friend. He didn't bother stopping at the nurses' station to find out Blair's room number; instead he followed the steady heartbeat that he knew as well as his own and, without pausing, he entered his Guide's room. Blair was awake and looking at the door when he entered. "Hey, Chief, how you feeling?"
Sandburg smiled weakly. "I'm doing a hell of a lot better than when you last asked that question," he answered with a feeling of relief, although his voice was low and scratchy. Jim could see the livid bruise that covered his throat-as he had suspected, Pete's rough treatment would take quite a few days to heal.
"Well, you'll be pleased to hear that Mr. Henderson is doing fine and should be out of here tomorrow," Jim offered as he moved to sit by the bed; he knew that one of the first questions Sandburg would ask would be about the other man's health.
"That's good," Blair began, before he started to cough. He grabbed at his heavily bandaged arm and hissed, the motion jarring it. "Oh God, this is the part that I hate..." He coughed again as his throat protested, and then sipped with relief upon the straw that Jim held to his lips. The liquid was cool and did much to ease his dry throat. "Thanks," he finally offered as he settled deeper into his pillows. Now that Jim was here, he felt that he could really start to relax.
"What will happen to those kids?" he asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.
"Well, they are being processed. Apparently the one called Pete had quite a track record, and Jack wasn't so clean either." He paused, then added, "It was a first offense for Matt, so they might take it easy on him, but the other two won't get much sympathy when it goes to court."
"How badly did I hurt Matt?" Blair asked, a worried frown crossing his handsome face.
Jim suppressed a smile. He still could not believe that Blair had managed to take out the third boy. "Not too bad; slight concussion. He's already out of here, but-" he added with a slight smirk, "he might be a little shy of beans in the near future." Blair groaned at the joke as Jim went on, "What made you throw a can of beans at him, Sandburg?"
Blair gave Jim a withering look from under his hair and answered, "I knew you were up to something..." he paused as he remembered his fear at the time, "so when you and Pete were heading towards the front of the store... I just grabbed hold of a can that was on the shelf behind my back and waited." He gave Jim another look which spoke volumes. "When the lights went out, I just threw it as hard as I could at the last place that I'd seen Matt."
"And then crawled across and knelt over him with another can in your hand," Jim finished with a smile. "Sandburg, you take handling a deadly weapon to the extreme. That boy should be grateful those beans weren't loaded. I mean, lord knows what damage you could have done with a can of chili!" Jim laughed at his own joke.
Blair winced at the look his partner gave him as he offered sheepishly, "I don't remember that last bit. I knew that you must have had a plan for taking out the other two, but Matt was behind you and-" He paused, suddenly feeling silly at the thought that had kept him conscious and holding that can.
"Chief?" Jim questioned quietly, his tone now one of concern.
Blair swallowed and offered as his only defense, "I just knew that it was up to me-to watch your back."
Ellison felt a large smile break across his face as he leaned forward and, placing his large hand over his Guide's smaller one, he stated firmly, "I wouldn't want it any other way."
THE END
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