Episode 2
Where There is No End
Jeff opened the door to his home and walked into the summer light. The nearby living room was calm, filled with peace. He and Kara didn't often use it unless they had friends over. Even then, the party often moved to the entertainment room.
For Jeff, the room was filled with memories. It had all sorts of stuff they had collected from their travels. Most were things that Kara bought from trips that she had to make alone. Jeff wanted to go with her on those same trips, but working on the Dimensional Transport often demanded his personal supervision.
"Kara, I'm home," he yelled into the house, knowing that she was home. There were times that she went out with friends. Usually if that happened, she would greet him before leaving for those events. They always wanted to have as much time together as possible.
He walked down the hallway to look for her. Along the wall, pictures were displayed. Most were of Jeff and Kara in some moment of happiness. There was only a small handful of pictures of Jeff that didn't include Kara; all of them some celebration of accomplishments he had made.
Too often Jeff would just look at the pictures. He recognized them but didn't reminisce on any given one. Jeff would rather move toward something in the present that would put him in a good mood.
There in the back end of the house, in the entertainment room, was Kara. She was standing in front of the couch singing. He didn't recognize the particular song, but he heard her voice though the speakers. She was a good singer, even though she wouldn't admit it.
The large television screen flung the lyrics from right to left. Bars appeared that showed the notes that each word had to be in. Kara always liked this game. Then again she always liked performing with music. That was one reason she loved to dance.
The song ended. That was when Kara noticed Jeff standing in the hall. "Sorry I'm late," he said to her. She wasn't disappointed. It wasn't uncommon of him to take more time at work. "Got too much work, as always."
Kara smiled at him, "I'm always glad to see you home." Gesturing toward the plastic guitar next to her, she asked, "Want to join me?"
"I'd rather listen to you sing."
"And I rather not play alone." The look on Kara's face was of playful insistence.
Jeff smiled in return, knowing that she wouldn't take another answer. "OK, I'll give it a roll."
He walked next to her, picking up the guitar. Strapping it around his shoulders, Kara scrolled down on the screen to pick a song. It was "Island in the Sun," one of Kara's favorites. Then again, she rarely played something that didn't appeal to her. It always had to be a song that touched her soul in some way, even if it was a sad song.
He began strumming the fake guitar. The notes scrolled, Jeff had to focus on his portion of the screen. Shortly after, Kara began singing the lyrics to the song. Kara was just having fun, while Jeff was trying to be a perfectionist with his part. It was like that every time.
Suddenly, a realization came to Jeff. They had done this many times before, but something was different. Kara was not supposed to be here, alongside him. She was...."Wait a sec-"
Jeff woke up in the Dimensional Transport. He was leaning back in the pilots seat with a beeping echoing throughout the cabin. He looked around to see what it was. Then he saw it was his watch, removed from his wrist. He pressed the button to shut off the alarm.
He looked up to the dark swirls of light, the space between worlds. While his first trip had taken only a minute, this one had taken much longer. He looked at his watch; the nap had been for a half-hour. It felt like longer.
Jeff leaned forward to press a few buttons. Looking at the display screen, he saw that the journey was almost at an end. The new world awaited him in only a few minutes.
Jeff pressed a few more buttons, more things he had to do to prepare for the journeys end. Some things needed to be powered up. Others systems needed powered down. Mostly, he needed to make sure that everything was going fine and that no complications were turning up.
When he ran out of things to do, he looked away from the instruments. He couldn't help but remember the dream, one that mirrored the times he had just days before. All he could do was give a verbal sigh.
The emergency room was filled with people. Most were sick, a few had injuries held by makeshift casts. Jeff had to wade through the various doctors and family members to get to the desk. Behind it, a nurse was hurriedly going through papers, getting work done to shuffle more people through the system.
"Excuse me," Jeff politely asked, trying to get her attention. The nurse heard him, but had ignored him. She continued filling papers. "Excuse me," he asked once more, putting a louder tone to get her attention.
"Can you give me just a moment more." It was a sharp, matter-of-fact tone to her response. Jeff could see that she had to work at her own pace. Complications would worsen her mood. Considering the large stack of back-boarded papers, he thought it was best to wait.
The nurse finished writing on the sheet of paper before turning her full attention to Jeff. "So, what can I do for you?"
Jeff took out a photo from his pocket. It was of Nathaniel Karns, cropped from a security photo that he got from the last world he visited; his first trip to an alternate universe.
"Have you seen this man?" he asked her.
She didn't look at the picture before asking a procedural question, "Is it a relative of yours?"
"No, it's actually a fugitive I'm looking for." He had to put it bluntly, restraining the anger he had towards Karns.
"So you're a bounty hunter?" she asked. It wasn't a question he had expected. On the other hand, it appeared she had asked that question many times before.
He put it delicately, "If that's what you would call it..."
The nurse took a careful look at the photo. "Nope, I haven't seen him. What's his name?"
"He might be under Nathaniel Karns."
The nurse slid her chair over a few inches to the computer. She typed in the name, looking for any possible records of the villain.
"Nope, he's not in here. I'll ask around. Did you suspect he had a medical emergency of some kind."
Jeff nodded in affirmation, "I know that he was shot."
She then returned that answer with blunt response, "Then I'm afraid he wouldn't be here. I haven't seen someone like that come by."
Jeff couldn't hide much of his disappointment, "Thanks for your help."
Another hospital that didn't have any leads. Jeff knew that while Karns had to go into some hospital in this world, he still could hide almost in plain sight. At that pace, it would take too long before Karns would be in the next world.
Jeff waded across the room, going toward the exit where several people stood waiting for their respective friend or loved one.
He didn't get far before a short woman approached him. "Excuse me," she said, "I overheard, that you were a bounty hunter."
Jeff looked at her; she seemed wearied by something. "That's what the nurse referred me as, at least. Is there anything you need?"
"I think someone tried to kill my fiance. Can you help me?"
Jeff looked at the woman, who's despair was showing in every cell of her body. It was as though she herself took the same injury that her fiance had. He decided to pry for details, "Where's your fiance?"
"He's still in the emergency room. Does this mean you'll help?"
Jeff nodded, "I'll help. Can you explain what happened?"
As though she didn't hear him, she asked, "How much is your fee? I can pay-"
Jeff held his hand up in refusal. "Don't worry about it. Now, what happened?"
"I...don't know. He just...fell when got to my door...The police just said he overdosed on something."
The incident clearly shook her. It wasn't just the trauma, but that she didn't know what had happened. But the question remained, "What makes you think different?"
"He stopped using drugs. And he wouldn't break that promise. I know that."
She said that as though it was fact, not a belief. Jeff never knew anyone with drug problems, nor did he know if this woman had much more experience than he did.
The look on the woman's face is what hit him the most. The severe look of worry, that she may lose someone precious to her. "I'll look into it. What's his name?"
"Karl Finard," she simply said.
"OK, I'll see what I can find out."
He was about to head back toward the desk to inquire about the man, then he remembered, "Almost forgot, what's you name?"
"Trisha Jenny." Even though he offered help, her mood did not change. Jeff wasn't sure if anything he did would help her. He took out a note-pad, something he had just in case. "And what's your number?"
"867-5309"
He put the note-pad away. "I'll...remember that."
It was clear that Trisha did not get the reference.
Jeff walked back to the desk. He was about to say something, when the nurse quickly slid her chair to a pile of folders, snagged one out and slapped it in front of Jeff. Without a word, she went back to her busy work.
"Is this for me?" Jeff asked.
The nurse still didn't look at Jeff, "Yeah. I overheard you two over there. That's the guy's initial report."
Jeff took the folder, but didn't yet open it. He still had question he had to ask her. "Were you here at the time?"
The nurse got up, slightly annoyed, and looked right into Jeff's eyes. "No, that was 5 hours ago. And before you ask, I'll make sure the doctor contacts you when Mr. Finard is out of the ER."
The tone were sharp, but the words were kind. This nurse wanted to help as much she could, but was overloaded at that moment.
Jeff was about to say thank you when the Nurse had one more thing to say, "Also Sergeant Susan Yearling was the responding officer and should be heading the investigation."
The Nurse sat back down, going through the papers that she had to make sure were right.
"Thanks," Jeff said, knowing that the nurse wouldn't respond in any way. He wasn't even sure that she heard him, but left hoping that she did.
Once again, Jeff stood in the middle of a busy police station. Various people waited at the seats. Most appeared to be angry and annoyed; most likely due to the very problem they were complaining about. The wait for the police response to those complaints didn't help the mood.
Calmly, in an attempt not to hinder the atmosphere anymore, Jeff walked up to the desk and said to the man behind, “I'm here to see a Sergeant Susan Yearling.”
The formally dressed officer looked at him. With an equally calm tone, he replied, “Sure, can you give me the reason you want to see her?”
“It's concerning Karl Finard.”
Jeff couldn't see the office behind, so he expected the officer to use the phone right next to him. Instead, he rolled back his seat, turning toward an unseen hallway. “Susan! There's a guy to see you!”
Jeff only had to wait a few moments before a middle-aged woman entered the room from a side door. Unlike the desk clerk, she did not wear a uniform. Instead, it was a more business-casual look, with the badge clearly visible on her chest and a pair of glasses on her eyes.
"Sergeant Yearling?” Jeff asked.
“That would be me.”
“I'm Jeffrey Hunter.” He held out a hand in formal greeting. She returned it, less formal in her movement.
“Hi. Sorry about the traffic, it gets busy here. By the way, you can just call me Susan.”
“It was no problem.” Jeff turned his demeanor to a serious tone, “I'm here concerning Karl Finard.”
She nodded, then said “Then it would be best for us to walk to the hospital. I was going to see the doctor anyway.”
The two walked by the crowd to and out the twin doors. Walking alongside each other, they headed toward the hospital. The five-floor building towered over the small two or three floor buildings that neighbored it. Being only a few blocks away, navigating to the hospital was simple.
“Did the doctors contact you?” Jeff asked.
“Only a minute ago. They said he was out of the ER, but I was going to wait until Mr. Finard was able to ask questions.”
For Jeff, it was that answer that concerned him. “Not a priority case for you?”
"Well, we had to consider that all the symptoms was of an overdose. When we checked the vic.'s history, he's been arrested several times for felony possession, and for distribution."
"So he sold as well as dealt?"
Susan nodded, "Yup. I'm guessing you believe the fiance?"
It was easy to surmise that Trisha had spoken to the police, but they didn't believe her. Maybe for good reason, maybe not. That is why Jeff was here. "Yeah, I do. And we'll see if she's right."
Susan knocked on the doctor's open door, gold label adorning the name "Vick Geroldo." He was standing next to his desk, shuffling piles of papers around. Hearing the knock, he set the papers down on the desk; where it was obvious they didn't belong.
Turning around, he recognized the officer, but not Jeff. He adjusted his glasses before saying, "Come on in. I'm guessing you're Sergeant Yearling. And you're Mr...?"
"Hunter," Jeff nodded in greeting.
"Hunter," Vick repeated in acknowledgment, "The nurse staff was paging for you a little bit ago, so I'll tell them you've arrived."
"Thanks. How's your patient?"
The doctor turned serious, "He's stable, for now. Took a surprisingly long time for him to get there, but not unheard of."
"How long did it take?" Jeff asked.
"Six, six and a half hours."
Jeff was surprised. He wasn't familiar with medical procedures, but he didn't expect hours to go by before they could get him close to being fine.
Vick continued, "His blood pressure among other things was on overdrive. His heart stopped twice. It'll take several days before we can get a good estimate on when he'll wake up. It was pretty severe. Why do you need to know?"
Susan spoke up, "Well, we're here because the fiance is claiming that this was an attempted murder."
Vick nodded. He heard similar concerns many times before. "I haven't done any analysis yet. However, I did manage to take a blood sample. It's best to see what drug could have done this. Would you two like see how this tests out?"
Vick turned back to his desk. Out of a drawer, he took out a small white box. He didn't explain exactly what it was, instead going past the two investigators into the hall.
Susan followed, with Jeff in the rear of the small hallway. Other than a few painted signs showing major destinations, the hall was plain.
Other doctors and nurses walked down the hall, turning to get by next to Vick. Each one was in a rush, but Jeff noticed that something was in common for each one. Every doctor and nurse had a pair of glasses on.
Jeff raised the question, "This may sound a bit strange, but...why are all the doctors and police wearing glasses?"
They stopped, with both Vick and Susan looking back.
"You've been living under a rock or something?" Vick asked, displaying knowledge that Jeff lacked.
Not wanting to give a complex explanation, Jeff responded, "More on the 'something', but we can go with that."
Vick gestured forward, toward where a small alcove was. They walked the few steps to where plenty of devices were on the tables. Above, there were closed cabinets.
Going to the back, only a few steps away from Jeff and Susan stood, Vick opened one of the cabinets. He took out a identical pair of glasses that he wore and handed them over to Jeff.
"These are scan-glasses. They can show you multiple visual spectrums, and can scan for vital signs or for people in a given area, as well as for other things that emergency responders would need. It's been standard issue for police, firefighters and doctors for the past five years.
"If you want, we got extra sets of these?"
Jeff was intrigued by the new technology. "Sure, that'll be useful, considering my situation."
He looked at t
he glasses, seeing nothing that would distinguish them from normal prescription glasses. Putting them on, he felt the weight of them onto his face. Against his expectations, nothing appeared to him.
After setting the box down, Vick leaned down and pulled a small, but thick, book out and tossed it to Jeff. Not looking at it, he figured that it was a manual for the glasses; something he would have to read later.
Now Vick stood back up and turned his attention to the box. He took the contents out: vials of blood samples. Taking one of the vials, he moved a step to the side to a small analyzing machine. The vial was placed into the place holding tube and Vick closed it, activating it automatically.
"It'll only take a minute to see what was in his system," he informed the two investigators.
Susan asked, "You have any theories?"
Vick shrugged his shoulders, "Don't know. There's a few things that in high enough doses could have given many of the same symptoms."
Jeff took his turn to ask, "Any wounds or other indications that this wasn't a voluntary overdose?"
"There was a needle mark on the upper arm, but I couldn't tell if it was voluntary or not."
A beep sounded. The small machine stopped its operation, now showing the results on its small screen. Vick looked at it.
"Crap!"
Whatever was on the screen showed Vick that this was a serious situation, far more than his previous speculation.
Then his beeper went off. He looked at it, "Crap!"
Shoving Jeff and Susan out of the way, Vick ran out of the alcove and toward the patient rooms. The two followed, knowing an emergency was happening regarding Karl.
The three passed by several series of doctors and nurses, all stepping aside for the runners.
When Vick arrived, there was several other nurses and a doctor already attending to him. Alarms were sounding, displays showing that Karl was in a critical state.
"Get 5 C.C.'s of adrenaline!" the doctor had yelled, with a nearby nurse about to comply with the order.
"Negative!" Vick yelled, countermanding the order. Moving next to the bed that Karl laid in, Vick had the stature that took command in the room.
"We're going to have to do this with the paddles alone," he said, somewhat confusing the fellow medics.
The other doctor wanted to know what he was doing, "What..."
He was cut off by Vick, "I'll explain in a bit. Paddles."
The nurse handed him the paddles. Rubbing them together to smooth the gel, Vick took the paddles and planted them onto Karl's naked chest. He pressed the buttons on the handles, jolting Karl upward.
With that one shock, the emergency sirens and vitals were silenced. Karl was fine - for now.
Vick took a deep breath, calming himself from the adrenaline high. Seeing Jeff and Susan in the doorway, he said, "You two might as well come on in."
The two moved to the back of the room, out of the way of the other doctor and nurses. Vick went on to explain what he had found, "Our patient has the Bull's-Bane Bacteria running through him."
Completely unfamiliar with it, mostly because it was unique to this world, Jeff asked, "And what does that mean?"
"The patient's own adrenaline fuels the disease, speeding up the its progression. This isn't found in America, and isn't spread by anything except by contamination directly into a blood system."
"So someone did try to kill him," Jeff presumed.
Vick nodded, and went on to say, "More importantly, we can't synthesize a cure unless we have a sample from the original culture. If we don't get it within 48 hours, we got a dead man."
The waiting area was much more calm than before. Rows of bolted-down seats were clear of people - except for one. Trisha sat there waiting for any news to come. Jeff never asked anything about her, or about the man he was trying to help. Seeing her wait for the most important thing in her life was all he really knew. That was all he needed to know.
Quietly, he walked up next to her and sat down, "You heard what we found?"
Without moving at all, she replied, "The doctor told me."
She was holding a cup of coffee, one which seemed to have lost its heat a while ago. Not really caring about how hot it was, she sipped at it.
"Have you slept?" Jeff asked, knowing she had been there for a long time.
"It's too hard to sleep. I just can't, not until Karl's OK."
Jeff looked downward, away from seeing Trisha. What he spoke, he spoke just as much to himself as to her, "I don't know about getting much sleep as well.
"Every night, I see her."
Trisha turned her head, seeing Jeff at the corner of her eye, "Who?"
"Kara, my wife. She was killed by the man I'm chasing."
"I'm sorry," Trisha said, knowing the same fate that he had could happen to her. For all she knew, that might be why he was saying these things to her; that he knew what she was facing.
"I see her," Jeff continued, "It's like everyday before. As though it never happened. I feel her. Taste her when we kiss. But then, when I wake up, I just can't tell... If that dream is what I want...
"Or if it's the most painful thing."
Jeff decided to take out his wallet. In held one of the few remaining things from his world that he valued: a picture of Kara. It was a portrait, one that showed her loose red hair circling around her bright smile.
"Just by looking at this, I can tell why you married her," Trisha said. Seeing this, she had to know, "Is that why you're helping me, because she died?"
Jeff wondered for himself that very question, "I...guess so." It was the best answer for both of them.
Susan had watched the conversation from afar and away from their view. She listened to him, seeing that Jeffrey Hunter was more than a simple "bounty hunter." It was a moment in which she found out who he really was. She couldn't obstruct him from saying those things.
However, there was business to attend to. Susan walked to Jeff, not hiding her footsteps in the quiet hospital. She tapped his shoulder, gesturing toward the door when he looked up.
After replacing the photo back into his wallet, he got up from the seat. Swinging around the bolted chair, he turned back to Trisha. "I know you need to be here if anything happens, but you need to tend to yourself as well. Do you have a job or something to take your mind off things...at least a little bit?"
She didn't look back at him. She just replied to the suggestion, "I work here. I'm a nurse, a floor up. That's where all my friends are at. It's where I met Karl. Where we fought his addiction. I can't go anywhere else, even if I wanted to."
She turned around, looking right at Jeff. "Thank you, Mr. Hunter. I'll be fine." Jeff could tell it was a feign, that she wasn't completely well. But she would try, and Jeff couldn't stop her from that.
Jeff turned back around, not giving a farewell or goodbye. He just calmly walked over to where Susan awaited. Jeff's mood immediately switched for the business at hand.
"We got an address for Mr. Finard," Susan said to Jeff, "I was going to head on up there right now."
"All right, I'll have to hitch a ride with you."
The superintendent opened the door to Karl's apartment. While the place wasn't messy, it showed that the person living there didn't clean often. A fine layer of dust had settled onto most unused surfaces. Everything appeared to be organized, as though the owner placed everything back in its place after every use.
After opening the door, the superintendent waved them into the room, preferring to stay outside for the duration of the visit. Susan gave a polite word of thanks before entering the room.
Jeff tapped the side of his glasses, as did Susan. This set the optical devices to passively scan for anything it could identify as unusual.
Susan moved to the kitchen area, where there was only a refrigerator and stove counter. She opened the door to find no fresh foods. The milk had turned to an off-white; a sign that it had gone bad.
"Somehow, I'm doubtful that he's been here for a while."
&nb
sp; Jeff had wandered into what could be called the living area. It was wide open, save an old couch and table. Both were well used; probably before Karl obtained them.
On the table was a few magazines, a television remote and the only land-line phone in the room. The answering machine had a light flashing. Jeff pressed the play button and Karl's voice first sounded, "This is Karl's place, leave a message."
Then a new, raspy voice came on, "Karl, it's Marcus. Pick up the phone, I need to..."
A click sounded. Karl apparently had picked up the phone while the machine was still recording. "I told you not to call me," He had said it forcefully, "Not here, not anywhere."
"Yeah, but.."
"I don't care. Lucky for you, I don't want to hear, or see you, again."
The message ended.
Susan had walked on over to the area, finding a trash can while the message played. In the midst of the papers was one small pad that had marks on it, as though the ink leaked through previous layers of paper. They were all phone numbers that were scribbled randomly on it. "Hopefully one of these will have this Marcus on here."
Jeff wondered, "Need to go back to the station to check those?"
"Nope, the scan-glasses should do the trick." Susan looked directly at the papers, square on. With a touch onto the frame of her glasses, she activated a scan module. Visible lines scanned the entire paper in a few seconds, then the next few it unscrambled the random organization into a half-dozen sets of numbers.
She then took out her radio, touching a button to call the operator. On the screen, a short-bearded man swerved in his seat to face the caller. "Bob here," he said as an upbeat greeting.
"Bob, It's Susan," she replied, being more down-to-business in tone.
This actually encouraged the man, setting a brighter mood to his side of the conversation, "Hey Susan! What can I do for you?"
"I have some names and numbers. Can you match them up to our database,specifically if there's one named Marcus."
"No problem! Just give me a view."
Tapping another button on the side of the radio, her glasses synchronized its information to the radio then to Bob's computers.
"Got 'em," He informed, "It should only...take...a....second. Got one! Marcus Carlville. Convicted for possession several times, but also recently for a robbery a few months ago. Is out on parole."
"Can you send me the address?" she asked Bob.
"Already done. It'll be in your car's navigation system. Anything else?"
Susan gave an encouraging smile, "No, Bob. That was good. Later."
With one last touch of a button, the screen went blank.
The apartment building that Marcus Carlville lived in looked like an old college dorm. The paint was old and cracking, even when seen from afar.
Susan's police vehicle quietly pulled up behind the old, well-worn cars that lined the sidewalk. The overgrown lawn almost hid the small sign that would tell the name of the apartment complex.
On the other side of the lawn was a man going through a pile of thrown-out furniture. He was interested in exploring one particular piece of furniture: a couch that lacked any cushions.
"Is that Carlville?" Jeff asked.
Susan pushed a button the computer that sat between the two. It switched from the map function to showing the entire profile of Marcus Carlville, including his mug-shot from a previous arrest. It showed the same balding man that was in front of them. "That's him," Susan confirmed.
Marcus more carefully inspected the couch, this time pressing his hands onto the springs of each seat.
"Are you thinking that he wants a free couch?" Jeff jokingly speculated.
"Nope. He's looking for something," Susan replied. "Want to see what it is?"
Jeff held up his hand, simultaneous signaling a negative and stopping Susan from exiting the car."Actually, let's just see what he does with it."
Marcus now started to press on the sides, very much showing that something was hidden in the couch. Then towards the bottom, he found upon something on the side. Leaning down, he swung himself close to under the couch. Reaching in, he pulls out a small manilla folder.
"I can still see what he's got," Susan declared. Taking her glasses, she zoomed in onto Marcus, then shifted her view to the folder. She tried to see if there was any writing on the outside, but didn't see anything.
"Are you getting this?" she asked Jeff.
"Yup," he said, doing much the same, except a bit more clumsy in his viewing. He had yet to completely familiarize himself with all the scan-glasses functions. "I don't think there's anything but papers in it."
With the folder in hand, Marcus walked across the street. Without even trying to disguise his movements, he walked straight to an old car; its paint worn with many seasons of weather. Getting into the already unlocked car, he started the car and immediately pulled out without even putting on his seat belt.
Susan waited a second, letting Marcus gain some distance before starting her own car to follow him.
It had gotten dark while they drove. The drive itself took only an hour, but the sunset was rather quick for Jeff. The weather didn't seem particularly cold, even though the daylight had the same kind of hours as winter months. He pondered on it, thinking of several theories but didn't settle on any particular one.
They had pulled up near an abandoned factory. Only the parking lot had any light; and there was very little even there. Marcus pulled in one of the few spots that was illuminated by the street lights.
Susan decided it was still best to stay out of sight. She stopped the car on the dark street, behind a fence and a tree that would block their immediate view. She silenced the car. The two investigators got out of the vehicle at the same time.
While Jeff walked around to join Susan, she got out her radio. Without turning the screen on, she clicked it, "Officer at Warehouse 415 in the Hillard District, requesting backup."
"Copy that," said a female voice on the radio, "Two cars will head your way."
Susan puts away the radio, making sure it was silenced as not to give them away. She removed her holstered pistol before moving into the parking lot; Jeff followed her lead with his own gun.
While the two followed, they saw Marcus casually walking into an unmarked door. He closed the door behind him. Susan and Jeff walked more swiftly to catch up.
Susan moved to the hinged-side of the door. Jeff moved opposite, holding his gun at ready. The officer grabbed hold of the doorknob. Slowly opening it, Susan made sure that no noise came from the door.
"You have the message?"
The voice echoed throughout the building. It wasn't a large building with some pieces of heavy machinery to hide behind. While still be as stealthy as possible, Jeff moved to the nearest piece of machinery. Susan was shortly behind.
"I just got it," Marcus said, Jeff locating him above. He was in a catwalk that hovered across the open building.
Jeff switched his glasses to an infrared mode. There was several warm bodies in his sight. Three were separate; mostly likely guards or escorts. One silhouette he could tell was Marcus. The last one across from him was the one he was conversing with.
Marcus handed him the envelope, something that Jeff could only see in the gestures Marcus was making. The envelope itself was invisible in this light spectrum.
"It looks like one of our former dealers got himself in the ER," said the mysterious receiver of this message that Marcus was delivering. He looked back up to Marcus, "You knew this...Karl. I thought you had dumped him somewhere?"
Marcus held his hand together, very much showing his nervous mood. "He wasn't going to squeal, not with the guy I had him meet."
The two went silent. The leader seemed to think about the events that had unfolded. Jeff decided this was the best opportunity to whisper to Susan, "I'll head on up to the platform."
Susan nodded in confirmation. She kept a lookout while Jeff moved through the dark towards the stairway.
The leader continued
, "Even still, you're a liability. Our ties are now officially...."
A sound came over them; as though the unused power had been cut off. Then emergency lights flooded the entire factory floor. Jeff was still in the middle of an open space when he was spotted.
The three guards pulled their guns, aiming at Jeff. Susan fired her weapon. The metal railing deflected her bullet. Now that the fight was pronounced, every combatant spread out towards their respective cover.
Jeff took his limited cover behind the stairs. He was still fairly exposed but it was the best he could get. At that moment, he decided look around. He mentally mapped the entire battlefield and each person within it.
Susan ducked behind the heavy machinery, heavy hail of bullets flying her way. The ricochets off the metal was almost deafening. Using her off-hand to remove her radio from its holster, she yelled into it, "Shots fire! Shots fired!"
Without any more elaboration, she dropped the radio on the ground. She took her gun in both hands, then swung around for some pot-shots at one of the guards.
The guard was crossing the walkway toward the opposite side. Jeff couldn't tell exactly what he was doing, as the others were headed onto his side toward a closed office. The first one in was Marcus, as he had no weapon and was in a much more fearful state.
Jeff decided to fire at the guard from that other side. He fired several bullets, never keeping any kind of count. One still flashed upon the rail. Several others made their mark. The guard collapsed as though he was a rag doll.
The other two guards and the leader were above Jeff, firing at Susan. One looked up to see his ally fall. Susan took that moment to make a carefully aimed shot. She just fired one time. Blood splattered out of his temple. The other two gunmen stepped away from the terrible sight.
The gunmen weren't stunned for long. They fired many more bullets at Susan. Seeing the threat, she ducked behind and waited until she could get another chance to move.
Jeff noticed that he was being ignored. He switched his glasses back to the infrared mode. It revealed the two remaining enemies above him. They were using the metal wall of the office as cover, switching in and out between each other to give maximum firepower.
He ran under the walkway, trying to stay out of sight. The gunfire was loud enough that Jeff could swiftly get to where he wanted without giving himself away.
From his pocket, he removed the one thing he kept from the last world he visited: the grappling beam. Quickly strapping the watch-like device to his wrist. He looked at it for a second to make sure it was operational.
Swinging himself out from under the walkway, he looked up to where his fist was held high. Bending his wrist downward, the beam shot straight onto the ceiling.
The leader and his bodyguard had noticed the beam. The two was puzzled by the stream of light. Then Jeff rose up from it with his weapon ready to fire. Before they could react, Jeff emptied his gun into them.
He hung there a few seconds while the two gunmen fell. After he let his adrenaline go down, he swung his foot over to the catwalk.
Susan watched in awe as Jeff hung there for the long second. she then mentally slapped herself out of that awe. Using her glasses to make sure that all the enemies were finished, she yelled at Jeff, "It's clear, Jeff."
After picking up the radio, she ran up the stairway. At the top was the dead bodies. They were piled on one-another. She looked to find Marcus, curled up as though he was in an earthquake.
She looked the other way to find Jeff still clumsily swinging himself over the rail. She asked him, "Where did you get that?"
Jeff sternly replied, "Don't ask."
Taking the radio that was in her hand, she relayed information to Dispatch, "Shot are silenced. We got three probable injuries."
"Copy that," the radio said, "There are three units already on their way. ETA in less than two."
"Thanks," she said, knowing that there was now ambulance coming their way.
Jeff walked up behind Susan, seeing her look over the bodies with a detached observance. She quickly identified which barely had any life to it, then covering the wounds with as much of the coat each wore as she could.
He watched, not knowing if any one of them would live. But he knew that at least one was dead. Susan didn't even bother to cover the leader's wounds. He saw him: the groomed hair and bloodshot eyes that stared out at nowhere. Jeff could almost see the hair turn to white, the same as Karns. Mixed feeling stirred, giving far more questions for Jeff than answers.
He snapped out of his internal thoughts. He looked right at Marcus. The minion had hid under a desk throughout the battle. Now he slumped into view, face down on the ground.
"I got him," said Susan, implying that she would arrest the messenger. "Check our other shooter."
Jeff looked across the catwalk to find one last body. He jogged over, towering over the body of the well-built man. He saw the large red stains on the back. Bending over, he put a finger on the guard's neck. It was still warm, but he didn't feel any quick rise and falls of a pulse. He moved somewhere else, seeing if he missed something. Then put his whole hand around to feel the entire neck for a pulse. There was none.
Jeff walked back, shaking his head in negative. Susan had dragged Marcus out and cuffed his hands behind his back. "Can you check that guy for any ID?"
She had nodded toward the leader, lying separate from the other two guards. He lifted the body to its side, snagging out the wallet of the man. Opening it, he found the drivers license and said it out-loud, "Barry Rivers."
Jeff closed the wallet then tossed it over to Susan. She kept one hand on Marcus, even though she was finished restraining him. "We'll have to check his home," she said to Jeff, "But I doubt he had any poisons on him."
"Hopefully, he will be able to answer a few questions," Jeff said, referring to Marcus. The man remained silent as they waited for the rest of the crews to arrive.
The clouds in the sky was gloomy. The foreboding rain never came, despite what Susan was feeling.
The grass throughout the field had a dark-green tone, as though the gloom permeated into the ground. Even though that grass was well cut, it could still hide the one thing that Susan walked to every year.
Jeff walked up. He could tell that Susan wasn't in a good mood. So he went straight to business, "They checked River's home. He didn't have any samples of the virus, nor anything that would infect someone.
"Also," Jeff said, going to a slightly different topic, "The power at the warehouse went out because of a car accident about four blocks from where we were at."
Even with the attempted distraction, it didn't take Susan's mind off of what was in front of her. "It doesn't get better."
Jeff looked down. It was a flat, grey marker - one that showed a young girls name. "That's your daughter," he guessed in a blunt manner.
"Yeah. She died a two years ago. Stray bullet hit her," Susan confessed, "I thought if I could be in the Force, I could help others avoid the same fate. Instead, I find them on the same, worst day."
Susan looked directly at Jeff, seeing the same feelings in his eyes. They were just far more hidden and guarded, "Is that why you wanted to help: to help that woman avoid your fate?"
Jeff kept his eyes down at the marker and said, "Truthfully, I'm not entirely sure. It just seemed like the only thing I could do." He looked back up to Susan, "Maybe, even after all this time, having that badge is all you can do, even if it doesn't seem to help."
"And what of that man who killed your wife?"
"I still have to chase him. I've seen the things he's done, the things he is willing to do. But..." Jeff started to show the same thing that Susan had, "If I can't catch him, what am I to do?"
Something in that statement stirred Susan. She stood taller, then walked aside of Jeff, "We just stop standing."
Marcus sat on the other side of the glass in the very grey, brightly lit room. He had lost, had no options, not much of a future. For him it didn't matter if he cooperated wi
th the police or not, he was a doomed man.
Susan stood on the other side of the table. She leaned forward to press the depressed man. "You had a night, ready to tell me anything?
Jeff watched the two, curious in the technique and results.
Marcus didn't raise his head, "About Karl, right?
Susan continued, "How did you know that Finard was in the hospital?"
Marcus gave a short laugh, mostly at himself. "One of my duties: to make sure that people who go clean don't go clean on us."
"Who's this 'us'?"
"Um.....Rivers and me."
"The dead guy," Susan said plainly.
Marcus raised his head up only for a moment to nod in confirmation.
"So, how do you make sure people don't tell on you?"
Marcus stayed silent.
"He's the guy you're afraid of. Now that Rivers is dead, you don't lose anything from telling on him. But there's someone else."
"OK, I know this guy," Marcus confessed, showing that his stress had broke. It didn't matter what happened now. "I don't know his name nor the guy he works for. I just know that he convinces people to take a job, a paying job, someplace. Then they do some shady work there."
"You've been of good help," Susan politely said, keeping her voice to a neutral tone.
Susan opened the door when Marcus had to ask one last question, a hope, "Does this mean I don't get charged with anything?"
"Nope. I didn't say a thing about that."
She cruelly closed the door, leaving Marcus alone.
The door opened, letting in the bright light of the hallway into the room. The records room had no files, no papers or any type of hard copies. Susan walked into a room filled with three large computer terminals. Only one of the old computers had a screen and keyboard for direct access.
Jeff was right behind her. "You keep records exclusively on computers?" he wondered.
Without sitting down, Susan entered her name and password onto the black and white screen."Actually, these are just our servers," she said, "The actual records are stored in Guanaco. They can be accessed anywhere."
A search prompt came up. It asked several questions including name and physical description. Susan only put in Karl's name before pressing enter. Several listings showed up: all showing the same name. Tapping a button, Susan sorted the entries by location. She then highlighted the first listing. Once again pressing enter, a full profile showed up on Karl.
Jeff watched over Susan's shoulder and stated what he found on the screen, "Onslow Paint and Glass Manufacturing. I wonder what they'd been doing?"
Susan moved the cursor down to highlight the company name, then pressed enter. Another profile showed up, this one on the company. "Other than one health violation," she repeated from the screen, "they've been clean."
"What was the violation?"
Susan tapped one button to change the screen. "There was a gas-chemical leak in a paint factory. It seems the only similarity is that it's in the same place that Finard works."
"Then let's go there," Jeff suggested.
The secretary led the two into the small room that was Finard's workspace. Unlike the police department's records room, tons of papers and folders lined the walls and desks. There was only one computer in the entire room: a small, old computer that sat on an equally small and old desk.
"This is it," said the secretary, "He mostly kept to himself while he worked."
Jeff asked, "And during breaks?"
"I've seen him talk to a few people in the lunch room."
While the two investigators walked into the room, the secretary continued to think. She pondered on whoever Karl had talked to. "Come to think of it, I don't think he ever talked to the same person twice."
Jeff had been looking around, trying to find something useful. With that statement, he turned to the secretary, "He never made any friends here?"
The secretary shook her head no. "Nope, only one person ever even stepped into here after Karl was hired."
"Do you know who that was?"
"I didn't know him. He had an employee badge on and that's all I needed to see. I couldn't describe him, even though he came by yesterday."
That got Susan's attention, "He came yesterday?"
"Yeah. 'Said he needed a physical record of something - never said what it was."
Susan looked at the desk, then asked the secretary, "Do you go into this room?"
The secretary looked around the room, seeing it as though it was a new, foreign place. "I don't really get passed the door."
Susan looked around, then saw something. Without a word, she waved at Jeff to come see a round, metal container. "Hold on to this for a sec," she said, handing it to him.
The officer took out a small, hand-held spray can from one of the pouches on her belt. She sprayed a white, powdery substance onto the can. The dust made fingerprints much more visible to the naked eye. Now holding her glasses, she scanned the container, hoping for something other than Karl's fingerprints.
She could see the glasses pick up each fingerprint, then shuffle them around to an organized space off to the side. After a short time processing them, it marked the ones it recognized as Karl's in green. Jumbled within those were fingerprints marked in red; these were not yet identified.
"And there's a hit," Susan said to Jeff, "I'll have to run this out in the car."
"All right," Jeff acknowledged. Turning toward the secretary, he said, "We'll be back.
"Sure," She said politely, "If you find anything, I'm more then willing to help."
The secretary closed the door after Susan and Jeff left, leaving it as dark as they had found it.
Jeff closed the car door, soundproofing from all the industrial noise outside. He looked at the center computer screen, which Susan had turned on. "Do you think this guy will be in your system?"
Susan shrugged, "You never know. If our guy was right, this company may have a few more ex-cons."
She pressed on the last button to sync the information from her glasses. It took a few moments before it switched from that connection to connecting to the police's computer systems. After scanning all the files, it found a match.
"James Ternstall," Susan announced, "And he's employed here as we suspected. I guess we'll be visiting him next."
Without looking further, she shut the computer down. The two were about to exit the car when an electronic ring came from Susan's pocket. Removing from it was her cell phone. Without looking at the caller ID, she answered, "Hello, this is Sergeant Susan Yearling."
It was Karl's doctor on the other side of the call, "Sergeant, this is Doctor Vick. I'm calling to see how your investigation is going."
"We hit some set backs," she replied, Jeff intently hearing her side of the conversation. "But I think we might be able to find your bacteria samples. How's our patient?
"Well, that's the problem. Karl had another seizure. This time it put him into a coma."
Susan sighed. Time was running out and she need to know, "How long do we have?"
"I say if I don't get that sample in around....eight hours, we won't be able to synthesize an antidote in time. In ten, Karl won't be around to get one."
"All right. Thanks for the information." She clicked the red button on the phone, hanging up the call.
"So, what was that?" Jeff asked, wanting to know the details of the distressing conversation.
"That was the doctor. Mr. Finard's condition has deteriorated."
"So, we better work quickly," he said, getting out of the car with much more swiftness than before.
The area was clean, almost too clean, Susan thought. The same secretary led them to James Ternstall's office, which was actually a small sectioned-off area within the chemical plant. The air purifier was quite loud and barely filtered out the heavy smells.
"Didn't you say that he would be in right now?" Susan asked the secretary.
"That's what his schedule says. However, it isn't uncommon for any of our man
agers to leave early. They just file a note on it when they get back."
Jeff wandered in from behind, looking around for anything conspicuous. Susan decided to stand in place for her search and continued to ask the secretary questions, "Even if they come back the next day?"
"Yeah. We tend to have "as long as it gets done" kind of policy towards work."
Jeff looked around the lone table. Picking up a small, cheap statue, he inspected it to find nothing unusual. Setting it down, he turned toward the desk. He asked the secretary, "Do you have access to this computer?"
The secretary replied, "Sure, what do you need?" She moved to the desk and entered all the required information into the computer.
"I need to see if there's any e-mails or memos that was sent to or from him," Jeff requested.
Susan walked behind the desk along with the others. The officer looked over the secretary shoulder as she brought up the requested information.
"We keep all e-mails for at least 15 days," She informed the two, "They can't even be deleted from the computer. Standard policy for our section." She clicked on the e-mail program and entered one last set of log-in information, "There you go."
Stepping back, she let Jeff have access to the computer. He quickly scanned the lines of e-mails that its owner stored. There was one that caught his eye, "Here's something. One marked "important," and from himself."
Thinking out-loud, Jeff summarized the e-mail he read, "It looks like he knew about Finard's condition yesterday." Turning to Susan, he asked, "Did you see the document this is talking about?"
"Not here, but if we go by his home, I would bet we would find it."
Jeff nodded in agreement. The two walked to the door, with Jeff in the rear. He had one last thought at the door, turning around to the secretary, "Can you send the police department a copy of that?"
The secretary moved back to the computer. "I'll make sure it's marked for you guys."
"Thanks for your help," Jeff politely said.
The secretary nodded in reply while Jeff and Susan left the room.
The neighborhood betrayed the face of who was living in it. It was a calm and peaceful. Very much not like Ternstall's record of several assaults. She wasn't sure if this was a mask, hiding what Ternstall was doing or if he genuinely wanted to live there.
With Jeff behind her, she knocked on the door. There was a lack of any noise in return. The windows showed that the house was lifeless. "I don't see anyone's here."
She twisted the doorknob to find it unlocked. With the door open she found her assumption was correct.
The living room was to their left; rather dark aside from the few inches of sunlight. The architecture had made it so then little natural light emitted into this house. Jeff looked inside to find it sparse. There were books on the book shelf and some chairs and tables. But there was little that added personality to anything in the room. It reminded Jeff of his old dorm rooms; except those had letters of accommodations and other notes of achievements marking the walls.
Moving further inside the house, Susan split towards what looked like a work room. It was one that had a computer and desk as well as several large pieces of workout equipment. At least this looked like it belonged to Ternstall, Susan thought.
Jeff wandered down the hallway. A short ways in he found a door that looked like it should be part of a closet. Opening the door, he found it was something different. "Susan," he called out.
Susan followed his voice to find Jeff inside. She saw the room was filled with ultraviolet light as well as the heavy smell of several chemicals. The sergeant doubted it was safe to stay in there for long.
"It looks like Ternstall was part of something after all," Jeff said as he walked around the rows of chemistry sets. It was obvious many of those sets were designed for mass production.
"Certainly not something of a hobby," Susan commented as she walked in, inspecting the liquids.
"No. But none of this seems like it's an illegal drug, or even explosive for that matter," He said, knowing, mostly from his experience with a chemist, exactly what explosives generally were. "This isn't making the end product, whatever it is. Moreover, there's no sign of that bacteria that Finard has."
Moving to the corner, where a computer was on a chest-high table, Jeff found it already on. There was several programs already on. Each were regulating some of aspect of the makeshift chemical production. Starting up the e-mail, he found it automatically logged in with full access to everything that Ternstall received.
Reading through several e-mails, he summarized his findings to Susan, "It looks like he was suspecting something was going to go wrong. He broke it off with a girlfriend three weeks ago. Her reply was asking why. He never said, just saying not to see him again."
Susan looked up, not caring to look further at the chemical anymore."It might be that he fled when he heard what happened to Finard."
"Possibly."
Susan moved back to the doorway, while Jeff continued his search in the e-mails. "I'm going to see if there's anything elsewhere," She informed Jeff.
"Alright," he replied while his eyes never left the computer. Right after she left the room, he found another e-mail that looked interesting. Reading it, he found it was something very important. A find that would break this case wide open.
Without closing the program, he left to find Susan. Walking down the hallway, he couldn't see where she went. "Susan?" he called out.
From another side room, he heard her voice, "Over here. You should see this."
It was down another short walkway that separated itself from the rest of the living area. He found the lone bedroom. It had a strange, unpleasant smell to it.
The skylight illuminated the gruesome sight. Susan stood next to the bed - which was the literal resting place of Ternstall. His eyes were closed, peaceful in the way that he died.
"Although he was suspicious that something was going to happen," Jeff said to Susan, "I don't think he expected this."
"According to my scan-glasses, he died three hours ago. No wounds other then a puncture mark on his foot. I think he was killed with the same bacteria that Finard has."
"Not surprising. But if he died first, wouldn't that mean he was infected first as well?"
"Possibly." She turned to Jeff, "Did you have something?"
"Yeah, I need you to see if you can track an e-mail address."
The two left the body to rest. They walked back to the chemical room to where Jeff had left the computer. Susan looked at the e-mail, seeing that it had instructions from someone unknown. "This is it?" She asked, mostly to make sure that there wasn't a mistake.
"Yeah," Jeff nodded in confirmation.
Susan took out her radio. Once again, Bob was on-screen, "Bob here, what 'you need?"
"I've got an e-mail that I need traced," Susan flatly commanded.
"Sure," Bob said, just as eager as before, "Just show me the e-mail, and I'll show you who it belongs to."
Susan smiled, as Bob's enthusiasm always cheered her up at least in some way. She rotated the radio so then Bob could see the e-mail they needed tracing. She had just got it centered when Bob announced, "Got it. And the results are in."
She rotated the radio back towards her. "So who is it from?"
"A Barry Onslow."
This was news. "Wait, a second. Is that the same Onslow as the company?"
Bob energetically nodded, "Yup, he's the president of the company."
Without another word, she ended the call by saying, "Thanks."
Bob waved at the screen. "See you around."
The screen went blank. Susan set it back in its holster, looking up to Jeff. "So, Onslow hired Finard into his criminal organization."
"It's a good plan," Jeff analyzed, "Hire somebody who wants out of crime back into it. For Finard and everyone else involved, there was no escape."
Towering over the other buildings, Onslow's office overlooked every inch of the industrial plant. Windows and high-end a
rchitecture permeated the entire floor, including a large desk for his own personal secretary.
Both Jeff and Susan had to arrive through an elevator. They already had announced their intentions on the ground floor. The secretary was a woman who was much more formal in both attire and attitude. She stood at the elevator, very much showing resistance.
Susan announced, "We're here to search Mr. Onslow's office."
"Sorry," the secretary said, "Mr. Onslow is...."
The secretary was cut off when Susan opened up the paper, showing that it was a search warrant. She sighed in defeat, knowing that one of Onslow's rules would have to be broken. "OK, the door is open."
They walked through the glass door to the office. The immediate sight was an entire wall that was just one piece of glass. The room was filled with trinkets from different travels that Onslow had experienced. Susan looked around, being her detective skills always said that hidden things were the most important. Jeff, on the other hand, went straight to the computer on the large, wooden desk. "Do you have access to his computer?" he asked the secretary.
"Uh.....no. Only Mr. Onslow can get onto that computer or his account."
Jeff didn't show any concern, "All right." He turned it on anyway to see if he could get anything out of it.
Susan moved next to him and opened the drawers. She found them empty. "I don't think this was empty before," she surmised, "He was tipped off about us."
Jeff typed several keys. With the user-name already on screen, he was attempting to guess the password. "We didn't exactly make ourselves hidden. Then again, it might have been that he found out that Finard survived."
"A good possibility," Susan said, before looking at the computer. "Got anything?"
Jeff quit after only a few guesses. He only put in the most common passwords that he knew. Then again, he thought, those might not help since this was a different world. "No," he said to Susan in defeat, "The log-in's too secure."
"I'll see if Bob can do anything."
Susan took out her radio. The picture of Bob showed up, but this time, he was facing away from the radio, working on something else. "Bob, still busy?"
This was a time where Bob was not in an amused mood. "Quite a bit," he said, exhuming his pressures he was under, "I've been going through that e-mail that we've traced. I only ID'ed a few of the other recipients; mostly other ex-cons."
"Well, we can't access Onslow's computer. Can you at least get remote access to his business e-mail?"
Bob still was working while he talked, "Maybe. I would try to access the company server. But if one of my theories is correct, he tried very much to limit any records of his activities."
"Is that why Finard was hired into the records section?"
"I think so. He was there mostly to erase records on certain lines of communications and apparently some inventory."
Susan was about to ask something when Bob interjected, "Wait a sec. I think I found something. The operation is happening in a warehouse along Cherry Street. It doesn't give an exact location, but I think you should be able to find something with that."
That was good news. "Thanks Bob," she said much more emphatically than before.
"And before you go," he said, stopping Susan from ending the call. "Snag that computer. I'll be able to do something with it later."
"Will do." Now Susan shut off her radio.
With Bob's confirmation, Jeff quickly shut the computer down and subsequently pulled every cord from it. He hauled it in his hands as he followed Susan out the door. The secretary was almost speechless, mostly in hearing of Onslow's illegal operations.
Susan drove slowly along the empty road. The entire area was abandoned industrial factories of one sort or another. She had knew it was a seedy neighborhood, but rarely ventured further than within her car. What they were looking for was activity inside one of the buildings.
Jeff was more intently looking, using his scan-glasses to detect anyone. While it was in search mode it could identify anyone using infrared and a few other spectrums that Jeff didn't know about. He looked across one building, seeing it as though he didn't have any glasses on; no signs that anyone was in there.
Then he saw one red dot in the next building. He held his hand up to let Susan know that he may have found something. She stopped abruptly, forcing Jeff to jerk a bit in his seat. He looked at the building, zooming in to see if there was any more signs of life. Aside from that one on the second floor, nothing. He shook his head negative and Susan continued the slow drive.
She sighed in frustration, since they had drove for a half-hour without anything. "I think we should head towards Onslow's home."
"There's already two others there," Jeff replied, "If there's anything, we'll hear it."
The car strolled slowly in front of another inconspicuous warehouse. This one had no signs of its previous owner or use, but it looked a bit less run down then most of the others.
Jeff once again spotted something, and held his arm up. This time, he found more than just one dot. "Susan, I think you should look."
Susan took her own glasses and looked at the same building that Jeff pointed out. She saw many dots, each a person. She counted how many was in there, "Did you get 22 people in there as well."
"Yeah, More over, the only entrance that I can see is the hanger doorway."
Susan took her car radio out from the car holster. "This is Sargent Yearling. I'm at 2481 Cherry Street. I need a SWAT team here asap, have around 22 identified suspects in a warehouse, many probably armed."
"Copy that," the man on the other side of the radio said, "I'll give an ETA as soon as it comes by."
"I'll stand by at this location," she said, hanging up the microphone.
"So we have to wait?" he asked, hoping for some other answer to this dilemma.
"I don't think we can get in there alone."
"Presuming that the bacteria sample is in there, it'll be cutting it close."
"Well, if they find it at his home, it won't be close. But if it's here, I'd rather cut it close then not at all."
If Susan had hoped for a quiet entrance, it didn't turn out that way. SWAT trucks were spread all across the street. The large force was very visible to anyone that looked outside.
Then again, Susan had seen several more people enter; one that was confirmed to have contacted the Onslow residence. Unfortunately, they had not found anything there. If the bacteria sample they needed was anywhere, it was in that building.
Everyone was finishing up arming themselves and putting on their armor. Even Jeff and Susan, both of whom was joining the SWAT team in this operation, had similar gear on.
Susan was waving her arm in the air in a circular pattern, summoning the twelve SWAT team members as well as Jeff. When they encircled her, she began the last briefing.
"Over the course of two hours, me and Mr. Hunter had been looking out at the suspect warehouse. There were two people spotted going in, both very armed.
"The main suspect is the president of a chemical company, Barry Onslow. From Bob's inspection of this e-mails and computers, as well as our search of his home, this is an illegal chemical operation; end product not known at this point. It's possible that some of them may be explosive, so avoid shooting any of those chemicals.
"Most importantly," She said, emphasizing this goal in the raid, "We are in need of a bacteria sample that our suspect may be carrying. He might have it in a weaponized form, so if you see the suspect, take extra precautions.
"Any questions or concerns?"
No one answered.
"OK, everyone should know the plan," Susan concluded, beginning the operation by saying, "Let's get them."
The SWAT team led Jeff and Susan to the main door. The lead one took the large door, attempting to open it quietly. But as soon as it was partially open, bullets penetrated the metal. They all very narrowly missed the infiltrators.
"There goes the easy way," yelled the SWAT team leader, "Baker, Rosen, Dillian - read
y to blow three holes."
The SWAT team split into three groups; Susan and Jeff took the left, farthest most group to the large hanger doors. Those were much heavier and pretty much bulletproof. The three assigned SWAT members took out a small ball, attaching it to separate sections of the large door.
With their bombs set up, everyone dove out of the way. All three went off at the same time, giving off more noise than volume in its explosion. The holes that were left betrayed the apparent size of the explosives, as they were easily large enough to enter from.
"Go!" ordered the SWAT leader.
The teams dove inside into a hail of fire. The bright lights caught Jeff by surprise for a short bit, but quickly adjusted as he followed the professional combatants.
Everyone quickly had to take cover. The explosions knocked over a metal table near the entrance, convenient for Jeff, Susan and the two other SWAT members in their group. Bullets flew by them, but mostly ricocheted off the table they took cover under.
Instead of putting their backs to the table, everyone looked toward and beyond it. The scan-glasses was identifying the exact location of each shooter they were facing.
Susan faced to her right, where the SWAT leader had take refuge. "I got twelve on the ground, eight up on the next floor."
"Same thing here," the gruff voice confirmed, "Take the group on the left."
Susan nodded in confirmation.
Jeff leaned around to his right to fire a few shots at the gunmen. All the shots missed, with last one hit a vial that caused a small explosion. It didn't harm the nearby gunner, but scared him quite a bit. He took cover behind the table, from both the gunfire and the possibility that the next vial hit would be bigger.
Jeff swung back behind the table, as more gunfire headed his way. "It's never easy," he said across over to Susan.
"If it was, we wouldn't be here," she replied before raising herself above the table. Susan fired at the same targets Jeff was aiming at; one of the bullets felling one of the three gunmen.
With that, gunfire ceased to be aimed at Jeff's group. He took that chance to dive past Susan and toward the center group.
Not knowing what Jeff was doing, she fired covering fire; even knowing that the gunmen were not firing back at the moment.
Instead of going across to the center SWAT group, he dove more forward towards a small vat. It was just large enough to give him cover. More importantly, it gave him a more direct view to the gunmen without being seen himself.
Using his glasses, Jeff zoomed towards the metal table this enemies were using as cover. Specifically, he looked at the vials that were haphazardly laid there. The scan-glasses could identify each of the vials temperatures, which helped Jeff quite a bit. Unfortunately, he didn't see anything he had hoped to find.
Just as Susan took cover, another gunman popped up to return fire. His fire was returned by a SWAT member that swung around. However, the gunman quickly reacted and shot the SWAT in the shoulder; blood spurting onto his firing arm.
Jeff looked down and saw another vial. It was close to him, but just within the sights of the gunmen. Slowly and as inconspicuous as possible, he reached out and grabbed the vial; diving back once it was in hand. First he looked through the clear glass, then opened the cork to smell the chemical within the vial.
Closing it back up, he was satisfied with what he found. Without going out of cover, he looked at where the gunmen were; measuring his distance. With a quick lug, he tossed the vial over to the gunmen. The glass shattered into a cloud, distracting the over-confidant gunmen.
Using his distraction, Jeff ran right beside the gunmen, his weapon aimed upon them. "Hello, guys," he announced.
The gunmen looked, having dropped their pistols to get off the dry powder and got caught surprised.
Susan saw what Jeff had done, turning to confer with the SWAT leader next to her, "We need to give the others some support."
"If we go over there, we should be able to flank the group." He was pointing to a improvised path between the vat in which Jeff had taken cover and several metal drums that were on carts.
"And what of Dillian?"
He shook his head, "He can't move, not without making his wound worse. But knowing him, he won't leave, not without securing this place first."
Susan looked at the wounded SWAT member, who now had his visor up. He was sweating, but his wound wasn't bleeding now.
"Alright, we'll move on my mark," she announced. Susan set herself to be ready for the dash. The path seemed to be covered, but she wanted to be ready if it wasn't. The SWAT leader did the same. "Go!"
She ran across to the other side of the vat, then to behind the metal drums.
Jeff was now taking fire from one of the gunmen from the center; a group of six that pinned down the other SWAT members. The two gunmen that Jeff was now accompanying was unarmed; their guns now confiscated by Jeff.
While still taking cover, Jeff tried to interrogate the two now-former gunmen, "Where's Onslow?"
"Why should we tell you?" One of the gunmen yelled.
"Because, I think you have a better chance with us then with him, especially considering he has killed one of his lackeys already."
The gunmen looked at each other. They silently agreed, the other gunman saying to Jeff, "He's upstairs."
"OK, now I suggest you stay down."
Jeff rose to fire back at the group of gunmen.
Susan and the SWAT member was hiding around a set of drums. Their impromptu path had taken them across behind and across to the other side of the factory floor. On the other side of the drums were three gunmen. One of them had a bullet wound in his stomach, but was still fighting.
Susan tapped on the metal drums.
She had to whisper to the SWAT leader, as not to give away their position to the gunmen on the other side."They're empty."
"They probably won't stop a bullet then," he surmised, knowing that liquids generally helped slow bullets down.
"Actually....I have a better idea."
She gestured for him to shove it over. She gave a three count with her hand, then both began to shove the metal drums over. It took a second, difficult with the drums collective weight, but they finally gave way.
The barrels fell on top one gunmen. The other two were surprised and turned toward their new encounter. Just as the guns faced Susan and the SWAT leader, they both quickly shot them down without a real fight.
The six gunmen heard the crash, which proved a good distraction for Jeff. Raising up his pistol, he fired at the most vulnerable of the gunmen. Two fell in the rapid fire of bullets, one being the guy that had been attacking Jeff. The last one standing quickly ducked back down.
The remaining four were now confused and scared. One tried to wave another to go somewhere, but he wasn't going to do that anytime soon. The lead repeated the gesture, with more insistence. And again it was refused, with more insistence.
Then Jeff appeared over their heads. They tried to react to the attacker, but then three SWAT members also appeared. They all held their hands up in the air, dropping their weapons in defeat.
It took a quick minute for the SWAT team to round up the captured gunmen and restrain them in handcuffs. Susan looked around, surveying their defeated enemy to the SWAT leader, "We got three on that side, two wounded."
"One dead here," He said, pointing to the other side from where they came.
Jeff, however, was more concerned with other matters, especially since this one could be easily handled by a few men. "We need to get upstairs; that's where Onslow is."
The SWAT leader pointed toward a set of stairs, "There's two entrances; one to the front, one in the left rear."
Jeff looked with his glasses. Through them, he got an x-ray like view to the covered stairs. He followed it up, and saw three heat signatures of people near the top of the stairs. Following it further, he found a room that was in the rear corner that two signals were standing still.
"The front staircase has thr
ee guards," he announced.
Susan had used her glasses to map the other path, "Three guards in the rear as well."
The SWAT leader took in that information and formed a plan. "Then we'll split up. Four of us in the rear with Sargent Yearling, four with Mr. Hunter. The rest, take the wounded out and ready for emergency crews."
The SWAT leader led the group that was to take the rear. The five stopped at the stairs, out of sight of any ambushers that awaited them.
Jeff's group took a similar position. With one of the SWAT members in lead, he quickly turned into the stairs. At first, they found no resistance in the narrow stairway. The five moved as quietly as their heavy gear allowed. They had gotten halfway up when a guard cautiously turned the corner, finding the SWAT team. He fired his pistol, and the lead SWAT member returned fire with his rifle. The two missed their mark, with the guard diving back to safety. A stand-off now took effect.
Susan's group had also gotten to halfway to the top of the stairs when they encountered resistance. The guard swung around and emptied his pistol. The SWAT leader crouched when he saw the guard and gave a single shot. His aim was true, hitting the guard right in the forehead.
However, Susan had taken the guard's bullet. The bullet had penetrated her vest, just inside of her shoulder. She was bleeding profusely and leaning on the SWAT member behind her.
Quickly rotating around, the SWAT leader looked at Susan's wound. "Get her out of here," he ordered the man who supported Susan. "Me and Baker can go ahead"
"Right," The SWAT member acknowledged, turning Susan onto his back to carry her out.
At the front stairs, the guard tried to lean back out, only to be met by a bullet by the SWAT member. Jeff was now impatient, knowing he didn't have much time for a stand-off. He knocked on the wall, checking what material it was.
Jeff switched his glasses to infrared mode, showing the two guards in a red silhouette. He didn't have the best aim with the glasses, since the gun wasn't visible in the spectrum he was using. But he did the best he could, and fired.
The bullet went through, and the red shadow slumped down on top the other guard. "Go!" he yelled, hoping to surprise the other guard.
The lead SWAT ran up the stairs, gun ready. He turned the corner and fired at the remaining guard, completely unsuspecting of what had and what just happened.
With no more resistance until their goal, they turned the hall to a control room. Yet there was no one there. The other side had an open door. They barely got through that door when they saw Onslow.
It was apparent that the villain had gotten caught from the other side, as the SWAT leader pinned him down along with his last guard. The gun that Onslow held was quite different than what the others held: it was a tranquilizer pistol. Jeff knew what he was looking for was right in Onslow's hands.
"Put your weapons down and hands in the air!" the SWAT leader ordered.
Onslow looked around. He held his hand up in the air, gun still in hand. The guard did the same. While defeated, Onslow wasn't about to completely give up.
"You need this, don't you," he teased, waving the tranquilizer gun. "After all, I shot two people with it."
He looked directly at Jeff, as though he knew that he was the one who needed it the most, "You need this for Finard."
"Yeah," Jeff flatly replied.
Onslow laughed, "I knew that guy was trouble. All the others gave up; being clean that is. But not that guy. Even now, he probably still thinks he can go straight. And that's where you come in."
The villain looked down at the vat, "Well, have fun getting it!" He casually tossed the gun over towards the vat.
Jeff quickly leaned over the railing of the catwalk and shot his grappling beam at it. It snagged the gun, propelling it over the vat and just onto the edge of it.
Jeff looked up, as the SWAT leader was forcing Onslow on his knees and arresting him. He nodded a confirmation at him, and the SWAT leader nodded back.
Outside, Jeff met Susan. She was on a stretcher being loaded up to an ambulance vehicle. Several other ambulances were around, illuminating the entire scene.
"I got it," Jeff announced to her.
"Good. Get on aboard," she ordered, showing little of the pain she felt.
Trying to lean up as far as she could and facing the driver, she said to him, "Head onto Angel Hospital."
"We're already going there, but..."
The driver was about to say that Jeff couldn't come along, but Susan countermanded him, "It's more of an emergency then my condition. Let him stay."
The diver nodded. The ambulance doctor hopped on in on the other side from Jeff and closed the doors.
Jeff paced away between the series of seats. Trisha sat, waiting patiently for some news. Susan sat in the row opposite from her, wounds covered with heavy bandages. It had been nearly two hours since they arrived, not knowing if they were in time or not.
Vick walked up out of the back rooms, solemn with some bad news. He talked to everyone, most importantly to Trisha, "I'm sorry, we didn't make it in time."
"What does that mean?" Jeff asked.
"Karl is still in a coma. And the best I can give is a fifty-fifty chance of ever coming out of it."
Trisha didn't cry, didn't make much noise at all. Instead, she went into a state of shock. Jeff sat next to her, held her in a semi-hug as he knew she needed it.
Susan slumped into her hard seat. This was not the result she wanted, or needed.
Jeff watched as Trisha sat next to Karl. All he did was sleep, ever in the coma that was forced upon him...and her. He wasn't sure who was worse off, Karl who had nearly died and may still. Or Trisha, who had tried to help him out of the life he led, still trying, only to have to wait to see if anything would be fine.
The investigation for Susan had pretty much concluded. Marcus was going to jail, right next to cell that contained Onslow. Only the fine details remained for her.
But the last he saw of her was at the graveyard, again at her child's resting place. Just as much as everyone else, she had hoped for a different result. He knew that people were helped, that there was one criminal not hurting anyone anymore. But those people would remain silent, never knowing the hurt that Trisha felt...or that Jeff felt.
Suddenly he felt tired. He left the room, then the whole hospital, without a word. Going back to the Dimensional Transport, which had been left alone for too long, he left the world without any farewells or goodbyes. Without knowing if he had truly helped or not.
Once in flight, he finally took the time to sleep. He didn't care what dreams came, only that the did.