Part 27 Rollercoaster (Part 2)
As the line went dead, Steve's mind went into overdrive, once again a myriad of emotions assaulted his senses. Just hearing the voice of the man who had begun this week of sleeping and waking nightmares sent icy shivers down his spine. When it was coupled with a threat to his father and Jesse's life, from the man who already had the status of a childhood monster in Steve's psyche, the fear and dread spiraled to almost overwhelming proportions.
"Steve! Steve! What is it? who was that?" Amanda's anxious tone pulled his focus back to the world. She had only heard his side of the conversation but even if she had heard nothing, the change in his demeanour, the way his whole body stiffened, and the almost tangible wave of emotion that now emanated from him, was enough to tell her that something was very, very wrong.
"Stop the car!" Steve commanded, his voice and expression brooked no argument and Amanda did as she was told but asked again. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I need to drive," he said, unclipping his seatbelt and opening the door before the car had come to a complete stop. He jumped out and ran round to the driver's side, whilst Amanda, who realised that, whatever it was, it required some urgency, did the same.
Steve got in, waited until Amanda had clipped her seatbelt into place and then floored the accelerator before he replied. He had taken over the driving because he knew that time was of the essence and whilst Amanda was an excellent driver, he had been trained in police pursuit and may just be able to squeeze a little extra speed down the more treacherous stretches of road, but he had mainly taken it over because he needed something to do, needed to feel that he was taking direct action. He could not have sat passively as a passenger whilst his father's life and that of his best friend were in danger.
"The call was from Byron Cooper," Steve said, trying hard to keep his rising panic from showing in his voice. "He said that he's going to kill dad and Jesse."
There was a slight exclamation from Amanda as she took in this news.
Steve tried his hardest to keep his emotions under control as he told her the rest of it. "He said.. he said I would be too late to save dad, I was too far away." he swallowed. "But I might be able to save Jesse."
Amanda now understood the panic and the urgency. She looked at Steve and tried to think of words of comfort that she could offer him but realised that the best she could do was to offer a silent prayer that Byron was wrong and that they would not be too late. She gripped the handle on the door as the car slewed around another bend.
--
Jesse did his best to put up a fight as they dragged him from the burning building but with his hands tied behind his back all he managed was a painful fall, landing heavily, with no way to cushion the impact. Byron and Peter hauled him unceremoniously to his feet and continued to drag him forwards.
The pain from his injured arm and the recently replaced stitches had started as a dull ache when his arm was pulled behind his back and tied. Now that he was being dragged along by it, the ache had turned into a fire, and he had to concentrate to think of anything else.
After the initial struggle, he allowed himself to be pulled along, keeping up because it was less painful that way, but as they moved further from the house, he had chance to consider what he was being made to do. They were leaving Mark to die in a burning building and taking him, if he had correctly interpreted what he had heard, to bait a trap for Steve. They would almost certainly kill him as soon as they didn't need him any more. He couldn't let that happen, he couldn't just leave Mark to his fate without at least attempting to do something, however little chance he had of success, nor could he just allow himself to be passively dragged away to his death.
With a sudden determination, and a strength and speed borne of desperation, he stopped and threw his weight backwards, writhing as he did so out of Peter and Byron's grip, then he turned on his heels and ran.
Shocked by the sudden action it took a moment for either man to respond, then both set off running after their escaped prisoner. Byron reached him first going into a viscious flying tackle to bring Jesse down.
Jesse hit the floor on his injured arm and, this time, he felt the tear as the stitches were once more ripped apart. The fire turned to molten lava as an intense heat wave of pain swept up from his shoulder. His vision blurred and he felt himself rolling. When his mind cleared enough for him to focus, he was looking into Byron's slightly manic face. He was pinned to the ground as Byron straddled his chest, the knife once more pressed against his throat.
"Now," Byron said, leaning down, still panting slightly from the exertion. He stopped only inches away from Jesse's face. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I don't mind stopping every few yards for more of this if you won't cooperate, but I'm guessing that you will. Struggling is not going to bring back Dr. Sloan, nor is it going to help you or your friend Steve." He paused, leaning in slightly closer. "It will only cause you pain."
There was something about the way Byron delivered that last sentence and the threat it encompassed that was literally terrifying. Jesse cowered from the words in a way that he never would from physical blows. He looked into Byron's eyes and saw what Peter always saw, a terrifying insanity.
"So what do you say, will you cooperate?" Byron asked. When Jesse did not reply immediately Byron moved his knee and pressed his full weight onto Jesse's arm.
Jesse gasped and almost blacked out from the pain, his whole body writhed in the sand as he attempted to escape from it.
"I said are you going to cooperate?" Byron asked again, more sharply
Jesse just managed a nod, Byron smiled and slipped his knife back into the sheath on his waist before removing his weight and standing up.
As the pressure was released Jesse rolled onto his good side breathing heavily in an attempt to control the pain. He felt strong hands grab him from either side and haul him once more to his feet, where he found himself staring at the burning house, the flames already licking at the windows. A wave of utter despair swept over him. He had no chance of escaping from the clutches of this madman. Steve was still more than twenty minutes away and conditions inside the burning building were already at the point where it would be difficult to survive the smoke inhalation, by the time Steve arrived, Mark would be.. Jesse tried hard to repress the image.
After finding his father Steve would be in no state to help anyone, but Jesse knew that he would try and then he would be killed too. Jesse swallowed hard as he considered the deaths of the two men he considered to be family, knowing that he could do nothing about it.
His shoulders sagged as the fight drained from him, the sheer hopelessness of his position robbed him of all but the most passive of responses, once more he followed the direction he was pulled.
Byron watched with satisfaction as Jesse's spirit sagged, that would make things easier in the short term, but he hoped he hadn't seen the last of Jesse's fight, since it made the game so much more interesting. He allowed Peter to take the lead for the time being. He had one last thing to do.
He took out the remote detonator from his pocket and pressed the switch. The towers he was blowing up were too far away for him to even hear the explosions, so he took out his cell phone and watched with satisfaction as the signal strength died. With the microwave towers down, no one in the local area would be able to use a cell phone to summon help.
--
Nathan, almost threw his cell phone to the floor in frustration. He had had no luck getting through to the Sloans on either the landline to the house, which had rung briefly before the line went dead, or Steve's cell phone which was engaged when he first tried it and then was switched off or out of the area where it could receive a signal. So he had concentrated his efforts on attempting to get first someone from the local sheriff's department to go out to the house and check it, and then to get a helicopter so that he could get up there himself.
The sheriff's department had responded with 'all our officers are busy at the moment but we'll get someone to run over there and check everything's all right as soon as we can.' In Nathan's opinion they had failed to understand the potential urgency of the situation and although he had attempted to explain in as much detail as he could why he thought Steve and Mark were in danger, he had had to admit that he had no direct evidence. Once he realised that he was not going to get anywhere, he had hung up frustrated and attempted his second objective, to get up there himself by helicopter. Again he met with failure. With Captain Newman still in the hospital he was left to talk to the acting Captain for his division, who did not seem to want to acknowledge the danger the Sloans were in. He argued that he was not going to spend taxpayer's money on a wild goose chase to protect people who had willingly left their jurisdiction. Frustrated once more, Nathan had ended the conversation before he said something he regretted. As he looked at the cell phone, attempting to avoid the temptation to destroy it, he considered the fact that the acting Captain had been close friends with a couple of the people suspended in the corruption investigation that Steve and Mark had helped to uncover, and that probably explained his unwillingness to help them now.
He was just about to head out to his car and go out to the hospital to see if Captain Newman was well enough to pull some strings, when a better idea occurred to him, as he remembered a story Steve had once told him about solving a murder in the middle of a forest fire that had swept through Malibu. He took out his cell phone again.
--
Steve's knuckles were white, his grip on the steering wheel a testament to the taughtness of every sinew and muscle in his body.
His mind was working on two levels, thoughts and actions seemed separated. Finely honed skills, drilled into him over many hours of police training and actual pursuits, allowed him to drive whilst his mind attempted to deal with the imagination and the reality of his fears.
He threw the heavy vehicle around another bend, sliding the rear tyres and just managing to pull it back into line before it left the tarmaced surface.
'You'll be too late to save your father,' the voice repeated in his head.
No, he refused to believe it. His father was still alive, he had to be.
The images of the bloody corpses from the clinic, drifted into his mind, he shook his head to clear it but they refused to go. He closed his eyes briefly but the images only grew sharper. He opened them and tried to focus on the treeline ahead.
'The shooting would have stopped if it hadn't been for you,' the voice of earlier nightmares echoed, 'you'll be too late to save your father,' the new nightmare repeated.
The images of the bloody corpses reappeared only this time as he looked, he realised that one of them was Mark. The car skidded across the road as the powerful emotions that the image invoked, broke the barrier between automatic skills and distressed thoughts.
"Steve!" Amanda shouted in concern.
The alarmed tone snapped him back to reality, the grizzly image dissolving as he pulled the vehicle back from near disaster. He swallowed, attempting to calm himself, relieved that it was only a trick of his imagination but unable to shake the feelings of dread. What if they were too late?
"Steve," Amanda said softly, relaxing a little as she realised his brief loss of control was over.
He turned to look at her and briefly their gazes locked, each seeing the concern in the other. Steve forced his attention back to the road. "He said I'd be too late to save him," he said, unable to disguise the defeat that was already there. Whilst a part of him fought, another part of him had already given up, such was the power of negativity, brought on by Byron's involvement. Steve had failed once to stop this madman, was still trying to come to terms with the consequences, his belief in himself had almost been destroyed and he had had no opportunity to rebuild it.
"Steve," Amanda said, understanding the fear. She felt it herself, but she refused to give up hope. "He's got to be wrong."
In the last couple of minutes she had had time to consider their predicament. Checking her watch she realised that it had been half an hour since they had left for the town, which should have put them just about in the town centre. If Byron was at the house with Mark and Jesse and had told Steve that he was too far away, then she was betting that he knew how long ago they had left, had been watching them, and had guessed where they were going, but he didn't know that they had never made it to the town.
It was Amanda who had first realised that she had not brought her purse and had apologised, profusely for forgetting it, embarrassed that she had forgotten two things in as many days.
"Hey don't worry about it," Steve had said, sympathetically. "This last week has been a bit rough on all of us, it's bound to take it's toll, besides I have plenty of money in my wallet," he began to feel around in his pockets before letting out a low sigh. "Which is sitting on the dresser next to my bed back at the house," he finally completed.
Amanda had let out a small laugh. "What a pair, we are," she said before, doing a neat U-turn ready to head back. "Thank goodness we realised before we got to the checkouts in the store. That's really embarrassing. I did it a couple of times when I was pregnant with CJ, they say pregnancy affects your memory, it certainly did mine."
"Not an excuse I've used," Steve said smiling back, "Although I may try it next time it happens to me."
Amanda had laughed at that.
That had happened only about fifteen minutes ago but the bright airy mood now seemed like a lifetime away. They had been about twenty minutes into the journey so they were already more than halfway back by the time Steve received the phone call. Amanda tried to point this out to him, he clearly needed the encouragement.
"Look, whatever he said, he would have expected us to be in town by the time he called us. We weren't, we were much closer than that. Whatever he's done to Mark and Jesse he won't be expecting us to get there yet and we're nearly there." She paused to allow her assertions to sink in. "We will get there in time." She stated, wanting desperately to believe it.
--
As they headed over the crest of the hill, Byron took one last view of the burning house and smiled before it disappeared from view. He looked at his watch, another fifteen minutes before Sloan got back, there would be little left of the timber framed house by then. He only wished he could have hung around to see Sloan's face but he had other preparations to make.
Jesse was walking with his head down and his shoulders slumped, beads of perspiration covered his face as his body attempted to deal with the latest traumas, blood dried on his collar and the front of his shirt, where it had run when the knife nicked his throat. Blood had also soaked through the bandage on his arm and now showed through the sleeve of his shirt. His mind was numb, for the moment there was no thought, no emotion, even the pain barely registered, as he followed where he was led.
Byron headed for the wooded area, leaving Peter to guide Jesse. He was careful to leave plenty of signs of their passage. It would not do for Sloan to go the wrong way, that would spoil the game.
--
Steve and Amanda both gasped as he threw the car around the last bend and caught sight of the house, unable to deny any longer what they had known for the last half mile when they had first seen the wispy, rising plume of smoke, and had begun hoping against hope that they were wrong.
Steve floored the accelerator one last time to cover the last few hundred yards or so to the house, throwing the car into a handbrake turn as they reached it and slamming on the brakes at the same time so the vehicle slid to a juddering halt. He began to take his seatbelt off.
Amanda looked at the burning building. "Steve!" She pleaded, "You can't go in there."
She did not want to lose Mark but, from the look of the flames on the side of the building, they were almost certainly too late. If Mark was gone that would be difficult enough to bear, without losing Steve too ,in a futile rescue attempt. If Steve had been fully fit then she might have held out a little hope but he was nowhere near that state. Going into the burning building in his condition was suicidal.
Steve locked her gaze for a second, utter determination in his features. "Dad's in there," was all he said, before pulling his arm free from her grip and climbing out.
She let her hand fall to the seat and watched, knowing that there was nothing she could do or say that would stop him, she followed him.
He took out his handkerchief and tied it loosely around his mouth and nose for what little protection it would offer from the noxious fumes, he didn't have time for any other preparations.
"Be ready for us when I bring him out," he said resolutely.
Amanda watched as he headed to the door, already slightly ajar, and kicked it open. She could see the flames licking around the frame. He ducked and plunged inside, as she saw him disappear, she felt like someone had reached into her gut and twisted her insides into a giant knot. She shook her head, she couldn't lose them, not both of them, not like this.
She stared for a moment but could only see smoke and flames, deciding that she could not stand around doing nothing, she turned back to the car to find Steve's cell phone and call for help, cursing herself that she had not thought of it earlier, but there was no signal. Disgusted, she threw the phone back on the seat, it looked like for the time being she was on her own. She headed for the trunk and began to sort through the medical supplies she would need if.. when Steve got Mark out of there.
Steve felt the wave of oppressive heat hit him as he stepped through the door. He was used to it, had faced it several times in large and small forest fires in his capacity as a volunteer firefighter and had been exposed to it in his training, but he was usually better equipped that a cotton shirt and a handkerchief. The heat, however, was not the real problem although it sapped the energy rapidly, it was the acrid smoke and scorched air. Within a second of moving through the door his eyes were stinging and watering. His first breath into already damaged lungs made him cough violently and gasp as the shear warmth of the air caused a reaction.
He dropped down as low as he could and began to search desperately for his father, having to feel his way round as much as he could, each breath more painful than the last. He knew that he did not have long before he would succumb to the smoke himself. He couldn't let that happen. He had to find his father and get him out of there.
Steve fought to drag each painful breath into his lungs, fought the fatigue as the heat sapped his strength, quashed all of the emotions of defeat and helplessness as he focussed on his task. He would find his father or die trying, there was no question in his mind of anything else.
It seemed like he had been searching for hours, but it had barely been a few minutes when he touched something that felt like a foot, a feeling of elation swept over him as he moved up the body and realised that it was indeed his father, he had found him. The elated feeling briefly dropped back to despair as he searched for and at first could not find a pulse, then he felt it, faint but regular and the elated feeling returned. Wasting no time he hauled himself to his feet and put every ounce of effort into lifting his father's limp body onto his shoulder.
Unable to crouch low any more, he endured the fumes and heat and searched frantically for a path out, picking his way through the flames as he headed for the door that he had entered through. The entire frame was on fire, but Steve had no choice, there was no other exit. With the last of his strength he pulled acrid air into his tortured lungs and ran at the entrance. In a blur of colour, he hit a wall of intense heat, seeming to move in slow motion, as time lost meaning in what seemed like a long tunnel of fire, then he was through and out into the clean clear air. The bright light and crisp colours, in sharp contrast to the oranges and reds of the dark smoke filled house. It was like passing through a tunnel to another world.
He stumbled forward a few extra paces to try to get clear of the building but the effort and exertion had cost too much. He tried to draw in air to feed abused muscle, but smoke clogged his lungs rendering his efforts useless. He dropped to his knees doing his best to lower his precious load gently to the ground. It was only at this point that he noticed that his sleeve was on fire.
He stared at it curiously watching the flames, his oxygen deprived brain incapable of recognising the danger let alone taking action to remedy it.. He continued to stare as Amanda smothered it with a blanket. He dropped back to a sitting position as his lungs began to protest their treatment and he coughed violently, spasms of pain and fatigue dropped him the rest of the way onto his side. His eyes closed as he rode out the latest wave of pain. He had got his father out of the building, for the time being he could do no more.
Amanda watched Steve emerge from the building, a rush of adrenaline heightening her senses. As Steve's world returned to normal speed it was her turn to feel like things were moving in slow motion. Elation was the first emotion she felt. Steve was safely out and he had Mark with him, but she did not have time to enjoy the relief. She noticed the flame on Steve's arm and her professional training kicked in. She grabbed the blanket that she had waiting, smothering the flame as quickly as she could. She knew the arm would need treating, knew that Steve would need help but in the first instance she had to focus all of her attention on Mark, turning to him she did a quick assessment before beginning CPR.
"Come on Mark," she said between breaths, in the same tone she used to encourage her son's to do something. "You can't give up now."
Finally, after several minutes, her efforts were rewarded with a choking cough and a stronger pulse. She sighed in relief and took a moment to take a deep breath and calm herself, as a little of the unbearable tension evaporated, but Mark was not out of danger yet. She placed an oxygen mask over his face and examined him for other injuries. She found the bruising from the blow he had received to the back of the neck and thankfully nothing else. His main problems were from the length of time he had spent inside the smoke filled building. He was dehydrated and suffering from severe smoke inhalation and there was a risk that his lungs and trachea might have been scorched from breathing in the heated air.
Steve might have the same problems. She glanced over at him, he still lay on his side trying to suck air into his tortured lungs. She needed to get to him, but first she needed to finish stabilising Mark. The most immediate threat was from shock. She set up an IV to replace some of the lost fluids and bring up his blood pressure, then turned to Steve.
"Steve? Can you sit up for me?" She asked.
Steve tried to focus his still stinging eyes on her. "Dad?.." he managed to get out before another wave of coughs wracked his system.
She supported him as well as she could until the spasm had passed and then gently placed an oxygen mask over his face. "He's fine for the time being," she reassured him gently, "You saved his life." She paused to allow her words to register. "Now let's get a look at you."
Steve's breathing was easing slightly now that he was breathing the oxygen but he still coughed. As gently as she could Amanda tore away the burnt cloth from his arm so she could get a look. Thankfully, she had got to it in time and there were only first and second degree burns, it could have been much worse. Equally lucky that Steve had been wearing cotton, Amanda had seen burns where the material had melted into the wound, they were much harder to treat. She attempted to give Steve something for the pain, but he shook his head.
"Not yet," he said, " I have to try to keep a clear head, that maniac is still out there."
"With Jesse," Amanda agreed.
At that point they both looked at each other in alarm. Jesse! What if he too had been in the building. Steve made to stand, ready to go back inside, but Amanda grabbed his arm. "If he is in there it's too late," she said, "Besides, I thought he said that it was too late for your dad but you could still save Jesse."
Steve nodded.
"In that case he can't have left him in there he must have taken him with him." Amanda concluded.
Steve thought about it for a moment. "As bait to make me go after him," he said bitterly. He looked across at his father's pale, barely moving form. "He needn't have bothered, after this I'd be going after him anyway." A new emotion was beginning to emerge, more powerfully than any other, anger.
Amanda nodded, she could certainly understand that reaction. She focussed attention back on his arm "OK this is going to hurt," she said as she prepared to clean and dress the wound.
He did not flinch at the pain, instead he used it, channeled it. There were many things that he had had to feel anger about over the past week, some of them he had expressed to Dr. Carter when she had spoken to him. The attacks on the people in the clinic, their deaths, his arrest, the attacks on his father and Jesse, on his home, the betrayal by friends and colleagues and those in a system that he trusted, all had caused anger, but all of that paled into insignificance when it was compared to how he now felt. The anger from a week of trauma fed into the rage at this latest atrocity. He needed to find and confront this monster who had tried so hard to destroy everything that was important to him. He had to be stopped before he could harm anyone else, before he killed Jesse.
Steve looked at Amanda and began to pull the mask off. "I have to go," he said with quiet determination.
"Steve you're in no condition to." Amanda began to protest.
"He's got Jesse," Steve interrupted.
Amanda looked exacerbated, she could certainly understand Steve's desire to go after his friend, she felt it herself. "We can go and get help," she tried.
Steve shook his head, "No, by the time we got back it could be too late. I have to do this."
"But Steve it's a trap," Amanda said, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice.
"I know." He paused looking into her eyes for understanding. "I have to do this," he repeated. He began to stand, nodding in his father's direction he continued, "Look after him for me."
Amanda stood with him and once more looked into his eyes. He left so much unsaid and yet she understood. If he stayed with her and they went for help and anything happened to Jesse, Steve would be plagued by demons that he would never escape from. Whatever the risk physically, mentally he needed to confront Byron or forever be haunted by him. The instruction to look after his father wasn't just for now but for if anything should happen to him. Amanda admitted defeat, tears welled in her eyes as she realised she would have to let him go.
"Wait then," she said and headed for the car. She opened the glove box and pulled out two items, returning to Steve she held out his badge and gun. "We all saw how you reacted to these yesterday at the beach house," Amanda said quietly, "Your dad thought if we brought them, he might be able to get you to talk about it, get it out of your system whilst we were here."
Steve stood and stared momentarily at the weapon, his reaction to it had certainly been extreme, even now he could feel the connected anxiety at the prospect of touching it but the anger was a much more powerful emotion. He would need the gun. With only the slightest of pauses, just before he made contact, he reached out and took it, placing it quickly into his belt. He took his badge and gripped it in his hand before placing it in his pocket. "Thanks," he said, gently touching Amanda on the cheek. "Don't let anything happen to dad and if he wakes up tell him. tell him.."
"I know what to tell him," Amanda replied softly.
Steve turned and walked away.
--
Byron pushed Jesse into the room of the abandoned building, off balance he tried hard not to fall over but could not prevent dropping to his knees, allowing his shoulder to impact with the wall, as the only way to stop himself from going all the way to the floor.
During the walk through the forest, his mind had begun to clear slightly but he was still haunted by the sight of the burning building, knowing that Mark was inside, despondency gripped him, even now he could feel nothing about his rough treatment, no anger towards those who had done this to him, to Mark, even fear was beyond him, just a frightening acceptance that he and those he loved were going to die. He lent against the wall allowing the coolness of the stone to seep through his slightly fevered skin.
Byron watched, satisfied that Jesse was not going to try any form of escape he turned to Peter. "Watch him, I'm going to check that everything is set."
Peter nodded, relieved that he was going to get some time alone.
--
Amanda watched Steve until he reached the top of the rise, at which point, like some portent of failure, an almost deafening crack followed by a rolling roar, caused her to flinch and turn towards the burning house. She watched as the roof of the building collapsed into the interior, soon there would be nothing left, only ashes.
She looked back to where Steve had been, half expecting him to still be standing there, watching the destruction with her, but he had gone. With a sigh she moved to check on Mark, kneeling to take his pulse. She looked at her watch and realised to her horror, that it had been almost exactly an hour since they had left for town, half an hour since Steve had received the phone call from Byron. If they hadn't had to turn back early then they would have just been arriving at the burning building and Byron would have been right. They would have been too late, far too late.
--
Jesse felt the gentle touch on his arm, was surprised by it. He looked up and was even more surprised to find that the eyes that were staring into his were full of compassion, not insanity.
"Drink this," Peter said, pressing a water bottle to Jesse's lips and tilting it slightly.
Gratefully Jesse took a sip as his mind tried to process this unexpected kindness in his sea of despair. It brought with it a tiny spark of hope. "Please," Jesse said, staring once more into the eyes of his captor. "Help me."
Peter looked nervously around, he really hated what he was being forced to do. "I can't," he stated firmly.
Jesse saw the fear, realised that this man was terrified of his companion. With an astuteness Mark would have been proud of, he realised that Peter was being forced to help with this. The spark of hope had kick-started Jesse's brain, synapses began to fire, maybe there was some small chance of getting out of this. Jesse's normally optimistic personality began to fight back against the negative emotions.
"Please," Jesse said, keeping the desperation in his tone. "Please," he nodded down toward his blood soaked sleeve, "My arm's numb, I need it to be around the front." He allowed a slight pause before continuing the plea, "You could tie me up again, it won't make a difference, I can't use it."
Peter considered it, Jesse did not seem to be in any state to put up any more of a fight and the arm did look to be in a pretty bad way. He nodded, "OK but don't try anything."
--
Steve had no trouble following the trail that had been left for him and tried his best to move cautiously, knowing that he was walking into a trap, but the only thing that was keeping him on his feet was his anger and he knew it. He had to keep feeding it, allowing himself to remember the state he had left his father in, his near brush with death, the bloody corpses. Instead of the fear and anxiety that these images had until now brought with them, he acknowledged Byron as their cause. Channeled the emotions into rage and used the increased adrenaline to keep going.
Such strategies, however, precluded most cautious behaviour, did not allow for subterfuge or stealth. Instead he moved forward quickly, scanning as best he could for signs of danger. He did not notice the trip wire but recognised the click as he pulled it. Knowing that it was almost certainly too late, he threw himself to the ground as the forest was filled with the deafening roar of the exploding mine.
--
Byron looked up, slightly shocked at the sound of the first of his traps going off. He looked at his watch. How had Sloan made it back so quickly? He turned and retraced his steps to the half collapsed cabin.
He received a second shock as he entered and found Peter just finishing retying Jesse's hands in front of him. "What are you doing?" He asked with a ferocity that made both Peter and Jesse jump.
Peter jumped up and backed off, guiltily. "He. his . his arm was numb. I was just. I thought.."
"Well don't think," Byron snapped, " I don't keep you around to think. Just do what I tell you." He glowered at Peter before looking at Jesse, who feigned the defeated look that had been so real only minutes earlier. Byron dismissed him once more as no threat and turned his attention back to Peter. "Sloan's on his way, he just set off the first trap. Get the guns ready."
--
It took a few moments for Steve to realise that he had not been hurt. Slowly he lifted his head and looked up. He had seen firsthand what an anti- personnel mine could do and knew that if it had been set up properly then he should be dead. He checked himself again for further signs of injury, finding none he eased himself to a standing position and scanned the area. That was when he saw the tree that had been torn to pieces by the blast.
He walked over to it. The bottom third was a mess, the bark had been shredded. Steve looked back to where the mine had been. It had been deliberately placed to face away from the person tripping the wire. It was just there to scare him.
Steve muttered an expletive under his breath as his anger flared further. Someone had to stop this madman.
--
Peter hated this, hated being so involved. When he had just been the driver he could convince himself that he wasn't really a part of whatever Byron was doing. He was just there to drive him around from A to B. He couldn't be blamed for whatever sick acts Byron committed, but it had been getting more difficult to win the argument, even against himself. Even thinking about what had happened at the clinic made him nauseous.
Today, however, he wasn't just driving. Byron had made him knock the old Dr. out. He had made him help pour petrol around the room and, even though he had tried his hardest not to spread the petrol too close to where the doctor lay, he knew that it hadn't been enough to save him. Byron had forced him to go that extra step, had forced him to become a killer and he hated himself for it.
He looked across at where Jesse sat with his side leaning against the wall. He was glad he'd been able to help him, if only a little, there wasn't much he could do but Jesse's grateful smile as the bonds around his wrist had been released, had at least made him feel slightly better. He tried not to think what Byron had in store for the young doctor.
--
Amanda heard the helicopter before she saw it. She had spent the last few minutes making Mark as comfortable as possible. She had contemplated getting him into the car and attempting to drive him to the nearest hospital but she needed to monitor his condition, at least until his breathing and his pulse were a little more settled, and she could not do that whilst she was driving. So, reluctantly, she had decided that she would be better not moving him for the time being. If help did not arrive and Steve did not return. well she would reconsider her position later.
When she heard the helicopter she was relieved, whoever it was they could not fail to spot the fire and at the very least they should report it, even if they did not stop to help.
When the helicopter landed and she recognised Nathan as he climbed out, she began to cry. Tears of relief that she was no longer alone, that she could get Mark to help, that there was someone there who could go and help Steve.
She did not rise from the position she was in, she waited for Nathan to come to her. She gripped Mark's hand, until this point she hadn't realised just how afraid she had been. More tears fell. "We're going to be all right Mark," she said, squeezing his hand slightly, we're going to be all right."
--
Steve avoided the second trap easily. Now he knew what he was looking for, long forgotten skills that had been trained into him when he was in the army resurfaced and he spotted the second mine. This was a release mine, it blew as you stepped off the switch. He would have been willing to bet that it had been rendered non- lethal, probably had the charge removed and had been placed there just to test his nerve, to see if he would step off.
Steve knew when he was being played, Byron wouldn't kill him with a mine, would want to do it face to face. These traps were just a diversion. More anger to feed the flame.
--
Jesse watched and waited, if he did get a chance to stop whatever Byron had planned, then he would only get one chance, he needed to be ready when the opportunity presented itself. Byron's announcement that Steve was on his way had intensified both his feelings of hope and of fear, but he knew that Steve would need his help. So he did his best to focus, spending his time observing, waiting.
--
Steve reached the abandoned building, avoiding the third trap, a viscious looking snare, designed to inflict pain. He could just about see movement through the dusty windows, through patches that had been wiped clean. There were no subtleties to his approach, he did not have the emotional control for that. He needed to confront Byron, the rage that was keeping him going dictated that he must, the ever present images of what this man had done to his father compelled him to take action.
He stepped out into the clearing in front of the cabin. "OK, I'm here," he announced, loud enough for those inside to hear.
Jesse recognised his friend's voice instantly .
"I'm alone and unarmed," Steve shouted.
Steve's confidence, shocked Byron. He had thought that the destruction of his home, the death of his father and the possible loss of his best friend would leave Steve more disconcerted. He took the shotgun he was holding and moved to the door.
"Come in Lieutenant, we've been expecting you."
As Steve caught sight of Byron, the rush of emotions almost made him turn tail and run. They had been in this position before, Steve staring down the barrel of a gun in Byron's hand, a week ago, just before his whole world had exploded into a nightmare of pain, fear and distress. It took every ounce of will power that he possessed not to crumble at the sight. The force of new and remembered emotion, slamming into him, robbing him of his resolve. He took a deep breath, concentrated on his anger and took a step forward.
That first step towards his nemesis was one of the most difficult Steve could ever remember taking, as he ordered now shaking limbs to respond.
Byron backed up allowing Steve to come into the large room that formed most of the inside of the cabin. Steve's eyes swept the interior, the only furniture was a single table and two chairs, behind them, leaning against the far wall, was Jesse. Steve noticed with distress the blood on the front of his shirt and his sleeve and his slumped, defeated posture.
He turned to face Byron trying hard to resist the impulse to just attempt to take him in a flying tackle, consequences be damned.
"Frisk him," Byron instructed Peter. He kept the shotgun trained on Steve's chest.
Peter tucked his own gun into his belt and quickly patted Steve down. "He's clean," he said, stepping away and retrieving his weapon.
"I'm surprised at you Lieutenant," Byron said, staring him in the eye. "I thought I would have to come looking for you, didn't think you'd have the guts to walk in here."
Steve ignored the comment. "I came to get you to let Jesse go," he said. "It's me you want, not him."
"Ah but you see that's where you're wrong." Byron shook his head with feigned regret, "You killed my brother. He was the only family I had and you killed him." Venom dripped from his tone. "You don't have a brother." He pointed across at Jesse, "But you do have someone who's as close." He paused briefly, looking Steve directly in the eye. "So you see, he has to die." Byron directed his instructions back to Peter. "Get him up."
Steve watched as Peter obediently moved towards his friend, before turning his attention back to Byron. "You don't have to do this," he stated, attempting to buy time, watching for any opportunity.
Byron kept his gun trained steadily on him, watching, waiting for him to make his move, the man had more strength of character than he had given him credit for. "Ah but I do, you see, I enjoy it." He paused, "I enjoy killing, it gives me a buzz."
"Is that why you killed all of those people in the clinic?" Steve asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"Yes," Byron stated, no hint of emotion or regret.
"Tell me I'm curious," Steve asked, still desperately searching for a way to get to Byron. "How many of them were you intending to kill to get to the girl."
Byron smiled and shrugged. "I don't know, it was Robert's first time out, he might have killed all of them, he was, after all, pretending to be crazy, I was just there for back up."
Steve shook his head, "You're sick."
"I know," Byron said smiling, "I'm also bored." He turned to look at Peter, nodding in Jesse's direction. "Kill him," he instructed, keeping the order, short, direct and callous so that it would have the maximum impact on Steve. He was not disappointed.
The shock registered on Steve's face, his time had run out, he had to do something to prevent Jesse from being killed. He made to move forward but Byron jerked his gun forward slightly, the meaning of the motion clear, move and I fire. Steve was too far away to do any good, dead he could not help anyone. He stood still and looked over to Peter, he needed to do something, he couldn't just watch him kill Jesse, his mind searched frantically for options.
Peter had helped Jesse, who now stood leaning against the wall, to his feet and then had stepped back, keeping his gun trained on him. He turned to stare at Byron, not sure that he had heard the instruction correctly. Byron stared back and from the cold look in his eye Peter knew that he had not misheard. He expected him to kill the young doctor, shoot him in cold blood
Jesse watched Peter's reactions, knowing that his life hung in the balance but one look into Peter's eyes told him that he would not do it.
"I said kill him," Byron repeated.
Peter looked back at Jesse, then towards Byron then back at Jesse again, he could not do it. He was at his limit, he would not kill, not like this. He had finally reached breaking point and could not cope with one more order from this man who terrorised him.
"Kill him, what are you waiting for?" Byron said his tone menacing, the volume of his voice rising. "Pull the trigger."
Peter finally snapped, he turned the gun towards Byron, "No," he yelled.
Byron was quicker, the shotgun already turned in Peter's direction, he pulled the trigger, Jesse dove to one side, out of the way, as a deafening roar filled the room. Peter flew backwards as the blast took him full in the chest.
Steve saw his chance, he pulled the gun from it's hiding place, tucked into his belt in the small of his back. He leveled it at Byron, as he in turn pointed the shotgun towards Jesse, intent on finishing what he had started.
The first bullet from Steve's gun found it's mark and Byron turned towards him, surprise and anger in his expression. He swept the shotgun round, pulling the trigger as he went, as Steve fired again. Once more the room was filled with a deafening blast.
Jesse lay on the floor as the roaring in his ears slowly began to die down, he could not feel any new pain, only the jarring of already present injuries.
Click. click ...click.
It took a few moments to register that he was all right, that whatever it was, it was over.
Click.. click.
He rolled over and sat up allowing his eyes to slowly refocus. The first thing he saw was Steve and it almost made his heart break. Then he spotted the other bodies and knew that before he could help his friend, he would have to check for signs of life.
He stood and went to check first on Peter, whose open staring eyes and bloodied chest negated the need to do anything further. Then he checked on Byron, there was no pulse.
He pushed himself back to standing, walked slowly towards Steve, wary of sudden movement, very gently he rested his hand on his friend's. "It's OK, Steve you can stop now," he said, as though he was talking to a child.
Steve's finger continued to squeeze the trigger of the long empty gun, but at Jesse's touch it slowed. His eyes were fixed and staring at the point where Byron had stood, Jesse moved into his gaze.
"Steve, it's over, you can stop," Jesse said, his tone soft but firm. He tightened his grip so that Steve could no longer pull on the trigger, the rhythmic clicking finally stopped.
As though stopping the action, broke him out of some sort of trance, Steve looked down into his friend's eyes. The anger that had kept him going had evaporated the first time he had pulled the trigger, the first bullet had hit Byron through the heart and he had been dead from that moment, it had just taken a little time to register, the second shot from the shotgun had fired harmlessly into the air.
At that point the thought implosion, that had threatened since Steve had first heard Byron's voice that morning, had been triggered and Steve's thought processes had temporarily shut down. Only now as he stared at Jesse did it register that he was still alive, they all were. "What.. How.."
Jesse was relieved at the spark of life he saw in Steve's eyes, he had been afraid that they had lost him again. "It's OK, they're both dead," he stated, watching Steve's face for signs of comprehension.
Steve moved his head to look around Jesse to where Byron's body lay. It was over.
Jesse watched with concern as Steve swayed on his feet. Dehydration and delayed shock from the many ravages his system had faced, finally took their toll. Moving to support his friend, although needing it almost as much himself, Jesse hooked his arm under Steve's shoulder.
"Come on let's get out of here," he said.
The two of them walked out into the sunshine. Steve did not look back as he left his demons behind him.
The End.
--
Author's note:- There- that's the story finally finished, I think I've tied up all the loose ends. Hope you enjoyed it and I'd love to hear your opinion of it. A million thankyous to all of those people who have been helpful and encouraging whilst I've been writing it, either through e-mail or reviews. I do appreciate every bit of your support, and it does make the many hours spent trying to get each chapter right worthwhile. A big thankyou to Nonny and Mouse for all that they have done to help me and to Antonio and Mel for letting me talk through ideas with them. Really hoped you enjoyed it Judith.
Ps I will write an epilogue at some point I think this story needs it.
As the line went dead, Steve's mind went into overdrive, once again a myriad of emotions assaulted his senses. Just hearing the voice of the man who had begun this week of sleeping and waking nightmares sent icy shivers down his spine. When it was coupled with a threat to his father and Jesse's life, from the man who already had the status of a childhood monster in Steve's psyche, the fear and dread spiraled to almost overwhelming proportions.
"Steve! Steve! What is it? who was that?" Amanda's anxious tone pulled his focus back to the world. She had only heard his side of the conversation but even if she had heard nothing, the change in his demeanour, the way his whole body stiffened, and the almost tangible wave of emotion that now emanated from him, was enough to tell her that something was very, very wrong.
"Stop the car!" Steve commanded, his voice and expression brooked no argument and Amanda did as she was told but asked again. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I need to drive," he said, unclipping his seatbelt and opening the door before the car had come to a complete stop. He jumped out and ran round to the driver's side, whilst Amanda, who realised that, whatever it was, it required some urgency, did the same.
Steve got in, waited until Amanda had clipped her seatbelt into place and then floored the accelerator before he replied. He had taken over the driving because he knew that time was of the essence and whilst Amanda was an excellent driver, he had been trained in police pursuit and may just be able to squeeze a little extra speed down the more treacherous stretches of road, but he had mainly taken it over because he needed something to do, needed to feel that he was taking direct action. He could not have sat passively as a passenger whilst his father's life and that of his best friend were in danger.
"The call was from Byron Cooper," Steve said, trying hard to keep his rising panic from showing in his voice. "He said that he's going to kill dad and Jesse."
There was a slight exclamation from Amanda as she took in this news.
Steve tried his hardest to keep his emotions under control as he told her the rest of it. "He said.. he said I would be too late to save dad, I was too far away." he swallowed. "But I might be able to save Jesse."
Amanda now understood the panic and the urgency. She looked at Steve and tried to think of words of comfort that she could offer him but realised that the best she could do was to offer a silent prayer that Byron was wrong and that they would not be too late. She gripped the handle on the door as the car slewed around another bend.
--
Jesse did his best to put up a fight as they dragged him from the burning building but with his hands tied behind his back all he managed was a painful fall, landing heavily, with no way to cushion the impact. Byron and Peter hauled him unceremoniously to his feet and continued to drag him forwards.
The pain from his injured arm and the recently replaced stitches had started as a dull ache when his arm was pulled behind his back and tied. Now that he was being dragged along by it, the ache had turned into a fire, and he had to concentrate to think of anything else.
After the initial struggle, he allowed himself to be pulled along, keeping up because it was less painful that way, but as they moved further from the house, he had chance to consider what he was being made to do. They were leaving Mark to die in a burning building and taking him, if he had correctly interpreted what he had heard, to bait a trap for Steve. They would almost certainly kill him as soon as they didn't need him any more. He couldn't let that happen, he couldn't just leave Mark to his fate without at least attempting to do something, however little chance he had of success, nor could he just allow himself to be passively dragged away to his death.
With a sudden determination, and a strength and speed borne of desperation, he stopped and threw his weight backwards, writhing as he did so out of Peter and Byron's grip, then he turned on his heels and ran.
Shocked by the sudden action it took a moment for either man to respond, then both set off running after their escaped prisoner. Byron reached him first going into a viscious flying tackle to bring Jesse down.
Jesse hit the floor on his injured arm and, this time, he felt the tear as the stitches were once more ripped apart. The fire turned to molten lava as an intense heat wave of pain swept up from his shoulder. His vision blurred and he felt himself rolling. When his mind cleared enough for him to focus, he was looking into Byron's slightly manic face. He was pinned to the ground as Byron straddled his chest, the knife once more pressed against his throat.
"Now," Byron said, leaning down, still panting slightly from the exertion. He stopped only inches away from Jesse's face. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I don't mind stopping every few yards for more of this if you won't cooperate, but I'm guessing that you will. Struggling is not going to bring back Dr. Sloan, nor is it going to help you or your friend Steve." He paused, leaning in slightly closer. "It will only cause you pain."
There was something about the way Byron delivered that last sentence and the threat it encompassed that was literally terrifying. Jesse cowered from the words in a way that he never would from physical blows. He looked into Byron's eyes and saw what Peter always saw, a terrifying insanity.
"So what do you say, will you cooperate?" Byron asked. When Jesse did not reply immediately Byron moved his knee and pressed his full weight onto Jesse's arm.
Jesse gasped and almost blacked out from the pain, his whole body writhed in the sand as he attempted to escape from it.
"I said are you going to cooperate?" Byron asked again, more sharply
Jesse just managed a nod, Byron smiled and slipped his knife back into the sheath on his waist before removing his weight and standing up.
As the pressure was released Jesse rolled onto his good side breathing heavily in an attempt to control the pain. He felt strong hands grab him from either side and haul him once more to his feet, where he found himself staring at the burning house, the flames already licking at the windows. A wave of utter despair swept over him. He had no chance of escaping from the clutches of this madman. Steve was still more than twenty minutes away and conditions inside the burning building were already at the point where it would be difficult to survive the smoke inhalation, by the time Steve arrived, Mark would be.. Jesse tried hard to repress the image.
After finding his father Steve would be in no state to help anyone, but Jesse knew that he would try and then he would be killed too. Jesse swallowed hard as he considered the deaths of the two men he considered to be family, knowing that he could do nothing about it.
His shoulders sagged as the fight drained from him, the sheer hopelessness of his position robbed him of all but the most passive of responses, once more he followed the direction he was pulled.
Byron watched with satisfaction as Jesse's spirit sagged, that would make things easier in the short term, but he hoped he hadn't seen the last of Jesse's fight, since it made the game so much more interesting. He allowed Peter to take the lead for the time being. He had one last thing to do.
He took out the remote detonator from his pocket and pressed the switch. The towers he was blowing up were too far away for him to even hear the explosions, so he took out his cell phone and watched with satisfaction as the signal strength died. With the microwave towers down, no one in the local area would be able to use a cell phone to summon help.
--
Nathan, almost threw his cell phone to the floor in frustration. He had had no luck getting through to the Sloans on either the landline to the house, which had rung briefly before the line went dead, or Steve's cell phone which was engaged when he first tried it and then was switched off or out of the area where it could receive a signal. So he had concentrated his efforts on attempting to get first someone from the local sheriff's department to go out to the house and check it, and then to get a helicopter so that he could get up there himself.
The sheriff's department had responded with 'all our officers are busy at the moment but we'll get someone to run over there and check everything's all right as soon as we can.' In Nathan's opinion they had failed to understand the potential urgency of the situation and although he had attempted to explain in as much detail as he could why he thought Steve and Mark were in danger, he had had to admit that he had no direct evidence. Once he realised that he was not going to get anywhere, he had hung up frustrated and attempted his second objective, to get up there himself by helicopter. Again he met with failure. With Captain Newman still in the hospital he was left to talk to the acting Captain for his division, who did not seem to want to acknowledge the danger the Sloans were in. He argued that he was not going to spend taxpayer's money on a wild goose chase to protect people who had willingly left their jurisdiction. Frustrated once more, Nathan had ended the conversation before he said something he regretted. As he looked at the cell phone, attempting to avoid the temptation to destroy it, he considered the fact that the acting Captain had been close friends with a couple of the people suspended in the corruption investigation that Steve and Mark had helped to uncover, and that probably explained his unwillingness to help them now.
He was just about to head out to his car and go out to the hospital to see if Captain Newman was well enough to pull some strings, when a better idea occurred to him, as he remembered a story Steve had once told him about solving a murder in the middle of a forest fire that had swept through Malibu. He took out his cell phone again.
--
Steve's knuckles were white, his grip on the steering wheel a testament to the taughtness of every sinew and muscle in his body.
His mind was working on two levels, thoughts and actions seemed separated. Finely honed skills, drilled into him over many hours of police training and actual pursuits, allowed him to drive whilst his mind attempted to deal with the imagination and the reality of his fears.
He threw the heavy vehicle around another bend, sliding the rear tyres and just managing to pull it back into line before it left the tarmaced surface.
'You'll be too late to save your father,' the voice repeated in his head.
No, he refused to believe it. His father was still alive, he had to be.
The images of the bloody corpses from the clinic, drifted into his mind, he shook his head to clear it but they refused to go. He closed his eyes briefly but the images only grew sharper. He opened them and tried to focus on the treeline ahead.
'The shooting would have stopped if it hadn't been for you,' the voice of earlier nightmares echoed, 'you'll be too late to save your father,' the new nightmare repeated.
The images of the bloody corpses reappeared only this time as he looked, he realised that one of them was Mark. The car skidded across the road as the powerful emotions that the image invoked, broke the barrier between automatic skills and distressed thoughts.
"Steve!" Amanda shouted in concern.
The alarmed tone snapped him back to reality, the grizzly image dissolving as he pulled the vehicle back from near disaster. He swallowed, attempting to calm himself, relieved that it was only a trick of his imagination but unable to shake the feelings of dread. What if they were too late?
"Steve," Amanda said softly, relaxing a little as she realised his brief loss of control was over.
He turned to look at her and briefly their gazes locked, each seeing the concern in the other. Steve forced his attention back to the road. "He said I'd be too late to save him," he said, unable to disguise the defeat that was already there. Whilst a part of him fought, another part of him had already given up, such was the power of negativity, brought on by Byron's involvement. Steve had failed once to stop this madman, was still trying to come to terms with the consequences, his belief in himself had almost been destroyed and he had had no opportunity to rebuild it.
"Steve," Amanda said, understanding the fear. She felt it herself, but she refused to give up hope. "He's got to be wrong."
In the last couple of minutes she had had time to consider their predicament. Checking her watch she realised that it had been half an hour since they had left for the town, which should have put them just about in the town centre. If Byron was at the house with Mark and Jesse and had told Steve that he was too far away, then she was betting that he knew how long ago they had left, had been watching them, and had guessed where they were going, but he didn't know that they had never made it to the town.
It was Amanda who had first realised that she had not brought her purse and had apologised, profusely for forgetting it, embarrassed that she had forgotten two things in as many days.
"Hey don't worry about it," Steve had said, sympathetically. "This last week has been a bit rough on all of us, it's bound to take it's toll, besides I have plenty of money in my wallet," he began to feel around in his pockets before letting out a low sigh. "Which is sitting on the dresser next to my bed back at the house," he finally completed.
Amanda had let out a small laugh. "What a pair, we are," she said before, doing a neat U-turn ready to head back. "Thank goodness we realised before we got to the checkouts in the store. That's really embarrassing. I did it a couple of times when I was pregnant with CJ, they say pregnancy affects your memory, it certainly did mine."
"Not an excuse I've used," Steve said smiling back, "Although I may try it next time it happens to me."
Amanda had laughed at that.
That had happened only about fifteen minutes ago but the bright airy mood now seemed like a lifetime away. They had been about twenty minutes into the journey so they were already more than halfway back by the time Steve received the phone call. Amanda tried to point this out to him, he clearly needed the encouragement.
"Look, whatever he said, he would have expected us to be in town by the time he called us. We weren't, we were much closer than that. Whatever he's done to Mark and Jesse he won't be expecting us to get there yet and we're nearly there." She paused to allow her assertions to sink in. "We will get there in time." She stated, wanting desperately to believe it.
--
As they headed over the crest of the hill, Byron took one last view of the burning house and smiled before it disappeared from view. He looked at his watch, another fifteen minutes before Sloan got back, there would be little left of the timber framed house by then. He only wished he could have hung around to see Sloan's face but he had other preparations to make.
Jesse was walking with his head down and his shoulders slumped, beads of perspiration covered his face as his body attempted to deal with the latest traumas, blood dried on his collar and the front of his shirt, where it had run when the knife nicked his throat. Blood had also soaked through the bandage on his arm and now showed through the sleeve of his shirt. His mind was numb, for the moment there was no thought, no emotion, even the pain barely registered, as he followed where he was led.
Byron headed for the wooded area, leaving Peter to guide Jesse. He was careful to leave plenty of signs of their passage. It would not do for Sloan to go the wrong way, that would spoil the game.
--
Steve and Amanda both gasped as he threw the car around the last bend and caught sight of the house, unable to deny any longer what they had known for the last half mile when they had first seen the wispy, rising plume of smoke, and had begun hoping against hope that they were wrong.
Steve floored the accelerator one last time to cover the last few hundred yards or so to the house, throwing the car into a handbrake turn as they reached it and slamming on the brakes at the same time so the vehicle slid to a juddering halt. He began to take his seatbelt off.
Amanda looked at the burning building. "Steve!" She pleaded, "You can't go in there."
She did not want to lose Mark but, from the look of the flames on the side of the building, they were almost certainly too late. If Mark was gone that would be difficult enough to bear, without losing Steve too ,in a futile rescue attempt. If Steve had been fully fit then she might have held out a little hope but he was nowhere near that state. Going into the burning building in his condition was suicidal.
Steve locked her gaze for a second, utter determination in his features. "Dad's in there," was all he said, before pulling his arm free from her grip and climbing out.
She let her hand fall to the seat and watched, knowing that there was nothing she could do or say that would stop him, she followed him.
He took out his handkerchief and tied it loosely around his mouth and nose for what little protection it would offer from the noxious fumes, he didn't have time for any other preparations.
"Be ready for us when I bring him out," he said resolutely.
Amanda watched as he headed to the door, already slightly ajar, and kicked it open. She could see the flames licking around the frame. He ducked and plunged inside, as she saw him disappear, she felt like someone had reached into her gut and twisted her insides into a giant knot. She shook her head, she couldn't lose them, not both of them, not like this.
She stared for a moment but could only see smoke and flames, deciding that she could not stand around doing nothing, she turned back to the car to find Steve's cell phone and call for help, cursing herself that she had not thought of it earlier, but there was no signal. Disgusted, she threw the phone back on the seat, it looked like for the time being she was on her own. She headed for the trunk and began to sort through the medical supplies she would need if.. when Steve got Mark out of there.
Steve felt the wave of oppressive heat hit him as he stepped through the door. He was used to it, had faced it several times in large and small forest fires in his capacity as a volunteer firefighter and had been exposed to it in his training, but he was usually better equipped that a cotton shirt and a handkerchief. The heat, however, was not the real problem although it sapped the energy rapidly, it was the acrid smoke and scorched air. Within a second of moving through the door his eyes were stinging and watering. His first breath into already damaged lungs made him cough violently and gasp as the shear warmth of the air caused a reaction.
He dropped down as low as he could and began to search desperately for his father, having to feel his way round as much as he could, each breath more painful than the last. He knew that he did not have long before he would succumb to the smoke himself. He couldn't let that happen. He had to find his father and get him out of there.
Steve fought to drag each painful breath into his lungs, fought the fatigue as the heat sapped his strength, quashed all of the emotions of defeat and helplessness as he focussed on his task. He would find his father or die trying, there was no question in his mind of anything else.
It seemed like he had been searching for hours, but it had barely been a few minutes when he touched something that felt like a foot, a feeling of elation swept over him as he moved up the body and realised that it was indeed his father, he had found him. The elated feeling briefly dropped back to despair as he searched for and at first could not find a pulse, then he felt it, faint but regular and the elated feeling returned. Wasting no time he hauled himself to his feet and put every ounce of effort into lifting his father's limp body onto his shoulder.
Unable to crouch low any more, he endured the fumes and heat and searched frantically for a path out, picking his way through the flames as he headed for the door that he had entered through. The entire frame was on fire, but Steve had no choice, there was no other exit. With the last of his strength he pulled acrid air into his tortured lungs and ran at the entrance. In a blur of colour, he hit a wall of intense heat, seeming to move in slow motion, as time lost meaning in what seemed like a long tunnel of fire, then he was through and out into the clean clear air. The bright light and crisp colours, in sharp contrast to the oranges and reds of the dark smoke filled house. It was like passing through a tunnel to another world.
He stumbled forward a few extra paces to try to get clear of the building but the effort and exertion had cost too much. He tried to draw in air to feed abused muscle, but smoke clogged his lungs rendering his efforts useless. He dropped to his knees doing his best to lower his precious load gently to the ground. It was only at this point that he noticed that his sleeve was on fire.
He stared at it curiously watching the flames, his oxygen deprived brain incapable of recognising the danger let alone taking action to remedy it.. He continued to stare as Amanda smothered it with a blanket. He dropped back to a sitting position as his lungs began to protest their treatment and he coughed violently, spasms of pain and fatigue dropped him the rest of the way onto his side. His eyes closed as he rode out the latest wave of pain. He had got his father out of the building, for the time being he could do no more.
Amanda watched Steve emerge from the building, a rush of adrenaline heightening her senses. As Steve's world returned to normal speed it was her turn to feel like things were moving in slow motion. Elation was the first emotion she felt. Steve was safely out and he had Mark with him, but she did not have time to enjoy the relief. She noticed the flame on Steve's arm and her professional training kicked in. She grabbed the blanket that she had waiting, smothering the flame as quickly as she could. She knew the arm would need treating, knew that Steve would need help but in the first instance she had to focus all of her attention on Mark, turning to him she did a quick assessment before beginning CPR.
"Come on Mark," she said between breaths, in the same tone she used to encourage her son's to do something. "You can't give up now."
Finally, after several minutes, her efforts were rewarded with a choking cough and a stronger pulse. She sighed in relief and took a moment to take a deep breath and calm herself, as a little of the unbearable tension evaporated, but Mark was not out of danger yet. She placed an oxygen mask over his face and examined him for other injuries. She found the bruising from the blow he had received to the back of the neck and thankfully nothing else. His main problems were from the length of time he had spent inside the smoke filled building. He was dehydrated and suffering from severe smoke inhalation and there was a risk that his lungs and trachea might have been scorched from breathing in the heated air.
Steve might have the same problems. She glanced over at him, he still lay on his side trying to suck air into his tortured lungs. She needed to get to him, but first she needed to finish stabilising Mark. The most immediate threat was from shock. She set up an IV to replace some of the lost fluids and bring up his blood pressure, then turned to Steve.
"Steve? Can you sit up for me?" She asked.
Steve tried to focus his still stinging eyes on her. "Dad?.." he managed to get out before another wave of coughs wracked his system.
She supported him as well as she could until the spasm had passed and then gently placed an oxygen mask over his face. "He's fine for the time being," she reassured him gently, "You saved his life." She paused to allow her words to register. "Now let's get a look at you."
Steve's breathing was easing slightly now that he was breathing the oxygen but he still coughed. As gently as she could Amanda tore away the burnt cloth from his arm so she could get a look. Thankfully, she had got to it in time and there were only first and second degree burns, it could have been much worse. Equally lucky that Steve had been wearing cotton, Amanda had seen burns where the material had melted into the wound, they were much harder to treat. She attempted to give Steve something for the pain, but he shook his head.
"Not yet," he said, " I have to try to keep a clear head, that maniac is still out there."
"With Jesse," Amanda agreed.
At that point they both looked at each other in alarm. Jesse! What if he too had been in the building. Steve made to stand, ready to go back inside, but Amanda grabbed his arm. "If he is in there it's too late," she said, "Besides, I thought he said that it was too late for your dad but you could still save Jesse."
Steve nodded.
"In that case he can't have left him in there he must have taken him with him." Amanda concluded.
Steve thought about it for a moment. "As bait to make me go after him," he said bitterly. He looked across at his father's pale, barely moving form. "He needn't have bothered, after this I'd be going after him anyway." A new emotion was beginning to emerge, more powerfully than any other, anger.
Amanda nodded, she could certainly understand that reaction. She focussed attention back on his arm "OK this is going to hurt," she said as she prepared to clean and dress the wound.
He did not flinch at the pain, instead he used it, channeled it. There were many things that he had had to feel anger about over the past week, some of them he had expressed to Dr. Carter when she had spoken to him. The attacks on the people in the clinic, their deaths, his arrest, the attacks on his father and Jesse, on his home, the betrayal by friends and colleagues and those in a system that he trusted, all had caused anger, but all of that paled into insignificance when it was compared to how he now felt. The anger from a week of trauma fed into the rage at this latest atrocity. He needed to find and confront this monster who had tried so hard to destroy everything that was important to him. He had to be stopped before he could harm anyone else, before he killed Jesse.
Steve looked at Amanda and began to pull the mask off. "I have to go," he said with quiet determination.
"Steve you're in no condition to." Amanda began to protest.
"He's got Jesse," Steve interrupted.
Amanda looked exacerbated, she could certainly understand Steve's desire to go after his friend, she felt it herself. "We can go and get help," she tried.
Steve shook his head, "No, by the time we got back it could be too late. I have to do this."
"But Steve it's a trap," Amanda said, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice.
"I know." He paused looking into her eyes for understanding. "I have to do this," he repeated. He began to stand, nodding in his father's direction he continued, "Look after him for me."
Amanda stood with him and once more looked into his eyes. He left so much unsaid and yet she understood. If he stayed with her and they went for help and anything happened to Jesse, Steve would be plagued by demons that he would never escape from. Whatever the risk physically, mentally he needed to confront Byron or forever be haunted by him. The instruction to look after his father wasn't just for now but for if anything should happen to him. Amanda admitted defeat, tears welled in her eyes as she realised she would have to let him go.
"Wait then," she said and headed for the car. She opened the glove box and pulled out two items, returning to Steve she held out his badge and gun. "We all saw how you reacted to these yesterday at the beach house," Amanda said quietly, "Your dad thought if we brought them, he might be able to get you to talk about it, get it out of your system whilst we were here."
Steve stood and stared momentarily at the weapon, his reaction to it had certainly been extreme, even now he could feel the connected anxiety at the prospect of touching it but the anger was a much more powerful emotion. He would need the gun. With only the slightest of pauses, just before he made contact, he reached out and took it, placing it quickly into his belt. He took his badge and gripped it in his hand before placing it in his pocket. "Thanks," he said, gently touching Amanda on the cheek. "Don't let anything happen to dad and if he wakes up tell him. tell him.."
"I know what to tell him," Amanda replied softly.
Steve turned and walked away.
--
Byron pushed Jesse into the room of the abandoned building, off balance he tried hard not to fall over but could not prevent dropping to his knees, allowing his shoulder to impact with the wall, as the only way to stop himself from going all the way to the floor.
During the walk through the forest, his mind had begun to clear slightly but he was still haunted by the sight of the burning building, knowing that Mark was inside, despondency gripped him, even now he could feel nothing about his rough treatment, no anger towards those who had done this to him, to Mark, even fear was beyond him, just a frightening acceptance that he and those he loved were going to die. He lent against the wall allowing the coolness of the stone to seep through his slightly fevered skin.
Byron watched, satisfied that Jesse was not going to try any form of escape he turned to Peter. "Watch him, I'm going to check that everything is set."
Peter nodded, relieved that he was going to get some time alone.
--
Amanda watched Steve until he reached the top of the rise, at which point, like some portent of failure, an almost deafening crack followed by a rolling roar, caused her to flinch and turn towards the burning house. She watched as the roof of the building collapsed into the interior, soon there would be nothing left, only ashes.
She looked back to where Steve had been, half expecting him to still be standing there, watching the destruction with her, but he had gone. With a sigh she moved to check on Mark, kneeling to take his pulse. She looked at her watch and realised to her horror, that it had been almost exactly an hour since they had left for town, half an hour since Steve had received the phone call from Byron. If they hadn't had to turn back early then they would have just been arriving at the burning building and Byron would have been right. They would have been too late, far too late.
--
Jesse felt the gentle touch on his arm, was surprised by it. He looked up and was even more surprised to find that the eyes that were staring into his were full of compassion, not insanity.
"Drink this," Peter said, pressing a water bottle to Jesse's lips and tilting it slightly.
Gratefully Jesse took a sip as his mind tried to process this unexpected kindness in his sea of despair. It brought with it a tiny spark of hope. "Please," Jesse said, staring once more into the eyes of his captor. "Help me."
Peter looked nervously around, he really hated what he was being forced to do. "I can't," he stated firmly.
Jesse saw the fear, realised that this man was terrified of his companion. With an astuteness Mark would have been proud of, he realised that Peter was being forced to help with this. The spark of hope had kick-started Jesse's brain, synapses began to fire, maybe there was some small chance of getting out of this. Jesse's normally optimistic personality began to fight back against the negative emotions.
"Please," Jesse said, keeping the desperation in his tone. "Please," he nodded down toward his blood soaked sleeve, "My arm's numb, I need it to be around the front." He allowed a slight pause before continuing the plea, "You could tie me up again, it won't make a difference, I can't use it."
Peter considered it, Jesse did not seem to be in any state to put up any more of a fight and the arm did look to be in a pretty bad way. He nodded, "OK but don't try anything."
--
Steve had no trouble following the trail that had been left for him and tried his best to move cautiously, knowing that he was walking into a trap, but the only thing that was keeping him on his feet was his anger and he knew it. He had to keep feeding it, allowing himself to remember the state he had left his father in, his near brush with death, the bloody corpses. Instead of the fear and anxiety that these images had until now brought with them, he acknowledged Byron as their cause. Channeled the emotions into rage and used the increased adrenaline to keep going.
Such strategies, however, precluded most cautious behaviour, did not allow for subterfuge or stealth. Instead he moved forward quickly, scanning as best he could for signs of danger. He did not notice the trip wire but recognised the click as he pulled it. Knowing that it was almost certainly too late, he threw himself to the ground as the forest was filled with the deafening roar of the exploding mine.
--
Byron looked up, slightly shocked at the sound of the first of his traps going off. He looked at his watch. How had Sloan made it back so quickly? He turned and retraced his steps to the half collapsed cabin.
He received a second shock as he entered and found Peter just finishing retying Jesse's hands in front of him. "What are you doing?" He asked with a ferocity that made both Peter and Jesse jump.
Peter jumped up and backed off, guiltily. "He. his . his arm was numb. I was just. I thought.."
"Well don't think," Byron snapped, " I don't keep you around to think. Just do what I tell you." He glowered at Peter before looking at Jesse, who feigned the defeated look that had been so real only minutes earlier. Byron dismissed him once more as no threat and turned his attention back to Peter. "Sloan's on his way, he just set off the first trap. Get the guns ready."
--
It took a few moments for Steve to realise that he had not been hurt. Slowly he lifted his head and looked up. He had seen firsthand what an anti- personnel mine could do and knew that if it had been set up properly then he should be dead. He checked himself again for further signs of injury, finding none he eased himself to a standing position and scanned the area. That was when he saw the tree that had been torn to pieces by the blast.
He walked over to it. The bottom third was a mess, the bark had been shredded. Steve looked back to where the mine had been. It had been deliberately placed to face away from the person tripping the wire. It was just there to scare him.
Steve muttered an expletive under his breath as his anger flared further. Someone had to stop this madman.
--
Peter hated this, hated being so involved. When he had just been the driver he could convince himself that he wasn't really a part of whatever Byron was doing. He was just there to drive him around from A to B. He couldn't be blamed for whatever sick acts Byron committed, but it had been getting more difficult to win the argument, even against himself. Even thinking about what had happened at the clinic made him nauseous.
Today, however, he wasn't just driving. Byron had made him knock the old Dr. out. He had made him help pour petrol around the room and, even though he had tried his hardest not to spread the petrol too close to where the doctor lay, he knew that it hadn't been enough to save him. Byron had forced him to go that extra step, had forced him to become a killer and he hated himself for it.
He looked across at where Jesse sat with his side leaning against the wall. He was glad he'd been able to help him, if only a little, there wasn't much he could do but Jesse's grateful smile as the bonds around his wrist had been released, had at least made him feel slightly better. He tried not to think what Byron had in store for the young doctor.
--
Amanda heard the helicopter before she saw it. She had spent the last few minutes making Mark as comfortable as possible. She had contemplated getting him into the car and attempting to drive him to the nearest hospital but she needed to monitor his condition, at least until his breathing and his pulse were a little more settled, and she could not do that whilst she was driving. So, reluctantly, she had decided that she would be better not moving him for the time being. If help did not arrive and Steve did not return. well she would reconsider her position later.
When she heard the helicopter she was relieved, whoever it was they could not fail to spot the fire and at the very least they should report it, even if they did not stop to help.
When the helicopter landed and she recognised Nathan as he climbed out, she began to cry. Tears of relief that she was no longer alone, that she could get Mark to help, that there was someone there who could go and help Steve.
She did not rise from the position she was in, she waited for Nathan to come to her. She gripped Mark's hand, until this point she hadn't realised just how afraid she had been. More tears fell. "We're going to be all right Mark," she said, squeezing his hand slightly, we're going to be all right."
--
Steve avoided the second trap easily. Now he knew what he was looking for, long forgotten skills that had been trained into him when he was in the army resurfaced and he spotted the second mine. This was a release mine, it blew as you stepped off the switch. He would have been willing to bet that it had been rendered non- lethal, probably had the charge removed and had been placed there just to test his nerve, to see if he would step off.
Steve knew when he was being played, Byron wouldn't kill him with a mine, would want to do it face to face. These traps were just a diversion. More anger to feed the flame.
--
Jesse watched and waited, if he did get a chance to stop whatever Byron had planned, then he would only get one chance, he needed to be ready when the opportunity presented itself. Byron's announcement that Steve was on his way had intensified both his feelings of hope and of fear, but he knew that Steve would need his help. So he did his best to focus, spending his time observing, waiting.
--
Steve reached the abandoned building, avoiding the third trap, a viscious looking snare, designed to inflict pain. He could just about see movement through the dusty windows, through patches that had been wiped clean. There were no subtleties to his approach, he did not have the emotional control for that. He needed to confront Byron, the rage that was keeping him going dictated that he must, the ever present images of what this man had done to his father compelled him to take action.
He stepped out into the clearing in front of the cabin. "OK, I'm here," he announced, loud enough for those inside to hear.
Jesse recognised his friend's voice instantly .
"I'm alone and unarmed," Steve shouted.
Steve's confidence, shocked Byron. He had thought that the destruction of his home, the death of his father and the possible loss of his best friend would leave Steve more disconcerted. He took the shotgun he was holding and moved to the door.
"Come in Lieutenant, we've been expecting you."
As Steve caught sight of Byron, the rush of emotions almost made him turn tail and run. They had been in this position before, Steve staring down the barrel of a gun in Byron's hand, a week ago, just before his whole world had exploded into a nightmare of pain, fear and distress. It took every ounce of will power that he possessed not to crumble at the sight. The force of new and remembered emotion, slamming into him, robbing him of his resolve. He took a deep breath, concentrated on his anger and took a step forward.
That first step towards his nemesis was one of the most difficult Steve could ever remember taking, as he ordered now shaking limbs to respond.
Byron backed up allowing Steve to come into the large room that formed most of the inside of the cabin. Steve's eyes swept the interior, the only furniture was a single table and two chairs, behind them, leaning against the far wall, was Jesse. Steve noticed with distress the blood on the front of his shirt and his sleeve and his slumped, defeated posture.
He turned to face Byron trying hard to resist the impulse to just attempt to take him in a flying tackle, consequences be damned.
"Frisk him," Byron instructed Peter. He kept the shotgun trained on Steve's chest.
Peter tucked his own gun into his belt and quickly patted Steve down. "He's clean," he said, stepping away and retrieving his weapon.
"I'm surprised at you Lieutenant," Byron said, staring him in the eye. "I thought I would have to come looking for you, didn't think you'd have the guts to walk in here."
Steve ignored the comment. "I came to get you to let Jesse go," he said. "It's me you want, not him."
"Ah but you see that's where you're wrong." Byron shook his head with feigned regret, "You killed my brother. He was the only family I had and you killed him." Venom dripped from his tone. "You don't have a brother." He pointed across at Jesse, "But you do have someone who's as close." He paused briefly, looking Steve directly in the eye. "So you see, he has to die." Byron directed his instructions back to Peter. "Get him up."
Steve watched as Peter obediently moved towards his friend, before turning his attention back to Byron. "You don't have to do this," he stated, attempting to buy time, watching for any opportunity.
Byron kept his gun trained steadily on him, watching, waiting for him to make his move, the man had more strength of character than he had given him credit for. "Ah but I do, you see, I enjoy it." He paused, "I enjoy killing, it gives me a buzz."
"Is that why you killed all of those people in the clinic?" Steve asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"Yes," Byron stated, no hint of emotion or regret.
"Tell me I'm curious," Steve asked, still desperately searching for a way to get to Byron. "How many of them were you intending to kill to get to the girl."
Byron smiled and shrugged. "I don't know, it was Robert's first time out, he might have killed all of them, he was, after all, pretending to be crazy, I was just there for back up."
Steve shook his head, "You're sick."
"I know," Byron said smiling, "I'm also bored." He turned to look at Peter, nodding in Jesse's direction. "Kill him," he instructed, keeping the order, short, direct and callous so that it would have the maximum impact on Steve. He was not disappointed.
The shock registered on Steve's face, his time had run out, he had to do something to prevent Jesse from being killed. He made to move forward but Byron jerked his gun forward slightly, the meaning of the motion clear, move and I fire. Steve was too far away to do any good, dead he could not help anyone. He stood still and looked over to Peter, he needed to do something, he couldn't just watch him kill Jesse, his mind searched frantically for options.
Peter had helped Jesse, who now stood leaning against the wall, to his feet and then had stepped back, keeping his gun trained on him. He turned to stare at Byron, not sure that he had heard the instruction correctly. Byron stared back and from the cold look in his eye Peter knew that he had not misheard. He expected him to kill the young doctor, shoot him in cold blood
Jesse watched Peter's reactions, knowing that his life hung in the balance but one look into Peter's eyes told him that he would not do it.
"I said kill him," Byron repeated.
Peter looked back at Jesse, then towards Byron then back at Jesse again, he could not do it. He was at his limit, he would not kill, not like this. He had finally reached breaking point and could not cope with one more order from this man who terrorised him.
"Kill him, what are you waiting for?" Byron said his tone menacing, the volume of his voice rising. "Pull the trigger."
Peter finally snapped, he turned the gun towards Byron, "No," he yelled.
Byron was quicker, the shotgun already turned in Peter's direction, he pulled the trigger, Jesse dove to one side, out of the way, as a deafening roar filled the room. Peter flew backwards as the blast took him full in the chest.
Steve saw his chance, he pulled the gun from it's hiding place, tucked into his belt in the small of his back. He leveled it at Byron, as he in turn pointed the shotgun towards Jesse, intent on finishing what he had started.
The first bullet from Steve's gun found it's mark and Byron turned towards him, surprise and anger in his expression. He swept the shotgun round, pulling the trigger as he went, as Steve fired again. Once more the room was filled with a deafening blast.
Jesse lay on the floor as the roaring in his ears slowly began to die down, he could not feel any new pain, only the jarring of already present injuries.
Click. click ...click.
It took a few moments to register that he was all right, that whatever it was, it was over.
Click.. click.
He rolled over and sat up allowing his eyes to slowly refocus. The first thing he saw was Steve and it almost made his heart break. Then he spotted the other bodies and knew that before he could help his friend, he would have to check for signs of life.
He stood and went to check first on Peter, whose open staring eyes and bloodied chest negated the need to do anything further. Then he checked on Byron, there was no pulse.
He pushed himself back to standing, walked slowly towards Steve, wary of sudden movement, very gently he rested his hand on his friend's. "It's OK, Steve you can stop now," he said, as though he was talking to a child.
Steve's finger continued to squeeze the trigger of the long empty gun, but at Jesse's touch it slowed. His eyes were fixed and staring at the point where Byron had stood, Jesse moved into his gaze.
"Steve, it's over, you can stop," Jesse said, his tone soft but firm. He tightened his grip so that Steve could no longer pull on the trigger, the rhythmic clicking finally stopped.
As though stopping the action, broke him out of some sort of trance, Steve looked down into his friend's eyes. The anger that had kept him going had evaporated the first time he had pulled the trigger, the first bullet had hit Byron through the heart and he had been dead from that moment, it had just taken a little time to register, the second shot from the shotgun had fired harmlessly into the air.
At that point the thought implosion, that had threatened since Steve had first heard Byron's voice that morning, had been triggered and Steve's thought processes had temporarily shut down. Only now as he stared at Jesse did it register that he was still alive, they all were. "What.. How.."
Jesse was relieved at the spark of life he saw in Steve's eyes, he had been afraid that they had lost him again. "It's OK, they're both dead," he stated, watching Steve's face for signs of comprehension.
Steve moved his head to look around Jesse to where Byron's body lay. It was over.
Jesse watched with concern as Steve swayed on his feet. Dehydration and delayed shock from the many ravages his system had faced, finally took their toll. Moving to support his friend, although needing it almost as much himself, Jesse hooked his arm under Steve's shoulder.
"Come on let's get out of here," he said.
The two of them walked out into the sunshine. Steve did not look back as he left his demons behind him.
The End.
--
Author's note:- There- that's the story finally finished, I think I've tied up all the loose ends. Hope you enjoyed it and I'd love to hear your opinion of it. A million thankyous to all of those people who have been helpful and encouraging whilst I've been writing it, either through e-mail or reviews. I do appreciate every bit of your support, and it does make the many hours spent trying to get each chapter right worthwhile. A big thankyou to Nonny and Mouse for all that they have done to help me and to Antonio and Mel for letting me talk through ideas with them. Really hoped you enjoyed it Judith.
Ps I will write an epilogue at some point I think this story needs it.