...It doesn’t even matter
Joe La Fiamma drove his rented Jeep fast and steady along
the highway. His Cobra was still in the shop getting fixed after that explosion.
Joey’s mind was as tired as his body and screamed for a little bit of rest. The
day was coming to an end, but he hadn’t wanted to wait for the next morning. He
had to talk to Levon now. He wasn’t much for patience, and these past few days
had been a trial themselves.
He felt terrible. His head still hurt from the blow caused
by the explosion. His whole body was bruised because of the fight with Angelo,
his wrists were still bandaged from the cuts caused by the rope; but the pain
he felt the most was worse than everything. It was buried inside his very soul.
It all had been his fault.
Lundy had been trying to say something that day, he had
been hurt by Joey’s words. He’d been deceived.
God knows what that FBI asshole had done with the taped
conversation. From what Joe Bill and Esteban had told him, the recording made
him sound like he’d been discussing offing Levon with a hit man; that the killer
was going to end his partner’s life and Joey had been okay with it.
He’d been okay with that!!
How could Lundy possibly believe he’d be okay with that?
For the second time in 24 hours, Joey asked himself what
he’d been doing wrong. In five years he had tried to be a good friend, even when
the times were bad. Even when he and Lundy kept arguing and fighting over everything,
Joey had tried to be there, had tried to adjust, to cope, to become the guy everyone
expected him to be without actually losing himself in the process.
He had tried so hard!
And now, this had happened.
‘God damn!’
No matter what happened, Joey was not going to let that
FBI scum get away with it. He was going to make Lundy listen even if he had to
tie him up to a tree and gag him.
‘I’m not losing this one.’
‘No way.’
oooo00000oooo
The cold waters of the river rushed down through the
wilderness. Somewhere along the way, they had been tinted blood red, right there
where the unconscious body was floating and submerging—up and down—in an excruciatingly slow death dance.
Up and down, life and death…
Bouncing down, barely missing the sharp rocks in continuous
small miracles spared by nature; his eyes were closed, his sleeping mind was in
turmoil. He was a step closer to the end with every passing moment, but he didn’t
know it.
He would die in silence and never know it.
oooo00000oooo
Meanwhile,back at the ranch
“Where’s La Fiamma?”
“He left. He went to find Lundy about three hours ago.
Why?”
“Oh shit!”
“What?”
“Take a look at this.” Joe Bill handed his boss a copy
of Anglo Conti’s case file.
“Oh, my God!”
“They say we didn’t book him proper,” Joe Bill said.
“They said that the son of a bitch wasn’t read his rights when he was arrested.”
“He was unconcious, Goddamnit!” Joanne growled. “I know. Supposedly they failed to mirandize’im in the hospital.
That damn lawyer woman!” “Jessica Lewis.” “Her,”
Joe Bill went on. “She got him off on account of a failin’ procedure. Apparently
the son of a bitch swears he didn’t know why he was arrested. That Lewis woman
got the Judge to clear it off ‘cause of technical bullshit. He’s out as of noon
and we weren’t told!”
“Damn!”
Beaumont sighed. “I knew it! I knew somethin’ was up! They called me from downstairs
but I couldn’t get a straight answer; I only spent an hour tryin’ to find out
what the hell had happened. I couldn’t get hold of Peyton today, he’s in some
meetin’... Damn!” She swore. “Ain’t nothing gonna go right today?”
“I
don’t know.”
Joanne wasn’t listening anymore, she was furious, “That
woman…”
“Who?”
“Jessica Lewis, she’s a real goddamned pro.”
“She’s a real goddamned bitch, Joanne!”
“That too. But I’m one too! Get me La Fiamma’s report
on Conti, pronto!” She dialed her own cell phone, “And get me whoever was present
at the hospital. Now!”
“What are you gonna do? They guy’s gone!”
“That’s what he thinks!” The fire in her eyes intensified
as she spoke to the person on the phone, “Beaumont. Give me the D.A.! I don’t care he’s in a goddamned meetin’,
if you don’t put him on the phone right this instant, I’m gonna go on down there
with a gun!”
Joe Bill grinned. He loved his boss.
oooo00000oooo
After a half a mile long walk from the upper road, Joey
reached Joanne’s father’s cabin late in the afternoon. He had enjoyed the walk,
at some point he’d been able to see the river from above the hill. It was certainly
a beautiful place. Levon certainly knew what he was doing when he planned this
trip.
There was still and hour or so left of sunlight, but
right now, the sky was dark gray. A storm was coming and nothing could be done
about it. Joanne had given Joe a spare key to the cabin in case Levon wasn’t there
when he arrived, but judging by the weather, Joey never imagined he would find
the place empty.
He entered and dropped his bag on the floor. The cabin
was small but comfortable, yet it was still cold; it had obviously been recently
occupied but it looked like there hadn’t been a fire in the fireplace for hours.
Joey shivered a bit under his jacket. The kitchen was just ahead; a few chairs,
two couches and a table were all the furniture in the house. Two opened doors
just beyond; one of them was a bedroom. On the left wall Joey saw wooden shelves
full of fishing equipment, camping gear and the likes. There was a survival pack
missing from between two other similar bags up on the right. Other spaces were
empty. Apparently, it was mostly fishing gear.
Joey shook his head in silence, absently fingering the
empty shelves.
“Dude! Still fishing?” he muttered, “In this weather?”
He bowed his head. “Boy, you must be really mad at me!”
He had barely finished the sentence when it struck him.
‘It’
That nagging feeling behind his neck. Right there in
that little spot between his shoulders, where the back isn’t the back anymore
but is not the neck either! You know the one.
Right there… it was ‘that’ feeling.
He was familiar with that feeling. It was the very same
bugging ache that had saved his life on countless occasions, mostly on duty. He
had had that feeling the day that guy had almost shot him from that window, that
time when that bomb almost blew him and Levon up sky high on that warehouse, back
when that hit man almost killed him with a knife on that elevator…
Back when he’d almost crashed on the highway that time.
Back when that killer came in through the window and
shot him in the heart.
Back when he and Levon were almost killed by those mad
hunters in motorcycles.
Back when Carlo DiSanti decided to finish him off for
good.
Back when Levon went missing that day on the interstate…
That same feeling… That warning hunch…
‘It’ was there, burning! Screaming!
Outside, the sound of thunder echoing above the mountains
busted the feeling up, making it grow until it almost drove him crazy.
He stared out the window for a second, his heart racing.
“Lundy!” he whispered.
Without waiting for the next thunder, he grabbed a spare
survival pack from the shelf and ran toward the river.
oooo00000oooo
Up and down… life and death…
Cold…
Dark…
So cold…
Pain…
Up and down…
More pain…
Cold…
Cold…
Darkness…
oooo00000oooo
Back in Houston, Esteban Gutierrez ran as fast as he
could toward the Major Crimes Bullpen.
This day was getting worse and worse.
Damn bureaucrats!
‘I shoulda stayed in Mexico, at least there they speak my language.’
He rubbed his aching knuckles. He shouldn’t have hit
that fed either.
oooo00000oooo
Joey ran as fast as he could down the small trail. He
could see his partner’s footprints here and there, where the ground got a bit
sandy. He assumed they were his partner’s. This place was supposed to be isolated
enough.
‘Damn!’ Joey thought as he ran. ‘Please be okay, Lundy!’
He reached the river ten minutes later. He stopped, panting,
trying to catch his breath while he scanned the area for Levon. There was no one.
The place was empty. The only sounds came from the water
and the trees creaking with the increasing wind. Another thunder rolled above
him, stronger now. His sweaty face was quickly drying with the cold air that seemed
to move the world around him.
“Lundy!” he screamed to the top of his lungs.
Nothing.
He walked down the bank, searching for those footprints,
trying to find a clue. “Lundy!” he called again.
Nothing.
Lightning illuminated the sky in silent warning. Joey
knew he had to get indoors before the storm, but where the hell was his friend?
“Lundy!” he tried one more time.
After a few minutes he decided to double back and search
downriver. It wasn’t logical. Levon was a hundred times more savvy about wilderness
matters than Joey. He would know he was supposed to stay indoors in this weather,
right?
Maybe he’d been too far from home and had found shelter
somewhere else. Maybe…
But that nagging pain was still there.
The feeling was driving him crazy.
Something was wrong.
“Lundy!” he shouted again, searching the bank downriver.
He had walked for five minutes when he saw it.
A big tree had fallen over the river, still smoking slightly
where it had very recently been struck by lightning.
And underneath the sharp wet branches, floating on the
cold water… was a white hat.
Joey’s blood froze.
“Levon!” he screamed again, running toward the fallen
trunk.
oooo00000oooo
Joey studied the scene in front of him. A tree had fallen,
a very big tree that was now halfway into the water and the place where it had
been standing scorched.
‘Levon must have been there when the lightning bolt hit.’
But where was he?
Half of the tree had fallen on the bank of the river
and half right on top of the water. It was a big tree with thin pointy branches
that seemed to be many years old. Joey searched above and around the tree, part
of him not wanting to find Levon for fear of finding his friend injured or dead.
Another part of him screamed in frustration when he found no sign of Lundy anywhere.
All he could see was the soaked white Stetson caught between two branches, floating
in the water. Joey dropped the survival pack on the floor and carefully stretched
and tried to reach the hat without falling himself into the cold river. It was
impossible.
He grabbed a thin broken branch about four feet long,
and tried to get to the hat with it. He could almost reach it this way! He leaned
on the fallen trunk and tried again. After a short battle with the water and more
wood sticking out from the river he finally dislodged the hat from its trap.
Unfortunately, the current took a hold of it right then
and Joey lost it.
The hat floated away, farther and farther away. Joey
could almost see it smiling.
Damn! It had been a bad idea from the start. The hat
had just been too far away.
Too far.
“Oh, no!” Joey clenched his jaw, gasping at the realization.
The hat was too far from shore to just have fallen from his owner’s head.
“God, no!” Joey closed his eyes, begging with all his
being, “Please, let him be all right.”
Let him not be drowned under that tree.
Joey took his shoes off, then his jacket, shirt and t-shirt
off, all in one swift move. The trousers would have to get wet; he had no time
to spare.
He walked around the fallen tree and entered the cold
water, shielding himself from the force of the current by hanging on to the trunk
itself. The river wasn’t that deep so close to shore, it went up to just below
his chest. ‘One can drown in a foot of water!’
His own voice echoed, betraying his furious efforts to keep his brain away from
such thoughts. He held on to the fallen tree as hard as he could and moved until
he reached the place where the hat had been. He took a deep breath and ducked
to search under the surface.
Nothing.
He searched for what seemed an eternity until he was
thoroughly convinced that his friend wasn’t under there. Some of the pressure
inside his heart was released but the feeling was still there, as strong as the
upcoming storm.
He swam back to shore, carefully but as fast as he could.
The wood still had a burning smell…
Lightning.
He didn’t even want to consider the idea of Levon being
hit by lightning.
Maybe he wasn’t, Joe, the tree could have been standing
far enough from Lundy, maybe just the tall branches fell close to him and made
him lose his balance. Maybe that’s how he lost the hat! Maybe he’s okay somewhere!
Maybe he hadn’t fallen into the river at all! Maybe it
was just the hat.
Maybe he’d fallen in the river but had the good sense
to swim to shore! Maybe he was okay.
But that nagging feeling!
Joey knew he had to do something. If Levon was indeed
okay, he would turn up all smiles sometime soon. If, on the other hand, he had
fallen into the cold water, he would be downriver… and he could be hurt. Joey
had to find him.
He donned his clothes again, trying to dry himself the
best he could, and grabbed the pack from the floor. The water sure was cold, but
he had to help Levon. He wouldn’t stop looking until he knew what had happened
to his friend.
Damn the storm.
He began walking.
Up in the sky, another thunder announced the inevitable.
He didn’t have much time left.
oooo00000oooo
Back in the Major Crimes bullpen, Esteban Gutierrez stormed
into Joanne’s office.
“The Fed, he’s gone.”
“What?”
“Son of a bitch!” Joe Bill looked up from the file he
was reading.
“What
happened?”
“You
won’t believe this! At one p.m. the FBI sends this wire, it came from the Houston
Federal Office,” he frowned and gave Joanne a look. “No one told us,” he continued.
“Seems Ferguson was let go from his position, but they still sent some agents
to get’im out of here… again… no one told us.” He clicked his tongue and went
on, “Two suits came down with official federal papers and took the perp into custody.
There was a big discussion down there but, anyway… by two o’clock he was gone.”
He frowned again. “And again…”
“No
one told us.” Joanne finished for him.
“Shit!”
Joe Bill shook his head in frustration. “He’s gone, Joanne. We ain’t got nothing
to go on now.”
“How
in the hell didn’t they hold him?”
“It
was the feds, Joanne. They brought a ton of paperwork. In fact, they just left.
I had a conversation with one of them a minute ago in the parking lot…” he rubbed
his knuckles again, “He didn’t tell me much,” he frowned, “but he said that, after
today, Ferguson wasn’t their problem anymore.”
“Damn
it!” Joanne swore, reaching out to answer the ringing phone. “Beaumont!”
Esteban
absently rubbed his fist while he traded looks with Joe Bill. They were both frustrated
and angry but Joe Bill’s eyes also hid a hint of amusement. Gutierrez didn’t know
why until Joe Bill stood up and stared at his bruised hand.
“You
want some ice for that?” Joe Bill smiled. He knew his partner too well.
“Nah,”
Esteban dismissed him. “Thanks, but what we need right now is a break.”
“And
I just got you one,” Joanne said hanging up the phone.
oooo00000oooo
A lone figure floated among the sharp, submerged branches.
Dry leaves had fallen on his chest, which was quiet and still, just like the rest
of his battered body. Half of him rested below the cold waters, right where they
seemed to be slightly tinted red… blood red… from the deep wound on his thigh.
His head had been above the surface long enough to dry, then shine red as well
with the flow of yet another open gash above his right temple.
His handsome features were cold as stone, a freezing
breeze caressed his cheeks, his eyes were half closed as in final slumber. More
dry leaves fell on the water and some stopped and floated between his lifeless
fingers.
Yet… he breathed. Yes, his breathing was weak as was
the slow beating of his heart. But he was alive, for now.
The cold currents crashed and collided with rocks and
bends, running down the riverbed in wild, Texan fury. The solitary floating figure
that had savagely been dragged for so long was now trapped. The unconscious man’s
jacket was caught among the wet branches of yet another long dead fallen tree.
Funny how things happen. One tree had thrown him into
the river, another one had almost pulled him out.
The same coldness that seemed to tear his very bones
had miraculously slowed the bleeding process, thus allowing him to keep most of
the precious fluid inside his veins and giving him a chance to survive.
A dim chance.
The jacket ripped a bit more. A dry, thin stick did the
same with his upper arm, drawing more blood, hurting him, causing more pain!
Then it came to tear the flesh, almost to the bone.
That woke him up.
oooo00000oooo
Joey marched through the wilderness as what he was: a
man with a mission. He followed the river, his eyes intent on the running water
and the land beyond; frantically searching for a shadow, a figure, anything resembling
a clue. He often stopped to call out and listen, trying to find Levon’s voice
above the increasing wind. His heart grew heavier with every failed attempt.
Some time had passed now, the coming storm was almost
upon him, but he wouldn’t stop. That damned feeling was still searing trough him
and that alone was enough to keep him going to the end. Levon was out there and
Joey had to find him. Something was wrong, he could feel it.
“Lundy!” he called once again, the cold finding his spine
and making him shiver. “Levon!” he tried again.
No answer.
Joey continued on the trail, as his mind revised the
situation. He was alone in the woods with no other guide than his own instinct.
Earlier he had tried to call the local sheriff, 911 or someone who could help
him locate Levon faster, but it had been useless. The cell phone he carried couldn’t
find a signal so far from the city. He was on his own, as was Levon.
He talked to himself all the time, trying to find reassurance
in different theories. ‘Maybe he got out
and is now on his way back to the cabin. Maybe he’s already there. Maybe I’m on
a wild goose chase here. Maybe he didn’t fall into the river at all.’
‘Maybe I’m just overreacting’.
‘Maybe we’ll laugh about this later’.
‘Maybe the feeling is wrong this time’.
No. That was highly unlikely. The feeling had never been
wrong. But Joey was open to believing anything.
‘Maybe I’m wrong; maybe he’s all right. Maybe it wasn’t even him. Maybe the hat flew off from somewhere far, far away, up on the mountains!’
‘Maybe I’m just imagining things’.
“Right?” he asked out loud, tired of the endless silence.
The river answered his question.
Down below, a dozen feet away was, again, the white Stetson,
caught on a bunch of rocks. Floating there, in mute mockery, daring him to try
and reach it once more.
Joey rose to the challenge, he was tired of losing.
He lowered the backpack and carefully climbed on the
rocks, dropping to his hands and knees to keep his balance; it took him a few
minutes of patience and forced equilibrium but, in the end, with a cry of triumph
he finally grabbed the stubborn hat and pulled it out of the river. He sat there
in silence, examining the ruined thing in his hands, it was Levon’s, definitely,
Joey knew the hat, his favorite hat, it was perched atop of his partner all the
time like another head. ‘He’s gonna be pissed
when he sees how this got all messed up’. He smiled.
Then Joey turned the hat over to check the inside and
almost lost his balance on the rocks. He didn’t hear his own sharp intake of breath
as the truth hit him full force shattering any hope of being wrong. Even soaking
wet, there was blood inside the hat; a lot of it; a piece of wood was embedded
inside a channel where a thin branch had torn the wing… where the bloodstain was
redder.
Blood.
Levon’s blood.
His friend was hurt, and the wound was on his head!
He had to find him fast. How long can a man survive like
that… if he has fallen into a freezing river?
“Damn it!” he swore with all his might, quickly collecting
himself and getting back to shore. “Damn! Damn it to hell!”
The feeling... it was never wrong!
He gazed upon the river before him and for a second considered
the idea of jumping in. ‘Maybe I can get
to him faster if I follow his path! Maybe I’ll catch up with him!’
‘Right!’
‘...And maybe I’ll drown, and what good am I to Lundy all dead?’
He shook his head, berating himself for letting shock
and fear take over. He had to be calm if he wanted to help his friend, if he wanted
to help anybody.
More roaring thunder above urged him to go faster. He
kept his eyes and ears open for any sign of his best friend, the ruined, bloody
hat placed firmly on his own head. The weather was getting colder by the minute
but Joey wasn’t feeling any of it anymore.
Joey La Fiamma wasn’t checking the floor he was stepping
on, his eyes fixed upon the river beside him like they were. That’s why he never
saw the hole in the ground until it was too late.
oooo00000oooo
Joanne smiled as she hung up the phone again and watched
her detectives leave. She grinned, feeling good for the first time that day. Why?
Well, D.A. Peyton had gotten a doctor’s testimony about Conti’s condition: he
was knocked on the head and might have lost his recent memory.
That alone made the bad guy’s statement void.
Joanne smiled.
Then, Peyton also had two paramedics testifying that
officer Jane Black, the arresting officer that traveled with Conti in the ambulance
had indeed read the guy’s Miranda rights while he was unconscious.
They all heard it!
The truth was Officer Black had been doing it because
she was bored out of her mind. There was nothing for her to do other than sit
and stare at the unconscious criminal. She despised murderers and thought she’d
feel better if she told the sleeping crook all the things they were going to do
to him in jail. After all, they say people can hear you, even in a comatose state,
right?
Because this guy, he wasn’t only a common crook, he had
tied and beaten up Joe La Fiamma! Handsome, cute, beautiful Joe La Fiamma from
Major Crimes! The same La Fiamma that was fuel for fantasy to every woman in the
precinct!
This Conti guy had tried to kill him! The creep.
So she had gone on and on, and the paramedics had laughed
all the way to the hospital at the antics provided by the girl’s gory sense of
humor.
Among the jokes, Officer Black had actually said he was
under arrest and “mirandized” him. The
woman never imagined that her playing around would end up saving the case.
Of course, nobody mentioned that the guy’s aforementioned
rights included the right to take his... ehem… manhood, roll it into a small ball and shove
it up his...
No. They all forgot to mention that.
Joanne arranged her disheveled hair and caught it with
a pin before continuing her work.
There. All settled. Now, to get Conti back. Where was
that creep?
oooo00000oooo
He was disoriented, confused and hurting.
He was wet.
He was cold.
He was angry and scared.
He was also alone.
He knew had to get out of the river before he was pulled
in all over again, but his whole body refused to operate. The cold was making
everything else numb but he still felt every shiver like a bolt of electricity
cutting though him.
Electricity.
It was right then when he noticed the steady ringing
in his ears, he remembered. It was fuzzy but it was there, that roaring sound...
an explosion? A tree had been hit by lightning and had fallen, fallen on top of
him, sticks cutting into his skin, piercing his thigh, terrible pain on his head,
and finally something big pushing and throwing him into the river. He remembered
the cold water, the shock that hit him just as the adrenaline rush came to a full.
That blow alone should have killed him.
But it hadn’t, of course not! Levon was strong, he wouldn’t
give in just like that. He was a fighter. He was Texan for God’s sake! He wanted
to live.
So he had struggled with the cold hand that threatened
to rip his life off and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he had prevailed.
He had won.
And now, he was here, wet tired and hurting and he had
to get out of the water.
But how? Nothing worked, and everything hurt! Breathing
hurt, numbly, but still... it hurt.
He tried to move his injured arm and gasped in pain as
the branch buried inside his flesh was suddenly pulled out. The sleeve totally
ripped, exposing the cut, Levon saw blood oozing from the wounded arm and covered
it with his other hand. He was still inside the river but his feet had found the
floor somehow. Maybe he would be able to get out of there after all.
Gathering all his remaining strength, he slowly reached
his bloody hand to grab the biggest branch and hauled himself toward it, toward
shore. He repeated the process, advancing carefully, he found leverage with his
booted foot on what he could only imagine was more of the tree sunk underwater.
He tried to use his other leg and cried out in pain. His thigh was on fire. He
felt nauseous all of a sudden but fought to steady himself. He didn’t need that
right now.
He slowly pulled, trying to ignore the constant pain
in his leg, arm and head. Focusing on his task, he slowly reached the edge of
the riverbed. Now came the hardest part: how to get out? He was still up to his
chest in the water and he didn’t think he would have enough strength to pull himself
out. He held on to the edge and searched. There, just a few feet ahead, was a
tree trunk, halfway inside the water. Maybe that could help. He made his way to
it, found it and held on.
This was going to be hard.
It felt like a decade before he finally managed to pull
himself out of the river. His head was spinning and he felt the cry of pain stuck
inside his throat. It was only because he was all numb from the cold that he hadn’t
passed out from the terrible agony. He lay on the floor, trying to catch his breath
and grasping the grass until his knuckles tuned white. He fought another wave
of nausea and tried to move.
All his damaged nerves woke up at once.
It was too much.
Darkness came to claim him and he reluctantly gave in.
oooo00000oooo
Joey stepped into the hole, tripped and fell forward.
He felt a sharp pain just as his shoulder crashed with another big rock. After
a few seconds he regained his breath, clenched his jaw and cursed again.
The Italian closed his eyes and tried to move. It wasn’t
bad, his feet seemed okay, his head was fine, his arm…
He cried out in pain.
It seemed like a wild fire was burning inside his damaged
shoulder, the muscle felt like it had been ripped, like his arm had been savagely
torn off in one, single, excruciating move.
He cursed again through clenched teeth and felt tears
filling his shut eyes. He knew what it was, it had happened to him before.
His shoulder was dislocated.
‘Damn! Damn! Damn!’
Carefully, slowly, as the prey would move trying not
to wake up the lion, he moved again. He got up to his knees and felt another sharp
burn. He shook his head, this was going to be hell.
He didn’t know how to fix a dislocation, especially not
one of his own, so he did the next best thing: with slow, terribly painful movements,
he unzipped his jacket and secured his arm inside, next to his stomach. By the
end he was panting in exhaustion. He tried not to move it again but every step
on the uneven ground brought another wave of pain.
‘Hell all right.’
Reaching for the fallen Stetson, he began walking again,
trying not to think about his useless arm and keeping himself focused on his search
for Levon.
‘Gotta find Lundy.’
It was another ten minutes before he stopped once again
to catch his breath. The pain was incredible, but the fear inside his gut was
more powerful and helped him to keep on going. The river gave no sign of his friend
and, more and more, Joey felt the dread of never being able to find him. The river
was very long.
Very... very long…
He glanced at the angry sky, his blue eyes sending up
a prayer, a pleading request: ‘Please God,
let me find him. Let him be all right.’
He closed his eyes.
‘Or... let me be on a wild goose chase here. Please?’
He felt a cold touch on his forehead. Almost like an
answer.
An answer?
Joey frowned, shook his head and touched his forehead,
it was wet.
A raindrop.
Of course!
He glared at the sky. ‘Very funny, Lord!’
The sky was already as dark as it could get and now it
was coming down on him.
Another raindrop followed and then another one… and another
one.
Light and thunder cut through; then, more and more rain.
Joey frowned at the clouds, ‘Hey, I didn’t
mean it!’ The wind was picking up, in only moments he would be under the full
rage of nature. He knew that he had to find some cover.
But, what about Lundy? He was out there, in the open
just like him.
And that nagging feeling wouldn’t leave him.
He forced himself to move again. He wouldn’t leave his
partner, he had to keep on going.
It was stupid. Of course he knew it! It was stupid to
be out here, under the rain and thunder, still searching, but what else could
he do?
Levon was out here, and he was hurt.
Joey shot another glare at the sky and whined in silence
as he marched, ‘I did say ‘please’!’
oooo00000oooo
Meanwhile, back in Houston, Joe Bill and Esteban dwelled
on their own frantic search.
No matter how hard they looked, Angelo Conti was nowhere
to be found. The s.o.b. had fled the moment the jail door had opened before him.
Where in the world could he have gone?
Joe Bill and Esteban had gone to get him to his hotel
and had done a great job storming into the room.
Unfortunately Angelo hadn’t been there.
The two detectives had been over Conti’s room five times
already, looking for clues: people he knew in the city, places; anything that
could help them locate the creep.
No luck, it was as if the earth had swallowed the man.
Damn it!
They were in the lobby, about to leave the building when
a familiar face popped up out of nowhere. They saw him before he saw them.
“Ferguson!” Joe Bill couldn’t believe it.
“Son of a bitch!”
Both men came up behind him just as he walked up to the
counter and asked for a room key, a very special room key.
What would Ferguson want with Angelo Conti’s room key?
They allowed him to go into the room, but when he saw
the yellow police tape on the door he decided to leave.
“He just became a suspect!” Esteban said from the end
of the hall.
“He’s been a suspect all along!” Joe Bill frowned.
“I mean... he just became a suspect for a different crime.”
Esteban smiled. “I think we need to book him!”
“I’m with you, partner!”
Two minutes later, Michael Ferguson was again under arrest.
He was furious.
Half an hour later, back at Reisner, Joanne Beaumont
sent Sergeant Carol O’Brien to talk to the FBI
and tell them that, since they had fired they guy and told Gutierrez that
morning that he wasn’t their problem, they had no jurisdiction over this prisoner
anymore.
They agreed.
One down, one to go.
Now, where was the creep?
oooo00000oooo
Levon came to, lying on his back, a soft moan escaping
his lips. Memories flooded back instantly making him groan in frustration. He
kept his eyes closed, as if that alone would keep reality away. Why did these
things have to happen to him... always?
Above him, he suddenly noticed something moving, a shadow
covered his closed eyes, really close to his face, barely touching his nose, his
mouth, just barely, like a sweet woman’s caress. He smiled thinking of Caroline.
His confused mind shifted gears, it was time to go home.
Still smiling he tried to move and the smile faded fast. He stopped. The Texan’s
battered body had complained loudly, his head was killing him, his leg was on
fire, his arm yelled as well, the ringing in his ears was softer but still there,
steady. He didn’t try to move again, knowing that doing so would bring another
shower of unwanted pain. Unfortunately, he knew that eventually he’d have to,
he couldn’t stay down there forever.
Levon cursed in silence.
As feeling came back to the rest of his bruised body,
he noticed something behind his back, making a big lump against the ground. He
was lying on top of something but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He frowned,
trying to remember what he’d seen, what he’d done. Abruptly, it came to him: the
backpack. He had had it when he fell in the river. It was still strapped to his
back; he hadn’t lost it. Maybe he had a chance after all!
The sound of thunder echoed above, but the ringing in
his ears muffled the sound a bit. He frowned, allowing memory to come back to
him: ‘a storm is coming, Damn! I have to
get up.’ Just then, he felt the cold touch of a raindrop on his hand.
‘Perfect.’
‘Okay, Little Levon. Time to move.’
Levon sighed and the move caused that slight, caressing
touch upon his face to stop, but the shadow was still there. He slowly opened
his eyes.
Two yellow eyes were staring back.
He flinched and regretted it the same instant as his
leg and arm protested the recent abuse. He didn’t have time to worry about it
as more important problems had ensued just before him.
The shadow resolved into the face of a large cat.
A very large cat.
Unnaturally large for a house cat.
Fear. Levon felt cold sweat forming on his forehead as
fuzziness gave way to reality. The big animal backed up slightly, allowing the
Texan to see him fully.
There, before him, was a big, mean looking, shiny—yet
graceful—mountain lion. ‘A mountain lion?’
Levon thought, ‘Aw, hell!’ He clenched his jaw, unsure of what to do.
The animal didn’t look angry or nervous; it was just standing there, as if sizing
up the thing on the ground. It licked a paw and went back to staring at Levon,
never moving, just watching.
The Texan lay there, perfectly still and holding his
breath. Lundy knew there was nothing else
he could do but stay. The way he was feeling, he wouldn’t be able to stand, let
alone defend himself at all should the cat decide to attack.
‘Perfect! I just sweated blood and tears to get outta that big cold river just to turn into Simba’s lunch.’
The world became fuzzy again for a second and he fought
another wave of nausea. God, His head hurt!
The animal stared at him for a few moments and then,
finally, it began walking. It slowly came close to Levon again and then circled
the fallen man, its nose inspecting the ground next to him. Then, after a few
agonizing seconds, it came back before the Texan, stared at him for a moment and
turned away, back into the trees.
Levon let out his breath.
Whew!
Just then, another raindrop fell squarely on his nose,
then he felt another one and another one. The clouds above were darker than ever
and the wind was picking up fast and furious. He had to move.
‘Damn!’
He collected all the strength he could muster and slowly
rolled to his stomach. The diversity of pains and aches all over his body assaulted
him full force. For a second he thought he would pass out again, but the assault
passed and he found himself still there.
With great effort he tried to stand up. The pain on his
arm and leg was terrible yet the numbing cold somehow made it bearable. He searched
the near ground for something he could use as a crutch, and the only thing he
found was a broken branch. It wasn’t perfect but it was strong enough to help.
He slowly rose, carefully keeping all weight from his injured leg. His head swam
in dizziness and he suddenly discovered another big set of aches and pains he
hadn’t felt before... great! He took a limping step, then another; then stopped
to breathe and clenched his teeth, fighting the agonizing discomfort. Finally,
after a few moments, he managed to collect his energy and began looking for shelter.
Ahead there were only trees.
Above, the sky would soon fall on him.
Below there was only the hard and cold face of Mother
Earth.
He was in trouble.
Thunder echoed close by and a chill ran down his spine,
that one had nothing to do with the cold.
And just then, the big cat came into view again.
Levon froze.
The mountain lion stared at him for a second, turned
back to where he came from and stopped. His eyes focused on Levon again.
It was waiting!
“Waiting? Who do you think you are? Lassie?” Levon could
barely hear himself speaking, “I ain’t followin’ a mountain lion inside the trees...
I ain’t mad!! I may look it, but I ain’t, boy, so stop that starin’... Now, La
Fiamma would sure go after ya... Probably share a burger with ya’ll, but I ain’t
suicidal... Stop lookin’ at me like that boy! I ain’t goin’ so just forget about
it!”
Another thunder above cut him off on his tirade.
The lion was still there, waiting.
He had nothing else but this! Closing his tired eyes,
Lundy shook his head and sighed. “I’ve been hangin’ around you way too much, La
Fiamma.”
Carefully, but as fast as he could, he began limping,
following the cat and praying it wasn’t his last mistake.
ooooo000000ooooo
Back to the Texan
Dungeon