Protected Pt. 03

I should have kept my attention on controlling the coach as it was trying to crash itself, but I couldn't stop myself from repeatedly glancing over my shoulder as Willow scrambled to the back of the coach on her hands and knees. She disappeared into the bathroom, reappeared moments later with four bath towels, and began making her way back to the front.

I couldn't stop watching her, dividing my attention between piloting the bus and watching her treat Fish. She pressed a towel under the back of Fish's jacket, holding it over the wound as she laid him back on it, and then pressed another towel to his stomach and held it in place.

She looked at me with fear in her eyes. "It's all I know to do."

I gave the coach more throttle, but as the RV picked up speed, the shaking became so bad that I was unable to keep it straight, and after the second heart stopping near crash I slowed. I'd do Fish no good if I crashed the coach. After thirty minutes of shuddering and shaking along the dirt road, we finally reached pavement. I slowed as much as I dared, worried I had hidden company following us in our dust cloud, and heaved the coach around the corner.

"How's he doing?" I asked as I floored the throttle while glancing in the rearview. I didn't see anyone following us and I breathed a small sigh of relief.

"He's still alive but in shock," Willow said, her voice tight with worry and concern. "He's lost a lot of blood."

"We should get a cell signal soon," Goose shouted over the rushing wind. "We can call for help."

I kept the throttle pinned to the floor as the coach accelerated to seventy, then seventy-five, before finally topping out just under eighty miles per hour. The RV was fucked. Something smelled hot, and I was constantly fighting the vehicle to prevent it from dragging itself into the ditch on the right side, but I kept my foot down, unable to give more than quick glances to Willow as she tended Fish.

She kept bending over to hover her ear near Fish's mouth and checking his pulse. "You have to hurry," she said after one of her checks, her voice telegraphing her distress.

"This is it! It won't go any faster!" I snarled as I pressed the throttle harder to the floor, willing the machine into giving me just a little bit more.

"I have a signal!" Goose said a moment later. "Shit! Lost it!"

"No, no, no, no!" she cried as she started chest compressions. "Come on Fish! Please! Don't do this! Stay with me!" She worked on him for a long moment, breathing for him, compressing his chest as she murmured the lyrics to Staying Alive by the Bee Gee's to keep her rhythm, before pausing and bringing her ear close to his mouth before starting again.

"Fish, Goddammit!" I bellowed. "Don't you fucking die on me!"

After a long time, she stopped and flopped to her ass, clearly exhausted. "He's gone," she panted, her face dripping with sweat, her hands covered in his blood as she stared at the ground rushing past the open door. "I couldn't save him."

"Goddammit!" I raged, pounding on the steering wheel as my fury boiled over. Three more brothers dead. Three more friends lost. I clung grimly to the wheel, staring through the crazed windshield, afraid to speak, holding tight to my wrath so I didn't take it out on her. She wasn't a doctor, and she'd done everything she could. It wasn't her fault my best friend, my brother, had died.

We were starting to pick up traffic but I barely slowed, cars moving out of our way as if by magic. "Goose, as soon as you can, find me the best way to the hospital, then call the cops. Tell them what happened and to meet us there."

Goose was quiet for a moment before speaking. "Stay on this road until you get to the sixty-nine, then take the Bob Bullock Loop."

I nodded watching the signs. Having grown up in Laredo, I had a general idea of where Goose was sending me. Behind me, I could hear Goose talking to the police, telling them what happened. When I reached the Bob Bullock Loop, I was able to follow the hospital signs, other cars giving me wide berth as we made our way toward medical help. When I turned onto Sandia Drive, with the hospital in sight, a police cruiser, blue lights flashing, pulled into the center of the road and began slowing. I slowed as well, clinging as tightly to the wheel as possible as it tried to squirm its way out of my hands. As we ground to a halt, two more cruisers closed up behind us to block us in.

Once we stopped, two officers stepped out of the cruisers at the rear. I kept my hands on the wheel as the officers approached carefully, their weapons holstered but unsnapped, with their hands on the butts.

"Several of us were armed," I said, when the first officer appeared at the edge of the door.

"Where?" the officer barked.

"I don't know. Mine was on the dash, but it could be anywhere now. I don't know about the others."

"I lost mine, too," Goose said. "I don't know where it is."

"Mine, too. I dropped it in the crash," Big Dick said softly.

"Anybody else in here?" the officer asked.

"No. We're it."

"Everyone... keep your hands out where I can see them."

The officers entered carefully, the first officer picking up the gun lying beside Fish and handing it to the officer behind as they entered the RV and looked around.

"These two men are hurt," Willow said as she started to rise to her feet.

"Stay down!" the officer barked.

"Please!" she begged as she settled back to the floor. "They need to get to the hospital. Reed's been shot in the leg and is bleeding badly, and Kenny's arm is broken."

The officer ignored her request and moved farther back into the RV, looking into the small bathroom and then the bedroom farther back. When he returned, his hand was off his weapon.

"Please, Officer... Trumbull," Willow said, "these men are hurt. Please let us get to the hospital."

The officer, Trumbull I assumed, nodded. "I'll ride with you. ER is expecting you. Are you hurt?"

"No," Willow replied.

"You, sir?" the officer asked.

"Just a few cuts from flying glass."

"Drive slowly. The officers will follow. We need to speak to you after we get these men taken care of." He turned to his shoulder and spoke into his mic. "Clear here."

I snorted as I put the RV back in gear and followed the police car as it pulled away. "What a surprise," I muttered, but too softly for the officer to hear.

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WILLOW

The emergency room staff at Doctors Hospital were waiting with three gurneys. Goose walked in under his own power, but Big Dick, weak and pale from blood loss, was glad to have the ride. I didn't want to think about what the third gurney, the one with the black, plastic, zippered bag, was for. Both Colt and I wanted to follow, but the police were having none of that, and immediately separated us.

I was escorted into a small room that was probably some doctor or nurse's office where I was joined by not one, not two, but three officers. At least they had the courtesy to let me wash my hands first. I forced myself to be patient as I answered the same questions repeatedly. Why were people shooting at you? You don't know who they were? Why didn't you call the police? Did you kill anyone? and what seemed to be a million more. I told them everything I knew, occasionally having to stop to cry and to gather myself. To the officer's credit, they didn't treat me like a complete criminal, and when I started crying, they allowed me time to collect myself before they began their questioning again.

After a half dozen times of asking their questions, they left me alone in the room for a long time. I had no way of knowing, but I assumed they'd asked all four of us the same questions and were outside somewhere comparing notes.

After a long wait, they returned and asked me even more questions. I could tell by the questions focusing more on the where instead of the what, they were going to send someone to check our story. I didn't know exactly where the RV was parked, but I showed them the general area on a map. They could find it from there based on where my Jeep and Big Dick's pickup were parked.

Finally, after over four hours of interrogation and waiting, I was released.

"Where's Colt?" I asked as I rose from my chair.

"Mr. Arne will join you in a minute," the officer said as held the door open for me.

I knew from the questioning, the police's definition of a moment or minute wasn't the same as mine. I stepped into the hall, and was wondering what to do or where to wait, when Colt appeared from around a corner. We didn't run to each other like in the movies, but there was no hesitation in our steps before I flung myself into his arms.

He wrapped me in his embrace. "I'm so, so, sorry..." I murmured into his chest. I didn't cry because I'd cried myself out telling my story over and over again.

"It's okay," he murmured.

"But Fish, and Juice, and Grace..."

"I know," was all he said.

After a long moment, I squirmed out of his arms. I didn't want to as his embrace was comforting, but I was sure he wanted to check on his brothers, and I didn't want to keep him from it. I looked up at him. "Have you talked to Goose or Big Dick?"

"No." He glanced around. "The fucking cops were grilling the shit out of me and wouldn't let me leave," he said more softly.

I nodded. "Yeah. Same."

He took my arm and guided me to the admissions' desk. "May I help you, sir?" the woman behind the desk asked.

"I need to know where Reed Dickson and Kendal Gosling are."

"Are you family?"

"They're... my brothers," he said.

She looked at him, her face hardening into suspicion. "One his, one mine," I added.

Her gaze flicked from me to him and then back to me before she looked down and typed on a hidden computer. "Mr. Dickson is scheduled for surgery. Mr. Gosling is in recovery."

"Where's recovery?" I asked.

"Follow the blue stripe. Ask the nurse on duty."

"Thank you," I said.

"Wait," Colt said as I tried to pull him away. "Why is Reed in surgery? Does it say?"

She typed a moment. "It says here that it is to repair multiple fractures of the Tibia, suture the Anterior Tibial Artery, remove embedded bone splinters, and to repair torn muscle."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

We followed the blue line on the floor until we came to another desk occupied by another nurse. "Kenny Gosling?" Colt asked the moment the man looked up.

He smiled. "Mr. Gosling is right through there, in our waiting room," he said, pointing to a door labeled Recovery Waiting Room.

"Thanks," he said as we turned away.

Goose was sitting in a chair with his arm in a cast supported by a sling. His head was tipped back against the wall and he appeared to be sleeping.

"Goose?" Colt asked softly as we approached. Goose slowly opened his eyes and raised his head before he smiled. He looked like he was stoned out of his mind. "How are you doing brother?"

"Better now. This place has some good fucking drugs."

"What did they say about your arm?"

"Nothing much. It's a bad but clean break. They had to set it, which I suspect would have hurt like a motherfucker if not for the drugs." He shrugged his good shoulder. "I can go home as soon as someone can pick me up." He smiled again. "Obviously, I shouldn't be driving." His smile faded. "How's Big Dick? They won't tell me shit."

"He's either in, or is going into surgery. It sounds like the bullet must have hit a bone and severed an artery, but hopefully he'll be okay."

"Good," Goose said softly. "This is fucked."

"Yeah," Colt agreed.

"What's the plan?"

"She's done on site," Colt said, his tone brooking no disagreement. "I'm getting her back to Houston as soon as I can. We were sitting ducks out there! I was stupid to take this job!"

"If you hadn't, I'd be dead," I said quietly. "And no arguments from me about going home."

"She's right. Go. Get her out of here in case they tracked us somehow. I've already called Deb, and she and Haley are on their way." I assumed that Deb and Haley were Goose and Big Dick's wives or girlfriends.

"I'm sorry, brother," Colt said softly as he gripped Goose's good shoulder.

"Not your fault, but don't let their sacrifices be for nothing. Get her out of here. Keep her safe."

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COLT

I took Willow by the arm and escorted her to the Emergency Room entrance. "Stay here," I ordered as I guided her to the side to stand behind the concrete walls that flanked the automatic glass doors.

I stepped through the air lock and stopped under the covered entrance. I could see the RV in the distance. The police were impounding the coach, but they were allowing us to collect a few of our belongings. I heard the door open behind me, and I turned, expecting to see Willow, but it was a nurse, wheeling out a man wearing bandages on his leg. I stepped aside to give them room as I continued to watch the coach.

As I watched for movement around the vehicle, I tamped down on rage unlike any I'd felt before. Four brothers killed with two more injured. Three new widows because of me. I'd been stupid to think we could do this job. No more. The BDMC were cutting our losses. I'd make sure Willow got safely to Houston, but once I did, I was going to turn her over to a professional protection service. I'd stay with her until the security was in place, but no more brothers were dying because of my mistake.

I stiffened as I saw someone step from behind the RV, but relaxed when I realized it was a woman walking with a small child. I returned to the waiting room. Willow was right where I left her.

"I'm going to go check on the coach. Stay in here and wait for me to--"

"No," she said shaking her head. "You're not leaving me in here alone. I'm going with you."

"You'll be safe here."

"That's what you said about the truck and my coach." Her words were like a slap. They were true, but they still stung. "I'm not blaming you for what happened," she continued without pause. "It's not your fault, but whoever is after me is either crazy, desperate, or both." She shook her head. "No. I'm staying right beside you."

I considered a moment. She had a point, but I didn't like walking up to the coach, unarmed, without knowing what we were walking into. On the other hand, there were probably a hundred cars in the parking lot the bad guys could be hiding in or behind, and I couldn't search them all. I made my decision.

"Okay, but stay close."

"Oh, you can count on that."

I took her arm and all but frog marched her across the parking lot. I held her on my left, and sightly behind, so I could get that half-second look between the cars on my right before they had a clean shot at her. I was almost sick with dread as we hustled across the parking lot, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. The amount of parked cars thinned as we approached the coach, and I began to relax slightly as the number of hiding places decreased.

"Holy, shit!" I murmured as I got a better look at the coach.

The coach as covered in what appeared to be hundreds of bullet holes and all the glass save the windshield had been shot out. The front of the coach was twisted and disfigured beyond recognition, a piece of something was rubbing against the right front tire, with others pieces dragging along the ground underneath.

"Sweet Jesus," Willow murmured.

"Wait," I said, parking her by the front of the coach. I entered and did a quick search, but the coach was empty. I returned to the door. "It's clear," I said, and she climbed the steps.

We both stood and spent a moment looking around. "My God," she murmured again.

I nodded. "Yeah. It's a wonder any of us survived."

Every panel was covered with holes, the windows on the side opposite the entrance were also shot out, and the sun was creating little streaks of light from punctures in the roof. The contents of the cabinets were spilled into the floor and shattered, and something liquid had leaked out of the refrigerator. Not only was it a miracle that only Fish died in the coach, but it was equally amazing that the coach hadn't been fatally damaged in our escape.

"Did you tell the cops about the pistol I gave you?"

"No. They didn't ask. Why?"

"Where was it?"

"In my bedroom."

"See if it's still there."

She nodded as moved deeper into the coach.

The cops had confiscated my pistol, along with the weapons belonging to Fish, Goose, and Big Dick, but I hoped that once they found the ones they were looking for, they hadn't searched for Willow's weapon. At least they'd given me my phone back.

"Found it!" she called from the back of the coach. "Right where I left it, in the drawer under the bed."

"Good. Get it... and pack your stuff."

"I've got to find Mafic first. I hope he's alright."

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WILLOW

I heard Colt clattering around in the front of the coach as I looked in all the little hidey-holes I'd found Mafic in before. "Mafic?" I murmured. "Where are you, Baby?"

He didn't answer and I worried he'd been killed in the gunfire, or he'd escaped through the coach's open door. I was ashamed I hadn't even thought of him until I was well into the interrogation, but the police wouldn't let me leave to check on him.

"Mafic?" I asked as I opened the closet door, and nearly wept with relief when I saw the orange ball of fluff tucked back into the corner. "Mafic? You okay, Baby?" I asked as reached for him. I wasn't sure how he'd gotten into the closet, as I normally kept the door closed, and it was closed then, but there he was, and I was grateful. The closet was over the coach's engine, and its bulk may have protected him. He growled, yowled, and hissed at me as he backed more tightly into the corner, obviously still terrified. "It's okay, Baby," I murmured as he swatted at my hands while yowling as I reached for him. I jerked back, afraid he was going to open my hand, but he kept his claws in. I reached for him again, and though he continued to warn me off with growls and hisses, but he finally let me pick him up.

I couldn't stop myself and spilled silent tears as I cuddled and nuzzled him. I held him for a long moment until he began to relax. Sniffing, I put him on my bed as I gathered up my regular cell phone, which I'd left in the drawer beside the bed, my house keys, and a couple of other personal items. I tucked the pistol Colt gave me into my pants, picked up my cat, and returned to the front of the coach.

"I'm ready."

He glanced at me with nothing but cat in my hands. "Nothing else?"

"No. Everything else stays with the coach," I said as I picked up my laptop from the floor and slung it over my shoulder. There was nothing on it that wasn't backed up to the server on the recorder truck, but I hoped it wasn't broken.

He nodded once, and I smiled as he reached over to scratch Mafic's ears. Mafic wasn't picky, any lap would do, and I was glad Colt seemed to like, or at least tolerate, cats. "I'm glad he's okay. Sorry about all this," he murmured to the animal. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and tapped and swiped at it for a moment. I heard the phone purr.

"Sabinas Taxi," a woman said.

"We need a cab, as soon as possible, at Doctors Hospital to take us to the airport," he said.

"Certainly, sir. By which entrance should we pick you up?"

"Pick us up in the Emergency Room parking lot. We're at the brown and tan RV, the only RV in the lot."

"Emergency Room parking lot, RV. Got it. He should be there in about ten minutes. Blue Honda van."