Notes [Initially released June 23, 2016, last revised October 23, 2016]:
- All characters are the product of the authors' imaginations and are over eighteen.
- This is a relatively short story/vignette, and we recommend reading the previous chapters, which may have been tweaked.
- Thanks to Skye4Life for proofreading this.
Blurry blackness and shadow surround me in this cold dreary place as I slowly become alert. A sense of despair and loneliness invades my waking mind between thunderous throbs of pain.
Page?
My left hand seems bound and immovable as I attempt to touch the source of my agony.
"Where am I?" I moan. "Page?"
No one answers and a damp gust of wind sends shivers through my entire body. "Who's there? What do you want?"
There is still no reply. My eyes adjust slightly as the light introduces an excruciating jolt of pain into my head. The palm of my right hand is pressed against a cold roughly pebbled surface and I realize I'm lying on the parking lot pavement. My left arm and hand are trapped beneath someone who's not moving; their weight effectively pinning me so that circulation is cut off causing my entire limb to be numb. Twisting and turning relieves some pressure and the tingling sensation of pins and needles begin as freshly oxygenated blood pumps feeling back into my fingers. Pushing against the heavy individual with my back, I work painfully to extricate myself from the situation.
Once free, I find my arm is limp and has no feeling of the sticky dark fluid I observe dripping from it. Sitting up slowly, I find I'm where I'd stopped running from one of our attackers beneath a light-pole. My Glock falls to the ground beneath where I'd been laying. The sound of it hitting the pavement seems distant but seeing it recalls a faint memory of pulling the trigger as I'd tilted it slightly upward while it was still in my jacket's special left side gun pocket. In my stupor, I begin pondering whether I'd broken one or two of the cardinal concealed carry rules by firing it backward even though I'd been at point blank range. My attention is quickly distracted by the pain in my side which causes me to wince as the skin along my rib-cage feels like it's on fire and the cold fingers of my right hand move instinctively to touch it gingerly. Firing it with the muzzle so close to my ribs might have been dumb, but it may also have saved my life.
Slowly my senses return to me and I rotate to find the huge body of my attacker. The man is dark haired, much heavier and taller than myself. His Goliath sized right hand holds a gun with what appears to be a silencer attached to the barrel. From his grip, I can't tell if he hit me with the butt, the heavy looking silencer or if perhaps a bullet had glanced off my skull. Inspecting him closer, it's clear he isn't breathing and I realize that we're both lying in his blood. His white dress shirt has a dark spot right about where I think his heart should be.
A sickening feeling comes over me and in a panic, I search for my phone in my inside breast jacket pocket. Pulling it out I dial 9-1-1 to report the shooting, but before the call completes, I see there are two squad cars entering the parking lot with their lights flashing and I simply hang up. Having no idea how long I was out, I place my phone on the ground beside the gun and stand up awkwardly with my hands in the air as they approach.
The officer in the first car exits and orders me, "Turn around, interlace your hands over your head and back toward me slowly."
I step awkwardly backward to him and he places me in cuffs with my hands behind my back. The other cruiser stops across from us at a safe distance from the man on the ground. That officer steps from his vehicle with his sidearm drawn to slowly approach the motionless body. He sees the gun in my attacker's hand and kicks it away from his loose fingers and then slowly bends to inspect him.
"We've got a fatality."
Turning slightly to speak to the officer behind me, I say, "I'm a Congressman, this man attacked and injured me. I may have shot him in the scuffle, but have a carry permit for the Glock."
"You want to make sure the ambulance is on its way?" he asks the other officer, who verifies that it is. "These cuffs are just a precaution, Congressman. Do you have your ID and permit on you?"
"They're in my right back pocket; you can get them out."
He takes it out and looks at my driver's license with a flashlight. "Congressman Levik, I thought I recognized you but you're growing a beard. What's happened here?" he asks setting the wallet on the hood of his car.
"Look, we've got to get Page back," I say. "We were initially attacked over by my car," I continue, nodding my head in its direction. "Page, somehow knocked that assailant out, but we were being pursued and attacked by multiple parties. Someone's taken Page!"
"Taken?"
"They took her into a dark van, she was here when this guy started shooting. The other guy might still be over behind my car; she kicked him pretty hard after he jumped us."
"We've got an abduction here," he yells over to the other officer, then continues with me. "Who's missing; can you give us a description?"
"Page Levik, she's about five-two, a hundred and ten pounds with auburn hair. We'd just been shopping in the mall."
"And the van?"
"It all happened so fast, it was dark, maybe black. I remember the front windows were tinted and the side doors were windowless. I'm pretty sure that guy hit it with several rounds as it sped away. It felt like we were in the middle of a fire fight between two different forces."
The officer behind me spoke into the radio mike attached near his shoulder, "I need an APB on a black panel van in the vicinity of Franconia and Frontier. We have a Caucasian female abduction victim, five foot two, one hundred ten pounds and auburn hair. Loop the FBI in; it's Congressman Levik's wife."
I didn't correct him, I hadn't stated the nature of our relationship. The information package from my concealed carry class had been very explicit about how much to say without a lawyer. I'm feeling like I may have already given them too much and correcting them, at this point, might confuse or delay getting her back. Getting the FBI involved should make recovering her quicker and made some sense, since we're right next to DC and I am still an acting Representative, at least for the next few days.
"You shot the man over there?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but I think I did. He knocked me unconscious from behind for a time. I think he shot or hit me on the head with his gun at the same instant that I fired."
The other officer retrieves the ID from the man on the ground and calls it in along with a request for a homicide unit. The two officers huddle to converse for several minutes. I lean against the warm hood of the squad car as my legs begin to feel weak. A call comes back over the radio, but I can't quite make out what is being said. There are some surprised looks on their faces as they turn back to me.
"You've killed a Russian national here," the second officer says at last.
"He's not a diplomat, is he?" I ask, as I imagine an international incident unfolding.
"Nope, he's been on a couple of different watch lists. Where are you injured?"
"My side is burning, my head is pounding and these cuffs aren't helping."
"Here, let's get those off," the first officer says returning to me. He removes the cuffs, inspects my head and concludes, "I think you need to go to the emergency room; that looks like a glancing shot."
"No, that can wait, I need to stay and find out what is being done about Page," I say with my desperation increasing. "I've got to get her back."
"We're involving the FBI, but you need medical attention now. I think I hear the ambulance coming," he says returning my wallet. "We're going to do everything we can to get her back safely."
The ambulance enters the parking lot and I watch it as if in slow motion. The fact that I've taken a life begins sinking in on me. The nature of the person that is dead doesn't help one bit. It's almost exactly what the guy teaching the concealed carry class had said,
You'll be glad you're alive, but -
My vision seems blurry and I feel dizzy.
"Congressman - Sir - are you okay? Let's get you inside."
Numbly, I feel them holding me under my arms as they aid me into the ambulance. Inside I glaze over from the flurry of activity and I linger on the edge of consciousness as I think,
