A thick cloud of black smoke filled the sky, casting an eerie yellow glow across the street. Emergency vehicles swarmed as their sirens screeched, echoing between the mountains. Swirling lights flashed as an ambulance screamed behind their car. Christine slowed to the side, allowing it to speed past.
"What did you do?" Stuart yelled. "Why was this necessary?" His voice was choked, his throat dry and raspy.
"You of all people should know this was going to happen." Christine bit back.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Stuart was shaking his head, glancing out the window then back at the floor. The car slowed, allowing a second ambulance to turn into the long dirt driveway. The firemen's water looked like a garden hose compared to the hellish flames shooting up all sides of the cabin.
"What that means is it's your department that orchestrates this. Also known as the one department, that's a voluntary position. Don't act righteous now that it's personal. It's always personal for someone." Her words were filled with disgust.
"But, this wasn't necessary," Stuart replied, defeated. He refused to look again. "Where they all there? The whole family?"
"Except the son, but they'll find him."
"This wasn't needed!" He yelled, "Elle was a good person!"
"You got them involved! This is on you! She even had pictures of you! Were you even going to tell us about that? You left a bag? What did were you thinking?"
Stuart stayed silent.
Christine stopped to compose herself, "Are you going to be a liability, or can you shut up and do your job? You know, the one where you keep him alive?"
Stuart didn't speak. He felt tears welling in his eyes. He knew it was his fault, but it was easier to throw it on someone else. At a desk, thousands of miles away, it was easy to play life and death. It was impersonal, just a number and a photo. This was different.
He had a lump swollen in his throat. He wiped his eyes with a blood-stained hand. "Hang in their Michael," he said softly through choked tears, "We're almost there."
He hadn't noticed how quiet Michael had become. His body had grown stiff, and his breath had shortened. Stuart couldn't decide if this was good or bad. Michael's eyes were open, which was good, but each blink seemed slower than the last.
Stuart had to get himself together. Elle was his fault, but he couldn't let two people leave him today. Michael was a good person too. "You did it." He said calmly, "They're chasing Gary right now. When they get him, it's all over. We're going to stop for the night, get you all better, then tomorrow you're done. Tomorrow you'll never have to see any of us again." Stuart wasn't sure if he liked that. After following him for three months, then staying with him for a few weeks, he'd grown a liking for the guy. He considered him almost a friend. "You'll be with Katiella, and that strange family you're for whatever reason marrying in to."
Michael started to cough.
"Hey, hey, easy. It's alright, calm down. Just know it's almost over."
A strange thought came to Stuart. He wasn't sure what overlooked like. Any moment now, Christine could pull over and kill him on the spot. Michael knew all about The Company, and typically that was enough to make someone disappear.
"It's going to be ok," Stuart said again, this time trying to convince himself.
He was genuinely surprised when the car pulled into a tiny motel parking lot. It was rusty and probably doubled as a crack house. But it was also a place with rooms that appeared to be available to rent, and that alone was a relief to him.
"You stay in the car with him, I'll be right back."
Stuart watched as Christine entered the small dimly lit office. A minute later, she returned with a key card. She handed it to Stuart and said, "Room sixteen, just over there. Wait for me to get back in there before you go. There's only one attendant, and I don't want him to see you. Do you understand?"
Stuart nodded and watched Christine walk back to the office.
"Are you ok to stand?" He asked Michael, who replied with a weak nod. "Ok, just hold on." He hurried around the car and threw Michael's left arm over his back. Slowly they walked down the dirt walkway to the last door on the first level.
The room smelled of burnt plastic and booze. Crumbs were spilled across the carpet just inside the doorway. There were two beds with wrinkled sheets. They hobbled to the first bed, and Stuart helped Michael up, laying him flat on his back.
The door pushed open. Christine entered carrying a large white first aid kit. "What are you doing? Sit him up! Get his shoulder above his heart! Have you never taken a basic health class before?"
Stuart bit his tongue, trying not to start another argument. It'd been a long couple of days. He helped Michael to a seated position wedging a pillow between his lower back and the headboard.
"Please, cut his shirt." She said, handing Stuart a pair of scissors. He grabbed them and slowly clipped through the material, finding it simpler to tear through the t-shirt once he'd made a hole.
Christine examined Michael's shirtless body for other possible unnoticed wounds.
"This is quite strange," she said, finally examining his shoulder. The bullet was only halfway lodged into the skin with the butt sticking halfway out.
"It went through someone else first," Stuart said. "Or at least grazed someone else."
Christine opened her aid box and pulled out a pair of tweezers and two small rags. She lifted one of the rags to Michael's mouth. "This is going to hurt a bit, I don't have any way of numbing the pain. Bite and scream into this." Michael opened his mouth and bit down on the rag. "It won't help much, but just know the pain will end eventually." She turned and handed the other cloth to Stuart, "When I pull the bullet out, I need you to apply pressure immediately."
She grasped the bullet with the tweezers, "One, two-" in one quick jerk, she plucked the bullet from the skin. Blood began to slowly ooze out of the hole. Stuart pushed the cloth over the opening, causing Michael to scream. Michael's left arm came swinging around, hitting Stuart's arm, knocking the bloody rag to the floor. Blood began to leak down his shoulder and dribble down his forearm.
"Get on him!" Christine demanded. Stuart dove to the ground to retrieve the rag braced both feet on the ground then pushed the cloth back against the wound. "Bite and yell, but try not to fight it, we're trying to save your life," Christine demanded.
Michael's eyes squeezed shut as he bit down as hard as he could. He fought his body to accept the pain. Instead of swinging, he flexed his muscles. Then after the initial shock was gone, he did his best to relax.
Christine held the bullet close to her eye, then reached to the aid kit for a tiny magnifier. "The bullet's intact doesn't look like there's any broken fragments." She looked at Michael, "This may be a bit premature, but you should consider yourself lucky."
She pulled a wrap from the box and looped it around his arm and pulled it tight around the rag holding it in place. "We'll leave him like this, let his blood clot, then I'll patch him up in ten to fifteen minutes. I've got to make a call. If his breathing stiffens, come get me. If his eyes close, come get me."
She left the room and pulled the phone from her pocket. The other line picked up before the first ring. "Has he spoken yet?" She asked, jumping straight to the point.
"He's been difficult, but yes, we got him to talk. He's a professional as we expected, but we are having trouble getting anything substantial out of him." The man answered.
Christine couldn't help but smile, they'd gotten him. "Good. Will you be able to move him tonight?"
"The place is filled with police. I've been told an officer was killed, I don't see it dying down anytime soon. We won't be able to move him just yet."
"We'll be moving out tomorrow morning. We don't have much time to wait. It'd be helpful if we got him on the plane with Harvey, but that's up to your discretion if it's possible. He's not to be taken lightly. Twenty-four-hour surveillance. I don't want him taking a breath without it being observed." Christine said.
"Understood."
"And don't let him kill himself." She finally stated. If he died, this all went up in smoke. Everything revolved around this man. "Let me know when you move."
She hung up the phone and clenched her fist in hesitant victory. Twelve hours ago, everything was going up in smoke. Now, by some miracle, the whole plan had fallen together. She didn't want to get too optimistic yet, but couldn’t help and think of life beyond The Company. It wasn't entirely over, and there was plenty of time for the situation to take a turn for the worst, but for now, she'd take it.