Chapter 19: Rescue

I never really passed out, but I wasn’t in a mood to keep talking. The immediate threat was contained, and since I was trapped under a tree and wounded, I wasn’t going to wander around the battlefield. After a few minutes I began to hear sirens, both police and fire department; I wouldn’t be alone for long.

I twisted my head to the left but couldn’t see to the end of the driveway out on Lakeside Drive. I did see flashing lights approaching, and the sirens went silent. Moments later I heard a voice slowly approaching. “Sergeant Reaper! Sergeant Reaper!”

“Over here!” I cried out.

“Sergeant Reaper!”

The owner of the voice homed in on me and I found myself looking up at Senior Patrolman Jack Thimblewaite in full TRT combat gear. “Nice to see you, Jack. Safe your weapon. The threat has been contained.”

“With all due respect, Sarge, we’ll determine that.” He knelt next to me and spoke into his mike, ordering two other officers to approach the house. “Sarge, you reported six hostiles.”

“Three pairs of hostiles, one this side of the driveway, one the other side of the driveway, and one further towards the other property line. I took out five and friendly fire took out the sixth.”

Jack passed the information along to the other officers. They quickly moved from body to body and determined they were dead. When they got to six, Jack called it in and declared the area secure. He turned to me and said, “Hell of a job, Sarge. Now let’s see about getting you out of here.” He got down next to me and checked the tree branch on my legs.

When he slipped and nudged the branch, an excruciating pain ran up my left leg. I cried out and bit off a curse. “Jesus, Jack, careful!”

“Sorry, Sarge.” He bent down and looked under the tarp. “For what it’s worth, I am not seeing any gushing blood or missing body parts, so that’s a good thing. We need to bring in the fire department.”

“We’ll never hear the end of it from them.”

“Face it, Sarge. They get trained to do two things, rescue kittens and pose for calendars. At least the light’s not good enough for photos.”

I had a good chuckle at that. Jack crawled out of the ditch and stood up. He spoke to the two other officers, and then ordered in what sounded like a convoy of police and fire department vehicles. Jack motioned some of them towards me and some towards the bodies and the house. I also glimpsed a flickering light, and he ordered a fire truck in. Tremendous! These assholes had managed to set fire to my home! As soon as I got out of the ditch, I was going to shoot them all again!

Next to show up were a trio of firemen. One of them dropped down next to me. “Sergeant Reaper, how you doing?”

I looked up at him. “Willie Lowenstein? What the hell are you doing here? All the hose whores busy tonight?”

“Hell, no! All the badge bunnies got tired of trying to find real men and came over to the fire house tonight. I just hope the guys have enough strength left to get you out of here.” He looked at the branch holding me down and then turned to one of the other guys. “Wes, I think this is more tree than branch. We’re going to need the saw and a few warm bodies.”

“The saw?” I asked.

Willie turned back and said, “Yeah. We’re going to cut you in half and pull you out from both sides, and then sew you back up.” When he saw my look of disbelief, he continued, “Hey, it worked when Daffy Duck got cut in half by Marvin the Martian and his Blast-O-Ray.”

“The fire department is sending you guys to the Looney Tunes School of Medicine?”

“Well, it’s a hell of a lot more fun than real medical school.” After that, he got a lot more serious. Willie ordered several people to gather around the branch, and he set his feet and grabbed my wrists. “Listen, Sarge, this is probably going to hurt. We are going to have to cut the tree off you from both sides, and it is going to move. We have guys holding it up, but it is still going to move. Feel free to yell, but just hold onto me and I’ll hold onto you. I’ll keep you in position and these guys will cut the tree and get it off you, and when that happens, you will feel a lot better.”

“Do it.” I gripped his wrists and clenched my teeth.

Willie gave a few more orders and I felt some more pain as the tree was grabbed, then I heard the roar of a chain saw. I nodded, and Willie ordered, “Do it!” The chain saw revved up and a very unpleasant vibration translated through the tree branch to my legs. It only took a few seconds and then the branch was dragged away from my right side. Then they repositioned themselves and the saw roared again. The pain the second time was a lot worse, and I screamed. Then the roar stopped, and the branch was pulled away in pieces, along with the top tarp. Suddenly a lot of weight pulled off my legs.

“Jesus Christ!” I panted out.

“You’re doing great, Sarge, just great. I’m staying with you. Keep holding onto me. We don’t want you moving. We’re getting a basket in here. We’ll roll you into it and get you out of the ditch and to the hospital.”

“Christ, Willie, remind me not to let a tree fall on me again. I think I’m clearcutting the property.” I was breathing heavily, and my left leg was hurting bad. Something didn’t feel right.

“That’s an option, Grim, definitely an option.”

Next into the ditch were a pair of EMTs. They immediately began looking at my legs and gently touching them. They were mumbling into their own radios, and then motioned a third person to lower a Stokes basket. One of them looked at Willie and me and said, “Good news. We are not seeing any major bleeding or breaks. On the downside, once you get to the hospital, you’re going to have a bunch of doctors pulling pinecones out of your ass for the next three days.”

I looked at Willie and said, “Looney Tunes?”

The EMT went, ‘Huh?’ and Willie just said, “Forget it. Let’s just get him in the basket.” They very carefully prepped a blanket in the basket as a cushion, and then the four of them carefully lifted me and slid it under me, so I stayed face down. They strapped me down, and then I was pulled out of the ditch. I had my first chance to look around.

My property looked like a parking lot for half the MPD and MFD. Several police officers turned to face me and saluted; from my position I couldn’t salute but I could reach up and give a thumbs-up. That got me a lot of cheers. I asked that they take me around to see what was on fire, and it turned out to be my storage shed where we kept the lawnmower. I guess the Somalis had shot it up, and it had some gas cans inside. Bullets and gas don’t mix well. The firemen had a small hose on it, and it looked under control, but I was going to need a new John Deere. Probably a new house, too. I could see a lot of damage.

My carriers took me over to a waiting ambulance, where I was greeted by two people I knew. Hank Jenkins was there, along with Captain Roy Dubois of the MFD. Hank spoke first. “Grim, damn fine job! I’m taking command here, but Bullfinch and Crowley will see you at the hospital. I’ll be along sometime in the morning. We’re rousting the forensic team out of bed for this.”

“Make sure you get my rifle. The sight is digital and will have a video file of the engagement.”

“Hot damn!” he said approvingly. Then he said, “You won’t be alone at Matucket General. There was a seventh guy, the driver, and when things went south, he decided to take off. Billy Mayburn had the road blocked and this guy thought that ramming the cruiser like they do on TV was a good idea. He ended up putting the truck in the ditch and hitting the dashboard.”

“What happened with Little Billy?” Little Billy was a senior patrolman, and small, but was a damn good young officer.

“Little Billy was too smart to be in the cruiser. He had his radio synched to the loudspeaker and stayed out of the way. When the asshole went into the ditch, Billy ran up to him, yanked open the door, and tased his ass into next week. Then he cuffed him and trussed him up good. I sent him and a heavy escort to Matucket General already.”

“Good for Little Billy!”

Next, Dubois reached out and clasped my right hand. “Good to see you again, Sergeant Reaper, though not as a customer. I know you saw your house and shed, but believe me, this isn’t bad. I do this for a living, and this could have been so much worse.”

“Roy, they shot up my home!”

“No, Grim, they shot up your house. Your home is where your family is. This is just a box you keep your stuff in. Listen, as soon as the police give us the go-ahead, I’ll have my guys rig up some tarps to cover the roof, keep the damage down. Your dad’s an engineer. He can check it out for you.”

I tightened my grip and thanked him, and then they loaded me on the ambulance. Twenty minutes later they were backing up to the emergency room doors. It was Thursday night, or more properly Friday morning, and normally a quiet time. I was immediately ushered into an open bay. Otis Burrstone, one of the officers who had escorted the seventh Somali to the hospital, came in. “Sarge, good to see you! How bad is it?”

“They’re going to tell me that. Aren’t you supposed to be with the prisoner?”

“Little Billy sent me here to guard you until anybody else gets here. He’s got Brutus and Beefy with him. Come on, let’s get your gear off and let them work on you.” They got me onto a bed, and he helped me remove my gear, which left me face down on a hospital bed.

That was when Crowley and Bullfinch got there, and Otis went back to Little Billy’s detail. “Grim, what happened?” asked Bullfinch. Crowley repeated the question.

A nurse ordered them both out, and Crowley and Bullfinch argued they needed to stay. I settled the argument by saying, “Nurse, one of these guys needs to stay. You can pick the one you want, but I am not shitting you when I say this involves national security.”

“What?” she asked incredulously.

Both Crowley and Bullfinch flashed their badges and made somber statements about the need for everybody to keep their mouths shut about what they might see or hear during my treatment. The nurse immediately grabbed the night ER resident and pulled him into the bay. It was decided to limit my initial treatment to the doctor and two nurses. Bullfinch went out into the hallway and began calling into Command and the onsite commander, Hank Jenkins. Crowley stayed in the bay with me.

To start with, they helped me undress. I was still lying face down, so they decided to make my life simple and cut my clothes off me. Now I was out a perfectly good uniform and underwear. At least they could untie my boots and pull them and my socks off, though moving my left foot caused some severe pain. Then, as I lay there buck naked on the hospital bed, with the doctor and nurses inspecting the damage, I heard a CLICK! I looked over and saw Crowley with his cell phone in his hand. “Hey!” I protested.

The Chief simply said, “Smile!” and took another shot of my bare ass.

“There is no way that ends up in any reports!” I told him.

“Oh, no, this is going to become an eight-by-ten glossy over the bar at the Cherokee Grill!”

I flipped him off. “National security, remember?”

He smiled. “Want to bet I can’t get this declassified?”

“Shit!”

We continued talking while the doctor and nurses prepped my lower half for the fun and games. The good news was that everything was attached and was likely to remain in that condition. The bad news was that both legs had what appeared to be shrapnel wounds as well as wood splinters, and the left leg looked decidedly worse. They would remove the shrapnel and splinters, if possible, but otherwise were preparing me for surgery in the morning. X-rays and various MRIs and CAT scans were promised. Meanwhile, our guard force increased in the ER; both Crowley and Bullfinch told the cops that nobody was to say anything to anybody. Little Billy stuck his head through the curtain and said, “Sarge, I thought your front was ugly, but now I have proof that’s actually your good side!”

“Billy, how would you like to serve out your time on the MPD stuffed in your locker?”

“I think I’m safe for the time being.”

I snorted at that. “Good job on collecting the seventh guy. How’d you know he was one of the bad guys?”

“Probably because he tried to ram my cruiser while screaming ‘ Allah Akbar!’ I thought that might qualify as a clue,” he replied. The nurses and doctors all stared at each other as they heard this. Until that moment they hadn’t realized what was at stake. At that point they took a sheet and covered me up from the waist down.

“Okay, good job, but get back to work. We got us a hairball on this one!”

“Roger that!”

Crowley said, “You’re more right than you know, Grim. We just had a full-scale battle in the middle of the suburbs. Castle said that we’re already getting calls from the press down at the station. Wait until the Feds show up! That will be a lot of fun.”

I looked at him funny. “Castle said? He’s on day shift.”

It was Crowley’s turn to snort. “We’ve got every Patrol and TRT officer on the force either working late or coming in early. Face it, we need the manpower. Your property isn’t just a war zone, it’s a crime scene! Then we have the mess on Lakeside where Number Seven ended up in the ditch – another crime scene. What if there are more of these assholes out there? I want this city locked down and safe! We’ll need to keep the curious and the press away, and we also have the Feebs about to climb up our backsides.”

“How bad are they going to be?”

He shrugged. “By noontime they will have arrived and declared they are in control, and we’ll be lucky to even be acknowledged as helping. They’re Feds. It’s what they do. They get trained that way from birth at the Academy. Remember the fun and games when we took down Randy Holden?”