Disclaimers ~ This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental. These characters belong to me, if they have a passing resemblance to you or share your name, it's purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.
Bad language ~ A fair bit.
Disclaimers ~ This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental. These characters belong to me, if they have a passing resemblance to you or share your name, it's purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.
Bad language ~ A fair bit.
Love/sex ~ Romance between men and women and between women. Sex between consenting couples.
Sickness & death ~ There are some deaths in this story. If that's not for you, I hope you enjoy reading something else.
Author's note ~ Questions, comments & thoughts all welcome. Loves_to_write_fic@yahoo.co.uk
© June, 2006 Cam Taylor
Chapter Twenty-Two
J anet straddled Chris' lap, her trousers and knickers removed, her shirt hanging open even as its long tail covered her buttocks. She was bent over Chris, kissing her passionately, as the blonde cupped her bra-covered breasts, kneading to the rhythm of Janet's rocking hips.
Chris hissed and shifted uncomfortably as Janet knocked against her tender side. "Mind my ribs, baby."
"I... I'm hurting you!" Janet panted, as she pulled back. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," she said dejectedly, starting to retreat from the bed. I can't believe I'm doing this! I'm a police officer and I'm attempting to have sex in a hospital bed big enough for one!
"No, no, no. Don't you go anywhere," Chris murmured softly, bringing Janet back to her.
Janet trailed her tongue along Chris' top lip, teasing her by withdrawing as Chris moved forward to try and capture her tongue in her mouth. The forward motion sent a sliver of pain through her ribs and reluctantly, she pulled back. Images of what had happened at the warehouse flashed through Janet's mind, bringing a sob from her. The brunette kissed Chris gently again, fighting against her feelings. Chris heard the sob and tried to comfort the policewomen. Her hands trailed down smooth sides to strong thighs, gently rubbing.
"I... I could've lost you, Chris! He was... God, he was going to kill you!" Janet choked out, as she sat up.
Chris reached up and tucked strands of chestnut-coloured hair behind an ear. "I know, baby, I know. He was crazy. He was going to kill us all if he had the chance. But he didn't, and we're fine, aren't we?"
Janet nodded and bent back down to claim the investigator's lips tenderly. She was very careful, not wanting to hurt Chris' sore lip.
Chris slid a hand behind Janet's neck, holding her close, her other hand dipping between parted legs, fingers moving between slick lips. "Forget about it, Janet. Just... concentrate on what I'm doing to you, on what you can feel," she whispered.
Janet whimpered, rocking herself against the willing hand. "What if I can't? What if I can't forget?" she asked tearfully.
"I'll help you. We'll help each other."
"Chris, I..."
"I know, sweetheart. Just let go. Let me take care of you."
Janet grabbed the rail above Chris' head to steady herself. She couldn't explain why, but she was soaked. It's got to be because... ohhh!... Because I almost lost her or because we... we could've died. Oh, God!... They say... they say near-death experiences make you... horny.
The door to Chris' private room opened. The young nurse who walked in looked at them in shocked surprise. "You... you can't do that here!" she squeaked, face turning red. Chris burst out laughing, her ribs aching from the motion. "This... this is a hospital! You're... hurt! That bed's only made for one!" the nurse stuttered.
The investigator held a deeply embarrassed Janet close to her body. "Nurse, can we have five minutes, please."
"Ms. Branagon, you are hurt. You cannot be doing... that! I'm sorry, Ms... whoever you are. You shall have to leave."
"Nurse, she's a police officer," Chris said, watching the nurse's eyes widen again. "She's uhhh... questioning me." Chris burst out laughing again, as she got a slap from her girlfriend.
The nurse discreetly closed the door behind her as she left.
* * * * *
"You looking for me?" The two investigators slowly turned around as a lantern was lit. Jackson stood across the room, his arms extended in front of him, his twin Glocks pointed at them. "Drop the guns I'm sure you have, nice and easy," Jackson said, smirking. "Don't bother trying anything. My girlfriend's got you covered as well. Haven't you, darling?"
"Yeah, baby. Just give the word and I'll put a bullet in each of their heads."
Charley glanced at Joey. They both knew they were dead. Jackson was never going to let them walk out alive. "I would, Jackson, but I have this terrible urge to shoot ye, ye prick," Charley said boldly.
Jackson frowned, then smiled. "You are just like Chris. She tried to stall, too."
"Yeah, and look what she did to you," Joey spoke up, smiling proudly. He watched as Jackson's smile slipped.
"Put the guns down!" Jackson said forcefully.
Charley closed his eyes and thought of his family, who had already suffered so much. When he was a teenager, his father had been murdered whilst walking home one night. The family had never really been the same since. As he opened his eyes, he brought his gun up and got off two shots while he dove to his right. Joey fired as he dove to the left. Bullets flew as Jackson and his girlfriend opened fire as well, the room filling with the aroma of gun powder, the lantern going out as it was hit.
"FOR FUCKS SAKE! WHY WON'T ANY OF YOU DIE?" Jackson screamed. He aimed left and right, his fingers on the triggers, each bullet kicking into the sofa and armchair Joey and Charley were hidden behind respectively.
"Joey?" Charley called out, over the din of gunfire. "Are ye all right?"
"This was a great plan, Charley!"
"I know... definitely one of my better ones."
Joey leaned around the wide chair and shot three times in the direction he'd last seen Jackson. The top of the chair was blown apart as someone retaliated.
Charley was on his knees, waiting for a lull in the shooting so he could get a shot off. He gave up waiting. With both Jackson and Adoncia shooting, there was no break as one of them was always shooting. Charley shot over the top of the couch, left to right, emptying his clip. Hot pain sliced through his shoulder as a bullet caught him. "Shit!" he growled.
"Charley?" Joey called out anxiously.
"I'm good, Joey."
Just then Patrick burst in the back door, his gun blazing away at the flashes of gunfire he saw after noting Charley and Joey were ducked behind the couch and chair on his left. He spun around and saw a dark silhouette moving about, the darkness suddenly replaced with bright light from a lantern. Patrick took aim at the woman.
"AHHHH! Jackson, I am hit!" the woman screamed.
"What do you want me to do about it? Why the hell did you light the fucking lantern?" Jackson yelled back, eyes on Joey's position, knowing he was about to lean around the chair he was using as cover. He waited, then...
"AHHHH! Fuck!"
"Joey?" Charley called out.
Joey stood, shooting like a mad man, feeling blood trickling down his chest and back as one of Jackson's bullets went through and exited his neck, narrowly missing his jugular. Adoncia went down, a small neat hole in her forehead. The shooting stopped. Joey stood with his finger on his trigger, waiting for movement.
Charley got up slowly. "Where the hell is he?"
"Patrick, you still with us?" Joey called out, concerned about the new investigator.
Patrick stepped inside the doorway. "Yeah, I'm good. He didn't come out the back."
"So he's in here somewhere," Joey muttered.
Charley walked over to Joey and looked at his neck wound, placing his handkerchief over it. It was bleeding heavily. "Should patch that up, you know," his voice high in panic.
Joey brushed Charley's hand away, his own covering the handkerchief. "Patrick, check around outside to make sure he's not climbing out a window." Patrick stepped back outside and disappeared. "Charley, wait here," Joey ordered.
"What?" Charley protested. "No way. I'm coming with you."
"Someone needs to wait here in case he tries to run out one of the doors."
They each slammed in fresh clips. Charley hurrying forward before Joey could. "Then ye wait. I'll find him," he said.
"Charley!" Goddamn it! I'm the longest serving investigator, but do they listen to me? Joey growled in frustration.
Charley walked towards the first door. "Jesus, feel like I'm on one of those old game shows!" he muttered. Using his good arm to hold his gun, he reached out with his free hand to push open the door. As it swung open, there was no response, then it bumped shut again. He pushed the door open again and found a large bathroom. Swallowing nervously, he stepped in and looked around. Reaching out for the shower curtain, Charley yanked it back to reveal an empty bathtub. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Grabbing a hand towel, he turned and walked back out to the hallway.
"Here you go." Charley threw the towel at Joey and gave him a small smile, then moved on to the next door. He swung the door open and peered through the gloom into what was a games room. "Joey, bring me that lantern."
Joey walked over and grabbed the lantern that Jackson's girlfriend had lit, then walked towards Charley. Handing him the light, he stood in the doorway, ready to offer covering fire.
Charley, holding the lantern with his wounded arm, walked into the gloomy room. He carefully put the light down on the edge of a snooker table. From what Charley could see, he guessed it was a professional, full-length one. He crouched and checked beneath the table. Finding nothing, he stood and took a deep breath. Come on, Charley boy, don't chicken out now. Slowly, he made his way along the side of the snooker table, blue eyes darting about, checking the shadowy corners. He checked behind an arcade games machine, still finding nothing. Turning back to face Joey, he gave the other investigator a nervous smile as he headed for the door.
The next room along was a bedroom with a large king-sized bed in the middle of the room. Charley swallowed and stepped in, walking slowly over to the bed so he could check underneath. Finding nothing, he looked around, spotting a dark armoire off to the side. Would Jackson hide in there? He walked over and stood in front of the doors. With his gun in one hand, he reached out with the other to open one side of the cabinet. Whipping it open, he stepped back, waiting for Jackson to jump out. There was no one there. That leaves the last room.
The last remaining door, the second bedroom, was the only place left for Jackson to be hiding. Charley's mouth went dry as he stood in front of the door, his heart beating faster, the adrenalin kicking in, spurring him on. He pushed the door open slowly, holding the lantern out in front of him, despite knowing it was dangerous. One shot from Jackson and he'd go up in flames.
But there was nothing. No Jackson waiting, no gun pointing at him, no hands up in surrender. Charley frowned and slowly stepped in. A bullet flew into his thigh as a gun went off. As he cried out at the explosion of pain, his grip loosened on the lantern. Awkwardly, he tried to throw it away from himself, toward where he had seen the flash of a firing gun; then he crashed to the floor and started sliding backward on his butt, using his good arm to support himself. The floor burned quickly, the flames spreading to the rug on the floor, followed by the bed, the room quickly going up in flames.
Joey rushed in to grab him. "Are you all right?"
"He's in here!"
The room was alight. The shattered lantern was spreading its kerosene and the open door provided the oxygen the fire needed to grow. They watched in horror as Jackson walked through the flames toward them. His clothes were ablaze like a raging inferno, his hair on fire, skin bubbling. There was a twisted smile on his lips which scared them more than the scene before them. "You can't kill me! I am Judgement!"
Joey raised his gun and put a bullet in Jackson's forehead, watching him stumble back into the flames, which had quickly consumed the bedroom and were starting to spread to the rest of the cabin. "Shit! Come on, we have to get out of here." Joey choked out. He put his gun away and slid his arms around Charley. He half-carried, half-dragged the younger investigator towards the front door.
Patrick ran into the cabin through the back door. The whole place was filled with a dark black smoke. He put an arm up to cover his mouth, looking toward two dark silhouettes. "Joey? Charley?"
"Help us, Patrick. Charley got shot in the leg!" Joey called out.
He ran over and together they dragged Charley out of and away from the cabin.
* * * * *
The three investigators sat watching the cabin burn. Honeyport's fire-fighters, realising they were fighting a losing battle, had given up on saving the cabin and instead focused on making sure the fire didn't spread through the forest. Joey had his neck bandaged, soaking up the blood that persisted in leaking through. The injury wasn't as bad as he had first thought, but it would be bad enough to keep him off work for a few days. Charley had his shoulder strapped up and his leg heavily bandaged. Patrick was the only one unharmed.
"I'm gonna be out of action for at least three months!" Charley moaned.
"Yep."
"That's it? That's all you're gonna say!"
Joey looked at the blonde and grinned. "Yep."
"Shame we haven't got marshmallows," Patrick said, looking mournful. The other two men smiled in amusement. "What now? Do we have to wait here?"
"No. We can go," Joey told him.
"So... are we going?" the new investigator asked, an eyebrow raised.
"We left the car back in the parking lot, I can't walk that far," Charley protested.
"Yeah, and I'm shot, too," Joey added. "So go get it, Patrick. You hardly did anything."
"Hey, I helped!"
"Well, I'm not going. I was shot twice!" Charley put in.
"My neck hurts!" Joey whined.
"It's because I'm the rookie, isn't it?"
"Yep," Joey and Charley said in unison.
They continued arguing as the fire burned, fire-fighters around them doing their job, paramedics hovering, and the police holding back the small cluster of reporters who had followed the fire-fighters up, all of whom wondering what had happened and waiting for answers.