The author of each chapter will be listed next to the heading for each chapter.OK, enough rambling. Without further ado…
The Runouw.com Connection Part 2
Preface - MOY
Sam handed Ema the remote. “Five bucks says that you can’t find any news channel not bragging on us.”
Ema grinned and said “I’ll bet Fox News is in the middle of a fight with Obama right now.”
Mic walked up. “More root beer?”
“A sugar coma is not exactly what I need tonight, Mic.” Sam grinned. “Besides, I’d rather watch Nicolas teach Suki how to dance.”
“That’s sweet.” Ema smiled warmly, grabbing his hand.
Sam decided not to say how he was counting all the times Suki dropped Nicolas.
"All right," said Mic, leaving his friends and vanishing around a corner of the Tavern.
Suddenly, the doors burst open. A young female voice called out “Is Sam Eastman here? Someone? Anyone, please! I gotta find Sam Eastman.”
“I’m Sam Eastman.” Sam called back.
The teenage girl limped forward. She looked as if she had just gone through the furnaces of the other place. But instantly Sam recognized her.
“Dania?” he gasped. Ema grabbed his arm.
“Sam…” she muttered weakly.
“Nic, call an ambulance! NOW!” Sam yelled as Nic dropped Suki this time. Suki leapt to her feet and followed.
“Sam… I’m sorry… sorry… It’s mom and dad.” She gasped. “They’ve… they’ve been k…k…killed.”
I fell to my knees, overcome by absolute shock. It couldn’t be. She must be lying! Dania used to play tricks on me like this all the time! I angrily looked into her hazel eyes and saw nothing but the tormenting truth. Horrified, I buried my head in my hands and wept with a bitterness you have never seen.
Nicolas Locke, the owner of Niklaw’s tavern, yelled “Okay, the tavern is officially closed due to family tragedy. Everyone, I respectfully ask you to leave! If you refuse, my girlfriend here has managed to throw a full-grown adult 100 feet before, and you shall be next!” Suki grinned and punched her palm menacingly. She and Nicolas never abandoned humor, even at a dire time like this where life as I knew it was over.
I was curled up in a ball on the floor, not caring how foolish I looked. My best friend of all time, Ema Felkis, who was a fellow police officer, did, however. She helped me to my feet and looked me square in the face. Her face turned to horror when she saw that I had fallen on my face and given myself a black eye. “Dear god, Sam.” She muttered in shock. “You gotta be more careful.”
I responded by falling like a sack of potatoes into her arms, soaking her shoulder with my tears, my sobs shaking me violently. She didn’t seem to understand. MY PARENTS WERE DEAD! She wrapped her arms around my neck and I could feel her own tears on my neck. That was when I decided to straighten up. Fighting off sobs, I decided to try talking to Dania. “Dania, where was this at?”
She started sobbing herself, and I promise you, I would resurrect my parents to get her to stop crying like that. It killed me inside. She managed to choke out “In Ven- Ven- Venice… we were on a boat, and… someone shot the gondola man… we crashed into a wall… and…” she started sobbing again. Ema was biting her lip to the point of it bleeding, and Nicolas just looked miserably shocked as he grabbed Suki’s hand comfortingly.
“Dania, please.” I begged her. “I’m a police officer now. If you tell me this stuff, we can find who did this. Me and my police officer friend over there.” I motioned to Ema, who did her best to grin. “Now, when was this?”
“Uhm… a week or two ago...” she sputtered. “I woke up in a nice Old Italian woman’s house; her name was Elia, and she gave me money to fly back to Portland, because I knew you would be there.”
Ema walked over, held her hand and asked “Did she give you any clothes? I think that a nice Italian woman would not let her patient go with tattered clothes.”
Dania started to sob again. “I got off the plane and took the Red Line Train and went downtown… and asked for you. You and Sam were heroes, and they told me to go here. I started to go there, but on the Burnside Bridge, someone threw me over and I fell in the water… and someone from the Portland Spirit fished me out, but I… never saw the son of a…” She went back to sobbing.
I did notice that her leg seemed awfully twisted and said “Nicolas, get that ambulance here, now!”
Formerly distracted by the whole ordeal, Nicolas got Suki’s cell phone out, since his had been blown up in Providence, and dialed 9-1-1. Ema stood up when Dania said one more shocking detail.
“The man… who killed mom and dad… he was a friend of ours… his name was… Robert Stevens…”
At that moment, Mic returned from the bathroom and, oblivious to the events, asked cheerfully, “What did I miss?”
Chapter 1 - MIC
Buffy Clark's Narration
"James! I do not want to have to tell you again! Put…away…your…cell phone!"
My class was being terrible today. They could not focus at all. I sighed. Teenagers. Can only focus on their boyfriends, girlfriends, making sure they curse at least twice in every sentence, and their cell phones. Sometimes I wondered why she had quit the police, but I knew very well. Even on a prosthetic leg, I couldn't function as a cop.
"Now," I continued, "since you appear to know so much about the material that we are covering that you feel comfortable texting instead of paying attention, James, why don't you tell me a little about the role of DNA in forensics?"
James's eyes widened. He nervously shuffled his feet and looked at his friends, a request for help in his gaze. But in this time of great need, James's friends didn't respond.
"Uh, I don't know, Miss Clark," he said, his humiliation complete.
"My point exactly," I said, satisfied. "The next time I see somebody with their cell phone out, I will take it, and your parents will have to come get it back. I don't like being strict, but I'll do what I have to do." The bell rang, and immediately the class started to pack up their notebooks and textbooks. "All right, don't forget your homework is to read pages 108-115 in the textbook and answer the questions on page 116!"
Slowly, the class filed out, leaving me alone. I plopped into a chair and sagged down into it. Man, being a teacher can be stressful. I took a minute to catch my breath, then turned to my computer to enter some grades in.
"Hello Buffy."
I wheeled around and saw Mic standing in the doorway of the classroom. Mic immediately strolled in and took a look around. "Nice classroom you got," he said. "Kind of plain compared to the blood-stained walls at the station, but hey, I like a thrill, so…"
I cracked up. "Mic…" I said, still chuckling, "you haven't slacked off in the humor department." I stood up and limped towards him, then shook his hand. "Great to see you, Mic," I said happily.
"You too," he said. "So, how's the leg?"
"Oh, not too bad," I replied, pulling up my right pants leg to reveal an impressive prosthetic, which looked fairly realistic. "I'm walking a little better now. Still not as good as it used to, but at least I can walk. How are things at the department? How are Sam and Ema?"
"Well, that's what I came to talk to you about," said Mic, motioning towards my desk. I sat back in my desk chair while Mic pulled up a chair to the other side of the desk. "The Runouw case has been reopened," Mic continued. "Sam's parents were killed in Italy by a family friend named Rob Stevens, according to Sam's sister Dania."
I gasped. "How is that possible?" I said incredulously. "Rob is dead!"
"I know. There are more details, but we can explain them to you later. Here's why I really came. We want you back, Buffy. Just for this case, if nothing else. The four of us started this case, and the department and us feel that we should finish it. So, are you in?"
I sat back in my chair in shock. Instinctively, this was what I wanted more than anything else, but practically, I was a cripple and a teacher. "Mic…I'm sorry…but I mean, I'm a teacher now. I redid my whole life to become a teacher, and I'm not going to undo all of that just because of a single case. I'm sorry, but…I just can't."
Mic stood up. "All right. We'd love to have you, but if that's your choice." He started to walk out of the room, but stopped at the doorway. Looking back, he added, "You know, if you change your mind, all you have to do is show up at the PD." And with that, he left.
I watched him go, then slumped back in my chair. The truth was, I missed the excitement and the fun of being a cop. I looked again at my prosthetic leg, then swiveled my chair back around and got back to entering grades into the computer.
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Sam Eastman's Narration
"OK," said Ema. "Here are the facts. Sam's parents were apparently murdered in Venice by Rob Stevens. His sister, Dania, was apparently knocked unconscious, because she later woke up in the house of a woman named Elia, who payed for her flight ticket home. I have confirmed this with Elia."
Mic nodded, but I only responded by keeping my head on the table. My muffled sobs could be heard, and upon reflection, it must have been quite awkward to Ema and Mic. In order to overpower my sobs, I suspect, Ema quickly continued, "Later, in Portland, Dania was thrown over the Burnside Bridge and was rescued by somebody from the Portland Spirit, whose name I have learned is Gary. He confirmed that he rescued Dania. Dania is now at OSHU receiving treatment for her leg and we are here."
"Now, here are the holes in the story. The glaring one is that the murderer was apparently Rob Stevens, who is believed to be deceased. Second, the bodies of Sam's parents were not found. Third, why did Dania end up in the house of an old woman instead of in police custody? Fourth, why didn't Elia give Dania better clothes? Fifth, who threw Dania over the bridge, why, and is this in any way connected to the events in Venice?"
"And sixth," I said, looking up and speaking for the first time during the briefing, "Dania described Rob Stevens as a friend, when to the best of my knowledge none of my family knew him. I only heard of him when I found out he was dead."
"All right," said Mic. "So, we need to interrogate Dania and Elia and inquire with the Venetian police about the bodies of Sam's parents and why they didn't take Dania into their custody. We need to see if there were any witnesses to Dania being pushed over the Burnside Bridge and try to get a description of whoever pushed her. We also need to look into any potential relationship between Rob Stevens and the Eastmans."
At that moment, the door to the soundproof briefing room swung open. Mic, and Ema, and I turned their heads and unison to face the new visitor: Buffy.
"Sorry I'm late guys," she said. "So, what's the story?"
Chapter 2 - MOY
(Narration of Mic Davis)
I gave Buffy a big thumbs-up as she sauntered into the room unsteadily. Ema, chipper as ever, belted out a, "Hey, Buffy! Great to see you." Even Sam lifted his head up and smiled. Buffy responded with a weak smile, trying not to cry from the looks of it. Even though Buffy was only a couple years older than Ema and Sam, she never lost that motherly instinct.
I took a couple of minutes to explain everything out to Buffy. She nodded and summed it up, not taking a breath, with, "This girl nearly gets killed with her parents in Venice by a guy we think is dead and gets rescued by a random Italian with no new clothes or medical care, decides to come to Portland, gets thrown off a bridge, is fished out by someone on a cruise ship and crawls halfway across town to tell us that Sam's folks got killed."
Sam nodded.
"Dayng! This case has more plot twists than National Treasure!"
Sam chuckled and said, "I just wonder one thing? Is this going to become a chain? Do we have anything to worry about?"
"Of course not!" our uber-positive Ema replied. "Rob Stevens could have done this before he got killed in Portland."
"But you do know, Ema," he replied, "that the body was never found. It's been a month since the murder was solved. He had plenty of time to go to Venice and... and... oh god, please don't let me start crying again."
Ema gave him a comforting hug as Buffy added, "But Nicolas saw Rob Stevens dead. And his lie detector thing checked out! Rob Stevens is dead, Sam. And you didn't have to do a thing."
Sam sighed, depressed. "So is this open and shut?"
"It would seem this way, only we have a few people to e-mail. The Venice Police, first off. Ask them to talk to Elia, our mysterious Italian friend. We need to find our friend from the Spirit, find the guy who tried to kill Dania, and find our crucial connection." Ema replied. "And for God's sake, Sam. I know what has happened to you, but try to smile a little. You're depressing me, and we all know how hard that is."
Sam had to laugh at that.
I grabbed my backpack and told everyone, "Well, it's been fun, but I gotta go. I don't work with you guys and I'm expected somewhere by a friend in the hospital."
Almost nonchalantly, Sam replied "Well, okay, see ya." I left the room, a little relieved that Sam wasn't suspicious of me seeing his sister at OHSU.
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(Narration of Ema Felkis)
Sam set down his laptop bag in my lap. "Well," he stated, "I have my computer here, if you can find any piece-of-crap wifi, be my guest."
Sam and his wi-fi. I grinned and researched the Venice police department, and to make a long email short, I told them to talk to our Miss Elia about bla bla bla…sincerely, Ema Felkis, Portland Oregon Police Officer. POPO. Funny acronym, if you ask me.
Buffy was on her way to visit Gary, our angel on the ferry, (really catchy, that oughta be a song title) and we were on our way to the Burnside Bridge. With the oddest thing you could think of, a lifesize doll of…me.
As you may imagine, when I got that thing out, Sam was instantly intrigued. Intrigued as in he immediately started pestering me about what the heck that was.
"You see, Sam," I said grinning, greatly enjoying this, "If this is in any way related to the Runouw.com case, the guy will want to kill me, so if he tries to throw me off the bridge, he will instead throw my dummy, or at the very least try to attack it. By the time he realizes it is a fake, we will have caught him and arrested him."
"So basically, it's a sting." Sam replied.
I grinned and nodded.
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We arrived at the Burnside Bridge, a drawbridge just north of the Saturday Arts Market that was taking place…don't ask me why they held it on a Sunday; I don't run the thing. Anyway, people were abuzz on Waterfront Park, wandering the many kiosks and tents with vendors of everything from earrings to paintings. The Portland Spirit was docked by another nearbybridge, the Hawthorne, whose green hues were recognizable a half-mile away. Rain had started to kamikaze from the sky in gigantic only-in-Oregon drops, creating puddles and sheets of water almost instantaneously. The sky was gray with clouds, blotting out all hints that a sun did in fact exist.
Sam was very amused by the life-size Ema dummy. "How'd you do it?" he kept asking me. "I mean, I would easily mistake it for you."
I shrugged. "Powell's Books had it up when we were signing the book about the original Runouw murders. I just took it back with me."
"Oh, I thought that was your reflection in the backseat while you were driving us back." He shrugged as we lifted it out of the trunk over on Second Street. He grunted as I lifted it up on his shoulders. "Okay, I really wish it would walk itself like you can," he groaned. "This thing supposed to weigh as much as you, because I think that they added a little too much sand. This thing could break an elephant's back!"
I was too busy snorting and giggling in delight, watching as he dropped the dummy on the ground, taking him with it. He yelled out a bunch of obscenities and kicked it once or twice.
I giggled again and shouted "That's supposed to be me, dummy!"
He gasped, helped it up before someone called the cops for assault and battery, and started carrying it to the bridge, set it on the bridge, arms folded on the ledge as if she was taking in the view, wished it luck and ran back to the cop car.
5 minutes. 15 minutes. 30 minutes. Staring at a godforsaken lifelike representation of me doing nothing but looking at the same dang view for a half-an-hour. NOTHING.
I yawned and said, "Well Sam, think we should go pick it up and call it a day." Sam nodded and went to get the dummy and abuse it back to the car. Sam was about to grab the dummy when someone, a short, fat Asian man in his thirties pushed it over the edge. I knew I knew that person, I just couldn’t figure out who.
That same person then pushed Sam over the edge.
I shouted a loud “OHMYGOD!” and ran over to where Sam was just at. The Asian man, seeing me, quickly turned and ran. I briefly considered following him, but ultimately decided Sam was more important.
To my slight bit of relief, Sam was hanging on the edge, but the screaming was really starting to give me a headache. Oh…I guess I never mentioned Sam had a fear of heights, did I?
Anyway, he was belting out a ton of “OHMYGOD"s, a few “OH CRAP”s, and one “DON’T JUST STAND THERE, HELP ME, EMA!” That last one got me into action. I tried grabbing his hands, but I think that it must be a medical fact that fear improves your grip. The Portland Spirit was pulling through as I tried very unsuccessfully to make Sam let go so I could grab him. I looked down at the cruise ship and saw that Buffy was having a very nice conversation with a guy about her age. What happened to investigating Gary, woman?
“BUFFY!” I shouted as the ship started pulling through, forcing the drawbridge up, and us with it. “Stop the ship!” I threw my badge down towards her, which plopped into the water a few feet away from the boat. “Uhm… Oops…”
I didn’t know Buffy kept her old badge with her. “Okay, stop the boat! We have two endangered police officers on the lift. I repeat, stop the boat by order of law!”
The lift couldn’t stop though. We were practically vertical as I fell on top of Sam, who was still hanging on for dear life. Now I was holding on to him, who was holding on to the bridge, which was going further up. Finally, Sam's grip faltered and we went sliding down the ledge, getting a heck of a friction burn, and then hit a lamppost, which shot a ripple of pain through my arm. Yeah, I would need a cast for that.
Buffy was getting out inflatable raft after inflatable raft. I thought Jeez, lady; there are only two people here. You gonna evacuate the city? It took me a moment to see that she was setting up a pile of rafts house-of-cards-style, for us to fall on.
She was about halfway through when I told Sam “You gotta let go?”
“No way, man.” He replied, petrified.
“You don’t let go now, not only are we gonna die when that bridge squishes us against the light pole like it is now, our guts are going to rain down on Buffy and about a hundred other people who watch us get painfully killed.” I was getting sick and tired of this.
Sam took a second to mull that over. I was thinking OH MY GOD WHAT IS THERE TO MULL OVER!
“C’mon, Sam. Just trust me. I’m like one of the few people on this earth you CAN trust.”
That made Sam let go.
We fell neatly on top of the first raft, and the rest, overwhelmed by the force, flew out everywhere, one knocking over Buffy and her mystery friend, but, hey, we lived. Our Ema dummy, not so much.
Sam and I landed side-to-side. I had made sure to make a 90 degree barrel roll so he didn’t land on top of me, because that would both hurt and be just plain awkward. Sam took a few breaths, adrenalized, and said “That… that… that was soooooo cool!”
I grinned and said “You gotta trust me more!”
“So who was that who pushed us, deductress?” Sam asked me. Okay, so I turn a little red every time he calls me that. So what?
I replied with an “I know I recognized him, he was short, fat, Asian, maybe 35, do you remember?”
Sam’s eyes widened as he realized who it was. “No wonder you can’t remember, he knocked you out with Steven’s guitar, remember?”
I gasped. “Now we really have a connection. Brock Lee knocked us over. But… how did he survive the explosion?”
Sam replied with “He must have been working with Rick and possibly Rob Stevens.”
I gasped, realizing if that was true, he kidnapped his own daughter (Suki for those not keeping track) and was going to kill her brother (his own FREAKING son!).
Buffy winked at me and asked “You two having fun there?”
Almost simultaneously, we jumped up, pretty dang embarrassed. We hardly noticed the hundred people there. I asked Buffy
“Who on earth is that? And where’s Gary?”
Buffy winked at me again as Sam walked over next to me. “This is Gary Davidson, a server on the Portland Spirit, who also happens to be my boyfriend.”
I love plot twists like this.
Chapter 3 - MIC
Ema continues to hog the narration.
"So, all you know is that you saw Dania falling from the bridge and then you rescued her?"
"That's right," responded Gary, who was sitting in an interrogation room with Sam, Buffy, and I.
"And you didn't see who threw her down?" Buffy continued.
"No ma'am."
"All right," said Buffy. "You're free to go."
Gary smiled at Buffy, "Thanks, babe."
Buffy blushed. "Uh…no problem, Gary."
Gary grinned wider, then stood up and left the room. There was an awkward silence as they waited for the sound of Gary's footsteps to vanish, until Sam broke it with a wolf whistle. “Ooh-la-la, Buffy.” I giggled.
"Oh shut up," said Buffy as Sam and I burst into laughter. We laughed for nearly a minute straight, and all Buffy could do was sit there trying as hard as she could not to look thoroughly embarrassed, and she failed miserably. At length we calmed down, at which point I cleared my throat.
"All right," I said. "So, we have learned one key thing from all of this. Brock Lee is alive and involved. This means if we can track him down, he probably knows a lot about what’s going on."
"Sounds about right, deductress," Sam said. Now I blushed, and Buffy raised an eyebrow. Sam, meanwhile, seemed to enjoy watching everybody else except him get embarrassed, as he was grinning from ear to ear. "Anyway," he continued, "That should definitely be our top priority-"
But at that moment he was cut off by the entrance of Brandon Martinez, assistant to the boss of the Portland Police Department. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, "but we have a new trainee who the boss wants to join your group. Like yourselves not too long ago, a youth, a future police officer."
We all looked at each other. Of all the things that could have happened to this case, this was the one we all least wanted. We had such great chemistry as a team, and we had practically grown up with this case. Brandon seemed to know what we were thinking, and gave us a sympathetic look. Then he walked out of the room. We sat in silence for thirty seconds, at which point the new trainee entered the room. I was somewhat relieved that it was a girl: a little over five feet tall, brown hair, green eyes, kind of pretty, dressed in uniform and all of that fun stuff. I glanced at the others; Buffy looked a little more relaxed than before, whereas Sam appeared to be absolutely appalled.
"Hi," she said rather enthusiastically, also to my delight. "My name's Kim. Kim Clayton. Pleasure to meet all of you!" She then walked forward and grabbed a seat.
There was a short, awkward pause. Nobody knew what to say. Finally, Sam said, "Crud! We're outnumbered now! Now this whole case will be trashed!" Buffy, Kim, and I looked at each other, completely confused. Sam continued, "I don't know if I'm gonna survive this case with girls running the show. Their poor judgment and stuff will definitely send us in the complete wrong direction. Like when Ema used to drive, remember?"
Another pause, at which point I broke into laughter, and while laughing slapped Sam across the face. Buffy started laughing too, followed shortly by Sam, and finally Kim, albeit kind of awkwardly. I knew this much; she was gonna have fun adjusting to us weird people. We then proceeded to all welcome Kim to the group and shake her hand and stuff (I jokingly added that we kill people who screw up, so to beware). We all seemed to like her enough. Then Buffy, Sam, and I summarized the case up to this point and brought Kim up to speed on recent events. She appeared to be competent, which was good.
"So," Sam said in conclusion, "our top priority is to track down Brock Lee and find out what he knows. Hopefully that will give us some insight into what is going on."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Kim cheerfully. "Let's go!" I really liked her…she definitely had my enthusiasm, cheerfulness, and energy. But I was definitely better looking. No doubt ab - wait, sorry, that sounded really egocentric. Um, yeah…anyway…
"Well," said Sam, taking out his cell phone, "we ought to get a hold of Mic, I think." He hit a few buttons, and then held his cell phone up to his ear. After a few rings, I heard, "Hi. Mic Davis. I'm probably ignoring you. Leave a message, and there's a slight chance I'll get back to you. Have fun frantically trying to reach me," followed by a beep.
"Hey Mic," said Sam. "We need you back at the station. If you could get here as soon as possible, I'd appreciate it, thanks."
"Well," I began, "now what?"
"Why don't I take Kim here and we'll start our search for our good friend Mr. Lee and give her a little experience in the field under my supervision while you two go to - Where did he say he was going again? The hospital? Yes, that's right - the hospital and try and salvage Mic?" replied Buff.
"Sounds good," said Sam. "We'll catch up with you later!"
"All right!" said Kim. "I get to see some action!" Buff smiled mischievously, stood up, and slowly hobbled out of the room behind Kim. After they left, Sam and I looked at each other.
"Heh," he said. "Newbies."
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Sam and I sat in silence as we drove to OHSU. I watched as signs passed us by, lacking anything better to do. Actually, I was trying to figure out what I thought about Kim. On the one hand, I liked her personality and stuff, or at least that was my impression upon first meeting. On the other hand, I didn't like the idea of another member on our team. Maybe this was silly, but I sort of worried that it would somehow cause conflict within the group. Like, maybe she would get in the way of the relationship we all have each other and stuff as friends and whatnot - I don't know. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
Suddenly, Sam broke the silence. "Hey Ema."
"Yeah?" I replied.
"Who do you think Mic is visiting at the hospital?"
"You know, I didn't even think about that…maybe a friend?"
Sam glared at me. OK, that wasn't the response he was looking for. I realized what he was thinking.
"Oh, come on!" I said. "He's probably visiting a friend he knows. And if he really is visiting Dania, he's probably just interrogating her."
"So why didn't he just say that? Why did he say a friend?"
"Cause he's probably not visiting Dania! Why are you so worried? So if he really is visiting Dania, he's visiting Dania!" I sighed. "Look, what are you thinking?"
He groaned. "I…I don't…never mind," he said angrily, slamming the car horn as another car cut him off as he turned into the hospital. For the first time ever, I believe I saw our saintly Sam just give the other driver the bird.
"Come on, just tell me," I said, determined.
He looked at me, and then turned back to the steering wheel as he maneuvered into a parking spot. He said nothing. I sighed. I think I knew what he was thinking, but I wished that he would be a little more open with me. Not for any particular reason, I just…oh, never mind.
We exited the car and started walking to the doors of the hospital. I had unpleasant memories about this hospital as a result of earlier events that were part of this case. I think Sam was thinking about the same thing, seeing his eyes were darting around everywhere as though he were worried he'd see Rick Stevens or somebody in his little organization.
We entered and approached the front desk. "May I help you?" said the stereotypical old female secretary.
"Hi," I said. "We're looking for a young man named Mic Davis. He told us he was coming here to visit a friend and we were wondering where we could find him."
"Sure," said the secretary, picking a list off of her desk and scanning it. "Ah, yes, Mic Davis. He went up to Room 218. Take the elevator to the second floor, and then turn left. You'll find it on the right hand side of the hallway."
"Thank you," I said, grabbing Sam's arm to pull him away, but alas, he still asked the question I was dreading. "Can you tell me the name of the patient in that room?" he asked.
"Her name's Dania Eastman" - at this point Sam turned to me, his face contorted with rage - "Sweet girl. Had a nasty accident and hurt her leg, the poor dear."
"Uh, thanks," I said, quickly pulling Sam away. I walked quickly towards the nearby elevator, dragging Sam behind me, who now appeared to be in a state of shock. I quickly pushed the button, the doors opened, and we entered. Fortunately nobody else got in the elevator with us. As soon as the doors shut, I turned to Sam and said, "What's the matter with you? So he's visiting Dania. So what? What's the big deal? I mean…you act like this is a capital offense or something!"
"I don't know," was all he said before the doors opened again and we were moving. We turned left, walked down the hallway a little ways, and reached Room 218. Sam reached out his hand to open the closed door.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Don't you think you should-"
But before I could finish my suggestion to knock first, he opened the door - actually, he practically slammed the door open - to reveal a shocking sight. Mic was sitting in a chair next to Dania's bed, and they were holding hands. Almost immediately they let go, and both of their faces turned red in embarrassment, but both Sam and I saw it. Sam's face nearly turned purple, and because he looked like he was about to punch somebody, I quickly grabbed his arms to restrain him.
Mic stood up and approached us. Now he appeared angry. He motioned to us to step outside, and we followed. I was still grabbing Sam's arms tightly. Mic shut the door and then rounded on us.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he began in what I like to call a yell whisper. "I'm trying to interrogate her and you just come barging in! Don't you have the manners to at least knock?"
"And what the hell do you think you're doing?" responded Sam, taking a step forward. "Interrogating? Hah! I didn't realize holding hands was part of interrogation!"
"She was sobbing her head off, for Christ's sake! I was only trying to comfort her!"
"She didn't appear to be crying when I came in!" Sam replied, raising his voice.
Mic shook his head and sighed angrily. "Look, can you give me two more minutes? I'll be right with you guys."
"Oh sure," said Sam. "Why don't you just go back in there and hold her hand some more? While you're at it, why don't you two kiss a few times?"
"Sam!" I cried. He was taking this way too far.
"Don't you Sam me!" he replied. "I've had enough of this!" And as he said that, he wrenched his right arm, his dominant arm, out of my grasp, flinging me against the opposite wall in the process, and then punched Mic squarely in the face. Mic was thrown back against the wall, his nose bleeding. Oh crud, I thought.
"Come on, Sam!" cried Mic. "Be reasonable."
"Make me!" said Sam, as he threw another punch. Mic blocked this one, however, and then kicked Sam in the stomach. I watched, exasperated, as the two started a full-fledged fight in the hospital hallway. I rushed forward into the midst of the battle and shouted, "Stop it!" only to accidentally be punched in the face by Sam. This made both of them stop mid-punch as I fell to the floor.
Sam stood frozen for a second, and then rushed over to help me up. "Ema…I'm sorry…"
"Let go of me!" I shrieked, and he withdrew his hand. Now I was hysterical. "What is wrong with you? Why can't you control yourself?"
"Ema…I'm sorry…please…" Sam said, pleading now. Again he reached out a hand to help me up.
"Don't you dare touch me! DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!!!"
"Guys, will you shut up?" boomed Mic. He had a pretty deep voice. "Look at you! You're a mess! Just because there's a little misunderstanding doesn't mean that we all have to start screaming till we can't scream anymore! I understand why Sam was angry, but we don't need to start World War III over it! If you keep this up, we're gonna get kicked out of here! So just stop it!" Sam and I just stared at Mic, his presence rather intimidating at that particular moment. I give a lot of credit to him; if I were him, I would've beaten Sam to a pulp rather than forgive him, as Mic appeared to be doing. Mic took a deep breath, and then continued, "Look, why don't you two go wash yourselves up? I'm going back in to finish with Dania. We'll meet back here in two or three minutes, all right?"
Sam and I were too tired to argue. We nodded, then helped each other up and started walking to the restrooms. Mic, meanwhile, went back into Dania's room. Sam and I walked in complete silence, not even looking at the faces staring at us as we walked by. Sam then entered the men's restroom and I the woman's. I was relieved that it was deserted. I walked over to the sink, turned on some warm water, and started washing the blood off my face. I kept thinking to myself, I can't believe that Sam did that. He clearly needs to work on his temper. I finished removing the blood from my face, then pulled out a comb to fix my disheveled hair. Hey, don't judge me. That's what girls do, all right? Live with it. I then exited the restroom and went back to the door of Room 218 and stood against the wall opposite it. A minute later Sam returned and stood next to me. I didn't look at him, and he didn't look at me. We just stared into space, thinking about what had just happened. Finally, after about a minute, Sam said, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just lost my temper, all right?"
I said nothing. I knew he was being sincere, but I was still kind of angry. "Will you forgive me?" he asked, desperately hoping for a response.
I didn't say anything for a moment, but at long last, I said, "Yeah, it's cool."
Sam smiled. "Good," he said. "I'm glad." He reached for my hand, which I let him take. "Hey," he said. "Why don't I make it up to you? I'll take you to Niklaw's Tavern tonight and we'll hang out with Nick and Suki and stuff, all right?"
I looked at him and smiled too. "Sure," I said. "That sounds like fun."
Sam was about to respond, but before he could, the door to Room 218 opened slowly. Mic was standing there, in the doorway, a look of complete shock on his face. He slowly stepped forward, and then nearly lost his balance. Sam and I rushed forward to steady him.
"What happened?" I asked fearfully.
Mic just stood there, still in complete shock. "Mic!" I cried, slapping him across the face a couple of times to bring him to his senses. Finally, he turned his head towards me and said, "My parents. They're going for my parents."
Chapter 4 - MOY
Mic steals the narration away from an addicted Ema
Shocked, Sam fell to his knees. Maybe that would have been a lot more meaningful if he had remembered to let go of Ema. She fell on top of him in a heap, half embarrassed, half surprised. I tried to hold in snickers. After all, this was serious.
The two stood up swiftly, almost slipping again on the linoleum floor, and then said in unison, “How'd you figure this out?”
“Phone call from a restricted number with a creepy voice changer. He told me where he was and…and…” I kicked the wall in fury, “that son of a gun let me talk to my parents. They’re in trouble, and the guy…he’s toying with me or something…he said I had a half-hour before a bomb goes off and blows up our house.”
Sam swore viciously. “Well, what are we waiting for? We’re burning bomb oil!”
I put my hand up and said “Hold up. In this entire BS business I left my jacket in Dania’s room. I swear to god, I’ll be right back, Sam.”
“You’d better,” was his response, laced lightly with venom. Ema put a hand on his shoulder and said “Let’s call Kim and Buffy, let them know to meet us over at Mic’s place, A.S.A.P.”
I started running into Dania’s room. She looked surprised. “Mic, it’s gonna be okay.” She reassured me.
I looked at her, black curls a mess, leg broken, and orphaned. “You’re not a prime example of things turning out okay.”
She looked at me. “You’re not me, Mic.”
She had a point. “Touché. I’ll be back as soon as I can, all right? We can talk some more.”
She smiled. “I’d be pleased to see you again.”
I nodded, turning slightly red, and left.
Running down the halls again, I found Sam with his hand on Ema’s face, both of them turning red when they saw me. All I could think of was the nine letter word “hypocrite.” Okay, that and “Oh my God.”
“Ahem.” I signaled my arrival.
“She still had blood on her face, if you must know,” was Sam’s defense. It was quite flimsy and weak if you ask me.
My response was much less violent than his. I rolled my eyes and scoffed, “Oh, sure! Face it, you two have been eyeing each other, like, forever. Now come on,” I added. “We'd better hurry.”
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Narration of Buffy Clark
Kim and I walked down a street in some of the seedier parts of North Portland - N Rosa Parks to be exact, by Peninsular Park - talking about girl stuff. I told her about Gary, and she told me about Chris, her boyfriend. They had been dating for nearly a year, like Gary and I. We approached the Rose Garden, a beautiful fixture in such a ghetto.
“So how long have these people been working here?” Kim asked me.
“About half a year, as a matter of fact.” I replied. “These guys are really starting to grow on me.”
“That’s cool.” Kim replied. That’s when I tripped over my prosthetic, and it fell off. Kim screamed in absolute horror and started to run. I hope she never is by someone who loses a real leg, her running off like that.
“No, Kim, No! It’s okay! It’s a prosthetic! I’m all right!” I called after her, suddenly recalling how I used those words when I first lost my leg. Absolute shock. It drives the mind mad.
She stopped in her tracks. “You mean your leg didn’t just fall off?”
“Technically, yes, but no harm done anymore,” I replied. “Now can you hand it to me? I need to put it back on.”
She handed it to me and asked, “How’d you lose it? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking of course.”
I sighed. “Well, I was in a library when it blew up. Lost a leg, but, hey, better than your life.”
She nodded. “On this case?”
“Indeed. Other damages include Sam's parents.”
She gasped. “Wow, now I’m scared.” Then she giggled nervously. She was pretty funny, that girl.
“Well, no sign of Brock anywhere.” I used my peripherals to look around. “I was told he was here often, and after that incident, he sure wouldn’t be at home.”
“Well, maybe he’s just on the run.” Kim suggested.
“That’d make sense.” I sighed when my phone rang. Life in Technicolor, II to be exact. This only meant one thing.
“Sam?” I asked upon answering. “Whatcha need?”
“Bad news. Mic got a phone call from someone holding his parents hostage. We have thirty minutes.”
I fell to the ground, swearing by accident into the phone.
Sam’s slight snickers weren’t much of a sign that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hear me. “Uhm, Buffy, you’re on speakerphone.”
I slapped my forehead. “Ugh, well, where does he live?”
“72nd and Lambert, SE Portland. I’ll see you there.”
"I thought he lived on 254 NE 21st Avenue? Remember? He chose the numbers for his Runouw.com membership after that."
"Not a bad memory. He moved."
“Oh," I said. "See you there.” I hung up. I turned to Kim and told her “Back to the car, as fast as you can run. Mic’s parents are in trouble. We have thirty minutes.”
She looked confused. “Who’s Mic again?”
“The one that wasn’t there.” I helped her out.
“Oh, yeah. My bad.” She replied, breaking off in a speedy sprint. I tried to get up, taking three times to do so. Getting up on a prosthetic is like getting up on skis. I envied Kim.
-------------------------------------------------
Narration of Sam Eastman
We turned on our sirens and lights, and then, to put it humorously, tried to see how many traffic laws we could break if we weren't cops. Mic was in the backseat, Ema in the front. I could not shake what Mic had said about us eyeing each other. Mostly because I didn’t know if it was true or not. Being a teenager is so weird…good thing it was almost over.
I blew through a stoplight at Powell and Milwaukee, crashing two cars behind me. That’s what sirens are for, people. They’re not just for fun. Then I found a semi had blocked my lane and forced me onto an exit heading the wrong way. I followed the ramp, then, suddenly, blew over the concrete onto the other lane, and then off the bridge over Powell altogether. Ema screamed louder than I thought humans could scream. A friggin banshee in the seat next to me.
We landed on Powell wheels first, and man did I feel like an action hero. Take that, Jason Bourne.
Ema grabbed my hand and told me, “That was amazing!”
Mic just started hyperventilating. Oh crap, I scared him more crapless than before…and believe you me, that's practically impossible.
I grinned as Ema followed up with “But don’t ever do that again.”
People in their cars were parting the way like Moses in the Red Sea; a cliché metaphor, I know, but it seems appropriate. We passed Cleveland High School, where Ema and I first met. I realized our hands had never left each other, turned a few shades of red, and gently let go. Jeez, we really support Mic in his beliefs, don’t we?
I turned down Foster a few minutes later. Suddenly, a car sped up next to us at remarkable speeds, going as fast as we were. We hadn’t time for speeders right now, so I ignored him. But then the guy started ramming our car viciously, knocking us into oncoming traffic. I pulled a pit maneuver on the car, causing him to spin into the George Morlan plumbing store and knock its huge, famed sign down.
“Who was that?” I gasped.
“An enemy, by the looks of it.” Ema replied.
“I know that, Em, but who?”
She shrugged as we continued to blow through speed lights and lanes of traffic. Finally, 72nd avenue. I took a right and put the pedal to the metal. We were there four minutes later. We had spent about 21 minutes getting there, due to godforsaken traffic on the Ross Island Bridge.
I threw the car door open, jumped out into the house by Stonewall Market and burst open the door.
I ain’t ever seen a bomb that big since Suki attacked us.
Mic’s parents sat in chairs around the bomb, tied up and gagged, the usual. I delicately yet swiftly ripped the tape off their faces. Mic's mom started gasping for air, and then started to spill out words. “He…he…he…he was here…he had a bomb…he has a bomb…he was dressed like a ninja, too.”
There goes any possible clue as to who he might be.
Ema burst in. “Oh, shoot; that's a big bomb!”
Mic followed. “Buffy’s here! How long has the timer?”
I looked down, and my eyes bugged. Three minutes. I swore again, and then muttered an apology for my un-professional behavior.
Mic started to unravel the bomb from the chair, and said, “I’ll get rid of this!” Before his parents could stop him, he ran out, carrying the thing with his arms and adrenaline. It's a bloody miracle he didn't collapse under its weight, considering it was practically twice his size. He dashed across SE Flavel Street over to an abandoned storefront, jumping through a window inside it.
I looked outside. Mic’s parents were safe, but Mic was not. Buffy had brought a few cars of reinforcements, and all fifteen of them were investigating the area, if by investigating you mean tearing up the lawn and heading into the house. The Davises didn’t care. Their son was running to the abandoned Red Apple Market with a gigantic bomb in his arms. What else could matter?
Buffy ran over to me. “What is Mic doing?”
“He's going to buy apples. What does it look like he's doing?” I asked anxiously. Kim eyed the building fearfully, glued to the sight like it was a new episode of NCIS or the Amazing Race, which is the show that gets me glued to the screen.
Ema put a hand on my shoulder. I looked over at her and said, “I don’t see any more blood on your face, do you?”
She replied with a giggle; brief as it was, it helped me calm down.
Suddenly, the Red Apple Market Blew up.
And Mic was running out, with only a second to spare, straight to his parents.
Continued on Page 2, starting with Chapter 5.
