I Walk With You, 1/?
Title: I Walk With You, chapter one
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,166
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry), Snakes Tolliver, Dr. Mendoza
Summary: A mission to Los Angeles leaves the group shattered. But even as flashbacks reveal what led up to the disaster, the present shows that not all is as it seems.
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
I Walk With You
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters from shows and any songs are not mine. Any other characters and the story are mine, albeit the basic premise of the plot comes both from a Hardy Boys episode called Sole Survivor and a role-play based on it that I did with Crystal Rose of Pollux. My story version is very different from the role-play in many ways, but many elements of the basic core plot are the same. And of course, fictional Rockapella only, dearies, as per their fictional backstory given in season 3 of Carmen Sandiego. No real-person fic here!
Chapter One
It was an average autumn evening when Snakes Tolliver, clever gambler and expert time-traveler (according to his descriptions of himself), left his apartment and started the walk to Slim Marcus’s casino. Usually he took public transport, but today he felt like walking. The weather was perfect, somewhat of a rarity in the Gardena section of Los Angeles. But in spite of his dislike of the heat, he had built a life for himself in the city and fully intended to stay.
The last thing he had expected to find was a dazed and dizzy man several chronological years younger than himself, stumbling around the corner of the next block. He also would have never expected to know the person.
“Scott?!” he said in stunned disbelief.
The young man looked up, his eyes haunted, his curly hair a flying mess, his dark fedora perched at an angle on his head. For a moment he stared at Snakes, haunted, unable to believe that he had really found someone he actually knew.
Disturbed now as well as worried, Snakes reached out and grabbed the Dying Informant’s shoulders. “Hey!” he commanded. “What’s wrong with you? What mission are you coming back from now?”
The Dying Informant trembled, reaching up to grip Snakes’ arms. “Sam . . .” He fell forward, shaking, and would have likely collapsed to the sidewalk if Snakes had not been right there to support him.
“You look like you just came out on the wrong end of an explosion,” Snakes frowned. “Did the crook you were after set you up?”
The Dying Informant shook his head. “It’s . . . it’s a long story,” he choked out. “A really long story. And . . .” He choked. “I came out of it better than some.”
Now Snakes could see tears chasing each other down the secret agent’s cheeks. He had known Scott was not stoic and emotionless, even though he was faithful and loyal to the cause, but this show of utter heartbreak definitely left the battered gambler shaken. “Okay, what happened?” he demanded. “Come on, we’ll sit on this bench and you tell me.” He tried to guide the Dying Informant to a green metal bench just behind them, but the agent stood still.
“I should really be getting back. . . . I didn’t mean to wander away from the site. . . . I guess I . . . I keep fighting fate and praying that I’ll find things are different than they really are.” He clutched tightly at Snakes’ hands now. “I keep thinking maybe I’ll find him wandering around too.”
“Find who?” Snakes tried again. “What’s going on, Scott? Is someone dead?”
That sent a shockwave through the agent that pierced him to his very soul. “Sean,” he practically whispered. “He died to save the rest of us.”
Uttering the dreaded words seemed to zap him of the remainder of his strength. He honestly was injured, and he swayed and fell against Snakes as the Southerner tried to brace himself for the impact.
Swearing under his breath, Snakes half-dragged Scott to the bench now and sat him down on it. Then, sitting next to him, Snakes began to examine for injuries.
“I knew something like that would happen someday,” he said. “You can’t be part of a dangerous thing like crime-fighting without it.”
“I know,” Scott mumbled. “We all knew. Any of us would have been willing to . . . to do what Sean did. But that doesn’t make it any easier to lose one of the best friends you could ever have.” He closed his eyes, but they snapped open at a frantic cry of “Scott!” in the distance.
Snakes started and looked over as a short brunet ran up to them. “Scott, why did you take off like that?!” he cried, his voice filled with the pain and agony that Scott also carried. “We thought . . . we thought you’d been seriously hurt and might go collapse in the street somewhere!” He barely seemed to notice Snakes was there, and Snakes didn’t attempt to draw any attention to himself.
The Dying Informant started and looked over at him. “El . . . Elliott . . . I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I thought I might find him . . . even though deep down, I knew I wouldn’t.” He got off the bench and limped to Elliott, who pulled him into a hug that he returned.
Now the tears were in Elliott’s eyes too. “I wanted that too,” he whispered. “But it’s not going to happen, Scott. It won’t. The Search-and-Rescuenet agents are there now and they can’t find anything either.”
Snakes swore again. He knew all too well the damage that explosive devices could cause, and he knew he didn’t want to see anyone suffer from it who didn’t deserve it, especially now that he had turned over a new leaf and was trying to go straight. But he felt awkward and out-of-place witnessing this highly personal scene. Part of him wanted to pack up and go; he was going to be late for work. The other part, however, didn’t like the thought of just leaving them here in such anguish, even though he knew there was very little he could do for them. Certainly he didn’t want to give them false hope. But another part of him wondered if there was any chance. The possibility shouldn’t be ignored, at least.
“Look,” he said at last, “I know a lot about explosives. Why don’t we walk back there and you tell me what happened. I know it looks bleak, and there probably really isn’t any hope, but sometimes weird things happen and people actually do survive big blasts.”
Elliott started and looked to him, as if noticing him for the first time. “Mr. Tolliver,” he said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I just stumbled across Scott,” Snakes gruffly replied. “Or he stumbled across me, however you wanna look at it.”
“We only met you a couple of times the last time we were in Los Angeles,” Elliott said. “And you’re willing to take time for us?”
Snakes shrugged uncomfortably. “I like Scott,” he said finally. “I think you’re all crazy to be in the line of work you’re in, but I respect that you feel it’s something you have to do. Right now, I feel like sticking with you is something I have to do, at least until I’ve seen the site myself.”
Elliott hesitated, but then finally nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” He tried to smile. “Scott had faith in you from your past meetings.”
“I know,” Snakes said. It had surprised him then and still did now, really. But it had touched him. Scott had seen the goodness in him that he had once tried to lock away out of bitterness and hurt.
Elliott kept an arm around Scott’s shoulders as they walked. Snakes stayed on Scott’s other side.
“I know you all must be shaken to Hell over this,” Snakes frowned. “But Scott seems even more shook up than you. When I first saw him, he was in a complete daze.”
Scott looked down. “It was my fault,” he whispered.
“What?” Snakes started. “How would it be your fault?”
“It wasn’t your fault, Scott!” Elliott cried. “If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I knew I had a bad feeling about going out there!”
“But we all agreed to do it anyway, even when Sean asked if we were sure!” Scott retorted. “It was a group decision. I guess we thought . . .” He swallowed hard. “We thought that if we knew about the feeling and were careful, we could stop anything bad from happening.”
“That’s normal,” Snakes said. “You can’t govern your lives just by feelings, after all.”
“But then I was the one closest to Sean when he lunged at that creep with the remote!” Scott burst out. “Sean realized before I did what was going on. And by the time I realized too, it was a split-second later . . . and it was too late.” Scott trembled violently. “Sean and that crumb struggled and fell . . . and the bomb went off. They took the worst of it. . . . We found the creep badly burned and dead and Sean . . . we haven’t found at all!”
“Could he have got buried under something?” Snakes frowned.
Elliott shook his head. “We’ve looked and looked. We moved rocks, debris, but he’s nowhere. We only found part of his tie. . . .” Elliott choked up at that and had to look away. He had been the one to find that heartbreaking and chilling bit of proof that Sean had been involved in the blast. He had just knelt, staring at it dumbly, praying it didn’t mean what it seemed to mean. But when nothing else could be found anywhere, what could he think?
Scott drew an arm around Elliott’s waist now, trying to offer some comfort. It had also been Elliott who had found Barry’s fedora when they had believed him dead in a bridge collapse. Bitterly Scott wondered why it always had to fall to Elliott, the gentlest of the group, to find such horrific things.
The blast site wasn’t that far away, really; it was where a new building was going up. As they approached it, Snakes frowned at the realization that he must have heard the explosion from his apartment. He had thought it was the construction work and paid it no mind at the time.
Barry was waiting for them as they made their way over, his eyes filled with the same haunted and numb look that Scott and Elliott had. Elliott swallowed hard at the sight. “Did they . . . have they found anything else?” he asked weakly.
Barry shook his head. “No.” His voice was clearly strained.
“Where did it happen?” Snakes queried.
“Right over there.” Barry pointed to an area near the middle of the still-standing skyscraper under construction. If he thought it odd for Snakes to be there asking questions, he gave no indication of it. Really, Snakes doubted that Barry even fully processed his presence.
Snakes made his way over to the spot and looked around. The Search-and-Rescuenet agents were everywhere, but they were losing hope and starting to disperse. Snakes could understand why; there was no place for anyone to be, at least not now that they had dug into every pile of debris in the area. He poked around for a bit, but had to concede that there was nothing to find. It wasn’t often that he had seen this level of utter obliteration from an explosion, but he knew it was possible.
“How bad off was the guy Sean was fighting with?” he asked as he stood. The three detectives had followed him over and were watching him, not expecting he would find anything. They weren’t surprised that he hadn’t.
“Bad,” Barry said flatly. “Third-degree burns on what was left of his body.”
Scott’s stomach rolled at the memory of finding the bloodied and torn remains of the madman who had set off the blast. When that was all that was left of him, and Sean had been locked in mortal combat with him at the time of the blast, what hope was there for Sean when they couldn’t find any trace?
“The ambulance already took him away,” Elliott interjected.
Snakes slowly nodded. “I’m sorry I can’t really be of any help,” he said quietly, sincerely meaning it.
“Thanks,” Scott said, his voice cracking. “For trying.”
“Yeah.” Snakes came back to them. He hesitated, then laid a hand briefly on Scott’s shoulder as he walked past. “I’ll see you.”
Scott nodded. “Yeah.” He looked down, trying hard not to completely lose it.
When Snakes had gone past, trudging his way over the mess back to the sidewalk, Barry looked to the others. “We should go too,” he said quietly, his voice cracking as well. “There’s nothing for us here.”
That pronouncement shattered Scott the rest of the way. But, choking back a despairing sob, he nodded.
Not trying to get him to speak, Elliott kept a firm arm around him and led him towards the gate. Barry walked on Scott’s other side. Memories swirled through their minds of what had led up to this nightmare, pounding and echoing the last strains of a world that was now gone.
****
“When twilight dawns and leaves are down. . . . And when you cry, I’ll be your tears. With every step, I’ll be your ground. . . .”
Sean set the incomplete lyrics aside, studying them again with a thoughtful look as he tapped his pencil on the desk. They had a new mission, one that was going to take them to Los Angeles, and he had hoped to finish the song first. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Judging from the clock, they needed to go right now.
“Sean?” Scott opened the door and peered into the room.
“I’m coming.” Sean stood, shoving the lyrics into his pocket as he headed for the door.
Elliott and Barry were waiting in the hall. Elliott seemed restless. “I don’t know why we were assigned to this case,” he frowned. “There’s a branch of ACME in L.A. Why don’t they handle it?”
“The Chief explained that to us,” Sean said. “Because of the nature of the case, the L.A. branch wanted us to come in on it to offer our expertise.”
Elliott sighed. “I know, but we could phone or email what we know.”
Scott looked to Elliott in concern. Elliott didn’t normally balk at the idea of missions. The only times he did were when he feared something terrible would happen.
“What is it, El?” he quietly asked.
Elliott looked to him, the truth clear in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just have a really bad feeling about us going to L.A.”
Sean frowned. Although he still liked to be skeptical and not accept every weird thing that came along, he knew by now that Elliott’s feelings were not to be lightly discounted. When Elliott felt uneasy about something, one way or another, something bad would happen.
“We could still back out,” he said. “You’re right that we wouldn’t have to be there in person.”
Elliott’s eyes flickered in visible relief, but he still looked uncertain. “We can’t really back out of every mission where I have a bad feeling, though. We’d probably be let go if we did that.”
“It doesn’t happen every time, though,” Scott said.
Sean nodded. “If it did, it could be chalked up to nerves.” He sighed, debating with himself. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to bring the case up when the Chief told me about it. I mean, people disappearing when it looks like the work of some nut cult? That sounds like bad déjà vu, especially for you two.” He looked to Scott and Elliott.
“And maybe that’s all my bad feeling is,” Elliott said. “Neither of us could stand the thought of anyone else being mixed up in a cult, especially if it’s anything like the one Caelius was running. That’s why we initially agreed to go.”
“Hopefully that is all it is,” Scott said quietly. “But what if it isn’t?”
Barry, who had been silent the whole time and absorbing the discussion, now looked to Sean. “There’s pros and cons both ways,” he said.
“I know,” Sean frowned. “That’s what makes this so difficult. I don’t really want to decide all of our fates in such a case. So I’ll put it to a vote. Who thinks we should go ahead and go?”
“Well . . .” Scott shifted. “We already told the Chief we would. But if you think we shouldn’t, El, we could tell her we’ve had second thoughts.”
“And I’m sure she would understand,” Elliott said quietly. “But I hate to do that to her.”
“We could be here all day discussing it,” Barry said. “I don’t think any of us really wants to do this. Maybe a better question is, how would we feel about not doing it?”
“Terrible, if the cult is like Caelius’s and they sacrifice innocent people,” Elliott said emphatically. “It’s just that . . .” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want any of us to end up sacrificed.”
Scott shuddered, remembering all too well what had nearly happened when they had tangled with Caelius’s cult. Elliott had been tortured and then tied to a slab, while Scott had been forced to kill him. . . . Of course Scott hadn’t done it. But it had certainly been one of their most dire close calls.
“Who all has gone missing?” Barry queried.
“Several people, mostly adults,” Sean said. “One of them is the brother of an ex-jewel thief. They used to live here in New York; their parents still do.” He sighed. “It was their parents who brought the case to the Chief’s attention. Then the L.A. branch of ACME called for our help around the same time.”
Scott cringed. “That would be horrible, to have a family member go missing.”
Sean gave a grim nod. “The ex-jewel thief is going nuts. He and his roommate-slash-best friend have been trying to find where his brother is, but they haven’t had any luck. He said that the guy, Mike, has been dabbling in Eastern philosophy for some time. He was experimenting with harmless retreats, and it’s definitely possible that he stumbled on the cult, since it would sound like something he’d be interested in.”
“So what’s the cult like?” Barry wondered.
“Oh, pretty much the same as any cult,” Sean said derisively. “They say a bunch of stuff on the surface that sounds really good. It’s only when you join that you start seeing the dark underbelly of it all.”
“Are any kids missing this time?” Elliott asked. “You did say mostly adults.”
Sean sighed. “There’s a teenage boy who went missing, but we’re not sure if that’s connected with this case.” He paused. “And Jeff and his uncle were hired to try to find him.”
Scott blinked in surprise. “So we’d probably run into them in L.A.”
“Probably,” Sean agreed.
“I think we should do it,” Elliott said at last. “Maybe if we’re careful, we can make sure that my bad feeling doesn’t come true . . . if it’s something that would come true at all.” He gave Sean a weak smile. “Maybe it is just nerves.”
Scott bit his lip, still highly uneasy. “If you say so, El. I don’t know what to think; I don’t like going against your feelings.”
“I don’t either,” Elliott said quietly, “but I also don’t like the thought of not taking the case. There aren’t a lot of ACME agents who’ve had experience with cults. We really might be able to help more than some others could.”
Sean still looked hesitant. With questioning eyes, he looked to Barry.
“I’ll go with whatever you decide,” Barry told him. “I don’t like disregarding Elliott’s feeling either, but maybe it is a case of being able to do something about it now that we’re informed.”
Sean finally drew a deep breath and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Then it’s a group decision. We’re going to L.A.”
****
He groaned as consciousness returned; the ringing of the explosion was still loud in his ears. He rolled onto his side, grimacing as several bruises cried out in protest. Flopping onto his back again, he covered his eyes with one hand. “Ugh. . . . I feel like I just came out on the wrong end of a zombie jamboree.”
“It’s good that you are awake to feel anything at all,” came an unfamiliar, accented voice.
He removed his hand in surprise, staring at a white-coated man with wild white hair and glasses. “Are you the doc?” he asked warily.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” the doctor nodded, pleased. “I am Doctor Mendoza.”
“And this is some kind of a hospital?” He tried to sit up, but cringed as another bruise wailed in outrage. Giving up, he sank back into the mattress.
“Yes; this is my hospital,” Dr. Mendoza said.
“So where are the others?” He frowned, looking around the room. “They should be here. . . . They must be worried sick! Unless . . .” He swallowed hard. “They’re patients too?”
Mendoza looked down at his clipboard. “No, they are not patients.”
“But you know exactly who I’m talking about,” he deduced, still wary.
“Indeed. Your friends.” Mendoza set the clipboard down at the foot of the bed. “They will not be joining you, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?” Angry now, he forced himself to sit up in spite of the bruises. “Don’t they know I’m here?”
“Oh . . . I suppose they do by now.” Mendoza looked at him very seriously. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Of course I remember what happened,” he snapped. “This unctuous creep brought out a remote to set off a bomb and I had to stop him! I did stop him.” He fell back, suddenly unsure of himself. “Didn’t I?”
“Yes, you stopped him quite nicely, but I’m afraid it didn’t save your friends.”
His brown eyes flashed. “What are you saying?!”
Mendoza met his gaze unwaveringly. “They are all dead, I’m sorry to say. You are the only survivor.”
“What?!” In spite of himself, the color drained from his face. “No, that can’t be right. They weren’t close enough. They couldn’t have been caught in the worst part of the blast.”
“You underestimated the strength of the bomb. It leveled the entire construction site.” Mendoza gently pushed on his shoulders. “But you have been through a great strain. You must rest.”
“I’ve been resting too much!” he retorted indignantly. “I can’t believe what you’re telling me. I won’t believe it without some proof!”
“Then proof you will have, but not until after you have regained some of your strength.” Mendoza pushed more firmly, forcing him down on the mattress. “Rest now. I will be back to check on you in an hour.”
He popped up again the moment Mendoza let go and headed for the door. “Your bedside manner is atrocious!”
“Perhaps, but I see no need to beat around the bush, so to speak,” Mendoza answered. “What use would it be to give you false hope?”
“You’re giving me false something,” he snapped. “If the whole construction site was leveled, how am I alive?!”
“It took hours to dig you out of the rubble,” Mendoza said. “And you have been in a bad way for a very long time.”
“I’m all bruised up from the blast!” he said in disbelief. “It couldn’t have been that long ago.”
“No, you are bruised because you were delirious and sprang out of bed, fighting with the staff and falling down stairs,” Mendoza told him.
He still didn’t believe it, but he said, “Okay, I’ll bite. How long has it been?”
“Almost a year to the day,” Mendoza informed him. “I will see that you are brought newspapers to catch up on the news. And of course, there is the television set.”
He was still staring. “A year?” That couldn’t be right. He had only been unconscious for several hours at the most. He was hurt from the blast, not from falling down stairs.
Wasn’t he?
Everyone else was still alive.
Weren’t they?
“I am sorry,” Mendoza said again. “I know it is a tremendous shock to you.” He started to open the door. “I will inform my assistant that you are awake. He will check on you when I am not here.”
He barely heard. He sank back into the bed, shaking, trying to process what he had been told. It couldn’t be true, and he wouldn’t give in and fully believe it without some sort of proof, but . . . if it was true, then . . .
“It’s my fault,” he whispered in horror. “It’s all my fault. They’re dead and I’m the only one left. Why didn’t I listen to El? Why didn’t I listen?!”
He fell into the pillow, his bleached braids spread out on the pillow around him.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,166
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry), Snakes Tolliver, Dr. Mendoza
Summary: A mission to Los Angeles leaves the group shattered. But even as flashbacks reveal what led up to the disaster, the present shows that not all is as it seems.
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
I Walk With You
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters from shows and any songs are not mine. Any other characters and the story are mine, albeit the basic premise of the plot comes both from a Hardy Boys episode called Sole Survivor and a role-play based on it that I did with Crystal Rose of Pollux. My story version is very different from the role-play in many ways, but many elements of the basic core plot are the same. And of course, fictional Rockapella only, dearies, as per their fictional backstory given in season 3 of Carmen Sandiego. No real-person fic here!
Chapter One
It was an average autumn evening when Snakes Tolliver, clever gambler and expert time-traveler (according to his descriptions of himself), left his apartment and started the walk to Slim Marcus’s casino. Usually he took public transport, but today he felt like walking. The weather was perfect, somewhat of a rarity in the Gardena section of Los Angeles. But in spite of his dislike of the heat, he had built a life for himself in the city and fully intended to stay.
The last thing he had expected to find was a dazed and dizzy man several chronological years younger than himself, stumbling around the corner of the next block. He also would have never expected to know the person.
“Scott?!” he said in stunned disbelief.
The young man looked up, his eyes haunted, his curly hair a flying mess, his dark fedora perched at an angle on his head. For a moment he stared at Snakes, haunted, unable to believe that he had really found someone he actually knew.
Disturbed now as well as worried, Snakes reached out and grabbed the Dying Informant’s shoulders. “Hey!” he commanded. “What’s wrong with you? What mission are you coming back from now?”
The Dying Informant trembled, reaching up to grip Snakes’ arms. “Sam . . .” He fell forward, shaking, and would have likely collapsed to the sidewalk if Snakes had not been right there to support him.
“You look like you just came out on the wrong end of an explosion,” Snakes frowned. “Did the crook you were after set you up?”
The Dying Informant shook his head. “It’s . . . it’s a long story,” he choked out. “A really long story. And . . .” He choked. “I came out of it better than some.”
Now Snakes could see tears chasing each other down the secret agent’s cheeks. He had known Scott was not stoic and emotionless, even though he was faithful and loyal to the cause, but this show of utter heartbreak definitely left the battered gambler shaken. “Okay, what happened?” he demanded. “Come on, we’ll sit on this bench and you tell me.” He tried to guide the Dying Informant to a green metal bench just behind them, but the agent stood still.
“I should really be getting back. . . . I didn’t mean to wander away from the site. . . . I guess I . . . I keep fighting fate and praying that I’ll find things are different than they really are.” He clutched tightly at Snakes’ hands now. “I keep thinking maybe I’ll find him wandering around too.”
“Find who?” Snakes tried again. “What’s going on, Scott? Is someone dead?”
That sent a shockwave through the agent that pierced him to his very soul. “Sean,” he practically whispered. “He died to save the rest of us.”
Uttering the dreaded words seemed to zap him of the remainder of his strength. He honestly was injured, and he swayed and fell against Snakes as the Southerner tried to brace himself for the impact.
Swearing under his breath, Snakes half-dragged Scott to the bench now and sat him down on it. Then, sitting next to him, Snakes began to examine for injuries.
“I knew something like that would happen someday,” he said. “You can’t be part of a dangerous thing like crime-fighting without it.”
“I know,” Scott mumbled. “We all knew. Any of us would have been willing to . . . to do what Sean did. But that doesn’t make it any easier to lose one of the best friends you could ever have.” He closed his eyes, but they snapped open at a frantic cry of “Scott!” in the distance.
Snakes started and looked over as a short brunet ran up to them. “Scott, why did you take off like that?!” he cried, his voice filled with the pain and agony that Scott also carried. “We thought . . . we thought you’d been seriously hurt and might go collapse in the street somewhere!” He barely seemed to notice Snakes was there, and Snakes didn’t attempt to draw any attention to himself.
The Dying Informant started and looked over at him. “El . . . Elliott . . . I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I thought I might find him . . . even though deep down, I knew I wouldn’t.” He got off the bench and limped to Elliott, who pulled him into a hug that he returned.
Now the tears were in Elliott’s eyes too. “I wanted that too,” he whispered. “But it’s not going to happen, Scott. It won’t. The Search-and-Rescuenet agents are there now and they can’t find anything either.”
Snakes swore again. He knew all too well the damage that explosive devices could cause, and he knew he didn’t want to see anyone suffer from it who didn’t deserve it, especially now that he had turned over a new leaf and was trying to go straight. But he felt awkward and out-of-place witnessing this highly personal scene. Part of him wanted to pack up and go; he was going to be late for work. The other part, however, didn’t like the thought of just leaving them here in such anguish, even though he knew there was very little he could do for them. Certainly he didn’t want to give them false hope. But another part of him wondered if there was any chance. The possibility shouldn’t be ignored, at least.
“Look,” he said at last, “I know a lot about explosives. Why don’t we walk back there and you tell me what happened. I know it looks bleak, and there probably really isn’t any hope, but sometimes weird things happen and people actually do survive big blasts.”
Elliott started and looked to him, as if noticing him for the first time. “Mr. Tolliver,” he said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I just stumbled across Scott,” Snakes gruffly replied. “Or he stumbled across me, however you wanna look at it.”
“We only met you a couple of times the last time we were in Los Angeles,” Elliott said. “And you’re willing to take time for us?”
Snakes shrugged uncomfortably. “I like Scott,” he said finally. “I think you’re all crazy to be in the line of work you’re in, but I respect that you feel it’s something you have to do. Right now, I feel like sticking with you is something I have to do, at least until I’ve seen the site myself.”
Elliott hesitated, but then finally nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” He tried to smile. “Scott had faith in you from your past meetings.”
“I know,” Snakes said. It had surprised him then and still did now, really. But it had touched him. Scott had seen the goodness in him that he had once tried to lock away out of bitterness and hurt.
Elliott kept an arm around Scott’s shoulders as they walked. Snakes stayed on Scott’s other side.
“I know you all must be shaken to Hell over this,” Snakes frowned. “But Scott seems even more shook up than you. When I first saw him, he was in a complete daze.”
Scott looked down. “It was my fault,” he whispered.
“What?” Snakes started. “How would it be your fault?”
“It wasn’t your fault, Scott!” Elliott cried. “If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I knew I had a bad feeling about going out there!”
“But we all agreed to do it anyway, even when Sean asked if we were sure!” Scott retorted. “It was a group decision. I guess we thought . . .” He swallowed hard. “We thought that if we knew about the feeling and were careful, we could stop anything bad from happening.”
“That’s normal,” Snakes said. “You can’t govern your lives just by feelings, after all.”
“But then I was the one closest to Sean when he lunged at that creep with the remote!” Scott burst out. “Sean realized before I did what was going on. And by the time I realized too, it was a split-second later . . . and it was too late.” Scott trembled violently. “Sean and that crumb struggled and fell . . . and the bomb went off. They took the worst of it. . . . We found the creep badly burned and dead and Sean . . . we haven’t found at all!”
“Could he have got buried under something?” Snakes frowned.
Elliott shook his head. “We’ve looked and looked. We moved rocks, debris, but he’s nowhere. We only found part of his tie. . . .” Elliott choked up at that and had to look away. He had been the one to find that heartbreaking and chilling bit of proof that Sean had been involved in the blast. He had just knelt, staring at it dumbly, praying it didn’t mean what it seemed to mean. But when nothing else could be found anywhere, what could he think?
Scott drew an arm around Elliott’s waist now, trying to offer some comfort. It had also been Elliott who had found Barry’s fedora when they had believed him dead in a bridge collapse. Bitterly Scott wondered why it always had to fall to Elliott, the gentlest of the group, to find such horrific things.
The blast site wasn’t that far away, really; it was where a new building was going up. As they approached it, Snakes frowned at the realization that he must have heard the explosion from his apartment. He had thought it was the construction work and paid it no mind at the time.
Barry was waiting for them as they made their way over, his eyes filled with the same haunted and numb look that Scott and Elliott had. Elliott swallowed hard at the sight. “Did they . . . have they found anything else?” he asked weakly.
Barry shook his head. “No.” His voice was clearly strained.
“Where did it happen?” Snakes queried.
“Right over there.” Barry pointed to an area near the middle of the still-standing skyscraper under construction. If he thought it odd for Snakes to be there asking questions, he gave no indication of it. Really, Snakes doubted that Barry even fully processed his presence.
Snakes made his way over to the spot and looked around. The Search-and-Rescuenet agents were everywhere, but they were losing hope and starting to disperse. Snakes could understand why; there was no place for anyone to be, at least not now that they had dug into every pile of debris in the area. He poked around for a bit, but had to concede that there was nothing to find. It wasn’t often that he had seen this level of utter obliteration from an explosion, but he knew it was possible.
“How bad off was the guy Sean was fighting with?” he asked as he stood. The three detectives had followed him over and were watching him, not expecting he would find anything. They weren’t surprised that he hadn’t.
“Bad,” Barry said flatly. “Third-degree burns on what was left of his body.”
Scott’s stomach rolled at the memory of finding the bloodied and torn remains of the madman who had set off the blast. When that was all that was left of him, and Sean had been locked in mortal combat with him at the time of the blast, what hope was there for Sean when they couldn’t find any trace?
“The ambulance already took him away,” Elliott interjected.
Snakes slowly nodded. “I’m sorry I can’t really be of any help,” he said quietly, sincerely meaning it.
“Thanks,” Scott said, his voice cracking. “For trying.”
“Yeah.” Snakes came back to them. He hesitated, then laid a hand briefly on Scott’s shoulder as he walked past. “I’ll see you.”
Scott nodded. “Yeah.” He looked down, trying hard not to completely lose it.
When Snakes had gone past, trudging his way over the mess back to the sidewalk, Barry looked to the others. “We should go too,” he said quietly, his voice cracking as well. “There’s nothing for us here.”
That pronouncement shattered Scott the rest of the way. But, choking back a despairing sob, he nodded.
Not trying to get him to speak, Elliott kept a firm arm around him and led him towards the gate. Barry walked on Scott’s other side. Memories swirled through their minds of what had led up to this nightmare, pounding and echoing the last strains of a world that was now gone.
****
“When twilight dawns and leaves are down. . . . And when you cry, I’ll be your tears. With every step, I’ll be your ground. . . .”
Sean set the incomplete lyrics aside, studying them again with a thoughtful look as he tapped his pencil on the desk. They had a new mission, one that was going to take them to Los Angeles, and he had hoped to finish the song first. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Judging from the clock, they needed to go right now.
“Sean?” Scott opened the door and peered into the room.
“I’m coming.” Sean stood, shoving the lyrics into his pocket as he headed for the door.
Elliott and Barry were waiting in the hall. Elliott seemed restless. “I don’t know why we were assigned to this case,” he frowned. “There’s a branch of ACME in L.A. Why don’t they handle it?”
“The Chief explained that to us,” Sean said. “Because of the nature of the case, the L.A. branch wanted us to come in on it to offer our expertise.”
Elliott sighed. “I know, but we could phone or email what we know.”
Scott looked to Elliott in concern. Elliott didn’t normally balk at the idea of missions. The only times he did were when he feared something terrible would happen.
“What is it, El?” he quietly asked.
Elliott looked to him, the truth clear in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just have a really bad feeling about us going to L.A.”
Sean frowned. Although he still liked to be skeptical and not accept every weird thing that came along, he knew by now that Elliott’s feelings were not to be lightly discounted. When Elliott felt uneasy about something, one way or another, something bad would happen.
“We could still back out,” he said. “You’re right that we wouldn’t have to be there in person.”
Elliott’s eyes flickered in visible relief, but he still looked uncertain. “We can’t really back out of every mission where I have a bad feeling, though. We’d probably be let go if we did that.”
“It doesn’t happen every time, though,” Scott said.
Sean nodded. “If it did, it could be chalked up to nerves.” He sighed, debating with himself. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to bring the case up when the Chief told me about it. I mean, people disappearing when it looks like the work of some nut cult? That sounds like bad déjà vu, especially for you two.” He looked to Scott and Elliott.
“And maybe that’s all my bad feeling is,” Elliott said. “Neither of us could stand the thought of anyone else being mixed up in a cult, especially if it’s anything like the one Caelius was running. That’s why we initially agreed to go.”
“Hopefully that is all it is,” Scott said quietly. “But what if it isn’t?”
Barry, who had been silent the whole time and absorbing the discussion, now looked to Sean. “There’s pros and cons both ways,” he said.
“I know,” Sean frowned. “That’s what makes this so difficult. I don’t really want to decide all of our fates in such a case. So I’ll put it to a vote. Who thinks we should go ahead and go?”
“Well . . .” Scott shifted. “We already told the Chief we would. But if you think we shouldn’t, El, we could tell her we’ve had second thoughts.”
“And I’m sure she would understand,” Elliott said quietly. “But I hate to do that to her.”
“We could be here all day discussing it,” Barry said. “I don’t think any of us really wants to do this. Maybe a better question is, how would we feel about not doing it?”
“Terrible, if the cult is like Caelius’s and they sacrifice innocent people,” Elliott said emphatically. “It’s just that . . .” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want any of us to end up sacrificed.”
Scott shuddered, remembering all too well what had nearly happened when they had tangled with Caelius’s cult. Elliott had been tortured and then tied to a slab, while Scott had been forced to kill him. . . . Of course Scott hadn’t done it. But it had certainly been one of their most dire close calls.
“Who all has gone missing?” Barry queried.
“Several people, mostly adults,” Sean said. “One of them is the brother of an ex-jewel thief. They used to live here in New York; their parents still do.” He sighed. “It was their parents who brought the case to the Chief’s attention. Then the L.A. branch of ACME called for our help around the same time.”
Scott cringed. “That would be horrible, to have a family member go missing.”
Sean gave a grim nod. “The ex-jewel thief is going nuts. He and his roommate-slash-best friend have been trying to find where his brother is, but they haven’t had any luck. He said that the guy, Mike, has been dabbling in Eastern philosophy for some time. He was experimenting with harmless retreats, and it’s definitely possible that he stumbled on the cult, since it would sound like something he’d be interested in.”
“So what’s the cult like?” Barry wondered.
“Oh, pretty much the same as any cult,” Sean said derisively. “They say a bunch of stuff on the surface that sounds really good. It’s only when you join that you start seeing the dark underbelly of it all.”
“Are any kids missing this time?” Elliott asked. “You did say mostly adults.”
Sean sighed. “There’s a teenage boy who went missing, but we’re not sure if that’s connected with this case.” He paused. “And Jeff and his uncle were hired to try to find him.”
Scott blinked in surprise. “So we’d probably run into them in L.A.”
“Probably,” Sean agreed.
“I think we should do it,” Elliott said at last. “Maybe if we’re careful, we can make sure that my bad feeling doesn’t come true . . . if it’s something that would come true at all.” He gave Sean a weak smile. “Maybe it is just nerves.”
Scott bit his lip, still highly uneasy. “If you say so, El. I don’t know what to think; I don’t like going against your feelings.”
“I don’t either,” Elliott said quietly, “but I also don’t like the thought of not taking the case. There aren’t a lot of ACME agents who’ve had experience with cults. We really might be able to help more than some others could.”
Sean still looked hesitant. With questioning eyes, he looked to Barry.
“I’ll go with whatever you decide,” Barry told him. “I don’t like disregarding Elliott’s feeling either, but maybe it is a case of being able to do something about it now that we’re informed.”
Sean finally drew a deep breath and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Then it’s a group decision. We’re going to L.A.”
****
He groaned as consciousness returned; the ringing of the explosion was still loud in his ears. He rolled onto his side, grimacing as several bruises cried out in protest. Flopping onto his back again, he covered his eyes with one hand. “Ugh. . . . I feel like I just came out on the wrong end of a zombie jamboree.”
“It’s good that you are awake to feel anything at all,” came an unfamiliar, accented voice.
He removed his hand in surprise, staring at a white-coated man with wild white hair and glasses. “Are you the doc?” he asked warily.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” the doctor nodded, pleased. “I am Doctor Mendoza.”
“And this is some kind of a hospital?” He tried to sit up, but cringed as another bruise wailed in outrage. Giving up, he sank back into the mattress.
“Yes; this is my hospital,” Dr. Mendoza said.
“So where are the others?” He frowned, looking around the room. “They should be here. . . . They must be worried sick! Unless . . .” He swallowed hard. “They’re patients too?”
Mendoza looked down at his clipboard. “No, they are not patients.”
“But you know exactly who I’m talking about,” he deduced, still wary.
“Indeed. Your friends.” Mendoza set the clipboard down at the foot of the bed. “They will not be joining you, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?” Angry now, he forced himself to sit up in spite of the bruises. “Don’t they know I’m here?”
“Oh . . . I suppose they do by now.” Mendoza looked at him very seriously. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Of course I remember what happened,” he snapped. “This unctuous creep brought out a remote to set off a bomb and I had to stop him! I did stop him.” He fell back, suddenly unsure of himself. “Didn’t I?”
“Yes, you stopped him quite nicely, but I’m afraid it didn’t save your friends.”
His brown eyes flashed. “What are you saying?!”
Mendoza met his gaze unwaveringly. “They are all dead, I’m sorry to say. You are the only survivor.”
“What?!” In spite of himself, the color drained from his face. “No, that can’t be right. They weren’t close enough. They couldn’t have been caught in the worst part of the blast.”
“You underestimated the strength of the bomb. It leveled the entire construction site.” Mendoza gently pushed on his shoulders. “But you have been through a great strain. You must rest.”
“I’ve been resting too much!” he retorted indignantly. “I can’t believe what you’re telling me. I won’t believe it without some proof!”
“Then proof you will have, but not until after you have regained some of your strength.” Mendoza pushed more firmly, forcing him down on the mattress. “Rest now. I will be back to check on you in an hour.”
He popped up again the moment Mendoza let go and headed for the door. “Your bedside manner is atrocious!”
“Perhaps, but I see no need to beat around the bush, so to speak,” Mendoza answered. “What use would it be to give you false hope?”
“You’re giving me false something,” he snapped. “If the whole construction site was leveled, how am I alive?!”
“It took hours to dig you out of the rubble,” Mendoza said. “And you have been in a bad way for a very long time.”
“I’m all bruised up from the blast!” he said in disbelief. “It couldn’t have been that long ago.”
“No, you are bruised because you were delirious and sprang out of bed, fighting with the staff and falling down stairs,” Mendoza told him.
He still didn’t believe it, but he said, “Okay, I’ll bite. How long has it been?”
“Almost a year to the day,” Mendoza informed him. “I will see that you are brought newspapers to catch up on the news. And of course, there is the television set.”
He was still staring. “A year?” That couldn’t be right. He had only been unconscious for several hours at the most. He was hurt from the blast, not from falling down stairs.
Wasn’t he?
Everyone else was still alive.
Weren’t they?
“I am sorry,” Mendoza said again. “I know it is a tremendous shock to you.” He started to open the door. “I will inform my assistant that you are awake. He will check on you when I am not here.”
He barely heard. He sank back into the bed, shaking, trying to process what he had been told. It couldn’t be true, and he wouldn’t give in and fully believe it without some sort of proof, but . . . if it was true, then . . .
“It’s my fault,” he whispered in horror. “It’s all my fault. They’re dead and I’m the only one left. Why didn’t I listen to El? Why didn’t I listen?!”
He fell into the pillow, his bleached braids spread out on the pillow around him.