ER: Into the Fire (6/17)

May 21, 2010 02:49

All disclaimers, notes, warnings and summary are in the Master post: Into the Fire


County General Hospital - 11:19am

Luka Kovac looked up at the clock, sighing as he removed his hands from the boy's chest. "Time of death, 11:18." The doctor looked back down at the stilled face in front of him, then pulled his gloves off with a snap. "Clean him up, and move him out into the hall. Haleh, call transport to take him downstairs." He walked out of the trauma room, removing the bloody yellow gown and goggles and throwing them away.

Luka entered the staff lounge, needing a few moments of peace before the next victim arrived. So far, he had counted around twenty major traumas. His last patient had been the fifth to die. He didn't know the status of those who had been taken upstairs for surgery, and he was almost afraid to call up and ask.

Quiet weeping drew his attention to the end of the couch, and he sat beside her wordlessly, putting his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. "Shhhhh," he whispered into her hair, smoothing it with his hand. "It's going to be all right."

"Oh, Luka... they're only children!"

"I know, Abby. I know."

Abby Lockhart took a few moments to compose herself, wiping the tears from her cheeks and leaning her head against the doctor's chest. "How is he?"

"He didn't make it," he answered softly. "He was dead before the helicopter landed, but I had to try." He paused, his eyes glazing over slightly in thought. "They said his name was Raul Martinez. Seventeen years old."

"Luka, I'm so worried about him," Abby said suddenly.

Kovac looked down at her upturned face, knowing exactly whom it was she was talking about. "He'll be all right, Abby."

"I wish I could believe that," she sighed. "Those kids, those boys, look at what they're doing. How many people have they killed already? How many have died here? How many are dead there? What could he have possibly been thinking, staying in there like that? Why didn't he leave when he had the chance?"

"The policeman on the radio, he said that Carter's led 84 people out of the building so far. The last group that came out said they were the last class on the first floor. Look at what he's done so far, Abby. Look at how many people he's saved by staying."

"But what about him? How will we know if anything happens to him?"

"As long as the students keep coming out, we will know that he is alive. He's alive, and he's doing what needs to be done to save the people in that building."

"He's already been shot at least once," she reminded him.

"How bad can it be, really? It's been over an hour, and he's still going." Luka took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. There had been a time when he had been very jealous of John Carter, but in the past two months he had come to understand just what his relationship with Abby was, and just how important they were to each other. "I know that you are worried about him, Abby. I am too. But how many more children would we be treating, how many more dead children would there be in the hallway, if he weren't there?"

"I don't know, Luka. I know he's saving them. And I know that he has to. He's Carter; that's just who he is." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth of Luka's embrace again. "I just wish that he didn't have to be that today."

Harry Truman High School (inside) - 11:22am

Donnie Wilson didn't know how his day had gotten so out of hand.

He'd gotten out of bed that morning, taken his shower and gotten dressed, just like any normal day. He'd eaten the eggs and bacon that his mom had put in front of him, grabbed his backpack, and kissed her goodbye, just like any normal day. He'd taken his dog, Max, outside with him and put him on his chain, patting his head and promising to take him to the park that afternoon. He'd walked down the street, waved at old Miss Frasier in her front window, and stopped at the corner to talk to Melvin, the newspaper man. It had been a completely normal day.

Then he'd gotten to Frank's house.

Joe was already there, as he was every morning, and they were standing in the garage. Frank held a gun, a big gun, in his hands, and he and Joe were laughing.

"Hey, guys!" Donnie had called out to them, tossing his backpack down in the corner.

"Hey, Donnie," Frank had answered. "What you doin' today?"

"Nothin'. Just goin' to school. Why?"

"We're goin' to school too, ain't we, Joe?" Frank had asked, and Joe laughed. Donnie looked back and forth between them; he had a feeling that they were laughing at some joke he wasn't in on.

"Oh yeah," Joe answered. "We're goin' to school today."

Donnie looked at them again, wondering if he should ask what they were talking about, or wait for them to tell him. Frank and Joe were his best friends, his only friends really. There were a lot of people, his parents included, who told him that they weren't good friends to have. He knew that they got in trouble sometimes; Frank had been arrested twice for shoplifting, and Joe was always in the principal's office for something or other. But they were always nice to him. They talked to him, listened to him, and understood him. That was something that no one else had ever done.

"Hey, Donnie," Frank asked quietly, leaning forward with the gun. "Wanna be famous?"

"Well, sure," Donnie had answered. Who didn't want to be famous? When you were famous, people knew who you were. Everyone wanted to be your friend. You got to drive fancy cars and all the pretty girls liked you.

He had no idea what Frank was going to suggest they do.

"See, we're going to school to get famous," Frank had continued, glancing at Joe. "We're going to be the most famous people in the city by the end of the day."

"Really?" Donnie had asked. "How? Whatchya gonna do?"

"We're gonna do this," Frank answered, shoving the gun he had been holding into Donnie's hands.

And that was how Donnie's day had gone from normal to unreal. He still didn't understand just why he had agreed with them. He certainly didn't want to do this. He hadn't fired a shot out of the gun in his hands yet, and he wasn't even sure he would know how to fire it if Frank told him to. He didn't even know what kind of gun it was. He just knew that if he fired it, it would be loud and it would hurt someone, and he didn't want to hurt anyone.

They were walking down the stairs to the first floor again, after having thoroughly checked the second and third. No one from up there had left, but Donnie hadn't really thought they would. The people on the first floor at least had the doors to the outside, and if they had to jump out the window they weren't far from the ground. They hadn't shot anyone since Joe had broken the window out of the chemistry lab after Frank got so mad at the history room kids for leaving.

Donnie hoped it stayed that way. He didn't like all this shooting. He didn't like hurting all these people. He wanted it all to be over. He wanted everyone to be all right again. He wanted to go home.

"Goddamnit!" he heard Frank yell, and snapped back to reality. "They're gone!"

Joe and Frank were running down the hallway, opening doors and checking inside. Donnie watched them in disbelief. Why were they doing this? What was the point? They had told him that they were going to be famous by the end of the day. But Donnie had a feeling that by the time this was done, all they were going to be was dead.

"They're all gone," Joe said, turning to look at Frank across the hall. "There's no one down here."

"Damn it!" Frank swore again, and Donnie could tell that he was thinking. "I told them not to leave! We shot that boy so they would know what would happen if they tried to leave! Why didn't it work?! It should have worked!"

John Carter stood on the landing between the first and second floors, listening to the boys below him. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard the one he had come to think of as the leader of the three yelling about the empty rooms. He felt courage that he didn't know he possessed come over him as he listened to them, shouting out their confusion and dismay over having lost so many of their victims. He heard their voices, sounding so much like little children who had had their favorite toys taken away. Carter chuckled quietly at the thought as he stood with his back to the window, looking down the stairs.

They were throwing a tantrum.

They were children.

And John Carter wasn't afraid of them any more.

"Did you hear that?" Donnie asked quietly of the other two, but they were too involved in their own heated discussion to hear him. Donnie stood silent, straining his ears to hear the sound that had caught his attention, and he heard it again. It was laughter. Someone was standing in the stairwell, laughing at them.

Donnie looked quickly back at Frank and Joe, wondering if he should tell them what he was hearing, but decided not to. Instead, he walked into the stairwell to see where the sound was coming from.

Carter saw the boy's feet first, and he kept laughing. He didn't know what the feeling that had taken control of him was, but he liked it. It was euphoric, better than any high he'd ever gotten from shooting up. He felt fearless, invincible, untouchable. He knew that he was drawing attention to himself, but he didn't care. If they wanted to hunt people, then he'd give them someone to hunt. And if they spent the rest of the day hunting him, then they wouldn't have time to worry about hurting anyone else.

Donnie walked slowly into the stairwell and looked up. He saw him standing there, silhouetted in the early afternoon sunlight that came through the window behind him. He looked young. He had bandages wrapped around his arm and hand. And he was laughing at him.

Carter stared down at the boy at the bottom of the stairs, and time froze. The eyes that looked up at him weren't soulless, as Carter had imagined they would be. They were young, and confused, and sad, and scared. He stopped laughing and looked at the boy, feeling the hardness in his heart suddenly soften to compassion. This boy did not look old enough to drive yet, and yet he was running around a school with a gun in his hand. Carter wondered if he was even old enough to understand what it was he was doing.

Donnie stood, transfixed, at the bottom of the stairs. Who was this man? He'd never seen him before, so he couldn't be a teacher. He was dressed too well to be a janitor, and he wasn't a cop. How had he gotten in here? What was he doing? Why was he standing on the stairs laughing at them?

He knew that he should call to Frank and Joe. This man, whoever he was, shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be standing there like that. But there was something about him that made Donnie feel somehow better about himself, about the things that were happening, about the things he was involved in. He had stopped laughing and was just looking at him, and in that man's eyes, Donnie saw someone who was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. This man, this man who had been hurt by Donnie's friends, was looking down at him like he cared.

"Donnie?" Frank called. "Donnie, where are you?"

Donnie didn't answer, although he knew he should. Frank would want to know about this man. But he couldn't bring himself to betray him. Donnie somehow knew that this man was here for a reason, and he just couldn't bring himself to tell Frank that he was there.

Carter looked down at Donnie, and saw the confusion in the young boy's eyes. He heard the approaching footsteps of the other two boys in the hallway, heading his way. Carter placed his fingers to his lips, hoping that the frightened child at the bottom of the stairs would understand, and started to walk away, to climb the stairs to the second floor.

The other boy didn't speak a word, and Carter smiled as placed his hand on the stair rail to begin his climb.

Donnie stood silent at the foot of the stairs, for some reason hoping that the man would manage to make it up the stairs before Frank or Joe saw him. But he was moving too slowly, and they were too fast. Frank followed Donnie's gaze up the stairs and saw a man walking up the stairs above them.

"Who the hell is that?!" he screamed at Donnie. "Who the hell is that!?"

John Carter heard the boy's voice below him, and he started to run.
Previous post Next post
Up