riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2011-03-18 03:50 pm
riptide_asylum) wrote2011-03-18 03:50 pm
Entry tags:
"Smoked Out" (Other, 1985)
Title: Smoked Out
Rating: PG
Summary: Just another day out shopping in King Harbor...
It had turned into a melee. One moment, there’d been a peaceful protest going on down the end of the main street--Cody still didn’t know what it had been about--and the next minute, there were angry shouts, the popping explosions and acrid smell of smoke canisters being let off, and it seemed as though everyone on the street was fighting.
Nick and Cody froze outside the door of the jeweler where Cody’d just been trying to make a deal on an antique brass barometer. They exchanged a glance, and then ran for the action. It wasn’t that they were spoiling for a fight, but they’d both seen children among the protestors.
The smoke canisters made it hard to see, and harder to breathe. Within seconds, Cody had lost sight of Nick. He could hear sirens and shouted orders, still too far distant to be much help, but he could also hear the high pitched wail of a child.
A vehicle barged through the crowd and Cody jumped just in time, struck a glancing blow to the thigh. He limped on, cursing the driver. He could no longer hear the kid wailing, but in front of him a young woman lay on the ground.
He helped her up, struggling to breathe himself. She was gasping and whooping, in the grip of what looked to Cody like an asthma attack. Frantically he looked around and saw a clutch laying on the ground. He scrabbled inside it and came up with an inhaler. The woman’s eyes lit up and she grabbed for it with the last of her strength. Cody supported her as she breathed in the medicated vapor and as soon as the terrible frantic tension left her body, he hurried her away from the smoke.
The crowd was dispersing, and as Cody and his charge made it out into the clearer air, he saw the flashing lights of police and ambulance services parked a short distance away. On the sidewalk, a toddler knuckled its eyes, crying hoarsely. A uniformed woman was trying to soothe it.
Cody breathed a sigh of relief. The child had made it out safely. He didn’t pause, carefully supporting the woman he’d rescued toward the paramedic team.
Finally, he saw her safely into their charge--no, he knew nothing, no, he wasn’t hurt, no, he didn’t know who she was, no, he couldn’t sign anything--and was free to look for Nick.
He searched for ten minutes, becoming more and more frightened. The crowd had mostly dispersed save for those overcome by smoke or slightly injured in the crush: paramedics were treating people at the same, and now and then one of the fleet of white ambulances slid away, sirenless, in the direction of the hospital. There was a police cordon, and three men were arguing with uniformed officers, but none of them were Nick.
At last Cody saw Quinlan, hands on hips, berating a gaggle of journalists. Cody headed for him with something like relief.
“You put in your papers that anyone causing an uproar like this in King Harbor ain’t pro-life, do you hear me? They’re pro-getting their asses thrown in my jail is what they are. No outfit calling itself pro-life oughtta cause the kind of damage these people did today, and yes, I damn well do want you to print that. These people are dangerous, and it’s only luck that no-one was killed. Then where would their pro-life be, huh?”
Quinlan turned on his heel and marched off, ignoring the shouted questions that followed him. Cody fell in step beside him.
“Allen. With all your faults, I never figured you for one of these crazies, but I don’t mind lockin’ you up along with ‘em, if that’s what you want.”
By Quinlan’s standards, the greeting was positively polite, but Cody had no time for pleasantries. “When the smoke bombs went off, Nick and I ran in to try and save the kids.”
Quinlan grunted. “So now you’re playin’ firemen instead of cops. Wait’ll I call the firechief and tell him it’s his lucky day.”
“Quinlan...” Cody fought to keep his voice steady. “Nick and I got separated in the smoke. I’ve been looking for him ten minutes. Have you seen him?”
“I guess he rescued a pretty lady. Isn’t that what you fairy-tale heroes do while the rest of us fill out paperwork?”
“Quinlan! I--”
“Keep your hair on, Prince Charming.” Quinlan came to a stop beside a squad car and reached inside, pulling the radio from its holder. “Dispatch! The hospital given you names yet come in from this festerfuck downtown?”
The receiver crackled unintelligibly. “Ryder,” Quinlan barked into it. “Romeo yankee delta echo romeo. Male, mid thirties, black hair, six foot, 180 pounds. You got anything?”
There was another crackle. Cody strained his ears, but couldn’t make out even a single word.
Quinlan hung up the handpiece and turned to Cody with a shrug. “He’s at King Harbor Memorial. Sure hope you boys got insurance.”
Relief and terror warred in Cody’s chest. “What happened?”
For a moment, Quinlan’s expression softened. “I got nothing for you. Just that he’s there.”
Cody nodded dumbly. He turned and started back down the street toward the jeweler and the Jimmy.
“I’ll get your statement at the hospital, Allen.”
---
Cody waited forty-five interminable minutes in the hospital emergency waiting room. Every five, he bugged the assistant on duty, and every time a doctor or nurse appeared from the examination rooms, he jumped to his feet. But all that anyone would tell him was that Nick was still being assessed. And no, Mr Allen, please just wait, you can’t visit with him right now.
Cody was nearly beside himself. Nick was somewhere close, hurting, maybe frightened, maybe in danger of his life. And if one thing was sure, it was that he wanted Cody.
There was a commotion on the far side of the room, and Cody glanced up without interest. A patient was screaming, and medical staff converged from all directions. Cody looked back toward the corridor where the doctors and nurses kept appearing from--and saw a lone candy-striper standing, looking uncertain.
In a flash, Cody was out of his seat and beside the girl. She was round and dumpy with a sweet face and blonde curls to her shoulders. Her nametag read Penny.
Cody took one huge calming breath and made himself speak slowly. Somehow he found a vestige of his normal smile and dialed it up past ingratiating to captivating. “Penny, I need your help.”
She started nervously but smiled back. And at last Cody was following her down the line of examination cubicles, waiting with barely concealed impatience as she checked numbers and dithered, and finally--finally!--pointed down the hall. “Number 14a. But I shouldn’t have told you--I don’t know--”
Cody gripped her hands briefly. “Believe me, Penny. You should. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Her footsteps, quick and uneven, receded down the hall, and Cody drew back the heavy gray curtain across 14a. His pounding heart steadied as he saw his partner stretched out on the narrow bed.
Nick looked to be sleeping. Cody slipped inside, letting the curtain fall closed behind him, and went to Nick’s side. Gently, he laid one hand over Nick’s.
Nick’s eyes flew open. “Cody! Aw man--” he struggled to sit up. “I thought you’d never get here.”
Cody swallowed a sob. “Don’t sit up, buddy. It’s okay. They kept me out--you know what they’re like--”
“I know.” Nick settled for resting on his elbow and gripping Cody’s hand in his. “Did they say anything about how soon they’re letting me out of here?”
“They didn’t say anything at all.” Cody gulped. “I bullied a candy-striper into finding you for me. They wouldn’t tell me anything, not even why you were here.”
“That part’s easy.” Nick gestured at his left leg, and for the first time Cody noticed his partner’s jeans had been cut off at the knee. A long ragged red line, marked by neat black stitches, made its way across the muscle of Nick’s calf.
“Nick!”
“It’s not much more than a scratch. Some idiot drove a car through the middle of the protest, and when I jumped out of the way, I caught my leg on something. But I bitched up my ankle some, the one I twisted so bad that night at Fort Bragg, you know? They’ve taken x-rays, and last I saw there were three of ‘em standing round staring at ‘em like they were the Mona Lisa.”
“Oh, hell.” Cody remembered the night and the bar brawl they’d tried to control--two MP’s against an entire brigade, it had seemed like at the time. He’d come out with three broken ribs and a broken nose, and Nick had torn the ligaments in his ankle so bad it’d been two weeks before he could walk. “Is it broken?”
“Doesn’t hurt as bad as last time.” Nick shrugged and sank back against the small square pillow. “But I guess the experts’ll be along in their own sweet time to tell us the good news. How about you, man? You okay?”
“I’m fine. Maybe a bruise.” He touched his thigh where the car had hit him--probably the same car that had caused the damage to Nick. He winced.
“Maybe a bruise, huh?” Nick narrowed his eyes. “Sure you don’t need an x-ray while we’re here, pal?”
Cody lowered himself into the chair beside Nick’s bed. He didn’t release Nick’s hand. “All I need while we’re here is to be beside you, big guy.”
Nick grinned. “You got no idea how much better I feel now you’re here,” he admitted softly.
Cody squeezed his hand. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”
“I guess you do at that.” Nick sighed. “Hey, Cody.”
“What?” Cody leaned closer, listening to the seriousness in Nick’s voice. “What’s the matter?”
Nick stared into Cody’s eyes. “Promise me, man--”
Anything, Cody thought, squeezing Nick’s hand again. Anything you need...
“Promise me we’re not going barometer shopping tomorrow.”
Rating: PG
Summary: Just another day out shopping in King Harbor...
It had turned into a melee. One moment, there’d been a peaceful protest going on down the end of the main street--Cody still didn’t know what it had been about--and the next minute, there were angry shouts, the popping explosions and acrid smell of smoke canisters being let off, and it seemed as though everyone on the street was fighting.
Nick and Cody froze outside the door of the jeweler where Cody’d just been trying to make a deal on an antique brass barometer. They exchanged a glance, and then ran for the action. It wasn’t that they were spoiling for a fight, but they’d both seen children among the protestors.
The smoke canisters made it hard to see, and harder to breathe. Within seconds, Cody had lost sight of Nick. He could hear sirens and shouted orders, still too far distant to be much help, but he could also hear the high pitched wail of a child.
A vehicle barged through the crowd and Cody jumped just in time, struck a glancing blow to the thigh. He limped on, cursing the driver. He could no longer hear the kid wailing, but in front of him a young woman lay on the ground.
He helped her up, struggling to breathe himself. She was gasping and whooping, in the grip of what looked to Cody like an asthma attack. Frantically he looked around and saw a clutch laying on the ground. He scrabbled inside it and came up with an inhaler. The woman’s eyes lit up and she grabbed for it with the last of her strength. Cody supported her as she breathed in the medicated vapor and as soon as the terrible frantic tension left her body, he hurried her away from the smoke.
The crowd was dispersing, and as Cody and his charge made it out into the clearer air, he saw the flashing lights of police and ambulance services parked a short distance away. On the sidewalk, a toddler knuckled its eyes, crying hoarsely. A uniformed woman was trying to soothe it.
Cody breathed a sigh of relief. The child had made it out safely. He didn’t pause, carefully supporting the woman he’d rescued toward the paramedic team.
Finally, he saw her safely into their charge--no, he knew nothing, no, he wasn’t hurt, no, he didn’t know who she was, no, he couldn’t sign anything--and was free to look for Nick.
He searched for ten minutes, becoming more and more frightened. The crowd had mostly dispersed save for those overcome by smoke or slightly injured in the crush: paramedics were treating people at the same, and now and then one of the fleet of white ambulances slid away, sirenless, in the direction of the hospital. There was a police cordon, and three men were arguing with uniformed officers, but none of them were Nick.
At last Cody saw Quinlan, hands on hips, berating a gaggle of journalists. Cody headed for him with something like relief.
“You put in your papers that anyone causing an uproar like this in King Harbor ain’t pro-life, do you hear me? They’re pro-getting their asses thrown in my jail is what they are. No outfit calling itself pro-life oughtta cause the kind of damage these people did today, and yes, I damn well do want you to print that. These people are dangerous, and it’s only luck that no-one was killed. Then where would their pro-life be, huh?”
Quinlan turned on his heel and marched off, ignoring the shouted questions that followed him. Cody fell in step beside him.
“Allen. With all your faults, I never figured you for one of these crazies, but I don’t mind lockin’ you up along with ‘em, if that’s what you want.”
By Quinlan’s standards, the greeting was positively polite, but Cody had no time for pleasantries. “When the smoke bombs went off, Nick and I ran in to try and save the kids.”
Quinlan grunted. “So now you’re playin’ firemen instead of cops. Wait’ll I call the firechief and tell him it’s his lucky day.”
“Quinlan...” Cody fought to keep his voice steady. “Nick and I got separated in the smoke. I’ve been looking for him ten minutes. Have you seen him?”
“I guess he rescued a pretty lady. Isn’t that what you fairy-tale heroes do while the rest of us fill out paperwork?”
“Quinlan! I--”
“Keep your hair on, Prince Charming.” Quinlan came to a stop beside a squad car and reached inside, pulling the radio from its holder. “Dispatch! The hospital given you names yet come in from this festerfuck downtown?”
The receiver crackled unintelligibly. “Ryder,” Quinlan barked into it. “Romeo yankee delta echo romeo. Male, mid thirties, black hair, six foot, 180 pounds. You got anything?”
There was another crackle. Cody strained his ears, but couldn’t make out even a single word.
Quinlan hung up the handpiece and turned to Cody with a shrug. “He’s at King Harbor Memorial. Sure hope you boys got insurance.”
Relief and terror warred in Cody’s chest. “What happened?”
For a moment, Quinlan’s expression softened. “I got nothing for you. Just that he’s there.”
Cody nodded dumbly. He turned and started back down the street toward the jeweler and the Jimmy.
“I’ll get your statement at the hospital, Allen.”
---
Cody waited forty-five interminable minutes in the hospital emergency waiting room. Every five, he bugged the assistant on duty, and every time a doctor or nurse appeared from the examination rooms, he jumped to his feet. But all that anyone would tell him was that Nick was still being assessed. And no, Mr Allen, please just wait, you can’t visit with him right now.
Cody was nearly beside himself. Nick was somewhere close, hurting, maybe frightened, maybe in danger of his life. And if one thing was sure, it was that he wanted Cody.
There was a commotion on the far side of the room, and Cody glanced up without interest. A patient was screaming, and medical staff converged from all directions. Cody looked back toward the corridor where the doctors and nurses kept appearing from--and saw a lone candy-striper standing, looking uncertain.
In a flash, Cody was out of his seat and beside the girl. She was round and dumpy with a sweet face and blonde curls to her shoulders. Her nametag read Penny.
Cody took one huge calming breath and made himself speak slowly. Somehow he found a vestige of his normal smile and dialed it up past ingratiating to captivating. “Penny, I need your help.”
She started nervously but smiled back. And at last Cody was following her down the line of examination cubicles, waiting with barely concealed impatience as she checked numbers and dithered, and finally--finally!--pointed down the hall. “Number 14a. But I shouldn’t have told you--I don’t know--”
Cody gripped her hands briefly. “Believe me, Penny. You should. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Her footsteps, quick and uneven, receded down the hall, and Cody drew back the heavy gray curtain across 14a. His pounding heart steadied as he saw his partner stretched out on the narrow bed.
Nick looked to be sleeping. Cody slipped inside, letting the curtain fall closed behind him, and went to Nick’s side. Gently, he laid one hand over Nick’s.
Nick’s eyes flew open. “Cody! Aw man--” he struggled to sit up. “I thought you’d never get here.”
Cody swallowed a sob. “Don’t sit up, buddy. It’s okay. They kept me out--you know what they’re like--”
“I know.” Nick settled for resting on his elbow and gripping Cody’s hand in his. “Did they say anything about how soon they’re letting me out of here?”
“They didn’t say anything at all.” Cody gulped. “I bullied a candy-striper into finding you for me. They wouldn’t tell me anything, not even why you were here.”
“That part’s easy.” Nick gestured at his left leg, and for the first time Cody noticed his partner’s jeans had been cut off at the knee. A long ragged red line, marked by neat black stitches, made its way across the muscle of Nick’s calf.
“Nick!”
“It’s not much more than a scratch. Some idiot drove a car through the middle of the protest, and when I jumped out of the way, I caught my leg on something. But I bitched up my ankle some, the one I twisted so bad that night at Fort Bragg, you know? They’ve taken x-rays, and last I saw there were three of ‘em standing round staring at ‘em like they were the Mona Lisa.”
“Oh, hell.” Cody remembered the night and the bar brawl they’d tried to control--two MP’s against an entire brigade, it had seemed like at the time. He’d come out with three broken ribs and a broken nose, and Nick had torn the ligaments in his ankle so bad it’d been two weeks before he could walk. “Is it broken?”
“Doesn’t hurt as bad as last time.” Nick shrugged and sank back against the small square pillow. “But I guess the experts’ll be along in their own sweet time to tell us the good news. How about you, man? You okay?”
“I’m fine. Maybe a bruise.” He touched his thigh where the car had hit him--probably the same car that had caused the damage to Nick. He winced.
“Maybe a bruise, huh?” Nick narrowed his eyes. “Sure you don’t need an x-ray while we’re here, pal?”
Cody lowered himself into the chair beside Nick’s bed. He didn’t release Nick’s hand. “All I need while we’re here is to be beside you, big guy.”
Nick grinned. “You got no idea how much better I feel now you’re here,” he admitted softly.
Cody squeezed his hand. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”
“I guess you do at that.” Nick sighed. “Hey, Cody.”
“What?” Cody leaned closer, listening to the seriousness in Nick’s voice. “What’s the matter?”
Nick stared into Cody’s eyes. “Promise me, man--”
Anything, Cody thought, squeezing Nick’s hand again. Anything you need...
“Promise me we’re not going barometer shopping tomorrow.”