Saturday 14 May 2011

Panic (Part 3)

River, waiting outside the heavy double doors, cast her mind over the events of last night. After seeing Carlton, both girls had recovered their appetites and had eaten a good dinner in a restaurant just opposite the hospital, in case any more news came. Then they had gone back to River's flat -- neither feeling ready to go back to Carlton's empty house, even though it was much bigger. They had slept on the sofa in shifts, in case a call came from the hospital. And, at last, early this morning, it had come.

The doors swung open, and Louise came out. Her eyes were glittering suspiciously, but her face was calmer. "Your turn," she smiled, "Thanks for giving us some time alone."

"No problem," replied River. "How is he?"

"Not bad, I suppose," said Louise, "Considering... anyway, you can go in and see for yourself. I'll wait outside."

Inside the ward, Carlton lay in the same bed as he had been last night, but River was relieved to see that he no longer had the life support machine beside him and seemed to be breathing normally. Tubes were still wired into his hands and one was taped under his nose, but it was such an improvement from the last time that River couldn't help herself breaking out into a relieved smile.

"Mark!"

"It's sir as soon as I get out of bed, understood?" he said, and tears came to River's eyes as she saw the twinkle back in his.

"Understood." She pulled up a chair beside him. "God, you gave me such a fright! How are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been shot," he said, looking up at her. He hated feeling so pathetic, just lying there. "But I'll live."

"I'm glad to hear it."

There was a slight, awkward, pause, and then Carlton brightened. "Hey, Kate, can you do me a favour?"

River raised an eyebrow. "Sure, but it's back to 'River' as soon as you get out of bed."

He chuckled. "Fine, Kate. Help me sit up."

"You're supposed to be resting."

"Like hell I am. Help me up." And, when she didn't move, "If you don't, I'll try and do it myself. And then I'll rip out all my monitors and wires and probably fall into a coma again."

Knowing that she wouldn't put it past him, River plumped his pillows up behind him and raised him slowly into a sitting position. Then something clicked. "Again? You mean, it's happened before?"

Carlton shook his head dismissively. "Last night, after the anaesthetic. Only for a few hours. It's nothing, I'm fine."

"What?! Why wasn't I told this?"

"Calm down, I'm fine, like I told you. Anyway, I've something to show you. Look in the folder on that table over there."

River took it, and opened it up to see a couple of black and white photos. "What is this?"

"CCTV footage from the day that boy was killed. I've had an I.D. from his school: a Daniel Wyatt, aged 16, who apparently loved old buildings, which was probably why he investigated it in the first pla-"

"Wait, what?" River broke in. "You're still trying to solve this case?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Carlton seemed completely confused.

"Well, for one thing, the last time you tried you ended up shot. Secondly, like I said, you're supposed to be resting, and I don't think solving crimes comes under that category. And thirdly, because we know who killed the boy, but he had a balaclava on, remember? CCTV footage won't help you much."

Carlton only considered the third one worth answering. "That's why I got it. Because I don't think the man who shot me is the same one who shot the boy. So I took a look at who went into the house that day, other than the boy."

River took a closer look at the photos. Three men were entering the house together. One had a balaclava over his head, and was about the height and weight of the man who had shot Carlton. Another had long blond dreadlocks that obscured his face. The third was wearing a large dark overcoat, the right arm of which hung oddly.

"Is that...?"

"A prosthetic, I think," replied Carlton, in response to River's pointing arm. "Who would you choose, out of the three?"

Answer (highlight to read): It was the man with dreadlocks. The man with the balaclava was a very good shot, as shown by the fact that his bullet hit Carlton exactly at the wrong (or right) angle. However, several shots were randomly fired before one hit the boy. The man with a prosthetic could not have fired a gun, which needs two hands to load (and it would have needed reloading after so many misses).

Tuesday 10 May 2011

Panic (Part 2)

"Good morning."

River opened her eyes to see a room of blinding white. She blinked, and the room began to come into focus, along with a middle-aged man standing over her. She blinked again.

The man finished writing on some chart above her head and sat down in the chair next to her. "I'm Dr. Bright. What's your name?"

River took a few breaths before answering, still feeling as though her head was stuffed full of cotton wool. "Kate River."

She took a good look around the room for the first time and recognised it as a hospital. She was shielded from whoever was next to her by green curtains either side of her bed.

"What - what happened?" she asked, only vaguely recalling being carried in on a stretcher.

"You went into shock, Kate," replied Dr. Bright, shining a light into her eyes. "Nothing to worry about. It's your body's way of protecting itself, and it shut down. Still, it was lucky that you were on the way to hospital when you passed out. Can you follow my fingers with your eyes, please?"

River obediently did so. "How long have I been out?"

"About five hours," replied Dr. Bright.

"Five hours!" River exclaimed in shock. "I don't - what happened - I..." Suddenly her breath caught in her throat as she remembered. Slowly, she raised her right hand to her face, and focused in on it.

Carlton's blood still coated her hand. She nearly screamed, but caught herself just in time. "What - what happened to him?" she heard herself say.

"Lie back down and I'll tell you," said Dr. Bright, firmly but kindly. River glared but did so. "Now, your friend was taken up to surgery as soon as he arrived. He was in a bad way."

River started to shake, and Dr. Bright wrapped another couple of blankets around her. "Oh my god," she whispered again. "What - what happened? Why didn't his protective vest work?"

"The vest would have protected him just fine, but Mr. Carlton was very unlucky. The bullet hit him just at the neck where the vest met his shirt, and projected downwards into the torso, piercing one of his lungs and causing severe internal bleeding. He was taken straight into surgery, where he is now."

River nodded, trying not to faint again. The edges of the room had started to go misty and grey, and she heard a ringing in the distance. She took several deep breaths, and a bit of colour began to return to her cheeks. "I must go to him."

Dr. Bright pushed her back onto the bed. "Lie back down," he ordered, but his tone was kind. "Firstly, because although you are doing well, but you still need to rest. Secondly, because Mr. Carlton is still heavily sedated and in intensive care, so you can't see him. Thirdly, because there's someone who needs you more than he does right now. Can I bring her in?"

River nodded, and Dr. Bright left for a moment, returning a few minutes later with a girl walking beside him. A girl, whose wildly curly hair, big eyes and a pale face stained from crying, made her seem a lot smaller than she really was.

"Louise," River said, wrapping her arms around Carlton's teenage sister. "Louise, I'm so sorry." Louise said nothing, just held her.

**

They had only been waiting for two and a half hours, but it felt like several days. Neither girl could speak, they just sat there, side by side, waiting for the doctor to come in with news. Whenever anyone walked past, they both jumped, their hands gripping each other's in anticipation. But, inevitably, the nurse walked past their bed, and their hands relaxed. They would exchange a look, which said yes, I know. But at least it's not bad news. And then they would go back to their waiting in silence.

Louise was the first to break it. "He won't leave me, will he?" she said, in a tiny voice, not looking at River, just begging to herself.

River looked at her. She was young, too young to have to go through this. But wasn't everyone? She, too, felt too young to cope with it all. She squeezed the younger girl's hand. "I told him not to."

Louise made a noise which was half way between crying and laughing. "But he never listens to you."

River gave a small smile. "This time, he will." She paused, wondering whether they should continue the conversation. "He's strong, your brother."

The door at the end of the ward swung open, and a male nurse with a clipboard came down and stopped opposite River's bed. Both girls took a sharp intake of breath, waiting for the news.

The nurse smiled kindly at them. "The surgery appears to have worked," he said. "The bullet has been removed safely."

This last bit of good news was too much for Louise, who burst into tears. River, on the other hand, had picked up a note of caution from the nurse. "But?"

"But," he began again, "Mr. Carlton reacted badly to the anaesthetic. He's been moved into intensive care and is on a respirator."

Louise looked up. "Can we see him?" she asked eagerly.

The nurse hesitated. "He needs plenty of rest, but provided you keep him calm and don't touch the equipment,  I can let you have a couple of minutes," he replied.

**

"Mark!" Louise ran the whole length of the ward to the bed, skidding to a stop just short. Nervously, she stretched out a hand to touch her brother's, lying on the bed, being careful not to pull out the tube attached to it.

At the light touch, Carlton's eyes flickered open momentarily.

"Mark!" cried Louise again, and tears fell down her cheeks and dripped onto the blanket. "Oh, Mark, I knew you'd make it."

He was so pale, River thought. Too thin. He was a tall man, and regularly towered over her, but he was swamped by the blankets, tubes and machines that seemed to be attached to every part of his body. His eyes held neither that infectious sparkle that annoyed the hell out of her, nor that sharp detecting spark that she loved so much. "Hey, Mark," she said softly, and his lips quivered in a silent reply.

"What did you say?" asked Louise, leaning in closer so she could hear the silent words. River touched her shoulder to bring her back; she was dangerously near the machine that caused the artificial rise and fall of his chest.

"I think he said, don't cry on my blanket," she said with a small smile, and was relieved to see the faint twitch of his lips and a tiny nod in reply.

At that moment the nurse came back in. "You need to leave now," he said, "Mr. Carlton needs to rest. You may be able to return in the morning, if there has been no worsening."

River nodded and began to leave, but Louise stayed for a moment longer, squeezing Mark's hand. "Bye," she whispered, before following River out of the room.

To be continued...

Monday 9 May 2011

Panic (Part 1)

Detective Inspector Mark Carlton gingerly turned the body over with his foot. The boy looked so peaceful he might have been asleep, had it not been for the small bullet wound in the side of his head. As he bent down to examine the body, he heard a call from the other side of the room.

"Sir?"

Carlton looked up. "What is it?"

His friend and assistant Katherine River pointed to the window in the dilapidated house. "I've found your man's bullet," she said, gesturing to a small hole in the window frame. A lead bullet was lodged there.

Carlton frowned, and checked the body again. "It can't be," he said, rising with a puzzled expression on his face. "No exit wound. The bullet must still be in his head." He joined her by the window. "Hey, there are more. Five - six bullets have struck the window frame before they hit our victim."

He returned to the body, searching through the pockets for anything that might identify him. The pockets of his jacket were empty, but crumpled in the bottom of his trouser pocket was a bus ticket. Carlton flattened it out to examine it. "Printed today..." he murmured. "From Grebe Lane -- that was probably his school -- to Knights Road, that's just outside here. But the question is, why did he come into this building?"

"No," came an ominous voice. "The question is, why did you?"

Carlton and River both jumped as a man, wearing black clothes and with a balaclava covering his face, came into the room. His right hand held a heavy gun, his left was extended towards Carlton. "Give that here," he growled.

In an easy move, Carlton had the bus ticket out of sight and his own gun cocked at the man. "Scotland Yard," he said in his commanding voice. "Drop it!"

The man didn't move. "I''ll shoot you. Hand that ticket over."

"Oh, sure. Add murder of a police officer to your list of crimes. Smart move, pal." Carlton spoke confidently. "One more chance. Drop the piece."

And then everything seemed to happen in the wrong order. The man slowly lowered his gun -- it was smoking? Why is it smoking? -- and disappeared out of the door. Then River screamed, loud, too loud. It hurt his ears, went on and on. Why wasn't she stopping? Why hadn't it stopped? And then he realised that it wasn't her scream any more, it was his own ears, ringing. And then came the bang, louder than he had imagined. Without any recollection of having moved, Carlton noted that he was on the floor. How had he got there?

And then came the pain, at first a dull ache, then worse and worse, like a hammer to his chest. But that was just the protective vest, that's what happened when a bullet bounced off it, right? The pain would fade, he'd be left with a bruise.

His sight was going, the room blurred. Why isn't the pain going? he wondered, Why does it still hurt?


And then everything went black.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" screamed River, as Carlton's eyes went out of focus. "You are staying with me, Carlton, do you hear? You are not leaving me! Don't you DARE!"

She yanked at his vest, trying to get it off. Why hadn't it protected him, what was wrong? Too late to worry about that now. She pulled the vest off and tore open his shirt, popping half the buttons off.

There was blood. Far, far, too much blood. River began to panic. She stabbed the numbers into the phone, 9,9,9. Get him an ambulance. Get him to hospital, now. She choked out their location into the phone, barely knowing if the operator could hear her through her panic and tears.

"Come on, come on!" River was sobbing properly now. "Carlton, stay with me, come on, just a few more minutes."

It felt more like hours before she heard the beautiful sound of sirens, the room filling with flashing blue lights. River stumbled over to the door, but her legs gave way with relief as the paramedics came into the room. What happened to him? She thought she heard someone say.

"It was a man... he shot him," River murmured. The room began to sway before her eyes, everything was blurry.

"Are you alright?" One of the men came over to her. "You look pale."

"Fine..." whispered River, "I'm... fine."

Then everything went black.

To be continued...

Monday 2 May 2011

The Graveyard Pearl

"This place gives me the creeps," muttered River to herself, as she shone the narrow beam of her torch around the darkened graveyard. She could see nothing but row upon row of dark grey tombstones.

Not for the first time River wondered why she was doing this. She and Carlton were supposed to locate a priceless black pearl, but she had never expected that it would involve creeping through graveyards in the middle of the night. They were supposed to approach the house undetected through the graveyard, sneak into the church through the back window, search the coffins made by Jack Frazer, find the pearl, and get out before anyone saw them. That was, unless they got caught by the bodies in the graveyard, or the ghosts, or the vampires, or -

A low moan came from in front of her, and a huge black shape appeared from the shadows. It stumbled towards her, stretching out its hands, its face illuminated from below casting a shadow on its white face and sunken eyes.

Its face...

“Sir?” River called, and shone her torch directly in the spectre’s face. She was half relieved and half annoyed to make out Carlton in the gloom, shaking with silent laughter.

“That wasn’t funny!” she hissed, as he moved out of the beam of her light. “Now for god’s sake, grow up!”

“You should have seen your face,” he chuckled.

“Shut up and grow up,” she snapped. “Let’s do this, and get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Scared, are you?” he taunted.

“Only of the fact that I might end up killing you before the night is over,” she retorted.

Despite their continual bickering, the pair made a good team. It wasn’t long before they had reached the church, forced open a low window at the back and made their way through to the place where the coffins were kept.

“Great,” sighed River sarcastically, as they found not one but three coffins in the back room. “And I suppose we have to search all of them.”

Carlton gave her a grin as he prised the lid off the first one. “Hope you’re not squeamish, then.”

The first coffin belonged to a Mr Taylor, an elderly man who had been ill for several years before he passed away a few days ago. His wrinkled face at peace now, his cheeks sagging a little. Whilst River held the torch and the coffin lid, Carlton quickly rifled through the man’s suit pockets, making his search as thorough as possible.

“Nope,” he sighed, as he came up empty-handed. “Time for the next one.”

The middle coffin, according to the brass plaque on the top, contained the body of a Miss A. Alcott. She was dressed in a brightly-coloured orange dress, covered with flowers. A large brass peace symbol hung around her neck, and a large amber stone sat in a ring on her finger. Carlton searched the coffin thoroughly too, though the search was quicker as Miss Alcott had no pockets.

Having found nothing, they turned to the third coffin. However, it was empty inside, except for a small note:

To be filled by a Dr Reed, on 14th --JF 

“Ominous,” noted River. “The 14th is tomorrow. Do you think this Jack Frazer is as innocent as he seems?”

“Nothing so sinister,” replied Carlton. “Reed is my doctor. He died of cancer last week, but the coffin won’t be filled until after the autopsy is finished tomorrow. However, you’re right, it doesn’t appear that Frazer is as innocent as he seems.”

“Why not?”

Carlton indicated a groove next to the name plaque on the front. Sliding a knife in, he slipped the panel off the front, revealing a small hollow.

It was empty.

“Dammit,” cursed Carlton. “I was sure it was in here.”

“Maybe someone else got here before we did,” suggested River. “Can we even be sure that Frazer stole it in the first place?"

Carlton shrugged.

“And all this for something smaller than a fingernail,” sighed River.

“Fingernail,” gasped Carlton. “That’s it, River, you’ve got it!”

“Got what?”

Carlton grinned. “I know where the pearl is,” he practically sang.

Answer (highlight to read): The pearl was hidden inside Miss A. Alcott's ring. The ring was what is known as a poison ring; the stone slides out to reveal a hidden chamber.