[GGH] Dark Drive, Eve of Emergency

[David Young Henning]

The sudden lucidity of Charlotte's speech awakened in Henning the dim possibility that there might be more to this situation than a lone driver with a dangerous sense of humor. Still... There's something you're not telling me, he recited in his head, saving it for later. But color me guilty of the same crime. If... When we make it to the hospital, I'll have something to say, about what happened to me since the last time we saw each other. I owe it to you, Charlotte... The truth.

Almost as soon as he had the thought, coinciding with her final plea- "I need you to trust me"- he heard a grating sound like a giant saw blade descending through wood and metal, completely divorced from the reality of the events around him. Then the other car was lunging towards them, the rusted panel of the passenger side door jumping into focus like a bad camera shot. Henning instinctively lurched to the right and felt the tires leave the road, skittering and popping over loose gravel. Something rattled around at floor level and hit him in the ankle, but he didn't notice. He managed to coax the Crown Vic back onto asphalt and the tires bit into the ensuing silence with transparent relief.

Meanwhile, the other driver had returned to his place on the far side of the road, still matching them pace for pace. Henning imagined he could hear dark laughter floating through the night like a lazy curl of smoke, although he knew it was impossible with the rain and thrum of their engines blocking out all else.

"Can you make out his license plate? The model of the car?" Henning gritted his teeth, tried to maintain their position on the increasingly treacherous asphalt. Then he said, without realizing he was expressing his desperation out loud, "Why am I still driving? I'm a Federal agent. I could pull him over and end this right now. But it's like I... I don't think we should stop. Charlotte, why can't I stop?"

Unseen, as if lying in wait, a tin of smoked salmon had lodged itself under the brake pedal.

[Emily Wyatt]

Emily returned to the lobby after a trip to the ladies. She had so much adrenaline going she was sure she would have to make an additional pit stop soon.

She stepped back into the lobby and her cellphone gave a chime indicating she had received a voice mail.

It must be George, reception is not the best further inside the hospital...

Emily listened to his voice mail and was relieved that George didn't want her leaving the hospital. She quickly redialed George's number to give him the make of Henning's vehicle.

I can't believe I forgot that rather important information, stupid Emily!

The other end rang once, twice, three times and she was convinced they would play phone tag yet again when the gruff voice of Sheriff Woodman came on the line.

Cut a little off gaurd she shakily said, "George? It's Emily again. Polly told me Henning drives a a black Ford Crown Victoria. I really appreciate the assistance! I probably ruined all of his evening plans You mentioned there was a gunshot victim here in the hospital as well?"

[George Woodman]

George got a dial on his cell phone. It was Emily. He picked it up "What is it, Emily?" he asked.

She sounded shaky on the other end, though she was able to identify the vehicle he was looking for. "A Black Ford Crown Victoria." he visualized for a bit, then was able to mentally map out what he was looking for. "Affirmative. Also, there was a gunshot victim in the hospital as well. However, remain at your post in the lobby. Once we sort out this business with Ms. Jacobs and Agent Dave, we'll talk to him next." he replied. "Is there anything else you've forgotten?" he added, sounding a bit stricter in his voice.

[Emily Wyatt]

Great I didn't think I could push him farther into a bad mood, today must be a new record

"Forget anything...um.."

Emily thought for a moment. Descriptions would probably help if they were out of the car.

"Charlotte is a slim curly redhead around 5'6" and Agent Henning is over 6' with brown hair and an athletic build....most likely wearing a suit and tie. Again thanks George I really appreciate your help."

[George Woodman]

"Very well, thank you for the descriptions. Just do your job and we'll be able to sort this out. George out." he said, shutting off his cell phone and groaning. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his night, but he had no choice. He drove faster and keep his eyes open, despite the heavy rain and wind surrounding him.

[Emily Wyatt]

After George hung up Emily stared at her phone for a moment. She clipped it back to her belt and let out a long sigh. Everything will be fine. She went back to pacing the lobby and hoped everyone would arrive soon...

[Charlotte Jacobs]

Charlotte was making herself a similar promise. If we make it to the hospital in one piece, or as many pieces as we started out in, anyway... I’ll try to find the words to tell you everything. Even if it sounds crazy.

When the other car tried running them off the road her grip on David tightened instinctively as he swerved the Crown Victoria to the right and partially off the road. A part of her wondered if unseat-belting had been a good idea. But she wasn’t about to peel herself away from his side... right now she believed that they were both drawing more than a little bit of security from the other. At least I am, anyway, she amended, as he steered the car back onto the asphalt.

“No... I can’t,” she replied, continuing to peer through the rain and wind to try and make out details about the other car. She suspected that she wouldn’t be able to. He was laughing... somehow she could hear it, a low, sinister chuckle, over the sound of the rain and the car engines. A shiver ran down her spine.

“... But it's like I... I don't think we should stop. Charlotte, why can't I stop?" She wasn’t entirely certain he realized he speaking aloud, but his words were what concerned her the most. Was he speaking metaphorically... or realistically?

Check the brake pedal her instincts screamed at her. She let go of his shirt and unwrapped her arm from around his waist.

“Watch out,” she warned him, before sliding back and wiggling her torso down by his legs. She couldn’t see hardly at all, so she was mostly navigating by feel. Something’s lodged under the brake pedal, she realized, finding something solid and cold. Grabbing it, she tugged it free. Pulling back, she stopped dead in her tracks. In her hand, with a dent and a red sticky smear on one side... was a tin of smoked salmon.

I hit him, she realised incredulously.

FUCK. I hit him. Her eyes shot to the car keeping pace with them. Oh... he’s pissed. A course of action started piecing itself together in her mind, and she slid back next to David. Taking a deep breath (and keeping the tin of salmon casually hidden), Charlotte turned to him.

“Okay... I’m apologizing now,” she told him with a nervous, lopsided smile. I hope this works... Then she folded herself underneath his arms, as to not disrupt his driving. Well, anymore than she already was, practically climbing across his lap. I can be embarrassed later. Rolling down the window she took another deep breath and levered herself partially out it, wind and rain whipping her face and hair...


And then she threw the tin of salmon as hard as she could at the other car.

[David Young Henning]

So intent was Henning on keeping an eye on both the road and his rust-red opponent that it was a second before he realized Charlotte had let go of his shirt. He heard her say something, voice muffled. Watch out? I am watching out for- Wha-

?!

He almost jumped in his seat, which, if he hadn't managed to compose himself in time, would have trapped Charlotte's shoulder painfully between the steering column and his leg. It appeared as though she'd dropped something on the floor by the accelerator, but what could be so important that she'd suddenly be possessed to look for it- especially at this, the worst of all times to be worrying about such things! Now he had to concentrate on the road, the other driver, not moving his legs and... not moving his legs. Thank God the other driver hadn't gone for a second attack...

She said she wasn't crazy, that none of this is because of her head injury... No, she said MAYBE it wasn't. Henning didn't like the way his thoughts were going. If she was the same woman he'd sat alone with all those months ago, listening to her quiet sorrow transform into clear-headed reasoning instead of hysterics, he'd have to believe her now...

Even when she lifted herself back up to seat level, holding something he couldn't quite see in her right hand and turning to him with blue eyes blazing in the dimness... Apologizing for something, he didn't know what... Even when, unannounced, she began clambering over his lap and rolling down his window while he twisted around in an attempt to maintain control of the car. Even then.

He winced slightly as something hard and rectangular in Charlotte's jacket pocket dug into his ribcage. "Can you at least tell me what you're doing?" he said, plaintively; then he barely had time to shout it again when the window cracked open a few inches and a hideous, breathy roar filled his ears. His vision was temporarily filled with a cloud of red hair, but by the time it had cleared, she was already halfway out the window-

"Charlotte!!"

Clumsily, he grabbed the back of her jacket with his left hand, the Crown Vic swerving from side to side. But she didn't seem intent on throwing herself out of the moving car, she was merely throwing whatever it was she'd found on the floor at the other driver's vehicle...

In all his years as a Field Agent for the Bureau, never before had he encountered anything that would have helped him to understand what had just happened, nor what was going to happen. Nothing he could remember, anyway...

[The Smoking Man]

The other car seemed hellbent on keeping pace with them, the unseen assailant's cigarette smoke disappearing steadily into the wind and rain outside. After a moment, it seemed the attacker was going to be lining up for another strike...but then it hesitated for a moment as Charlotte leaned out the window. The driver of the car was watching her for what she was doing, biding his time for just a moment -

Then the tin of salmon connected with the passenger side window of the rusted car, cracks spidering up through the thick pane and obscuring his view of the Crown Victoria. Unheard, he cursed, grimy fingers tightening around the wheel. "Shit," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the rusted car gave a sharp swerve, speeding up and swinging out wide and sidelong into the path of the other vehicle. Inside, Charlotte would be able to see the lit end of a cigarette dropping, presumably dropping from the smoker's lips with the force of his motions; then the interior of the car was full of flames, smoke pouring through the crack she had made in the window. The fire obscured the driver completely, only allowing the faintest silhouette of their assailant be seen, calmly lighting another cigarette with the flames around him....

Also the silhouette of a tiny hand, pressing against the window from the back seat only to rake downward and out of sight.

Henning, on the other hand, would only see the car swing out in front of him, driver somehow obscured in the darkness and the rain as it was about to collide with the Crown Victoria -

Then they would both see the same bizarre sight. They would both blink their eyes...and the car would be gone, the only trace of its existence a thin trail of smoke disappearing in the wind and a cigarette butt upon the road.

[Charlotte Jacobs]

Charlotte, still hanging partially out the window (semi-aware that David had snagged the back of her jacket) couldn’t help but stare in surprise as the tin of smoked salmon impacted with the passenger side window of the rusted car, sending a myriad of cracks spidering through the material. Holy fuck! The sheer relief she felt made her whole body go weak.

She was only consciously aware of seeing the flames filling the cab of the Smoking Man’s car, and the silhouette of him calmly lighting another cigarette. Unconsciously, however, was a very different story (the image of a tiny hand silhouetted against the glass tucked itself away in the back of her mind unnoticed).

Why do I have a feeling making him drop his cigarette was a really bad idea... she thought tiredly. If he was pissed before... I’ll deal with it as it comes. Her return inside the car... was far different than her exit. She had been too preoccupied to be fully aware of what she was doing. Now, however... she was very aware of the fact that she had practically crawled across his lap to get to the window. And had to do so again. She felt her face growing warm, and ducked her head a little to try and hide the blush. Charlotte nimbly eased herself back the way she came, suddenly rather thankful for the passing interest she’d had in gymnastics. This would have gone a whole lot more awkwardly and painfully otherwise.

Once completely removed from David’s lap, she sagged against his shoulder again. She was exhausted, and however much she’d been distracted from the agony she was in before... it was more than making up for the lack of attention she’d been paying it. She bit back a whimper of pain, focusing instead on the rusted car...

Only to see it disappear in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a wisp of smoke and a cigarette butt.


I have no idea how I'm going to explain this.

[David Young Henning]

Cold rain pelted the side of Henning's face through the open window, and for a moment it seemed to be the only thing moving in the world, everything else slowing down to a crawl as the rusted automobile slid into view through their windshield... His foot came down instinctively on the brake pedal, which sank to the floor without resistance, even though his head was saying it's too late, we're going to hit him-

The world spun as Henning's car lost its grip on the road and slid sideways through a smoldering patch of air where the other vehicle had been not seconds ago. Henning furiously twisted the wheel and managed to keep them from plunging into the forested areas on either side. They lurched to a halt, facing the way they'd came, the back end of the Crown Vic sticking dangerously over the center line. The sudden stillness was paralyzing... No screaming engines, no rattling objects on the floor...

And in the rear view mirror, no farewell taillights, no rust-red paint job, no Other Car whatsoever. Just an empty stretch of road ahead, and the myriad lights of a building whose sign out front spelled three blessed words:

GREENVALE GENERAL HOSPITAL

Henning sat staring at it, both hands still clenched around the wheel. Charlotte was leaning against him, eyes shut. She felt heavier, somehow, and her breathing was erratic. The exertion of... whatever it was she had done... had clearly taken its toll. Part of him felt like he should say something, demand an explanation this time; but another, stronger, part held his tongue... He remembered the chill touch of her skin, how it had felt somehow familiar, and the taste of rust in his mouth, not so much a memory, but a premonition...

I need you to trust me.

Lying unseen on the ground behind them, the dying embers of a cigarette butt rapidly extinguished themselves, and the road was dark once more.

[George Woodman]

George had spent the past half hour combing Greenvale for any sing of a Crown Vic. No one to his knowledge drove one in this town and few people would be out in the rain. "I should check by the hospital. If they are there already and Emily didn't notify me..." he expression became more stern.

The sirens of his truck nearly drowned out the sound of the rain, but visibility was still limited. "Why couldn't you have a brighter colored car, Agent Dave?" he groaned to himself. Around this time, however, he spotted a vehicle on the side of the road. He drove over the investigate and stopped behind it, still leaving the car on. The headlights revealed that it was indeed the car he'd been looking for. He immediately jumped out of the vehicle, yelling. "Hello! Agent Dave? Ms. Jacobs, this is Sheriff George Woodman! I'm here to help."

He ran over to the vehicle and looked in the window. There were two figures, illuminated by the headlights and red and blue sirens. They both matched Emily's description perfectly. The Agent seemed to still be figuring out what had happened to him. Ms. Jacobs was next to him, collapsed, unconscious or even dead.

"Agent Dave, take Ms. Jacobs and hop in the back. I'll drive us up the rest of the way." he said, in a tone that meant business. He then got Emily on the police radio in his car. "Emily, this is George. I found Ms. Jacobs and Agent Dave. I'm driving them the rest of the way. Make sure there's someone in the hospital ready to give her medical care." he ordered.

[Emily Wyatt]

Emily made what seemed to be her 30th lap around the hospital lobby when her police radio crackled to life and stopped her mid stride.

It was George...he found them!

Thank goodness!

Relief flooded her entire body. She was so glad she called George for help she knew he would be able set things right. He wasn't the sheriff of Greenvale for nothing!

"I copy. I'll get things rolling for their arrival up here!" She then turned and grabbed the attention of the two reception nurses.

"We have an injured woman on her way can you please page a doctor?"

[David Young Henning]

Henning's field instincts kicked in as a new pair of lights came cresting up the hill towards them, the red and blue flicker on top signifying help instead of danger. He'd managed to pull the car over to the side of the road, but there seemed to be something wrong with the engine... He could feel it rumbling soggily beneath them, so he turned off the ignition. Then he sat and waited as whoever was driving the police truck jumped out and strode towards them, shouting their names through the rain. Henning wondered if he was more shaken than he'd thought; at first, he'd looked around to see where this mysterious "Dave" person might be.

After that, things were a bit of a blur. The part of Henning that was insisting on concrete explanations for the events from before was now in complete control, leaving the rest of him to float dizzily behind like a helium balloon on a string. Sheriff Woodman had a loud, commanding demeanor, accentuated by his black Stetson and rather stern mustache that framed his thin lips with zero compromise. Between the two of them they managed to get Charlotte into the backseat; and then time seemed to skip ahead a few frames, leaving Henning blinking and sodden under the over-bright florescence of the hospital lobby. He and Charlotte were practically leaning on each other for support. Water dripped steadily from their clothes and pooled on the newly waxed floor tiles.

Someone was trying to take Charlotte from his arms, but instead of letting her go, he only held her tighter and said aloud, "If anyone's listening, I am a Federal Agent. But in the interests of maintaining the boundaries of my jurisdiction, I'd like to report a case of attempted vehicular manslaughter..."

[Emily Wyatt]

Emily watched as the ER doctor and two nurses swarmed around Agent Henning and Charlotte. The Agent seemed reluctant to let Charlotte go. Just what happened to them? They appeared like they've been through hell and back.

She took a step towards the pair but stopped short to take in what Agent Henning just said. Attempted vehicular manslaughter?

She glanced over David's shoulder and looked to George in wide eyed surprise. He seemed just as taken aback by the statement as she was.

Who would try and run them off the road?

Well she wasn't going to get any answers just standing there like a statue. She walked over to David and placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle smile.

"Agent Henning..David. Charlotte, she looks like she's about to collapse. " Then she pointedly looked at Henning and added, "So do you mister!"

She gestured to several of the chairs in the hospital lobby. "You should take a seat. Let the doctor and nurses check poor Charlotte out. While they do that, take a seat get a hot beverage and tell me and the Sheriff more about just what happened to the two of you."