Fugitive

Chapter 28

I woke hazily. I don't know how long I'd been lying there. Now there was a woman kneeling over me. Her features were fuzzy but I could detect panic in her voice. She was on the phone. I tried to reach out but my arm wouldn't move. I felt slight pressure on my upper arm. Her hand. I slipped out of consciousness again. Only to wake up when medics arrived. There isn't much I remember. But I have an image of lying on a stretcher in the ambulance and the same woman sitting down next to me. I woke to the sound of an irritating beeping. Chatter from outside the door. A sterile smell, and then a hint of a more bacterial or infectious smell. It was warm. Almost too warm. My arm was hooked up to an IV and I was wearing a thin gown. The hospital. A clock ticked obnoxiously loud on the wall. After several ticks, I sat up and lifted my arm. Except I couldn't. The arm that wasn't attached to the IV was cuffed to the railing of the bed. I groaned. There was a pain in my chest, that I couldn't place directly. I moved my hand slowly underneath the sheets and under my shirt. There was a large bandage there and what appeared to be a tube going into the side of my body. I could see my bag on the chair across the room. There was a TV on the wall. Keeping up with the Kardashian's or some crap was on. It was on mute anyway. I drew my eyes away. The window was solidly locked. My bag looked a bit thinner than before. The police had probably been here. Probably searched the bag, found the guns, got rid of them. I rested my head back on the pillow. My mouth felt dry. There was pain, everywhere. I found myself trying to remember what happened. Someone had shot me. That part was painfully obviously. Literally. It wasn't Dennis. Judging by the way he had high tailed out of the room, he didn't know who it was either. I looked around for any indication of the date. There was nothing. At that moment, a nurse came into the room. Her eyes widened slightly as she came in, before they returned to normal. She hadn't expected to see me awake. "Good morning Mr Rogers", she said. She held a needle in her hand. "Where am I? How long have I been here"? "You're in hospital. You came in the ambulance two days ago". I yanked my arm against the handcuffs testing their durability. As expected no give at all. "I have to get out of here", I gritted my teeth. The nurse looked a tad panicked. I yanked my wrist several times trying and failing to loosen the cuffs. The nurse pressed a button and within seconds there were two men inside the room pinning my arms down while I was injected with the needle the nurse had been holding. A wave of tiredness washed over me. My eyes were drooping. Still I struggled from the men holding my arms. The feeling of literally being held down made me feel so helpless. Within a few seconds, I was completely out of it once more.

"... a few questions. Then we'll be on our way". "I'm sorry but you can't go in right now. He panicked when he woke up before, which didn't help his condition. It's vital he gets as much rest as possible to insure recovery". My eyes opened. Everything was heavy. It was like I was weighed down. Nothing in the room had changed. Except the light, which had been switched on and blinds drawn across the window. I could see a detective through the open crack of the door. He glanced in and saw me, eyes open, awake. "He's awake". The nurse moved in front of the door and looked in on me. She visibly sighed. She nodded at them. "just let me check everything first". She walked in shutting the door behind her. "How are you feeling"? "Sore", I breathed heavily, my voice croaky. She lifted a cup of water to my lips. I couldn't really move either arm so I sipped it from the cup. "Thank you". "We're not going to have a problem like last time are we"? The nurse asked. I shook my head not liking how she talked to me as if I was two. "No. What happened"? "You were shot in the chest. All things considered, you were lucky. We had to do a blood transfusion before taking you into surgery to remove the bullet. Your seventh rib broke and set the bullet of course. It then penetrated your lung. We managed to get the bullet out safely and there was no other internal damage. You lost a lot of blood due to the initial bullet wound, but otherwise you're going to be okay". I nodded. "When can I get out of here"? She smiled. "I was waiting for that. "Just over a week I'd say. It varies. We have to keep an eye out for infection. But the detectives out there are eager to get their arrest in. I'm sure they'll want you out of here as soon as possible". She checked my vitals, and injected me with a painkiller. I laughed. "They think I did it". She didn't say anything to that. She probably thought I did it too. "Do you know what happened when I was shot"? "Don't you"? She asked. I shook my head. "Take some deep breaths please". I did as I was instructed. "Well, you're okay for the moment. I'll have to let the police in now. Then you can see Vanessa". Vanessa? She was gone before I could ask who Vanessa was. Moments later two detectives walked in holding badges. "Jacob Rogers. What a pleasure" I didn't say anything. "I'm Detective Caldwell and this is my partner Detective Fuller". I nodded. "Looks like we finally got you aye. I have to say it's been a bit of hectic journey chasing you around". I still said nothing. "So, Jacob, what have you been up to"? I glanced down at my free hand, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "We know you were in Moscow. Under the name David Wood. Impressive work getting through security by the way. What were you doing in Russia? And why did you come back"? I remained silent. "Listen Jacob, we can do this now, or we can haul your ass down to the station and do this in an interrogation room. You're choice". I sighed. "I was trying to prove my innocence". Detective Caldwell laughed. "I think we've established you did it don't you"? "I didn't do it", I protested weakly. I wasn't in the right mind set for an interrogation. "I was in Russia to find the Russian Mafia, Bratva if you like. I'd found out they were responsible for killing Cat and Toby. They got a former brother to kill them. His name is Dennis Penfold". "How did you find out"? "A friend". "His name"? "Not relevant". "I think it is relevant Jacob"... "You should talk to Dennis Penfold. He's the real killer. Not me". "Why would he want to kill Katherine and Toby"? "He did it for Bratva. I already told you that". "Why would they want to kill them"? Their tones bothered me more than anything. It was like they were playing along just to humour me. "They wanted to scare me. They didn't want me talking about what I saw happening in Afghanistan". "What did you see in Afghanistan"? I groaned leaning my head back. "A part of Bratva is selling weapons and drugs to the Taliban. They didn't want the American government to find out because it put Russia at risk and would disrupt their operations". "Right, well that's an interesting story". "Let's move on", he continued. Were they listening to a word I was saying? "The shooting on Wednesday. What can you tell me about that"? "I went to the warehouse to talk to Dennis. To try and get him to confess". "Witnesses reported no one else on the scene. I shook my head. "He ran off after I got shot". "Convenient. Who shot you"? "I have no idea. I didn't see anyone. He was standing in the shadows. Sort of behind me. By the time I'd realised what was going on he was gone". "You didn't see a face"? I shook my head. "Is there any reason someone would want to kill you? Besides concerned citizens of the public who hate you for killing your family"? I thought about it for a moment. The reality was I didn't know, but it was no concerned citizen, that's for sure. "No, well I mean, I don't know". I really didn't know. There have been a few people that I've pissed off though now that I think about it. Dennis hadn't arranged it. His expression made that clear. But other members of Bratva would have no reason to keep me alive. Maybe so they could make sure I never said anything. "Actually, there are a few people. Bratva. They have no reason to keep me alive now"... Detective Fuller cut me off. "They had a reason to keep you alive before"? They needed me to kill someone. I did kill someone. But I can't tell them that. I can't tell them I committed murder when I'm already suspected of killing Cat and Toby. But I can't lie. How can I explain this? They'll know I'm lying. "I have a certain skill set that interested them", I said carefully. The truth. But I wasn't going to elaborate. "Or a man called Jack Speights. A poker player at a bar I went to one night". "And why would he want you dead"? "I interrupted his cheating business. His boss could also be involved". "Who is his boss"? "Uhhh. A Latin woman. I never got her name". "Right". Detective Fuller made some more notes on the notepad he was carrying. He hadn't written much down. "I know this may sound like a stupid question, but do you guys have a clearer picture about what happened that night"? They looked at each other as if having a telepathic conversation. Eventually they came to a conclusion. Detective Fuller pulled some photographs from a file. He must be the paperwork man. He handed me the pile of photos. They were hard to look through because of the restriction caused by the handcuffs. I sat them on my lap and used one hand as best I could. There were some photos of footprints in the dust. The bullet in an evidence bag. It must be the one they removed from me. The next few photos were very graphic. It was a man. He was lying on some type of concrete but I couldn't figure out where he was. His chest had a gaping hole in it. It looked like his insides had imploded in on themselves. My face scrunched up slightly. "Who is this"? "We haven't had a positive ID in out database yet". "Where is this? What does this have to do with the shooting"? "This man was found on the rooftop of the building adjadcent to the warehouse you were found in. He was shot with a Barret .50 cal M82 sniper riffle. From approximately 900 yards. We don't have an ID on the killer. The man killed on the roof was also holding a sniper riffle and we believed he was trying to kill you through the glass windows but he never got a chance because he was shot himself". I flicked through the remaining photos. "We think the sniper who killed this man was working with the man who shot you. An intended kill". My mind whirled trying to process the information but I was still stocked up on drugs and couldn't think as clearly as I would like to. After a few more questions the police left. They promised to be back though. In the mean time, I tried to figure out how to get out of the cuffs. I couldn't let them arrest me now. A little while later the nurse returned. "Sorry I didn't catch your name before", I stated when she walked in. "Karen". "Nice to meet you Karen". She nodded. "No funny business okay. I'll bring you dinner in a few minutes. She checked everything out, left and as promised returned a few five minutes later with a tray of food. I pulled my arm up, emphasising the restraints. "It would be great if I could have these off to eat". She shook her head smiling. "You didn't think that was actually going to work did you"? I shrugged. "Worth a shot". "You wouldn't have gotten out anyway. There's a cop stationed outside your door. And at least four others in the surrounding halls. Honestly, they're driving me a little insane. Always thinking they know best, acting all smug and getting in the way". I nodded. "Tell me about it". She moved a table thing over the bed so she could set the plate down on it for me. "Thank you", I said. She nodded ticked something off on a clipboard and left to tend to other patients. The remote for the TV was left beside me. I fiddled with it for a bit before figuring out how to change channels. The TV was a bit of a luxury really, despite it only have the basic channels. It cured my boredom for a bit. When the evening news came on I watched them all. Listening to how screwed up the world was, and is. There was a segment about me. The outside of the hospital was the opening shot. A reporter standing in the car park started with "Jacob Rogers, an ex-marine fugitive who last month killed his sister Katherine Rogers and five year old nephew Toby Rogers has been apprehended and is now confirmed to be recovering from a gunshot wound to the chest in Onslow Memorial Hospital. The investigation into the wound is ongoing, and we have had reports that Jacobs condition is stable"... the reporter then went on and into more detail about the case. Obviously not a lot of detail. The reporters didn't seem to know jack shit about it themselves. They seemed to simply be repeating the information they'd already given using different words in a different order to make it sound like they knew more than they did. I could see a few other reporters and members of the public in the background. It was live. I could almost hear the crowds outside if I listened carefully. All of them seemed pissed that I was alive. The public were there as a protest of my stable condition apparently. I clearly wasn't a crowd pleaser. As I was about to flick the channels a woman walked into my room. She wasn't a nurse. She didn't wear a uniform. Wasn't a detective. No badge or gun. "Who are you"? I asked flicking the TV to mute.