Page 90 of Beautiful Deceit
Brian places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes, reminding me he's here and that he's not giving up. We continue trekking as the search party starts to thin out with people turning in for the day.
The handheld radio in Brian’s hand start squawking and shouting can be heard over the channel. The message is distorted, but I'm able to understand most of it.
“Shots fired...I repeat...shots fired.”
“Suspect is down.”
“Need assistance and ambulances to a house on Churchill Rd and Stillwaters Highway.”
“Three for pick up.”
“Life flight pick up at crossroads of Highway 49 and Route 15.”
The message is repeated several more times.
Terror hits me hard. What if she’s gone? What if we’re too late?
Brian tows me to the SUV, “We need to move now, Beau.”
He doesn't understand why I’ve stopped, “They found her. We need to go now!”
He jumpsinto the driver seat, throwing the radio down, “We’re only about three miles out.” It couldn't have been more than six minutes since the first radio contact. I grab the radio in my fist listening intently for updates, for someone to tell me she’s okay. The sides of the roads are packed with cars and trucks. Churchill Road is blocked with only police cars and emergency vehicles are moving through.
Brian pulls over, parking half in a ditch. He throws his door open, looking back at me frozen in the passage’s seat.
"Are you coming?" he asks, his voice lifting at the end in disbelief.
"I'm scared," I answer, ashamed of myself.
Brain closes his eyes for a long second. His hand lands on the steering wheel. He turns his entire body to face me.
"Beau, get the fuck out of the car. She needs you. She’s out there. She might be hurt. Nothing about this is okay. Nothing is going to be okay for awhile, but you have to face this. You get me?"
I look over at my childhood friend and nod my head, still not accepting that I need to move. He doesn't understand this fear, how paralyzing it is for me.
An ambulance, coming from beyond the roadblock speeds past, dirt flying behind it. Two cop cars race behind until they hit the wider road. One speeds up and passes the ambulance, effectively giving the vehicle a police escort.
That more than anything spurs me to move. I jump out, running to catch up with Brian. My mind on automatic, responding physically before I can catch up mentally.
He's talking to a man in a black tactical jacket.
"No word on the vic’s condition, just that a life flight is necessary." He tells Brian, then yells out, "Hey clear out of that area we got a chopper landing in two." A couple of local sheriffs look up at him. Their car is sitting in the middle of the road. "Fucking idiots," he sneers, making his way over to the small group of local officers.
The road block is lifted as two ambulances come through slow with lights off, sirens silent. I breathe, relaxing the tiniest bit. If they're going slow, whoever it is mustn't be in too bad shape.
"Do you know if she was in the first one?" I ask Brain.
He turns and looks at me with sorrow clear on his face, "No Beau, the chopper, it’s for her. She’s in one of those." His head tilts to the two idling ambulances outside the house.
"She’s in there? Are you sure?" I ask. I don't wait for an answer as I run up, jumping on the bumper to peer into the windows. I see a uniformed agent smacking the hands of a young EMT. Nothing about his condition screams life threatening. I hop down, hearing people shouting at me. Ignoring them, I look into the other ambulance.
The thin windows of the next rescue truck show me something my brain can’t process. I start wrenching the doors open, because surely there has been a mistake. The person laying seemingly unconscious can’t be her. This battered person laying on the stretcher, looking close to death, can't be Samantha.
When the doors won't open, I bang on the glass, causing the two men inside that are attaching equipment to her to look up.
"Samantha," I scream. Both men return to their work, quickly ignoring my panic.
I feel someone grab the back of my shirt, pulling me down off the bumper.
