ACT 4
Chase was driving back to the station when the radio crackled. "1-William-13, come in."
August picked it up and thumbed the button. "This is 1-William-13. Go ahead."
"Please respond to a 415, possible 390 at 1152 Wilshire Boulevard."
He looked at Chase. "Dispatch, can't anyone else handle it?"
"You're the closest unit it the vicinity."
He rolled his head. "Roger. 1-William-13 en route."
"415 and 390," Chase repeated to himself as August set the siren in the dash. "What
is that?"
"A disturbance and possible intoxicated person," August replied with all the
sarcastic enthusiasm in the world.
They arrived five minutes later to a mob of people gathered in the streets: a
firetruck, an ambulance with paramedics waiting nearby, and a crowd of onlookers. Chase
climbed out and found the nearest fireman. "What's going on?"
"Got a guy on the roof," he said, pointing up.
Chase crained his head back. The building was about six stories tall, and he could
see the man standing on the edge. "Okay, let's go, August," he said, and moved for the
entrance.
Within moments they were coming out onto the roof, where two other fireman were
waiting. Chase showed him his badge. "Chase McDonald, homicide," he said.
"Homicide?" the firefighter asked, leading them toward the front of the roof.
August said, "With this Blue Flu, we also get flatfoot responsibilites."
The front of the roof was raised several feet. Chase took the concrete steps two at
a time and approached the low retaining wall at the front of the building. "Hi there."
The guy spun around, startled. "Don't try nothing," he said, pointing a finger.
"Don't try anything or I'm jumping."
Chase held his hands up as August came up the steps behind him. Chase moved toward
the wall, standing several feet down from the man. "I won't try nothing," he assured him.
"I just want to talk. Do you mind if I come out there?"
August blinked slowly, as if clearing his eyes and trying to make sure he'd heard
his partner correctly. Come out there? he thought to himself. Oh no.
"What?"
"Do you mind if I come out there?" Chase asked again.
"You, you won't trying nothing?"
"I swear. Won't try a thing."
The man gave a silent nod of approval, and Chase swung his leg over the wall and
stepped onto the edge of the roof, only three feet wide. August closed his eyes.
"So, how you doing?" Chase asked. "You okay?"
"Would I be on a three-foot ledge six stories up if I was okay?"
Chase glanced over the edge and decided he would never do it again. "I guess not.
So what are you up here for?"
"No one likes me."
"Oh, I'm sure some people do."
"No they don't. No one does."
"Of course they do. Hey, I like you."
"No you don't. You don't know me."
"Well, I like people on sight. I think you're a cool guy. Why don't you come off
the roof with me? I'll buy you a beer." He took a step forward.
"No, don't!" the man shouted, taking a step back and pointing a finger at him.
"Don't move. You said you wouldn't try nothing."
"That's right. I'm sorry. I apologize."
"Okay. Good. Just stay the hell there."
Chase glanced back at his partner. The look on August's face said it all. He
mouthed: are you crazy? Chase turned back to the situation at hand. "Can I shake your
hand?"
The jumper did a double-take. "What?"
"I'd like to shake your hand?"
"Wh--why?"
"You're standing on a three-foot ledge six stories up," Chase said. "You're pretty
brave. I don't know anyone who would do this. I'd just love to shake the hand of the
bravest man I've ever seen."
The man seemed to be considering, looking back and forth between Chase and the
ground below. "You--you ain't gonna do anything?"
Chase shook his head, holding out his hand. "Nope. Not a thing. Just a simple
handshake and then we can go back to talking."
The guy hesitated for a moment, then slowly extended his hand. Chase took hold of
it, and when he felt the detective clench his hand tightly, he knew he had been tricked.
He tried to get free, pulling Chase toward him. "Let go, man! Let go!"
Chase struggled with him on the small ledge. The man lost his footing and slipped.
All Chase could do was reach out helplessly with his left hand, hoping to find something
to grab onto it. But he instead felt something grab him, and he looked up to see his
partner hanging over the wall, both hands clasped around his wrist.
Chase was lying on the edge of the ledge, holding onto the jumper by one hand. He
was squirming around, trying to get free. "Hold still!" Chase shouted.
The extension ladder from the firetruck swung around, and the two firemen grabbed
the guy and pulled him to safety. The crowd below cheered as they got him onto the ladder
with them. August helped Chase back to his feet, then made sure he made it back across
the retaining wall safetly. On the other side, they both dropped to the ground, their
backs to the wall. They were breathing deeply.
"Mac. What in the hell were you thinking?"
Chase seemed to be staring off into space. "I'm not sure. It worked in Lethal
Weapon."
August looked at him. "This is not Lethal Weapon. And you are not Mel
Gibson." With that he got to his feet and stomped off, leaving Chase sitting there. "Come
on, Mac. I need to go change my shorts."
Chance Donaldson stormed into his room in the rundown hotel. He went to the table on
which sat a long black case with heavy latches. He sat down and opened the lid, revealing
the sleak rifle resting inside. He started to reach for it, but a series of coughs
overtook him. They were hoarse, sounding like a bad cold, and they seemed to last forever.
He wiped at his face when he felt something. Blood was on his fingertips. He wiped again
at his nose and saw more blood.
He stood and went to the bathroom, flipping the switch. The light flicked and almost
went out, but held and barely lit the room. The mirror was cracked, stained with years-old
dirt. He looked at his reflection and saw his nose was bleeding. He also saw that his face
was beginning to show the signs of his illness. His eyes were a little bloodshot, and his
face had a slightly pale complextion.
"It won't be long, Chance," he said to himself. "It won't be long at all."
Alex Clairmont exited the soundstage and walked down to where her car was parked. "Heading
home?" a man asked as he passed by.
She smiled. "Yeah. See you tomorrow, Jim." She took out her keys as she approached
her car and unlocked the door, climbing in behind the wheel. She was putting the key into
the ignition when see saw a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned
with a yelp of surprise at seeing Chance in the backseat. "Chance," she said. "What are
you doing here?"
"I came to say goodbye," he said quietly. He looked exhausted. His forehead was
beaded with sweet.
"Chance, what's going on? The police came to see me. They said you were the one who
was doing those shootings."
"I am," he said. When he saw the look of alarm on her face, he said, "Don't worry.
I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you, Alex. I still love you."
"Why are you doing this, Chance? Why are your murdering all those innocent people?"
"I'm the innocent one," he said. "They're the ones that wouldn't help me. They're
the ones who turned me away, refused to help me try to save my life."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's a long story," he said, looking away. "Like I said"--he turned back to her--
"I just came to say goodbye. I'm going away, and I'll never be coming back."
"Where are you going?"
"Don't worry about that. All this will end in a matter of hours. You just worry
about yourself. I love you, Alex. I always have and I always will." He smiled at her,
though it looked like it hurt just doing that, and he put a hand to her cheek. "Goodbye,"
he said, then opened the door and was gone.
She turned to look out her window and saw him hurrying away, disappearing around
the corner of the nearest building. She sat back and put her hands to her face, trying
to make sense of everything. She put her hands on the wheel with a sigh and happened to
glance into the rearview mirror. That's when she saw it. She reached into the backseat
and retrieved the card from the seat. It had the name of an office building and its
address. She saw it was located in Pershing Square, and she knew that's were the previous
shootings had taken place.
For a moment, she thought he had accidently left it behind. But the more she
thought about his words, the more she thought maybe he had left it on purpose, hoping she
would see it and report it. "All this will end in a matter of hours," she heard his voice
say. And how could he know it would end in a matter of hours unless he had hoped she
would report the card to the police and they would be there waiting for him?
She dug into her purse and took out her cell-phone, then looked for the card Chase
had given her. Not able to find it, she dumped her purse's contents onto the passenger
seat and brushed through it. She finally found it and dialed quickly. After three rings,
an automated voiced said in her ear, "We're sorry, but all of our available lines are
busy. If you'd like, you may stay on the line, and your call will be answered as soon--"
She didn't bother with the rest. She shut the phone and threw it into the seat
beside her. She fired up the ignition and pulled her seatbelt on, backed out of her space,
and hurried toward the gate.
James pulled the first piece of debris away and stood back as several more pieces tumbled
away. Dust filled the air, and he coughed. Tossing the beam aside, he and Ben started
pulling the rest out of the way in their attempt to clear the stairs. "You holding in
there, Ben?" James asked, shoving aside a chunk of wood.
"Yeah, I'm okay. You?"
"I'm hanging in there," he replied, and glanced up. "But I'm not sure if this
building is. You know, this whole thing could down at any second or with the next
aftershock."
"I know. But I'd rather go doing something worthwhile."
"I know what you mean."
They got the stairs cleared and started up carefully, holding the rail. The third
floor hallway was dark. They shined their flashlights down the length of the hall, the
beams visible from the dust hanging in the air. They made their forward toward the first
door, watching where they stepped. The floor creaked under their feet.
James looked back at Ben. "Don't worry. She'll hold together," he said, then glanced
around and added quietly, "Hear me baby? Hold together."
The police station was still in chaos. Phones were ringing off the hook, with more calls
coming in than there were people to answer them. Firemen even moved through the station,
having arrived to check for gas leaks, though only one had been found and already shut
off. The lights were dim, the station running at half-power.
"Okay, thanks, Annie," August said, and hung up. "Mac. I just spoke with Annie."
Chase walked up, still looking a little glum about having shot an apparently
unarmed man, despite the fact he felt for sure the man had been armed at the time. The
further behind him in time that incident got, the more he started to think maybe the
window washer had been unarmed.
"She took a look at the keys Antwon Ericson had with him," his partner continued,
"and found McDonaldson's prints on all of them."
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking they're there because he borrowed the keys from Ericson to make
copies, then he could carry out his attacks whenever he wanted and not need to wait for
Ericson to let him onto the roofs."
"Does that give us any idea where he might strike from next?"
"Ericson had access to the roofs of four buildings around Pershing Square," August
said, "all within direct sight of the front of his target. Two of the keys were for the
buildings used in the first two shootings, and the third was for the roof we found Ericson
on."
"And he probably wouldn't be crazy enough to attempt an attack from a building he
knows will probably have cops on the roof."
"Which leaves the fourth and final building."
"Then let's get going. You know which one?"
August stood from his chair, grabbing a slip of paper. "Got the address right
here," he said.
When Chase turned, he nearly ran right into Alex Clairmont. "Miss. Clairmont," he
said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I just saw Chance."
"What? Where?"
"About a half-hour ago or so," she said hurriedly. "He was waiting in my car when
I was leaving the studio."
"What did he say?"
He said, "'All this will end in a matter of hours.' And he left this." She handed
him the business card. "I don't know if it was by accident or if he wants to be caught."
Chase looked at it, showing it to August. "That's the same building as this one,"
August said, gesturing with the address he had written down.
"Then that's his next attack position," Chase said. August was already hurrying
down the hall. "Thanks for your help, Miss. Clairmont. We really appreciate."
"Be careful, detective."
He smiled. "I will."
"Come on, Mac!" August shouted.
Chase turned and made his way through the bustling squad room.
"Anybody? Hello?" James shouted down the third floor hall. There was no answer, just the
eerie silentness of a half-destroyed building and the straining of its structure. "I don't
think anyone's alive on this floor."
"Listen," Ben said, reaching out to stop James. He turned his head slightly, and
that's when he heard the sound of a baby crying.
"Come on," James said, and they ran down the hall to the far end, where they found
apartment thirteen. Naturally, it was locked. "Hello? Can you hear me?" He pounded on the
door with his fist. "Hello, answer me." He heard a muffled reply, but couldn't make out
the words. With Ben's help, they forced the door open, requiring two shoulder shoves and
hard kick.
The door swung open, brushing aside debris that had fallen to the floor. Directly
nearby, they saw the first body, a young man with black hair. James knelt and felt for a
pulse. There was one. Then he heard the baby start crying. "Ben. This guy's still alive.
Get him out of here. I'll get the baby."
"You sure?"
"Yes, now go." As Ben lifted the unconscious man to his feet, James moved toward
the back of the apartment, where his path was obstructed by a fallen bookcase and broken
glass. The hall was narrow, blocked by the bookcase, the floor littered with large books
and other items that had fallen from the shelves.
Dropping to his knees, he started clearing a path.
Chance Donaldson walked through the front doors of the building and crossed the lobby to
the elevators. He carried with him a large blue duffel bag. He stepped into the elevator
and pressed the button for the top floor as the doors slide shut.
Merely seconds later, Chase and August came into the lobby. Chase went up to the
front desk, where a security guard was on duty. His nametag read: Harv. "Excuse me. Have
you seen this man?" Chase showed him the photo of Chance from his service record. "He's
wanted for the sniper attacks from earlier today."
Harv man took the paper for a moment and studied it, then said, "As a matter of
fact, I have. He just got in that elevator." He pointed.
"When?" August asked.
"Not more than ten seconds ago."
"Can you stop that elevator?"
"Sure."
Chance was standing with his back to the wall, breathing small controlled breaths,
when the elevator stopped with a jolt. He put his hand out, steadying himself, and looked
around.
Chase said, "Okay, when I tell you to, bring that elevator back down." Harv nodded
and pressed a button as Chase picked up the phone.
Chance was trying to figure out what was going on when he heard a ringing. He
flipped open the panel underneath the level buttons and pulled out the phone, putting it
to his ear.
"Chance Donaldson?" a voice asked on the other end. When there was no reply, the
voice said, "I figured it was. Look. We've got this buildings surrounded with officers,
and we've got a good deal of them down here in the lobby. You've got two choices. One, go
up to the roof to do your shooting, and you'll be taken out by police snipers. Or two,
you can come back down to the lobby and surrender nice and easy, and we can all leave
here breathing. What do you say?"
There was a long moment of silence before Chance said, "I'm not surrending. You can
bring me down, but it won't be pretty." With that he ripped the phone from the console
and threw it aside.
Chase hung the phone up and looked at August. "He's not surrendering. Harv, bring
that elevator back down." The security guard typed in the command as the detectives took
up positions to give them clear sight of the elevator.
Chance felt the elevator start up. He dropped to one knee and unzipped the duffel
bag, taking out the rifle.
Chase crouched behind a large stone planter box. August was to his right, kneeled
behind the security desk with Harv. Chase watched anxiously as the numbers above the
elevator slowly ticked down. He flexed his fingers on his gun. The elevator reached the
lobby floor and rang, but the doors stayed shut. August waited until he received an
affirmatory nod from Chase, then nodded to Harv. "Open the doors."
Harv tapped a button, and the doors parted. Everything seemed to have in slow-motion.
Chance emerged from the elevator, rifle raised, yelling as he opened fire toward the
security desk. All August could do was duck back to avoid being hit. Chase leaned out to
fire, but two well-placed bullets sliced into the concrete planter box. Thinking fast,
Chase pulled back and kicked with his feet. He slide on his back out from behind the
opposite end of the planter box, and before Chance could swing around, fired a single shot.
Chance jolted and stood in place for a moment, then slumped back against the edge
of the elevator. He seemed to look right at Chase for a moment, and the detective was
more than perplexed when he saw the shooter mouth the words "thank you." Then Chance lost
his balance and turned as he fell, falling back into the elevator, lying half in and half
out.
The detectives stood and exchanged glances. "He said thanks," Chase said.
August looked at him. "What?"
"He looked right at me and mouthed 'thank you.'"
"For shooting him?"
Chase shrugged and holstered his weapon as they stepped forward.
James shoved open the bedroom door and saw the baby standing up in it's crib, holding a
finger in it's mouth and crying. "It's okay," he said, hurrying across the room. "It's
okay. It's okay." He picked the baby up and held him in his arms. "We're gonna get out of
here, okay?"
He came out of the room and tried to figure out how to negotiate the obstructing
bookcase with a baby. He dropped to his knees and attempted to crawl underneath, using
one free hand while his other arm clutched the baby to him. It wasn't easy, but he managed
to get through and stood. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Now we just got some stairs to go
down and we'll be back outside with mommy."
On the street below, Ben emerged with the brother, and the woman rushed to him,
holding him tightly in her arms. Jennifer grabbed Ben by the shoulders. "Where's James?"
"He's right behind me. He's coming out with the baby."
James came down the stairs to the second floor, readjusting his hold on the baby.
The aftershock hit, throwing him against the doorway. He almost fell, but reached out and
steadied himself with one hand against the railing. This one felt violent. The structure
felt like it was doing more than just rumble. It felt like it was swaying.
"Oh my God," Jennifer gasped. Ben grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back out
into the street with everyone else as the building shook before them. "James! Oh God!"
Ben put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her.
James hurried down the hall as debris dropped around him, nearly hunched over to
protect the baby. He grabbed the railing for the next stairs and started down the steps,
but the next jolt threw him off balance, and he fell back onto the hallway floor.
"Look out! It's coming down!" someone screamed. With the sound of the structure
giving away, the second floor began to crumple underneath the third and fourth. The floor
was slowly crunched under the weight, even as the aftershock subsided. Clouds of smoke
were thrown up into the air, causing everyone to turn as they moved even furthur away.
When the dust began to settle, the second story had nearly been completely crushed
down onto the leveled first floor. There was an eerie silence in the air. Everyone stood
staring at the building. Ben held Jennifer as she cried. The seconds seemed to tick by
like hours, but then there was a faint sound, like rocks bouncing down a hill. Ben
thought he saw movement from within the rubble, but wasn't sure.
And then, from the pile of debris and the thin layer of dusty cloud, James emerged.
Everyone cheered. He had a cut on his forehead and he was covered almost entirely with
dust. He handed the baby back to its mother. Jennifer ran to him, and he caught her in
his arms.
"Oh God, James," she said, crying. "I thought I lost you."
"I thought you did, too." He kissed her.
Ben walked up and gave him a pat on the back. "Good work, detective," he said.
James smiled and shook his head. "You, too." He kissed Jennifer again, then turned
and looked back up at the building. It was in terrible condition, looking like the rest
of it would come down at any moment.
"Just a week after the massive quake that rocked the city," the newsanchor said, "Los
Angeles is still picking up the pieces. Though the damage appears to be over, with the
last aftershock occuring two nights after the earthquake, the clean-up process is still
underway. Many homes and businesses were destroyed in the earthquake. So far, the death
toll has been relatively low for such a large earthquake. We've been told there have only
been a reported ten deaths confirmed, though there are dozens who were injured. Some are
expected to fully recover, others are still listed in critical condition at area hospitals.
We will have more to report on the aftermath of the earthquake later on in this newscast."
Everyone was gathered at Sevens that afternoon. Chase and Alex Clairmont, August
and Kendra, and James and Jennifer. "Well," Chase said, "I think with all things
considered, this city still proved that not even a sniper and an earthquake can knock it
down."
"So the Blue Flu's over?" Kendra asked.
"Thank God," James said. "Did Richardson tell you guys about the tiger man we had
to deal with?"
Chase laughed. "He said something about that."
"Oh, guys. Here it is," Alex said, and directed their attention to the television,
where a commercial had just started.
It opened in an Old West saloon, scarcely populated. A tall stranger walked in with
a wide-brim hat, wearing a flowing dark duster. He walked across to the bar, where he
slapped a coin on the countertop. At the door, a man watched the stranger at the bar as
he took a drink. Then the man lunged through the door. The stranger, his face hidden in
the shadow of his hat, turned and drew his gun, firing a shot. Smoke filled the air, and
the gunman fell over onto a table.
Another shooter came down the stairs. The stranger turned and dropped to one knee,
firing twice. The gunman clutched his stomach and crashed through the railing, flopping
onto the floor. Another man appeared at the door. The stranger rolled forward and came up
into a crouch, firing one shot through the door. The man's arms flailed as he fell back
over the walkway and landed on the dirt street. The stranger stood, holstering his gun,
and looked around.
The image cut to a close-up of a can sitting on the countertop, with a label that
read "Power Punch," and a voice-over stated, "Power Punch. Gives you a mighty strong
punch."
Then it cut to an image of the stranger as he turned toward the camera. "And packs
one itself," Chase McDonald said, then parted the saloon doors and stepped out as the
commercial faded out.
They all cheered around the table. Chase looked a little embarrased, but smiled
anyway and went along. August raised his glass and said, "Here's to the full recovery
of Los Angeles, and the beginning of a megastar Hollywood career for our very own Chase
McDonald."
Together, they all clicked their glasses together and laughed.
| INDEX |
