seaQuest DSV
Fic Title: May Day
Fic author: katirene (XMP)
Fic rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is based on the second season of the Amblin Television and Universal Television series "seaQuest DSV", created by Rockne S. O'Bannon. As is understood, I do not own any part of these characters, and have made no profit in the writing and sharing of this fic.Further disclaimer: This is NOT an Ari Adler or Trey Barlow fic. The action occurs with canon crew characters without any addition of the aforementioned OFCs. Although there are a couple of 'guest stars'. I tried to write it as if it were an episode of the second season.
Summary: Miguel Ortiz is lost somewhere in the Florida Everglades and it's up to his crew mates to rescue him. There is some adult content, but no sex and only implied violence.
The sporty little red car sped down the almost empty, dark two lane road toward, streaming through the night.
Inside, the volume was turned all the way up and the dark curly head of Miguel Ortiz, sensor chief of the UEO seaQuest nodded in time to the beat, his hand thumping on the wheel, singing along at the top of his voice.
"Silken sheets, covering me, baby. Silken sheets, you're hovering me baby. Oooh, ooooh, oooooh."
The song came to an end and he glanced over, reaching for another music disk. The bag slid down onto the floor on the passenger side. frustratingly just out of reach. Looking up and around to make sure it was safe enough, the young sailor lunged over and grabbed it, pulling out another disk. Triumphant, he held it up, turning toward the road. An enormous black mountain was right in front of him. He slammed on the brakes, trying to turn the wheel but it was too late and with a sickening loud thump, he crashed right into it.
A few minutes later, the big bear pulled itself up, shaking it's head with dumb puzzlement. It gave the strange manmade vehicle a hurt look and limped off, back into the safety of the dark Florida Everglades.
Mayday
a seaQuest DSV story by katirene (XMP)
Everything was black, with flashes of hot, white pain. Slowly, he opened his eyes. It didn't help much, it was still black. Then, things began to swim into focus and he began to remember.
He was Miguel Ortiz, sensor chief for the UEO vessel seaQuest and ...
"Oh, shit!" he mumbled, trying to fumble the seat belt off. "Cap'n Bridger's gonna kill me!" Except it looked like something had already tried.
Managing to get the clasp undone, he pulled the handle on the door, but the frame was so crumbled, he couldn't get it open. Rolling down the window, he crawled out, his torso falling the rest of the way out onto the road surface.
The breath knocked out of him, he lay there for a few moments with his eyes closed. The smell of gasoline reminded him that this might not be the best place to be lying down, so he rolled over and pushed himself up on his hands and knees, his head hanging down. With a dint of effort, he managed to get himself into a sitting position and looked toward the car.
It was totalled. The entire front end was crumpled up like an accordion. And Miguel hated accordian music. Taking deep breaths, he tried to remember what had happened.
He'd been at a cousin's house, celebrating the baptism of his brand-new godson, and they kept urging him to stay for just one more drink.
"I should have said no to that last one," he groaned, holding his head in both hands. They were wet. He put the wet fingers of one hand to his nose and sniffed. Blood. That didn't mean anything. Everyone knew that head wounds bled bad.
"I gotta get back to the seaQuest," he muttered incoherantly. Somehow staggering to his feet, he pointed himself in the direction the car was facing and started walking, stumbling and falling. All around him was darkness. Dark and dimly seen trees pressed close to the road, closing in on him. Stars from the sky came down and danced in front of him, confusing him. It shouldn't be this dark. It was never this dark.
"Hey Tim, Miguel back yet?" Lonnie Henderson asked as she passed the busy communications officer in the corridor.
"Huh?" Coming back to the present, the tall, thin and lanky lieutenant jerked to a stop and looked at her, his brows pulling together with puzzlement until he replayed the question. "Oh! No. At least, I don't think so. He said he might be a little late. It's not everyday you have someone named after you, you know."
"Yeah, but he said that he'd help me re-route the wiring of the navigation console so that I don't get pong games when I try to go from map to three dee. He promised he'd be back before curfew."
Tim gave her an encouraging little smile, his mobile lips puckering out impishly. It wasn't often that the long, lissome ensign asked for male assistance and he suddenly decided that maybe he wasn't so busy after all.
"I can do that."
"Oh, could you? Thank you, Tim." And the smile she gave him made him very glad that he could spare the time.
"The road goes ever on and on..." Miguel mumbled to himself, stumbling forward, almost falling with every step.
"Who said that? S'truth anyway. The seaQuest has to be at the end..." A bright light illuminated the road ahead of him, throwing the trees at the sides of the narrow two lane road into even greater darkness and inspiring the UEO seaman to spin around and stick out his thumb, hoping that it was someone who could take him someplace that was someplace.
"Holy Shit! You look like hell!" someone exclaimed.
"I do? Good cause I feel like..." And his legs collapsed as the darkness descended on him again.
"Anyone see Ortiz?" Lieutenant Commander Ford announced, looking around the bridge. The seaQuest executive officer was looking particularly grim.
Tim looked up from the mess of wires in the open panel in front of him, then glanced up to meet Lonnie's worried eyes. No one answered and the tense XO gave an exasperated sigh, looking disgusted with life in general and the few crewmen on the quiet late night command in particular.
Stalking over to the ship's comm, he pressed some buttons. "Brody! Ortiz check in yet?"
Tim gave Lonnie a nod and quickly crossed over to the comm station. It looked like his friend was in deep kimchi, and the only thing that would help was if he was already almost to the ship.
"No sir!" Jim Brody responded smartly, managing to sound both military and perky at the same time. Ford's expression grew even more sour.
"He's an hour overdue. Why haven't you reported it?"
"I thought, in honor of the occasion..."
"You thought wrong. I want to see him as soon as he gets in."
"Sir?" Lonnie waved to attract the grumpy officer's attention. "If it would help, I could track where he is. Using the gps in his vehicle."
With a sigh, Jon Ford's shoulders dropped slightly and he nodded. "That would be a big help, Henderson. Thanks." She started the uplink to the positioning satellite and the XO turned around. "Tim, could you call his folks and see when he left?"
"Already on it, sir," he answered, looking over his shoulder at the officer. "What's the problem sir?" Before he got an answer, though, the comm officer held up his hand and began to talk into the microphone.
"I've got him, sir," Lonnie announced, adjusting the gain on her console. Taking the steps two at a time, Ford ran up behind her, leaning over to see what she had. "He's in the middle of Alligator Alley. But..." she looked confused, shaking her head slightly. "The car's not moving. It's just sitting there."
"Mr. O'Neill?" Ford asked, looking toward the bespectacled officer. Tim was nodding his head, responding in Spanish. At the sound of his name, he looked up.
"According to Miguel's aunt, he left there three hours ago. More than enough time to make it back."
Ford's dark face was puzzled as he stood up, his eyes distant and calculating. Coming to a sudden decision, he faced Tim again. "Mr. O'Neill, get Lt. Brody."
A short while later, the brawny, blond weapons officer stalked onto the bridge.
"Brody here," he announced with military correctitude, not sounding quite so pleased with life.
"Jim? I want you and... and Tim to requistion a vehicle and check on Ortiz's whereabouts."
The sound of his name relaxed the irate young officer somewhat. Looking around to see who was present on the bridge, he stepped closer to the XO for a private word.
"Come on, Jon. So he's a little late. That's not so bad. I mean, we've all done it from time to time and..."
"I got a call from Wendy," Ford said, cutting off the plea for leniency that the other officer was making. "She says that Miguel's in trouble."
"Oh." That shut Brody up quick. Taking a step backwards, he pointed toward Tim with a flourish. "Ok. O'Neill, you're with me."
"Sir!" Lonnie jumped to her feet. "Permission to go with them sir!" she asked, standing at attention.
"Denied. I need you here, Henderson. Keep an eye on his position and let me know if he starts moving again."
"Yes sir." Deflated, she sat heavily. As Tim left the bridge, she caught his eye and mouthed the words, 'good luck' to him. He nodded back, a nervous, single jerk of his head.
"We got ourselves a UEO seaman here, Molly."
The words didn't mean much to the groggy seaQuest chief, and he was sure he didn't know the small sweet voice that spoke them. He moaned softly, turning his head from side to side. It felt as though it were split wide open. He was lying on something lumpy and uncomfortable, spread-eagled on his back. When he tried to roll over, he couldn't. His wrists and feet were caught on something and he couldn't pull them free.
"And it looks like he's waking up. I'm glad we didn't leave him for the alligators. He's pretty."
The mattress bounced and a gentle hand touched Miguel's face. Forcing his eyes open, he blearily tried to focus on the face only a few feet away. All he saw was a blurry pinkish oval.
"Who...?"
"Shhh, now, it's all right Migs," the voice, Molly, assured him, her voice very deep for a woman. "We'll just clean you up and you'll be good as new. Now, this may sting a bit."
She lied. It stung a lot.
"Oh, hell, this is bad." Lifting the personal link to his his mouth, Jim Brody contacted the ship. "SeaQuest, this is Brody. There's been an accident. The car's been destroyed."
"I told him he should have taken a Hummer or something bigger, sturdier," Tim said mournfully to himself, moving toward the melted foreshortened remains of the vehicle. "But no. He had to go for the little plastic sporty model. He just had to." He felt as though he might start crying.
One of the state troupers already on the scene walked up to stop him. He looked grim in the flickering light of the flares.
"How bad is Ortiz?" Ford was asking Brody.
"Jon. It's bad. The fuel ignited and..."
"He's not in there!" Tim yelped, turning an excited, hopeful face to Brody. "He got out."
"What?" Excitedly, the weapons officer relayed the news, half running over to where the other officer was examining the ground beside the wreck while the trouper pointed something out to him.
After several minutes, Brody reported back to the seaQuest. "There's blood on the road. Looks like he may have pulled himself out and started walking. We're following." He didn't mention how much blood there was, but it looked like a lot to him. An awful lot.
Captain Bridger was up and out of the Mag-Lev almost as soon as the doors were open with Dr. Smith right behind him. He ran onto the bridge and Ford turned to him with relief, his shoulders relaxing as he felt the authority pass from him to the CO.
"So what do you have?" Bridger asked tersely.
"Henderson?" Ford prompted, passing the ball.
"He's not been taken into any of the local hospitals. No John Does at any nearby morgue matching his description," she replied. "I'm starting to move further out. Whoever picked him up may have wanted to take him... I don't know."
"Good idea. Keep at it."
The captain looked back for his XO and found him leaning over Lucas, the resident computer prodigy. He joined them.
"What are you doing, Lucas?" he asked, his voice softening with affection as he put a fatherly hand on the boy's shoulder.
The blonde youth pointed to the split screen. "Alligator Alley's a toll road through the Everglades, sir," he said.
Bridger nodded his head, indicating that he knew that and go on.
"I'm checking the images of all cars that came in with the same car on the way out during the time frame of the accident, trying to identify if any of them appeared to have more passengers at the egress." He didn't mention that he'd hacked into the Department of Motor Vehicle records for the information, but then, he didn't have to either. Captain Bridger knew his crew.
"So, what do you have?"
"Five possibles," he said despondently. "And one mystery." He clicked and a shadowy image of a security camera viewfinder appeared onscreen. "This one went in, but it doesn't seem to have come out again."
Bridger frowned, his eyebrows raising as he stroked his chin. He nodded thoughtfully.
"See if you can get the license code and run it down. See who it belongs to and where it came from."
"Yes sir." As Bridger started to walk away, Lucas called out, "Hey sir? Want me to erase some of your moving violations while I'm in here." He laughed at the disgusted look his CO gave him and then he turned to find what he was looking for. It didn't take him long to find it.
"Captain?" Lucas called out. "That car? It was reported stolen an hour ago in St. Petersburg."
Captain Bridger took a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly, nodding thoughtfully.
"Henderson, get Mr. Brody on the line."
"Yes sir." As she made the connection, the young ensign hoped with all her heart that the two she was contacting had found what they were all looking for. This was one scavenger hunt she desperately did not want to win.
The two had walked along the side of the darkened road until it was clear that they'd lost all trace of him. Then they'd back tracked to the hummer and turned around, taking it slowly and examining the shoulders on both sides for their friend. Tim was driving when the call came.
"Mr. Brody, how's it going?" Captain Bridger's voice asked. Tim gave the burly weapons officer a quick grin of relief. Now that the captain was at the helm, he knew everything would be all right.
"Good to hear your voice sir. No sign of him, yet."
"Ah, I see. Try looking for a spot where a vehicle might force its way off the road. Seems we've got too many cars in for the numbers out."
"Yes sir. But sir?" He paused, unwilling to cast doubts on his CO's line of reasoning.
"Yes, Jim?"
"What if they just, you know, ran out of gas or something, and had to walk to the other end?"
Back at the seaQuest, Bridger glanced over at Lucas, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. Lucas shook his head.
"No sir. I checked. There weren't any pedestrians out."
"Did you pass anyone walking?" Bridger asked Lt. Brody.
"No sir."
"Then that's your answer. Let me know if you find anything. Bridger out."
As Brody put the personal link back, he gave Tim a sardonic smile.
"Well, we got our orders. Let's carry them out." And he turned his flashlight back on playing it over the deep, thick, light absorbing vegetation beyond the edge of the road. He hoped that Miguel had gotten a ride. They didn't call this Alligator Alley for nothing.
The next time Miguel woke up, he really woke up, coming to full awareness. He opened his eyes in a dim, darkened room, lit only by light from an opened door off to one side of the old bed he was lying on. When he tried to pull his arm down, he found that he was tied up, wrists and ankle, to the bars of the antique looking brass bed.
Puzzled, angry and worried, he lifted his head, craning from one side to the other in an attempt to see how the knots were tied and if it would be possible for him to work himself free. The springs on the mattress needed oiling. They squeeked like a family of mice, protesting and negating his attempts to move covertly.
"He's awake, Daisy." A big, rangy woman whose face was a work of art stepped through the open door. She was striking, but Miguel thought that underneath the thick make-up she was probably ugly as sin. Then she smiled, somewhat shyly and her adam's apple bobbled up and down nervously.
"Hello Migs," she said in a curiously deep voice. A name came to him. Molly.
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"Why am I tied up like this?" he asked, jerking angrily, trying to pull his hands free. Molly ran in, waving her hands ineffectually as she tried to calm him down.
"Oh, don't do that," she cried. "You'll hurt yourself. Daisy. Daisy, he's going to hurt himself."
"Let me go, and I won't," he answered tightly. "You have no right to do this."
"But... But we had to," Molly answered, her eyes filling with tears. This close, Miguel found that his guess was correct. For all the artistry in the work, the poor girl was very homely, with strong, over-sized features.
"Me and Daisy found you out in the Alley, all covered with blood. We brought you back here, but you kept trying to fight us, and we were afraid you'd hurt yourself, so we tied you up. That's all."
Miguel suddenly realized something else. He was shirtless and the woman, Molly, was lightly playing with his chest, pulling on his nipples. He wasn't at all in the mood and he didn't like the way she was touching him.
"Well, I'm not fighting you now, so why don't you untie me," he said as persuasively as he could.
"I don't think Daisy would like it," Molly answered dubiously.
She reminded Miguel a little of Dagwood, a thought that made him feel somewhat easier with her, if she would just keep her hands to herself. He was reminded of the sexual harassment seminars he'd been forced to attend as a member of the service and they didn't seem quite so stupid anymore.
"But Daisy's not here. It's just you and me, and you don't really want me tied up, now do you?" he asked, trying to smile at her. She thought about that, licking her lips in a way that made him want to shudder, then nodded and reached over him, toward the ropes.
"Except Daisy is here. Molly, leave him alone and go finish your packing. We're leaving as soon as it gets light."
"But he's pretty, Daisy. I want to talk to him," the big slow woman whined. looking over her shoulder at someone Miguel couldn't see. She was heavy on his chest, and the scratches he'd gotten squeezing out the car window stung.
"Not now. There'll be time for that later. Now, shoo. Go."
"Oh, all right." Molly stood up, giving Miguel a sweet smile. "I'll see you later. I have to go pack now." With a sad sigh, she turned and left the room, sliding past the woman who moved into his range.
Daisy was everything that Molly wasn't. Small, petite, blonde, beautiful and hard. The periwinkle blue eyes that gazed down at him were the coldest, deadest eyes Miguel had ever seen on a woman before. A small sneer marred the smooth perfection of her lips.
"Molly's right, you know. You are a pretty one. Too bad about that, but it probably means you're a right bastard anyway. The good-looking ones always are."
"Look lady," he started to say, but Daisy cut him off short, leaning forward to press her hand against his mouth.
"Word of advice seaman, don't ever call me that again, if you want to continue making semen that is." She smiled grimly at her own joke, sitting down beside him. "Let's see what your equipment looks like, since I may have to remove it anyway."
To his horror, she pushed off the sheet and began to unzip his pants, slowly, coldly, taking her time at it, with frequent sideways glances at his face. Apparently his reaction was all she wanted, because a small, vicious smile touched her full, red lips.
"Daisy," Molly called in a sing-song voice from another part of the house. "I need you to help me with this bag."
"Oh, darn. Just as it was getting interesting." Sighing with faint exasperation, she pulled the sheet over his body. "Later sailor," she promised.
Miguel shuddered and began working at the ropes that held his wrists over his head, trying to loosen the knots enough for him to pull free.
"Wait a minute, Jim," Tim said, from the passenger seat. "Back it up. I think I see something."
Carefully the seaQuest weapons officer backed up while, trying to look where the light was on the side.
"I don't see anything...." he started to say, but the comm officer interrupted excitedly.
"Stop. Stop right here."
Even before the vehicle had come to a full stop, he opened the door and jumped out, half running back the other way, looking at the ground with an intent expression on his face.
"Here! Look here!" he ordered.
More slowly, Jim Brody followed, looking down where directed.
"So. Tire tracks. This is a highway."
But Tim wasn't listening. He was following them, muttering to himself. They led right to another impassible thicket. For a few moments, the tall, thin officer stared at it, a disappointed frown on his face. Then he gave a determined nod and pushed forward.
"Tim! Stop! You can't go through..."
Except that he could. The apparently solid mass of brush pushed right out of the way. Tim looked back with a smug smirk of triumph on his face.
"The tracks went in and out so there had to be a way," he explained somewhat pompously. Jim Brody nodded and hurried back to the hummer to report.
Captain Bridger knocked gently on the closed door and after a moment, Dr. Smith opened it, her brown eyes wide with worry and defeat.
"Nothing?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head, frustrated with the talent that never seemed to work when she most needed it to.
"I can't feel him at all. All I know is what I felt at first. The sense that he's hurt and in danger. And if we don't get to him before nine tomorrow, it will be too late. But I can't sense why or how or even where."
"He is still alive, isn't he?" Bridger asked hesitantly.
The young doctor gave him an encouraging smile and nodded.
"He has to be if it's not going to happen before nine," she answered with confidence.
The grey bearded man smiled back, nodding his thanks and he patted her shoulder as he left the pleasant quarters that were hers. As soon as the door closed, her confident demeanour dropped and she winced, letting her head drop backward.
"I hope," she said softly, grabbing up a soft cushion off the wicker chair and dropping down into the seat, hugging the pillow tightly as she curled up around it. "I did see that, so he has to be."
Closing her eyes, she let her mind range outward again, trying to find some hint of the missing sensor chief, some clue to his whereabouts.
"Hey Migs."
The whisper should have been anonymous, but Miguel knew without looking that it was Molly. He hoped she'd leave the lights off. His hands were slippery with blood from the rope burns around his wrists and one of the loops felt like it was looser than the other. If he could just slip his hand loose, he would be able to untie the others. But if she turned on the light, she'd see what he was doing and tell her friend.
When he didn't answer or look at her, the big, awkward woman shuffled further into the room.
"Migs. Are you awake?" The mattress protested as she sat down beside him.
"Molly, are you bothering that sailor again?" Daisy's voice called threatening from another room. Molly quickly stood up again.
"No," she said. "I'm not." In a very quiet voice, she said to him, "Don't be afraid of Daisy, Migs. I won't let her hurt you like the others." She left quickly, and Miguel caught his breath in fear, wondering what others, and what had Daisy done to them that Molly would try to protect him from.
He began to pull his hand down, trying to make it as small as possible. If he could just do this, then he'd be home free.
The road was dirt, worn out of the Everglades back country, not paved, bumpy and rutted, marshy in places. The UEO hummer had no problems getting through, but the two officers could see signs of where another car had come through and floundered around for a while before continuing.
They were moving slowly, as quietly as possible, and Jim Brody had his side arm out, ready for trouble. The entire scene was like something out of a slasher film, an observation that he shared with his companion.
"Thanks Jim. Like I really needed to hear that," Tim O'Neill responded drily.
"Hey, you've got nothing to worry about, pal. In those things, it's aways the virgin who survives. The brave, strong guy is the first one down, don't you know."
"Now I feel really safe," he answered sarcastically.
"You should," Jim replied absently, leaning forward to peer through the windshield. "You have the strength of ten because your heart in pure. Now me," he leaned back and smirked in an annoyingly macho way. "I haven't been pure since I was sixteen stop here."
The order came so close to the quip that Tim almost missed it. He stopped, and Brody jumped out, casting forward beyond the halo from the headlights. When he came back there was no trace of joking on his face.
"Get the other light and follow me. I think we're close to a cabin of some sort.
Tim told himself that he wasn't really afraid, as he followed the other man's broad back through the lightening darkness. From the looks of things, dawn wasn't so far off. He wasn't afraid, he was just ... nervous. That's what it was. And it was normal to feel nervous under these circumstances. Something touched his shoulder and he jumped, stifling a squeek.
"Shh. I don't know who or what's up above, but I don't want them to know we're here," Brody ordered tersely. "You stay here, I'm going to reconnoiter. Leave your light turned off."
With that he was gone. Alone in the darkness, Tim glance around, his nervousness growing with every unexplained sound, every shadow movement. It was one thing to watch the Blair Witch and laugh at the unreasoning fears of the idiots on the screen, but another to be one of those idiots yourself, stuck out in the wilderness and convinced that something was creeping up behind you, ready to pounce and ...
"AAHHH!" he yelled, spinning around. Jim Brody jumped backwards.
"Jeez O'Neill, what the hell do you think you're doing? Now they're bound to know we're here."
"Who? What? Where?"
"Follow me. And try to keep it down." Moving like a shadow himself, Jim Brody took off into the dimness. Swallowing heavily, Tim O'Neill followed.
"What was that?" Daisy asked, throwing her head up.
More slowly, Molly cocked her head and listened. She shook her oversized head.
"I don't hear anything," she said.
But Daisy was already in motion, grabbing up the semi-automatic and checking the ammunition before turning out the light.
"I'm going to have a look around. We don't want anybody to find us now. Not when we're this close." She smiled down at the bigger, cruder woman and touched a lock of her stringy brown hair. "Don't worry, Molly. Nothing can stop us now. Nothing." Her habitual hard expression was back in place as she slipped out of the house.
Left alone, Molly looked around, making sure that Daisy couldn't see her, then she got up and went into the back bedroom, where the sailor was. He was so pretty, Molly liked to look at him. She liked to look at him almost as much as she liked to look at Daisy, and she really wished that there was time to do more than just look. But they had to go.
Taking the time to turn the hall light off, she stepped inside and felt her way over to the bed, sitting down and reaching over to him. Then she stopped short, feeling around on the empty mattress as though he had to be there, if only she looked hard enough.
Miguel stepped from behind the door and slipped out while Molly had her back turned. He probably should have tried to knock her out, but he didn't have the heart and besides, he grinned at himself, he definitely didn't have the strength. Right now, even the little woman could overpower him.
"Migs?" Molly called softly through the dark house. "Migs? I'm not going to hurt you. Please don't run away. Migs?"
He moved quietly, the way that Brody trained them to move, finding his way almost by sonar. But Molly knew the house better than he did and she wasn't injured. She caught up with him at the main room.
As the big, hulking woman reached out for him, Miguel spun around, trying a desperate kick and overbalanced himself, falling over and hitting his head on the floor, knocking himself almost unconscious again.
"Oh, Migs!" Molly said sorrowfully. "I didn't want you to get hurt."
She knelt down and checked him out, lifting his head to see if the bleeding had started again and examining his poor mangled wrists with tears in her eyes. When she was sure he wasn't too badly hurt, she braced herself and lifted him straight up off the floor, the effort not even making her grunt. She started to take him back into the bedroom then stopped, her head cocked to one side in thought.
"No!" she said firmly. "Daisy's not going to hurt this one." Going over to the cabin door, she looked out carefully, then pushed the screen open and stepped out.
Jim reached out a hand to Tim's arm to stop him when he heard the first crackling noises that indicated the presence of another hunter in the darkness. He signalled for the comm officer to stay put, hunkered down out of sight while he went forward to see what he could.
Tim O'Neill was more than happy to obey. The effort of walking silently in the wilderness in the dark was a wearing one and he'd been up all night so far. One thing he was determined, though. When Brody got back this time, Tim would not yell and give away their position. So, when he felt the touch on his shoulder, he swallowed his breath and turned around, pretending a calm he didn't exactly feel.
Then he froze.
Instead of the big, muscular lieutenant, it was a big, hulking monster, carrying a dead body. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. Eyes wide, he backed away, shaking his head.
"You're a sailor," Molly said in her deep, husky voice. She held up her arms, holding Miguel. "He is too. He's hurt. Can you fix him, please."
Tim blinked, his thoughts rearranging rapidly. The child-like arrangement of sentences disarmed him and it seemed that whoever this person was, they weren't trying to hurt Miguel or him, but help.
"Sure," he said in a low whisper. "Let's get him back to the car, ok?"
"Ok." And Molly started to head toward the shed behind the cabin. Tim put his hand on her arm, and blinked again, surprised by the rock hardness of her muscles.
"This way," he whispered, pointing.
Molly nodded and followed him, with Tim looking back constantly to make sure that she was still following. She decided that even though he wasn't as pretty as her sailor, this one wasn't too bad.
Tim felt distinctly odd, letting the hulking person from the bayou carry Miguel, but he was honest enough to admit to himself that he couldn't have carried the sensor chief the quarter of a mile or so to where they'd left the hummer. He directed Molly to put Miguel inside, and then turned on the light to look him over. When it fell on his face, Miguel opened his eyes, staring for a moment to get things into focus and recognizing Tim.
"Tim," he said, smiling. With a sigh, the smile still on his face, he closed his eyes again, relaxing into unconsciousness. He was safe.
"I'm going to have to take him to a doctor," Tim cautiously told Molly, turning off the light and pulling his head back out of the car. He wasn't at all sure of how this strange person would take it, him taking Miguel away. He didn't exactly understand what was going on, but he also wasn't ready to surrender his shipmate now that he'd gotten him back.
"Do you understand?"
Molly nodded soberly. "Yes. Migs is hurt bad. He was covered with blood when Daisy and I saw him. And now he's worse, even though I tried to take care of him. And I'm afraid Daisy will hurt him if he stays here. She likes to hurt men."
"Ah, yeah. Right." Tim looked around uneasily, licking his lips. "I wish Brody were here," he muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"Umm, nothing. Look, I'm going to call my ship, to let them know..."
"No!" Molly said, reaching toward him. "You take Migs away. Don't you call anyone." Her voice was urgent and demanding.
"I need to ..."
"No!" And she pushed him violently to one side, moving so that she stood where he had been
There was a shot, a flash of powder and Molly jerked, throwing her head up high into the air before falling down on top of Tim, frocing him to the ground. He pushed her off frantically, afraid, rolling away from her and anything else that might fall on him.
Molly touched the front of her shirt wonderingly, pulling back her fingers covered with blood. "It doesn't hurt," she said. More loudly, she repeated herself. "Daisy. It doesn't hurt."
"Noooooo!"
Throwing her shotgun away from her, Daisy ran out of the underbrush, sliding to her knees and picking up Molly. "No. Molly. I didn't know it was you. I thought it was... Oh, Molly, please. Let me see it. Let me see it, maybe it's not too bad."
"It doesn't hurt Daisy. And I knew it was you. I heard you. It's ok, Daisy. Maybe.. "
Jim came running out, pushing Daisy to one side and ripping open Molly's shirt to check on the damage. Tim noticed the padded bra she wore, pushed up to reveal the flat chest of a man.
Brody looked up at Daisy, his face hard.
"If we get him to a hospital immediately, he might make it. Tim, make a call. And hurry."
Scrambling to his feet, Tim called for a medical airlift for two. When he looked back around, he found that the woman called Daisy had vanished. Jim finished making a field dressing for the gunshot wound that the unknown man had.
"Where'd she go?"
But Brody just shook his head, looking disgusted. There was a distant plop and he raised his head, looking out toward one of the water channels that ran through the Everglades.
With his head bandaged, Miguel looked somewhat rakish and piratical, lying in the hospital bed, listening to Jim Brody and Tim O'Neill tell him the story of his rescue. When Jim told him of the denoument of Molly's identity, his eyes grew wide with horrified realization.
"So, Molly was a guy?" he checked, his voice rising with emotion. "Really a guy? The entire time? But she... he ..."
"Ye-es?" Brody prompted maliciously, enjoying the wounded man's obvious confusion as Miguel turned dark with embarassment.
"Never mind," the sensor chief waved the question away, hurrying on to the next question. "What about Daisy. Was she a... a she?"
Tim sighed sorrowfully and nodded.
"Apparently. They found her body in one of the channels. The police think she was trying to escape in a boat and an alligator turned it over." He swallowed, his over active imagination at work as he added, "She was pretty badly chewed up."
The injured man looked away uneasily, plucking at a fold in the sheet.
"I wish I could say I'm sorry," he said in a low, shamed voice. "But I can't help feeling it was for the best. Molly said something ... I was pretty out of a lot of it, you know," he pointed out, looking at them to make the point. "But sh... Molly said that Daisy... That sh... he wouldn't let Daisy do to me what she'd done to others. I ... I don't think she was at all a nice person."
"She wasn't."
Captain Bridger stood just inside the hospital room, his concerned, worried face looking toward the sensor chief with a lightening of relief in his eyes. When Tim and Brody snapped to attention, he absently waved them back at ease.
"You were lucky, Miguel," Bridger told him, stepping into the room. "Not only have Daisy and your friend Molly been positively identified as the two ATM thieves who've been working up and down both sides, but Daisy apparently liked to pick up single men at bars, take them home and dispose of whatever was left over."
"So the guy's talking?" Brody guessed.
Captain Bridger nodded shortly.
"He's in shock, but yes, he's talking. They're cousins. Something happened when they were kids that made Daisy hate all men and Molly to decide that he hated being a man. That's what the money was for, he claims. To make him into a real woman."
Miguel swallowed, closing his eyes and turning his face away while Brody gave an amused snort.
"And Ortiz couldn't tell. I knew the moment I laid eyes on him that he was a freak."
"A transvestite, Mr. Brody," the captain corrected firmly.
"So, what will happen to him?" Miguel asked in a low voice. "He tried to help me, and he did get me out of there."
"In light of his diminished capacity, he's going to be put into an institution where they will try to help him adjust to life without Daisy. It's pretty clear that he has the mind of a child, and with your testimony that Daisy was the ringleader ..." He shrugged. "I doubt that he'd get out, but it might be better for him."
The sensor chief shook his head sadly.
"It doesn't seem fair."
"No, it may not be, but neither is life. For what it's worth, according to him, he did convince Daisy not to kill you. They were planning to leave you there, tied up when they left."
A doctor stepped in, interrupting the captain and calling him out into the hall way. When he returned, he looked grim and very old.
"Mr. Brody, we've been requested by local authorities to provide a bomb squad at the cabin site. There's been an explosion and several men are down."
Jim Brody gave a hard nod, saluting briefly before he ran out. Captain Bridger looked back at the man on the hospital bed.
"If they'd left you there, Mr. Ortiz, you'd be dead now."
"You must have had an angel looking over you," Tim intoned solemnly, his eyes owl-like behind his glasses.
Miguel nodded agreement.
"Yeah, and her name was Molly. Captain, I want to do whatever it takes to help her. She doesn't deserve to be put away for the rest of her life."
The old sailor nodded.
"I thought you might."
THEN END