‘‘We’re gonna need a little help.’’
‘‘Oh, yeah,’’ she said emphatically. ‘‘I’ve asked for a TAC team.’’
‘‘Swell. But doesn’t that have to come from a sergeant?’’
‘‘Yes, but they’re sending one.’’
‘‘From where?’’
‘‘Post sixteen.’’
‘‘That’ll take about an hour.’’ I started to move back around the rear of her car. ‘‘Look, when my people get here, let me know. I can’t see too well from up there. We’ll try to get Lamar out of there fast. Before they get anybody else.’’
She nodded. ‘‘I’ll tell ’em to get the team assembled and ready. That way, when the supervisor orders it, they can be here real fast.’’
I was beginning to like this 884.
I sort of duck-walked back to her and stuck out my hand. ‘‘Carl Houseman.’’
‘‘Diane Blakeslee.’’
‘‘Buy you a doughnut when we’re done.’’
‘‘Sold. Keep your ass down.’’
‘‘Yep. Tell our office what’s happening, will you?’’
‘‘Sure. I think an ambulance is almost here. What do you want to do with them?’’
‘‘Let me know when they get here, but don’t let ’em in until you clear it with me.’’
‘‘Okay.’’
I half crawled back to the rear of her car again, and then went thundering back toward my fence post. Stepped in a puddle, slipped, fell, got up, continued, got to the post, and no shots. Whew. After I got some breath back, I said, ‘‘Lamar,’’ in a loud voice.
‘‘What?’’ He did sound a little weaker, but still relatively healthy.
‘‘Cavalry’s on its way. Can you move at all?’’
He was quiet for a few seconds, and I thought that he hadn’t heard me. ‘‘Lamar?’’
‘‘Just give me a second.’’
I gave him about fifteen, and was just about to say something again when he spoke up.
‘‘Just a little. I backed up your way. You see me?’’
I peeked up. YES! By God I could. I could see about the lower half of him, between a crumpled sheet of rusted steel siding and a disorganized pile of twisted steel fence posts. But I wished I hadn’t a moment later, when I got a good look at his right leg. He had taken his belt and applied a tourniquet, but his foot was just about blown off. I could see what looked like bone sticking through his boot, and the whole thing was at a weird angle. There was a white bandage wrapped around his left leg, below the knee. Well, it had been a white bandage. It was now red and rust-colored. If I could get to him, I’d have to drag him. He’d never be able to move on his own. Damn.
Lamar has the constitution of a horse. He’s known for that. Otherwise, I think that he would have gone into shock long before I got there. He was going now, however. I could see his legs quivering. Now what? I didn’t know if he’d bleed to death first, or if the shock would get him. Either way, he had to come out of there, and had to do it now.
Just then, when I thought things were bleak before, I heard the rumble of thunder. I looked up, and the sky to the west was black, and threatening. Even as I looked, the wind came up, and little bits of dust and debris began blowing through the air. Rain. All I needed was fucking rain.
I picked up my walkie-talkie. ‘‘884?’’
‘‘Go ahead.’’
‘‘You got an ETA on that ambulance? I don’t want it to rain on him. Shock.’’
‘‘Stand by…’’ She paused for a few seconds. ‘‘About three or four minutes.’’
‘‘Okay.’’
I looked at the open trunk of my car. I thought about my emergency blanket, which was waterproof. I thought about my raincoat, which was too. Both in the trunk. Naturally. I could almost see my headstone: ‘‘Died trying to stay dry.’’
Resolved to get soaked, I forgot about the contents of my trunk, and tried to see if there was any movement in the shed. Nothing. I got 884 on the radio again.
‘‘See if they’re still in contact with the people in the house. Tell them we have an ambulance, and if anybody else is hurt, we’ll be glad to take them out with One.’’
‘‘Ten-four.’’
‘‘Then just tell them that a plainclothes officer is going to go to the sheriff with a blanket, and will stay with him until the ambulance gets here.’’
There was a pause. ‘‘You sure about that?’’
‘‘Nothin’ else to do.’’
‘‘Okay.’’
I waited about a minute. The door of the house opened, and the young man came out, this time with a rifle in his hand.
‘‘Just one,’’ he yelled. ‘‘Just for the ambulance.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ I yelled back. ‘‘Are you all right too?’’
Silence, as he stood there, looking generally toward me. Then: ‘‘Yeah!’’ Pouty. Like I shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have cared. Well, I didn’t. But he’d gone for it.
I got 884 on the radio again. ‘‘You hear that?’’
‘‘Yes. You believe it?’’
‘‘I think so. Might as well. Unless you can think of anything else?’’
No answer.
I stood up, very slowly. Leaving my rifle by the post. I was carrying a. 40 caliber S amp;W auto under my shirt, but forgot about it until I was halfway to my car. Well, what the hell. If they were going to find that, they’d have to do it up close. I got to the trunk, got both the blanket and my raincoat, and walked slowly toward Lamar. I kept looking at the shed, but could see no movement, no silhouette, nothing. I was beginning to wonder if he was still in there.
When I got to Lamar, he was just about out. I knelt beside him.
‘‘Hi there.’’
He looked up, tried very hard to focus his eyes. ‘‘Yeah,’’ he said, weakly. His head went back down. I reached down and put my hand on his shoulder looking for the first-aid kit. It was a little further away, just past his head.
‘‘You’ll be fine. We’re getting you out of here real soon.’’ I ripped off the plastic cover of the emergency blanket, and the wind whipped it toward the shed. It snagged in the fence posts, then some old wire. It was a struggle, but I finally got it around him, just as big drops of rain splattered down.
I got 884 on my walkie. ‘‘I think you can send the EMTs in now. We’re lookin’ good.’’
I put on my raincoat, and looked back. There were about five cop cars sitting in the lane, and an ambulance was coming around them, lights flashing. Good. Very good. It was raining harder all the time, but we could handle that now. I watched the first two EMTs struggle in their bright yellow raincoats, leaning into the wind, as they came around the corner of their unit, and putting their heads down, they trotted through the rain. Brave people. When they got to us, I recognized them both. One owned a hardware store, and one was an electrician. In rural areas, they’re all volunteer EMTs.
‘‘Hi.’’ I gestured toward Lamar. ‘‘Gunshot, both legs, pretty bad. Shocky, he’s been out here for a while. The guy who did it is in that shed there. If he starts to shoot, just get out of here.’’
‘‘You got that right,’’ said the hardware man. They immediately began doing their EMT things, but keeping as low as they could. ‘‘Who bandaged his legs?’’ asked the electrician, looking at me accusingly.
‘‘He did.’’
‘‘Oh.’’
It began to rain harder.
The two ambulance people motioned, and two more EMTs came forward with a stretcher. It was becoming
