No one moved, and then everything happened at once. The train screamed to a halt further up the tunnel, paramedics jumped onto the tracks, officers began to photograph the area. Samantha and Mitch gingerly raised themselves from the tracks. Mitch was up first, offering her a hand.
“You saved my life,” Samantha said as he pulled her up.
“Again,” he teased, dusting her off.
“I was seconds away from death. That could be me now,” she said, her eyes fixed on Lawrence. The tone of her voice made Mitch take notice.
“Sam,” Mitch turned her to face him. Her eyes were darting around the scene, her face was ashen. “Hey, look at me.” He held her shoulders. “Samantha!”
Mitch motioned to one of the paramedics.
“I think we might have shock here,” he indicated Samantha who refused to let go of his arm.
“Can you bring her up?” the paramedic asked with a nod to the stretcher on the platform.
Mitch agreed, then just as suddenly Samantha snapped out of it.
“I’m OK,” she struggled out of his grip.
“Samantha let the paramedics …” Mitch started.
“I’m OK,” she blinked rapidly. “I was blown away seeing Lawrence sliced and diced.”
Mitch winced at her turn of phrase. He was still holding her arms.
“Go over there and let them check you out. It’s an order!” Mitch pushed her towards the edge of the platform.
Adam leaned down, extending his arm and pulled her back up on the platform.
Mitch was in a discussion with the Chief of Police, William Irwin, when John rang. He handed the phone to Ellen with a promise to call back.
As he talked with Irwin, Mitch watched the paramedics treat his team; Nick lay on a bench as the paramedic stripped off the Kevlar vest to clean and bandage the wound and treat him for a mild concussion. The skin was burnt around the area where the bullet fragments had penetrated the vest and Nick gritted his teeth as the area was disinfected.
Lying next to Nick was Officer Watson undergoing the same treatment and next to him, Samantha was being treated for shock. Mitch glanced to Adam as he collected weapons and debriefed the remaining officers on duty.
Irwin departed to supervise the clean up and Mitch returned to his team, noticing only the medics, Underground cleaning staff and his team remained on the platform.
“Great job guys, thank you.” His tone conveyed how grateful he felt.
“You’re welcome and your shout,” Adam said.
Mitch laughed. “Since I’m alive, that’s probably a fair call.”
“You need to get those ribs seen to first,” Nick told him.
“They’ll heal, they’re not broken, just bruised,” Mitch said.
“You can share my painkillers,” Nick said. Turning to Ellen, he smiled. “That was some crack shooting.”
“I’ll second that,” Adam agreed, “she’s a hotshot.”
Ellen shrugged off their praise. “Thanks.”
She handed Mitch back his phone. “John wants you to call back later with a full report. I gave him a brief overview. He also said to tell you to get the medic to check you out.”
Mitch gave her an exasperated look.
“I swear he’s got me chipped.”
When they were thrown out of the local pub at two in the morning, closing time, they took supplies and headed back to the apartment. Everyone was far too wired to sleep. They sat around unwinding, eating takeaway pizza and drinking beer and wine. When Nick went outside for a cigarette, Mitch got up, stretched and followed him onto the balcony.
Mitch took a mouthful of beer and leaned back against the wall. He looked over at Nick. “Nick, hey, thanks for saving my butt tonight.”
“Don’t mention it. You’d do the same for me, I think,” Nick said with an amused look on his face. Anyway, now we’re even – you got me onto your team, after all.”
“Hardly lifesaving stuff. Pretty much the opposite given the injuries you’ve scored already.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Nick looked away.
“I confess it was somewhat self-motivated. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”
“And I’m supposed to be the eldest.”
“By twenty days,” Mitch shook his head. “Heard that line a few thousand times.”
Nick lit a cigarette.
“Your hands are shaking. Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Nick put his hand in his pocket, out of Mitch’s line of vision.
“How are you really feeling?” Mitch prodded.
Nick exhaled.
“On fire. I’m not sure how I ended up down on that track. I can’t remember.”
“That’d be the concussion,” Mitch said. “You know, it’s pretty normal to have the shakes after these sort of things. It’s not every day you get shot or get a gun stuck in your face.”
Nick nodded. “How about you?”
“It only hurts when I breathe. Nothing that a few beers and some painkillers won’t fix.”
Five minutes later they went inside to rejoin the group. They were still sitting around at three in the morning when John called. Mitch left the team and sought the quietness of Nick’s assigned room to fill John in. His own bed, the sofa, was occupied.
At three-thirty they were finally spent; the surge of adrenalin had been replaced by exhaustion.
“Where’s Mitch?” Adam asked. “He can’t still be on that call.”
“I’ll check it out,” Nick rose and went into the room.
Mitch was fast asleep on the bed, phone still in his hands, fully dressed.
Nick removed Mitch’s boots and manoeuvred the phone out of his hand. Tossing the bed cover over him, he grabbed a spare pillow and departed, the sofa in sight.