FALLEN | The Devil of Caracas

Chapter 16 | Penance

A blanket drapes over Jason's pale body. He swallows shallow breaths, thankful for the morphine streaming through his veins. His pants and shirt have been cut open by surgical scissors, allowing access to the wounded areas. Drops of blood stain the motel bed, where he lies and with the bullets still lodged inside his leg and arm, he does whatever he can to distract himself from the pain. 

Dietrich takes his time, piercing the needle through his friend's flesh and dragging the thread behind it. A burning cigarette hangs from his lips.

"More morphine..." Jason whispers. His eyes are closed and cold sweat glistens across his brow.

"I think you have had enough for now," says Anatoly, calmly. He shines a flashlight on the wound, allowing Dietrich to see his task more clearly. The motel's lamps provide poor lighting for such a delicate procedure.

Jason winces as the needle stabs into his thigh again. His body begins to tremble.

"I need you to hold down his leg, again," says Dietrich, his cigarette bouncing between his lips. He speaks softly and remains focused on his work.

Anatoly leans forward and places his hand on Jason's leg, applying his weight. Jason tightens his jaw as he struggles against the pain. His breathing hastens, slightly.

The three men say nothing, while Dietrich continues stitching. Once finished with Jason's thigh, Dietrich moves to clean his arm, while Anatoly wraps the leg with a fresh bandage and finally removes the tourniquet.

Anatoly nervously checks his watch.

"We still have plenty of time," says Dietrich, quietly. The pressure from the tourniquet can cause permanent neurovascular damage and even kill tissue cells after two hours of use.

"I know," says Anatoly. "But we still need to get him an IV as soon as we can."

Dietrich continues to work in silence. Once finished, he then removes the dressing from Jason's side, where he cleans it and does his best to repair the damage along his rib cage. 

After Dietrich ties the last stitch and applies fresh bandages, Jason fills his stomach with MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) and sucks down a bottle of water. He then throws back a few painkillers. Jason finally lies down on the other twin bed, while Dietrich and Anatoly clean up the scene. The two men tear the bloodied sheets and towels off the vacant bed and shove them into a large plastic garbage bag. Then Dietrich takes his knife and cuts out a few pieces of carpet, where Jason's blood stains the floor, in hopes to eradicate any traces of his DNA.

They remove any additional evidence of their presence, including wiping down fingerprints. Then, while Jason sleeps, they a plan.

"We need to get out of this place and get rid of the cars," says Dietrich, pulling the stubby cigarette from his mouth and smashing it into the ashtray.

"Agreed," responds Anatoly. "I will call pilot and make sure he is ready to take off-"

"No," interrupts Dietrich. "We're going to figure out a way to get Lexi and Sam back."

Anatoly sighs as he slumps down onto the edge of the, now uncovered, bed. "Dietrich," he says, looking up at his friend, "I told you there is nothing we can do."

Dietrich shakes his head. "We need to figure out where they're holding them and go from there."

"Who? You and me?!" replies Anatoly, agitated. "Jason cannot help. You think two of us will break into jail, fight police, and get them out, ourselves?!" His frustration is growing. How is Dietrich unable to accept the inevitable? He runs his hands through his shaggy hair and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"We can't just leave them to rot here," hisses Dietrich. "They are our people. We take care of our own."

Anatoly looks up at him and throws his hands in the air. "We do not know if they are even alive!" He pauses, considering the odds. His hands drop to his sides, resting on the mattress. "If they are... and you come up with plan that keeps us all alive... then I will help." He leans forward again. "Until then, I am not going to jump into something that will get us all killed."

"Give me some time," says Dietrich, intently, as he leans closer to Anatoly.

Anatoly gestures to Jason. "How much time does he have?"

"Just-" Dietrich starts. He glances at Jason and then back to Anatoly. "Just give me a chance. Okay? We can get everybody home."

Anatoly stares at the German for a moment, in silence. Then he whispers, "Jason will die..." The words linger in the air. Dietrich's gut twists at the thought of it. Anatoly's right. If he doesn't get Jason to a doctor, he could possibly die.

"If Sam and Lexi are still alive," Anatoly continues, "they will be taken to prison and then-"

"That's why we need to get them now," demands Dietrich. "They will be in transit at some point. Most likely taken to a jail somewhere, where they'll be processed and booked." He pauses to think it over. "We'll have to figure out where they are and then we can hit them when they're on the move. If we wait until they reach some prison, we'll have no chance to get them out."

Anatoly scratches his head. "Dietrich, it's just not possible," he says.

Dietrich's posture deflates, disappointed in his pessimistic friend. "Fine," he says. "You take Jason back to Miami. We've got a doctor there who is on our payroll. I'll stay here and try and figure this-"

"Are you insane?" asks Anatoly, standing up. He steps closer to Dietrich, fighting to keep his voice down. "You want to do this alone?"

"I don't have much of a choice now, do I, Anatoly?" spits Dietrich. His voice is filled with furry.

Anatoly takes in a deep breath and slowly releases it. He brings his hands to his face and then runs them through his hair again as he begins to pace the floor.

Dietrich watches him stride back and forth for a few short laps. "What? What are you thinking?" he asks.

Anatoly stops and drops his hands to his sides. Turning to Dietrich he says, "I don't know your contact in Miami. I don't know where to take Jason. Come with me, so we can be sure he survives and then I'll come back with you to figure this out... I promise."

"I'll give you his information," says Dietrich. "It'll be fine. And if you are eager to help, you can fly back down here and-"

"You will get yourself killed!" says Anatoly. "Now enough of this. It's impossible! We are getting out of here togeth-"

"This is my fault, goddammit!" yells Dietrich. The two men fall silent. "I hesitated in that room... I wasn't quick enough." His voice chokes as he recalls the violence just hours before. Dietrich takes a deep breath. "When Sam went down, I hesitated. I froze. If I had my wits about me, I could have cleared the room, myself. Lexi wouldn't have had to come in and I could have gotten Sam out, before the Police arrived. This is because of me. So, please... let me fix this... I have to, Anatoly."

Anatoly stares into his friend's eyes. He glances down and lets out another sigh, thinking it over. Looking back up to his friend, he points his forefinger at him.

"Just promise me you will not do anything stupid," he says, jabbing his finger into Dietrich's chest. "Do not get yourself killed, my friend."

Dietrich scoffs. "I promise."