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!Joe Flanigan (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dr_dolittle) wrote,@ 2009-08-29 19:05:00 |
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Joe Flanigan, (NPC) Justin Long, Karl Urban, with Orlando Bloom. Gone.
[Takes place a few hours after Karl calls Orlando from work and cancels their plans, which happens a few hours after Justin's trip to Aesthetica.]
One Miss Christina Hendricks was a whole lot of woman. Justin's still a little shell shocked when he pulls into the strip mall's parking lot from the still-busy main road. A whole lot of woman, with a very fucked up PC and an equally fucked up laptop.
He'd spent the entire day trapped in various circles of hell.
He wonders, for a moment, if he's completely lost his mind to go check on the shop--but he has to check on Karl and David.
Justin's stomach drops down to his feet when he sees the emergency vehicles.
He leaves his coupe haphazardly parked in front of the bookshop, then gets out of his car. Monique, one of the girls from the bookshop, calls his name, but he ignores her. Yeah, those emergency vehicles are in front of his store. His store!
"Oh my god," he cries, "oh my god, what's going on? I work here--someone tell me what's going on!"
He sees Karl sitting on the curb with a paramedic holding something to the back of his head, and drops down into a crouch in front of them. "Jesus," he whispers. "Karl?"
"I'll be okay," Karl says. "They don't think I have a concussion."
"Concussion?" Justin whispers in horror.
"I got cracked on the head," Karl explains.
"Jesus," Justin repeats. "What's going on?"
"We're still trying to figure that out, sir," says the paramedic. "One of the girls from next door called us. We just got your co-worker awake."
"One of the girls...?" Justin gets up and starts yelling for Monique.
She comes right over, arms wrapped around herself, trying to keep warm, since her jacket's doing a shitty job.
"Monique, what happened?" Justin asks, trying really, really hard not to just freaking panic.
"I don't know," she says, shaking her head, arms wrapping tighter. "Our cash register was borked again, and I came over to see if someone could fix it, since you guys were still open. I opened the door, and there were things knocked all over, and Karl was on the floor, bleeding. Mars won't come out from under the desk--he's still in there. He wouldn't even look at me."
"Mars? Oh my god, Mars. Where's David?" Justin asks, looking around frantically.
Monique opens her mouth, then closes it again. Somehow, even though Mars was there, and David wasn't, Karl's bleeding head wound had shocked her out of realising just how strange that was. "I don't know," she murmurs. "He wasn't there."
And Justin leaves her standing where she is, taking off at a dead run past paramedics and cops and into the office, shouting David's name. He's not here. He's not fucking here. A cop has to wrestle him back outside, despite his protestations about the dog, but crime scene, crime scene, crime scene...
Crime scene.
He pulls out his phone. He has to call Joe.
Joe answers the phone on the first ring. "Justin, tell me that you're going to go rescue Karl, because they've stopped answering the phone, and I'm sure David's half-way to a nervous inventory induced break down by now, and that's just not something that's fair to inflict on the new guy."
"David's gone."
"I don't... what do you mean, gone? Gone for coffee?"
"Joe, you've got to get here. Now. They won't let me in to see Mars."
"What's wrong with Mars? What's going on, Justin, you're not... what do you mean, gone?" Joe feels his stomach starting to turn rock-solid with dread, and he doesn't even know why. But he's never heard Justin like this before.
"Karl's bleeding, and there's something wrong with Mars, and David's not here." Justin's just about ready to cry. He leans against the front of someone's land rover, glad it doesn't have an alarm. His legs feel like rubber.
There's a long, long silence from Joe's end of the phone. "David's not there?" he says finally, very softly. He hasn't realized that he's reached out with one hand and is gripping the counter so tightly his nailbeds have gone white.
"I don't know where he is, and they won't let me into the shop."
He's got too many questions, and can't figure out how to ask them. "I'm coming. Now." Joe hangs up the phone, and heads for his truck. Later on, he'll be surprised he even remembered to close the door.
Justin waits for him. He leans against the wall next to the shop, and waits, his phone held loosely in his hand.
Joe will fix everything. He always does.
Joe's not sure how long it took for him to get from home to the shop, but he didn't spend a lot of the drive worrying about things like traffic safety or speed limits on the way. He leaves his truck abandoned at the nearest place he can park it, and strides toward the shop, long legs carrying him there damned fast. "I need someone to tell me what's going on," he says, in his best 'I am a doctor, and you will pay attention to me god damn it' voice. Right now, it doesn't really matter that he's a doctor of veterinary medicine.
"That's Joe," Justin says, his voice a little flat, to one of the cops. "He's Hewlett's partner."
She doesn't look overly impressed by this, but she turns and approaches Joe. "Mr Flanigan? Detective Sheridan." She holds out her hand.
Joe gives her hand a fast shake, then steps back again. "I need to know what's going on. Where's David? What happened to Karl? And where the hell is my dog?"
"Someone assaulted Mr Urban. Nothing was taken from inside the shop, though it looks like whoever came inside wanted us to think it was a robbery. The dog is still under one of the desks inside. He won't come out. And Mr Hewlett is missing. His car keys are still inside," Detective Sheridan explains. "If the dog is yours, I'll take you to him." She takes his arm.
"Justin... just stay with Karl, okay?" Joe says softly. "I have to get Mars. I'll be right back." He turns back to the detective. "Yes, he's my dog. Please," he says.
"This way, please, Mr Flanigan," says Detective Sheridan, a little more gently. She leads Joe into the very messy shop.
Joe pauses when they go inside, needing a deep breath before he can continue. He can see blood on the floor, and some kind of marker next to it. And he can't see Mars at all. "Mars? Buddy, it's Joe... can you come out now? I'm here... it's okay, I'm here."
Joe? I'm sleepy.
"Can you hear me, bud? Just let me know where you are so I can find you," Joe says, moving away from the detective (and trying not to step on any of the mess).
Under David's desk.
Joe moves around and crouches behind David's desk, giving Mars a little smile. "Hey there, bud... how about you come out now, huh?"
I'm sleepy.
Joe frowns, then looks up at the detective. "I'm sorry--he's not coming out... he looks really out of it. I ... am I going to mess anything up if I get down closer? He's not acting like himself."
"It should be fine, Mr Flanigan," she replies. "He's your pet, after all, and you should probably take him home."
Joe picks up Mars's leash off David's desk, and crouches down. "Hey, Mars... c'mon out now, okay? Let me check you out, then you can sleep."
Mars struggles to get up. He stumbles a little, manages to make it to Joe, and then his legs give out. I'm sleepy.
He swears under his breath, and strokes Mars' head, murmuring softly to him. "I'm right here... just hold still, okay?" he says, skimming his hands over Mars' body, then swearing again when he finds it. A small dart, buried in Mars' skin. He tugs it out, and holds it out to the detective. "They tranquilized my dog," he says softly. Which means whoever did this planned it. Which means... Oh God, David, where are you?
"Mr Flanigan, let's get your dog outside. I'm going to have to ask you some questions while my people continue to look over the store," says Detective Sheridan, very gently.
Joe keeps stroking Mars's fur, then carefully lifts him up into his arms. Not the easiest thing to do, but Joe's too numb to even feel the strain from picking him up. He carries Mars out of the store, letting the detective open the door in front of him, carrying him over to the truck. "Keys are in my jacket pocket... can you get the tailgate down?" He doesn't really give a fuck if that's part of her job description or not.
"Certainly, Mr Flanigan," she says. She gets the tailgate down for him, and watches him gently put the big dog into the back of the truck. "And now here comes the rotten part of my job. Was there anyone who might want to hurt your... partner?"
He scrubs at his hair and takes a seat on the edge of the tailgate, stroking Mars's fur, then changes his mind and gets up, taking a few steps away, but staying in Mars' eyeline. He doesn't need to hear any of this... even though Joe thinks he's too drugged to really get it. "He's a computer expert," Joe says softly. "He fixes computers, and lets old ladies pay him with cookies. If this wasn't a robbery, I don't know what's going on."
The detective sighs, then hands Joe a card. "I need you to give us your information, and we'll get a hold of you," she says. "And if anything comes to mind--anything at all--you give me a call, all right?"
"You'll get a hold of me?" Joe repeats, taking the card from the detective and looking back at her in numb disbelief. "My partner is missing, they took out my dog with a tranq dart, his employee's been bashed in the head, and you'll get a hold of me?" Swear to God, he's fighting between laughing, crying, and hitting the nice police detective in the face right now, because that's probably the stupidest phrase he's ever heard in his entire life.
"Mr Flanigan, there's nothing you can do to help us," she says. "You'll speak to Officer Grunberg, answer his questions, and go home."
Nothing you can do to help us. Well, Joe's quickly learning his place in all this. "And what about me? What about David? What are you doing to help him?"
"That's why you, Mr Urban, and Mr Long need to answer our questions," she says, as patiently as she can. "We're going to look over the shop. You need to cooperate."
Joe doesn't think he likes her very much. And he also thinks that if she can help get David back? He's going to play along, no matter what. "I'll cooperate. Please, just find him," he murmurs.
"We intend to, Mr Flanigan. If you'll excuse me."
As she steps away, Justin hurries over to Joe. "Oh my god," he says, in a small voice, then launches himself at the much-taller Joe and hugs him tight.
Joe staggers. Usually, Justin can hit him like that, and he doesn't so much as flinch. "We have to talk to the detective, Justin... is Karl all right?" he asks, holding on to him. "How about you... are you okay?"
"I'm just scared," Justin says. "And Karl's going to be fine. He doesn't have a concussion, doesn't need stitches... oh my god. Why would someone kidnap a forty-year-old computer geek?"
"I don't know," Joe says, shaking his head. "Justin, I need you to get my vet bag from the cab. I need to do a blood test for Mars, make sure he's all right, and I don't want to wait any longer. I'll call one of the other vets to pick it up. I also need to ask Mars a few questions, so I need you to tell me if anyone's coming over here who shouldn't be listening. Can you do that?"
Justin nods. "Yeah. I can do that, Joe." For a moment, he sounds very much like Max, and he grabs the vet bag and brings it back to Joe.
"Thank you," Joe murmurs, taking the bag and finding a syringe inside, going over to Mars. "Call the clinic, tell them what's going on and ask them to send someone over to come get Mars and the sample, and keep an eye out," he says, handing over his phone. That done, he goes to Mars and smiles at him. "Hey, sleepy... I'm gonna just do a test. It won't hurt more than a little pinch, I promise. Can you answer a few questions for me, then I'm gonna send you with a friend of mine so you can get some sleep?"
Can't sleep now?
"Really, really soon." Joe takes the blood test, and Mars barely moves. "Do you remember what happened? Before you got all sleepy?"
Some men came in. Mars's eyes start to close again.
"Some men came in... good, buddy. Do you remember what else happened?" Joe keeps petting him, his touch firmer than he'd usually make it, trying to keep Mars awake.
There was loud talking. David was scared.
"Do you remember how many men were there? Did Karl see the men?" Joe asks, trying not to let his hand shake.
Don't know. Didn't see Karl. Think I heard him fall, though. Mars licks carefully at Joe's hand. David was scared. I could smell him. I got up, Joe. I growled. I was a good boy. And then I got all sleepy.
"You are a good boy... I'm very proud of you," Joe murmurs softly. "Can you think of anything else? Tell me anything about the men?"
They were big. Like Karl.
"You're my good boy, Mars. I'm really proud of you. How about you sleep now, okay? One of my friends from the clinic, they're gonna come get you, just to make sure you're okay. And I"ll be there soon. I promise. I promise you that, okay?"
Okay, Joe. Mars closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Justin whispers.
Joe's still holding on to the blood sample. "I think so... I... they drugged him. There was a dart. But I need to know what the strength was, and what they used, and I don't know. And I can't leave, because I have to talk to some officer... something. Groundhog, I think."
"Grunberg," Justin says, pointing. "That guy there."
He sighs. "Right. Can you stay with Mars? Until the other vet gets here? They're coming, right?" he says, handing over the blood sample.
"They're coming." Justin nods and takes the blood sample. "But I'll stay with you. As long as you need me to."
"Thanks, Justin," Joe murmurs. "Mars remembers seeing a few guys... he's not sure how many. Big guys, like Karl. He says David was scared." Joe's almost eerily calm as he explains to Justin, feeling like the words are coming from somewhere else, not from him. "They had to know Mars was going to be there. Why else would they have a tranq gun?" And how does he explain any of this to the cop, without explaining how he knows?
"Does the detective know? Did you find like... oh my god, a tranq dart?" Justin reaches out and gently rubs one of Mars's ears. "Poor little dude..."
Joe nods. "I gave it to the detective. He'll get better now that it's out." Joe hopes. "Will you stay with him? I need to talk to the police... I need to get it over with."
Justin nods. "Yeah. I'll stay right here," he promises.
He gives Justin's shoulder a squeeze, then heads over to the cop... not groundhog. Grunberg. "The detective said I'd need to answer questions."
Justin watches him go, worried and anxious and kind of sick. He keeps rubbing Mars's ear, waiting for the other vet to show up, watching the officer asking questions, taking down notes. Karl's still sitting on the curb. He'd have to get Karl home. Was Joe safe to drive? Well, if Mars was going with the vet, both guys could get in Justin's car... he could drive them both home... maybe he could take Karl to Orlando's?
Orlando.
Still watching Joe, Justin pulls his phone out again. There's a reason he's so anal about getting emergency contact info from everybody he knows.
Orlando hits mute on the television--not that he's been paying that much attention--and lazily reaches out for the phone. "H'lo?"
"Orlando? It's Justin--god, did I wake you, I'm sorry if I woke you, it's just--we need some help--and ohmygod." Yeah, now is the perfect time to just start having a massive fit.
"Justin?" Orlando sits up, confused. "Slow down--just slow down, okay? What's wrong? Is Karl all right?"
"I got here after it happened--I'm sorry to bother you--somebody--some people--" Justin stops, takes a deep breath. "Someone hurt Karl and kidnapped David. And tranqed one of David and Joe's dogs."
"What?" None of this makes the slightest bit of sense. It sounds like some kind of action movie, or something ridiculous... this doesn't happen in real life. "Where are they? Where's Karl?" He's already up and looking for his keys, trying to find his shoes, and where the hell is his jacket? Who puts a jacket in the closet?
"Karl's here," Justin says. "At the shop. Well, outside the shop. He's gonna be okay, but, oh my god, someone hit him in the head. Can you come get him and stay with him tonight? Make sure he's really okay? I've got to take care of Joe."
"I don't have a car--I'll get a cab, and I'll be there as soon as I can," Orlando promises, struggling into his coat and locking his door behind him, heading out of his apartment. "You're sure he's going to be all right?"
"The paramedics say he'll be fine. Probably just have a headache for a while, but no concussion. Can you drive his Jeep? It's still here."
"It's been awhile, but I can drive," Orlando says. And hopefully manage to stay on the wrong side of the road without crashing.
"Good. Um, I won't keep you on the phone. But I'm sure we'll still be here when you get here."
"There's a cab stand just down from my place--I won't be long," Orlando promises, then disconnects the call. And runs.
[Takes place a few hours after Karl calls Orlando from work and cancels their plans, which happens a few hours after Justin's trip to Aesthetica.]
One Miss Christina Hendricks was a whole lot of woman. Justin's still a little shell shocked when he pulls into the strip mall's parking lot from the still-busy main road. A whole lot of woman, with a very fucked up PC and an equally fucked up laptop.
He'd spent the entire day trapped in various circles of hell.
He wonders, for a moment, if he's completely lost his mind to go check on the shop--but he has to check on Karl and David.
Justin's stomach drops down to his feet when he sees the emergency vehicles.
He leaves his coupe haphazardly parked in front of the bookshop, then gets out of his car. Monique, one of the girls from the bookshop, calls his name, but he ignores her. Yeah, those emergency vehicles are in front of his store. His store!
"Oh my god," he cries, "oh my god, what's going on? I work here--someone tell me what's going on!"
He sees Karl sitting on the curb with a paramedic holding something to the back of his head, and drops down into a crouch in front of them. "Jesus," he whispers. "Karl?"
"I'll be okay," Karl says. "They don't think I have a concussion."
"Concussion?" Justin whispers in horror.
"I got cracked on the head," Karl explains.
"Jesus," Justin repeats. "What's going on?"
"We're still trying to figure that out, sir," says the paramedic. "One of the girls from next door called us. We just got your co-worker awake."
"One of the girls...?" Justin gets up and starts yelling for Monique.
She comes right over, arms wrapped around herself, trying to keep warm, since her jacket's doing a shitty job.
"Monique, what happened?" Justin asks, trying really, really hard not to just freaking panic.
"I don't know," she says, shaking her head, arms wrapping tighter. "Our cash register was borked again, and I came over to see if someone could fix it, since you guys were still open. I opened the door, and there were things knocked all over, and Karl was on the floor, bleeding. Mars won't come out from under the desk--he's still in there. He wouldn't even look at me."
"Mars? Oh my god, Mars. Where's David?" Justin asks, looking around frantically.
Monique opens her mouth, then closes it again. Somehow, even though Mars was there, and David wasn't, Karl's bleeding head wound had shocked her out of realising just how strange that was. "I don't know," she murmurs. "He wasn't there."
And Justin leaves her standing where she is, taking off at a dead run past paramedics and cops and into the office, shouting David's name. He's not here. He's not fucking here. A cop has to wrestle him back outside, despite his protestations about the dog, but crime scene, crime scene, crime scene...
Crime scene.
He pulls out his phone. He has to call Joe.
Joe answers the phone on the first ring. "Justin, tell me that you're going to go rescue Karl, because they've stopped answering the phone, and I'm sure David's half-way to a nervous inventory induced break down by now, and that's just not something that's fair to inflict on the new guy."
"David's gone."
"I don't... what do you mean, gone? Gone for coffee?"
"Joe, you've got to get here. Now. They won't let me in to see Mars."
"What's wrong with Mars? What's going on, Justin, you're not... what do you mean, gone?" Joe feels his stomach starting to turn rock-solid with dread, and he doesn't even know why. But he's never heard Justin like this before.
"Karl's bleeding, and there's something wrong with Mars, and David's not here." Justin's just about ready to cry. He leans against the front of someone's land rover, glad it doesn't have an alarm. His legs feel like rubber.
There's a long, long silence from Joe's end of the phone. "David's not there?" he says finally, very softly. He hasn't realized that he's reached out with one hand and is gripping the counter so tightly his nailbeds have gone white.
"I don't know where he is, and they won't let me into the shop."
He's got too many questions, and can't figure out how to ask them. "I'm coming. Now." Joe hangs up the phone, and heads for his truck. Later on, he'll be surprised he even remembered to close the door.
Justin waits for him. He leans against the wall next to the shop, and waits, his phone held loosely in his hand.
Joe will fix everything. He always does.
Joe's not sure how long it took for him to get from home to the shop, but he didn't spend a lot of the drive worrying about things like traffic safety or speed limits on the way. He leaves his truck abandoned at the nearest place he can park it, and strides toward the shop, long legs carrying him there damned fast. "I need someone to tell me what's going on," he says, in his best 'I am a doctor, and you will pay attention to me god damn it' voice. Right now, it doesn't really matter that he's a doctor of veterinary medicine.
"That's Joe," Justin says, his voice a little flat, to one of the cops. "He's Hewlett's partner."
She doesn't look overly impressed by this, but she turns and approaches Joe. "Mr Flanigan? Detective Sheridan." She holds out her hand.
Joe gives her hand a fast shake, then steps back again. "I need to know what's going on. Where's David? What happened to Karl? And where the hell is my dog?"
"Someone assaulted Mr Urban. Nothing was taken from inside the shop, though it looks like whoever came inside wanted us to think it was a robbery. The dog is still under one of the desks inside. He won't come out. And Mr Hewlett is missing. His car keys are still inside," Detective Sheridan explains. "If the dog is yours, I'll take you to him." She takes his arm.
"Justin... just stay with Karl, okay?" Joe says softly. "I have to get Mars. I'll be right back." He turns back to the detective. "Yes, he's my dog. Please," he says.
"This way, please, Mr Flanigan," says Detective Sheridan, a little more gently. She leads Joe into the very messy shop.
Joe pauses when they go inside, needing a deep breath before he can continue. He can see blood on the floor, and some kind of marker next to it. And he can't see Mars at all. "Mars? Buddy, it's Joe... can you come out now? I'm here... it's okay, I'm here."
Joe? I'm sleepy.
"Can you hear me, bud? Just let me know where you are so I can find you," Joe says, moving away from the detective (and trying not to step on any of the mess).
Under David's desk.
Joe moves around and crouches behind David's desk, giving Mars a little smile. "Hey there, bud... how about you come out now, huh?"
I'm sleepy.
Joe frowns, then looks up at the detective. "I'm sorry--he's not coming out... he looks really out of it. I ... am I going to mess anything up if I get down closer? He's not acting like himself."
"It should be fine, Mr Flanigan," she replies. "He's your pet, after all, and you should probably take him home."
Joe picks up Mars's leash off David's desk, and crouches down. "Hey, Mars... c'mon out now, okay? Let me check you out, then you can sleep."
Mars struggles to get up. He stumbles a little, manages to make it to Joe, and then his legs give out. I'm sleepy.
He swears under his breath, and strokes Mars' head, murmuring softly to him. "I'm right here... just hold still, okay?" he says, skimming his hands over Mars' body, then swearing again when he finds it. A small dart, buried in Mars' skin. He tugs it out, and holds it out to the detective. "They tranquilized my dog," he says softly. Which means whoever did this planned it. Which means... Oh God, David, where are you?
"Mr Flanigan, let's get your dog outside. I'm going to have to ask you some questions while my people continue to look over the store," says Detective Sheridan, very gently.
Joe keeps stroking Mars's fur, then carefully lifts him up into his arms. Not the easiest thing to do, but Joe's too numb to even feel the strain from picking him up. He carries Mars out of the store, letting the detective open the door in front of him, carrying him over to the truck. "Keys are in my jacket pocket... can you get the tailgate down?" He doesn't really give a fuck if that's part of her job description or not.
"Certainly, Mr Flanigan," she says. She gets the tailgate down for him, and watches him gently put the big dog into the back of the truck. "And now here comes the rotten part of my job. Was there anyone who might want to hurt your... partner?"
He scrubs at his hair and takes a seat on the edge of the tailgate, stroking Mars's fur, then changes his mind and gets up, taking a few steps away, but staying in Mars' eyeline. He doesn't need to hear any of this... even though Joe thinks he's too drugged to really get it. "He's a computer expert," Joe says softly. "He fixes computers, and lets old ladies pay him with cookies. If this wasn't a robbery, I don't know what's going on."
The detective sighs, then hands Joe a card. "I need you to give us your information, and we'll get a hold of you," she says. "And if anything comes to mind--anything at all--you give me a call, all right?"
"You'll get a hold of me?" Joe repeats, taking the card from the detective and looking back at her in numb disbelief. "My partner is missing, they took out my dog with a tranq dart, his employee's been bashed in the head, and you'll get a hold of me?" Swear to God, he's fighting between laughing, crying, and hitting the nice police detective in the face right now, because that's probably the stupidest phrase he's ever heard in his entire life.
"Mr Flanigan, there's nothing you can do to help us," she says. "You'll speak to Officer Grunberg, answer his questions, and go home."
Nothing you can do to help us. Well, Joe's quickly learning his place in all this. "And what about me? What about David? What are you doing to help him?"
"That's why you, Mr Urban, and Mr Long need to answer our questions," she says, as patiently as she can. "We're going to look over the shop. You need to cooperate."
Joe doesn't think he likes her very much. And he also thinks that if she can help get David back? He's going to play along, no matter what. "I'll cooperate. Please, just find him," he murmurs.
"We intend to, Mr Flanigan. If you'll excuse me."
As she steps away, Justin hurries over to Joe. "Oh my god," he says, in a small voice, then launches himself at the much-taller Joe and hugs him tight.
Joe staggers. Usually, Justin can hit him like that, and he doesn't so much as flinch. "We have to talk to the detective, Justin... is Karl all right?" he asks, holding on to him. "How about you... are you okay?"
"I'm just scared," Justin says. "And Karl's going to be fine. He doesn't have a concussion, doesn't need stitches... oh my god. Why would someone kidnap a forty-year-old computer geek?"
"I don't know," Joe says, shaking his head. "Justin, I need you to get my vet bag from the cab. I need to do a blood test for Mars, make sure he's all right, and I don't want to wait any longer. I'll call one of the other vets to pick it up. I also need to ask Mars a few questions, so I need you to tell me if anyone's coming over here who shouldn't be listening. Can you do that?"
Justin nods. "Yeah. I can do that, Joe." For a moment, he sounds very much like Max, and he grabs the vet bag and brings it back to Joe.
"Thank you," Joe murmurs, taking the bag and finding a syringe inside, going over to Mars. "Call the clinic, tell them what's going on and ask them to send someone over to come get Mars and the sample, and keep an eye out," he says, handing over his phone. That done, he goes to Mars and smiles at him. "Hey, sleepy... I'm gonna just do a test. It won't hurt more than a little pinch, I promise. Can you answer a few questions for me, then I'm gonna send you with a friend of mine so you can get some sleep?"
Can't sleep now?
"Really, really soon." Joe takes the blood test, and Mars barely moves. "Do you remember what happened? Before you got all sleepy?"
Some men came in. Mars's eyes start to close again.
"Some men came in... good, buddy. Do you remember what else happened?" Joe keeps petting him, his touch firmer than he'd usually make it, trying to keep Mars awake.
There was loud talking. David was scared.
"Do you remember how many men were there? Did Karl see the men?" Joe asks, trying not to let his hand shake.
Don't know. Didn't see Karl. Think I heard him fall, though. Mars licks carefully at Joe's hand. David was scared. I could smell him. I got up, Joe. I growled. I was a good boy. And then I got all sleepy.
"You are a good boy... I'm very proud of you," Joe murmurs softly. "Can you think of anything else? Tell me anything about the men?"
They were big. Like Karl.
"You're my good boy, Mars. I'm really proud of you. How about you sleep now, okay? One of my friends from the clinic, they're gonna come get you, just to make sure you're okay. And I"ll be there soon. I promise. I promise you that, okay?"
Okay, Joe. Mars closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Justin whispers.
Joe's still holding on to the blood sample. "I think so... I... they drugged him. There was a dart. But I need to know what the strength was, and what they used, and I don't know. And I can't leave, because I have to talk to some officer... something. Groundhog, I think."
"Grunberg," Justin says, pointing. "That guy there."
He sighs. "Right. Can you stay with Mars? Until the other vet gets here? They're coming, right?" he says, handing over the blood sample.
"They're coming." Justin nods and takes the blood sample. "But I'll stay with you. As long as you need me to."
"Thanks, Justin," Joe murmurs. "Mars remembers seeing a few guys... he's not sure how many. Big guys, like Karl. He says David was scared." Joe's almost eerily calm as he explains to Justin, feeling like the words are coming from somewhere else, not from him. "They had to know Mars was going to be there. Why else would they have a tranq gun?" And how does he explain any of this to the cop, without explaining how he knows?
"Does the detective know? Did you find like... oh my god, a tranq dart?" Justin reaches out and gently rubs one of Mars's ears. "Poor little dude..."
Joe nods. "I gave it to the detective. He'll get better now that it's out." Joe hopes. "Will you stay with him? I need to talk to the police... I need to get it over with."
Justin nods. "Yeah. I'll stay right here," he promises.
He gives Justin's shoulder a squeeze, then heads over to the cop... not groundhog. Grunberg. "The detective said I'd need to answer questions."
Justin watches him go, worried and anxious and kind of sick. He keeps rubbing Mars's ear, waiting for the other vet to show up, watching the officer asking questions, taking down notes. Karl's still sitting on the curb. He'd have to get Karl home. Was Joe safe to drive? Well, if Mars was going with the vet, both guys could get in Justin's car... he could drive them both home... maybe he could take Karl to Orlando's?
Orlando.
Still watching Joe, Justin pulls his phone out again. There's a reason he's so anal about getting emergency contact info from everybody he knows.
Orlando hits mute on the television--not that he's been paying that much attention--and lazily reaches out for the phone. "H'lo?"
"Orlando? It's Justin--god, did I wake you, I'm sorry if I woke you, it's just--we need some help--and ohmygod." Yeah, now is the perfect time to just start having a massive fit.
"Justin?" Orlando sits up, confused. "Slow down--just slow down, okay? What's wrong? Is Karl all right?"
"I got here after it happened--I'm sorry to bother you--somebody--some people--" Justin stops, takes a deep breath. "Someone hurt Karl and kidnapped David. And tranqed one of David and Joe's dogs."
"What?" None of this makes the slightest bit of sense. It sounds like some kind of action movie, or something ridiculous... this doesn't happen in real life. "Where are they? Where's Karl?" He's already up and looking for his keys, trying to find his shoes, and where the hell is his jacket? Who puts a jacket in the closet?
"Karl's here," Justin says. "At the shop. Well, outside the shop. He's gonna be okay, but, oh my god, someone hit him in the head. Can you come get him and stay with him tonight? Make sure he's really okay? I've got to take care of Joe."
"I don't have a car--I'll get a cab, and I'll be there as soon as I can," Orlando promises, struggling into his coat and locking his door behind him, heading out of his apartment. "You're sure he's going to be all right?"
"The paramedics say he'll be fine. Probably just have a headache for a while, but no concussion. Can you drive his Jeep? It's still here."
"It's been awhile, but I can drive," Orlando says. And hopefully manage to stay on the wrong side of the road without crashing.
"Good. Um, I won't keep you on the phone. But I'm sure we'll still be here when you get here."
"There's a cab stand just down from my place--I won't be long," Orlando promises, then disconnects the call. And runs.
