The Protector

10

Cavanaugh did his best to walk straight and not look injured as he made his way along a dark street two blocks over.

Headlights turned the corner behind him, coming from the direction of the fire. Worried that it might be a police car, he stepped among bushes.

But instead of the distinctive rack of emergency lights on a police car's roof, Cavanaugh saw the anonymous silhouette of a Taurus approaching at moderate speed. He returned to the sidewalk.

When Jamie stopped, he got in and slumped on the passenger seat.

She drove away at an equally moderate speed.

"Any trouble getting the car?" Cavanaugh asked.

"On the contrary. The police were glad to see me move it so they could have room for another fire truck. How bad are you hurt?"

"I reopened the wound."

Neither of them spoke for several moments.

"You could have been killed trying to save me," Cavanaugh said.

"I didn't think about that."

"You weren't afraid?"

"Only for you."

Cavanaugh looked down at his shaky hands. "Tonight, I felt afraid."

Driving, Jamie glanced from where her headlights illuminated the darkness. She gave him a quick stare. "You just had a lot to react to."

"It was more than that. Something happened to me in that basement." Cavanaugh trembled. "For the first time, I found out what fear is." He felt more blood oozing from his wound. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to do this. We passed a Wal-Mart on the way from the motel."

"Wal-Mart?" Jamie asked, bewildered.

"We're going to need some things. Trash bags. A hotplate. A saucepan. A…"