Unknown - driven

“Stay with her,” Dylan ordered as she began to turn in the direction of the sound.

“What?”

“You heard me. Stay with her.”

With that, Dylan took off, her form immediately surrounded by the darkness of the Alabama night. With a shaky breath, Mac slowly lowered himself to the ground and cradled Cat?s bloody head on his lap. “Hang on kid,” he whispered as he listened to her steady, if rasping breaths. “You?re gonna be ok.”

Dylan padded quickly, softly, along the blacktop parking lot, keeping to the pooling shadows as she headed toward the sound she?d heard. The source of the sound soon became readily apparent as Hodge?s desecrated truck came into full view. Dylan?s fists clenched; the muscles in her jaw bunched and jumped in anger.

Cat?s old and much-beloved truck had been reduced to a forlorn and hulking wreck of metal sitting on four macerated tires. Shattered glass lay like glittering diamonds strewn across the lot, winking under the sputtering lamp illuminating the horrific scene. Spray painted in jagged neon letters across the passenger?s side, and shot through with gaping holes from a tire iron, were the slogans “GOD HATES QUEERS!!” and “KILL ALL DYKES!!”

Her blood boiling with rage, Dylan carefully stepped over the remains of the truck?s headlights as she circled the vehicle. Other slurs were painted and scored into the metal.

“Motherfucker,” Dylan growled, shaking her head as she continued to circle the truck. “Stupid fucking bastards!” Her fist came down on the truck?s tailgate. A shrieking of metal, and the ruined bumper finally gave up the ghost, clattering to the ground, barely missing Dylan?s feet. “Fuck!!”

Spinning quickly, she nearly flattened the face of an overweight security guard lumbering belatedly toward the scene. Dropping her arm slightly, she grabbed the collar of his shirt instead, and dragged him forward and up until their faces were less than inches apart. “How?d this happen, Tommy? Where the fuck were you, huh? Sleeping? Jerking off? What?!?”

“T?takin? a leak!” the security guard gasped against the choking hold.

“Awfully fortuitous time for you to be emptying your bladder, maggot,” Dylan snarled, baring her teeth at him and giving him a shake that rattled his bones.

“It?s the truth! I swear!”

Dylan looked hard into his rheumy eyes and saw only terror staring back at her. After a moment, she released her hold on his shirt and shoved him away. “Call the police.”

“But?”

“Now!”

Mumbling under his breath, the guard finally walked back toward his office. Dylan considered giving him a kick to the ass to aid him on his way, quickly discarded the thought as she ran back to Cat and Mac.

Dropping to her knees, she took hold of Hodge and pushed Mac out of the way. “Go inside and tell Kelly not to close up shop. She?s got a customer.”

Mac stood slowly, looking down at Dylan, concerned. “Are you sure? Shouldn?t I call an ambulance?”

“Just do as I say, Mac,” Dylan replied, distracted as she gathered Cat close and slipped an arm under her knees. “G?wan. I?ll be right there.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Mac nodded. “She?ll be okay.”

“She better be, Mac. She?d just better be.”

As Mac walked away, Dylan gathered her strength and lifted Cat up in her arms. Her powerful legs surged and burned with the burden. Catherine carried more weight than her lithe and compact frame would indicate. The thick muscle overlaying her bones was dense and heavy. Dylan gritted her teeth and began her walk back to the arena.

Kelly Norton, MD, had two very important things going for her as the chief physician of the Birmingham Badgers. The first was that she was a former Olympian who sported a gold medal as part of the USA women?s basketball team. The second, undeniably more important, was that she was regarded as one of the best orthopaedic surgeons in the nation. She had a huge and thriving practice that she left, willingly, to her partners for four months out of the year while she followed the Badgers from state to state, tending to their injuries and attempting to prevent more.

The Johnson Arena?s medical facilities were first rate, combining a mini urgent care center, minor surgery suite and several pieces of expensive X-ray and diagnostic equipment, along with a full physical therapy department. Staffed by Norton, her Nurse Practitioner, two Registered Nurses, and one Physical Therapist, it was truly state-of-the-art.

Norton, short, spry, and pushing fifty, was just putting the finishing touches on her day when the doors burst open to admit a panting Mac. Straightening quickly, she walked to the other side of the examination table and laid a concerned hand on Mac?s thick wrist. “What?s wrong?”

“Cat?.” Mac paused to take a deep breath. “Catherine Hodges. She was badly beaten. Dylan is bringing her in now.”

“Beaten how?” Norton asked, springing into action and flipping on the overhead lights. “By whom?”

“Assholes,” Dylan snarled, entering with Cat in her arms and placing her tenderly on the table. “They beat the shit out of her.”

“Okay, okay, let me take a look at her. Move away, Dylan, you?re blocking my light.”

As Dylan stepped back, Mac touched her arm. “I?ll call the police,” he said in a voice heavy with guilt.

“They?re already on their way. I had Tommy call them.”

Mac lowered his gaze to the floor. “Dylan, I?.”

“Just?go outside and wait for them, Mac. Let us know when they?re here.”

After a moment, Mac nodded and, eyes still downcast, left the room.

“How is she?” Dylan asked, turning back to the table.

“Difficult to say yet,” Norton answered in a distracted tone as she gently probed Cat?s facial injuries. “Most of the bleeding?s stopped but I?m worried about a concussion. Doesn?t feel like anything?s fractured.” Piercing hazel eyes locked into Dylan?s. “How long has she been unconscious?”

Dylan shook her head. “I?m not sure. I found her like this?by my car. I don?t think it could have been any more than five minutes.”

Nodding, Norton removed a small penlight from her labcoat and gently pried Hodge?s eyelids open, one at a time. “Her pupils are responding equally. That makes me feel a lot better about things.” This time, when she looked up at Dylan, Norton smiled slightly. “I let my staff go for the evening, so I?ll need your help. You don?t faint at the sight of blood, do you?”

Dylan gave her a look.

Norton laughed softly. “Didn?t think so. In that bin in back of you there are some sterile dressings and saline. Get them down for me, will you?”

By the time Dylan returned with the requested items, Norton had stripped Cat of her shirt and bra and was gingerly palpating her abdomen and ribs.

Dylan felt a heat rise to her face at the sight of Cat?s body, and her eyes darted quickly away. Deal with this later, she told herself in a stern mental voice. Taking in a deep breath, she turned back to the examination table, holding up the gauze and saline.

Looking up from her exam, Norton nodded briskly. “Uncap the saline and pour it over the gauze. We?ll need to wipe the blood from her face so I can see how bad her cuts are.”

“Her?.” Dylan cleared her throat and gestured toward Cat?s torso.

Norton bit off a smile at Dylan?s uncharacteristic flustered state. “Her ribs are bruised, but I don?t think any are broken. X-rays will tell us for sure. I don?t think there are any internal injuries, but she?s gonna be sore as hell tomorrow.” The doctor lifted Cat?s left arm, displaying the young woman?s bruised, swollen, and cut knuckles. “And as for this, I?d say she gave as good as she got. Tough kid.”

“Yes,” Dylan replied softly. “She is.”