smooth seas//john b

twenty nine

When I open my eyes I have no idea how long I've been out. I look around and John B isn't next to me anymore. I groan as I sit up slightly. I get down from the table and grab the IV bag. I head towards the room where John B and the doc are sitting.

"Whoa, little lady! You need to go lie down," the doc tells me.

"How long did I sleep?" I ask.

John B rushes towards me. "Not long enough."

"Can we still make it?" I ask.

"No. No." John B shakes his head. "We... It's over. Okay?"

"No, it's not," I insist.

"Maisie..." John B starts.

"We still have an hour," I remind him.

"You need to rest. You just got shot," John B protests.

"I am fine," I insist. "We're going."

John B doesn't argue with me anymore. He helps me down the stairs as the doc follows behind.

"Seriously, MC, you shouldn't be standing," John B argues.

"I'm fine," I repeat.

"Okay. Relax," John B tells me.

He looks out of the door. I can hear sirens in the distance. I look out and see a cop talking to two people.

"Shit. Are you kidding me?" John B remarks.

"You guys got a little heat on you, don't you?" the doc asks. "I've been there, and I've done that. But I got an idea."

The doc holds out a set of car keys to John B. "Friend of the devil is a friend of mine."

"Thanks, Doc," John B tells him.

I grab the car keys from him.

"Oh dear," the doc remarks.

"Let's go," I tell John B.

"Okay. All right." John B helps me into the car. "So how bad's it gonna be when the anesthesia wears off?"

"Pretty much mind-bending," the doc tells him.

"All right, Doc, how do I get this baby back to you?" John B asks as he gets into the car.

"You're just going to the wharf, right?" the doc asks.

"Yeah. Berth 39, right?" John B tells him.

"Perfect. Put the keys under the gas cap, and we're good," the doc tells us.

"Are you sure we can take this?" John B asks.

I hand the car keys over to John B.

"Well, you overpaid for the medical, so have a nice trip," the doc tells us.

"Thank you," I tell him.

"Thanks, Doc," John B says.

John B and I start to the wharf.

"How much time do we have?" I ask.

"Not much," John B tells me.

The street ahead of us is blocked off by cops.

"Shit. Cops. Should I peel?" John B asks.

"No. Just play dumb," I tell him.

"Down. Slow down," a cop tells us.

"All right, I got this," John B assures me.

"Road's closed," the cop explains.

"What happened?" John B asks.