[June 2nd] [Perry Mason] Lux Aeterna, 2

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Lux Aeterna, scene two
Day/Theme: June 2nd - Strength like a tower
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Della Street, Perry Mason, Hamilton Burger, Lieutenant Anderson, Lieutenant Drumm, Paul Drake, Sergeant Brice, Mignon Germaine
Rating: T/PG-13

Takes place before the previous one.


By Lucky_Ladybug

The world was no longer the same.

Oh, things ran more or less as they had done for years, it was true. Companies and stores still drew in big business. Schools and gyms and even churches were still in operation. So were hospitals, police precincts, and law firms. Technology progressed, always becoming more complex, seemingly, with each passing week.

But the people were oppressed. It did not matter which country they were in; it was the same everywhere. The entire world was under the reign of a dark queen.

Della stood, snapping off the television and crossing to the window, troubled.

It was strange, how none of them had really realized the danger in Vivalene’s sister Florence. She had lingered in the background, never making much of a move during the course of the black magic spell Vivalene had summoned to make everyone forget. Then, without warning, she had slipped in and taken control, via the Forbidden Box that Mignon had been unable to destroy.

No one had forgotten now. Perhaps Florence thought that would be the best torment. Or maybe she just didn’t care, feeling that none of them would be able to bring her down whether they remembered or not.

But there were those determined to do exactly that. Of course, Perry was chief among them. He led a determined group of rebels in the Los Angeles area. According to their information, other people controlled similar groups elsewhere.

Florence was aware of them. Several rebels had mysteriously disappeared, including their own Lieutenant Tragg. It seemed that Florence was making an example of all of them, finding it better to leave their fates up to people’s worried and overactive imaginations rather than simply telling or showing what had happened to them.

And it certainly had the desired effect. Many rebels groups were in total hiding now. Perry’s own tried to stay on the underground as much as possible. They all worried about the fates of the missing, but save for a few whose courage wavered, most were even more determined to go ahead with their plans. They refused to allow any sacrifice to be in vain.

Perry would certainly never be scared off by Flo’s attempts to break his will. He was strong in spirit, mind, and heart as well as in body. To Della he had always been the rock, the pillar, the tower. And with him in charge, Della was sure that Florence’s empire would fall.

Someday Earth would be normal once again.

The phone rang, bringing her attention sharply back to the present. Curious and concerned, she hurried over and lifted the receiver. “Hello?”

“Della?” It was Perry. “Are you busy at the moment?”

“Why, no,” she said in surprise. “What is it, Perry? Do you need me to come back to the office?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I forgot about several briefs that need to be typed tonight.”

“Then I’ll be right in,” Della promised. Quickly she hung up and went for her purse.

There weren’t really any briefs. It was one of several codes they used, just in case their lines were tapped by Florence’s network. Della’s heart gathered speed. This particular code meant serious trouble. “Several briefs”, as opposed to one or two, could even be life-threatening. She prayed her car would cooperate. There was no time to wait for a cab.

To her relief, she soon found that her engine was roaring to life. She drove out of the apartment complex parking lot and headed for downtown Los Angeles.

It was surreal and eerie, she thought every day as she took this route. To someone who did not know, things looked mostly the same. Adults drove to school and to work. Children attended classes and later played on the sidewalks and in the streets. Most went about their daily lives as always.

Some people had even accepted Florence’s rule. They were favored of her and kept in high positions as a result.

Perry was repulsed by it. “Evil should never be allowed to take root,” he had declared during one of their gatherings. “It should be pulled out as soon as it appears!” That was the goal they were all working towards.

Della gripped the steering wheel tighter. Maybe there was some news of Lieutenant Tragg. And maybe it was bad. What if . . . oh, she could not bear to think it, though they all had. What if he were dead?

“Oh, please, no,” she half-prayed in a whisper. “Please not that.”

She prayed with all her heart, as she had many times in the past, that somehow all of them would make it through this trial alive. That they would survive to rebuild their world.

That some way, all could be well again.
****
Perry was waiting for her when she arrived at the Brent building’s parking garage. And he was not alone. Della had half-expected that; someone had needed to bring whatever news there was.

“Hello, Della,” Hamilton greeted her in all somberness as they approached her car. His expression alone was enough to worry her all the more.

“You made good time,” Perry observed. “We need to leave. We’ll go with Paul in his car.”

Della slowly got out, slipping her keys into her purse as she went. “Go?” She looked from one man to the other.

“To the place,” Perry said quietly. That meant the hideout they had been using to make their plans for reclaiming Earth. They took turns staying there to work the short-wave radio and wait for communications from the others.

“Have you heard from one of the other groups?” Della asked. It was a foolish bit of hope, she supposed, but she could not help it. If all of the resistance groups could be united for an attack against Florence, they would surely have a greater chance of winning. Perry was always talking about that and wanting to bring the groups together. Some of them were interested, but others wanted to go it alone. And now, thanks to Florence’s tactics, so many of the groups had dropped out of sight altogether.

Perry shook his head. “No, we haven’t.” They walked swiftly through the garage, heading for Paul’s car. He was pulling up its top so they would be less likely to be conspicuous while riding within it.

“It’s Andy,” Hamilton put in. “He showed up about an hour ago with Sergeant Brice. They were both covered in blood and Andy was close to breaking down.”

“Andy was?!” Della gasped. Andy was usually so calm and cool-headed. Occasionally his patience ran out and he grew edgy, but that was nothing like what Hamilton was indicating now.

Of course, Andy had been increasingly upset since Lieutenant Tragg’s disappearance. They had always been close. Della’s earlier fears returned to her. Was she right? Maybe Andy and Brice had found Tragg dead and it was his blood all over them. They had gone looking for him, she knew that much.

That theory was shattered in the next moment with Perry’s words. But one fear was swiftly replaced by another.

“Sergeant Brice was struck down when he and Andy were confronted by some of Florence’s guards at a warehouse,” Perry said. “He’s very badly hurt.”

Della nearly slowed to a stop. She had not expected that at all. “Oh no,” she said in horror.

“Mignon is doing all she can to tend to him,” Hamilton said. “They barely got out of there alive. Lieutenant Drumm is trying to calm Andy down. Andy blames himself.”

“Why?” Della demanded in disbelief. “It wouldn’t be his fault.”

“He doesn’t see it that way. Apparently Brice saw the danger first and pushed him out of the line of fire.”

“And then Brice was shot in Andy’s place,” Hamilton finished Perry’s explanation.

“How horrible!” Della breathed.

Hamilton nodded. “We really have to hurry,” he said, somewhat apologetic.

Della started. “Of . . . of course.” Still reeling, she resumed walking and picked up her pace to make up for the lost time. Perry and Hamilton stayed alongside her until they came to the car. Paul, visibly tense, was waiting.

“Let’s go,” he exclaimed.

There was no argument from anyone. They climbed into the vehicle, with Hamilton riding up front and Perry and Della getting in the back. Paul pealed out of the garage, doing his best to drive as fast as possible without arousing the suspicions of Florence’s night patrols.

“These guys are everywhere,” Paul muttered in frustration as they passed two more. The guards were leaning against their car, talking and sipping coffee. Della breathed a sigh of relief when they did not bat an eye at Paul’s car.

“As long as they keep away from us,” Perry frowned.

“But for how long?” Hamilton voiced a question they all had.

Della looked down. It was too much to hope that they would be able to continue their plans to fruition without interference from the patrols. But she hoped it anyway.
****
Their hideout was in an old business park, in one of the abandoned buildings. Paul got them there as swiftly as possible and they piled out, hurrying through the back door once Hamilton unlocked it.

The sight that met Della’s eyes filled her with fresh horror and sorrow. Andy was leaning forward on a chair, his bloodstained fingers digging into his hair. Steve was standing nearby, deeply concerned as he watched both Andy and the scene at the bed. Mignon was bathing Sergeant Brice’s face and neck with a damp cloth. A quilt hid the actual wound and its dressing from sight, but the amount of blood on the carpet was enough to let everyone know it was serious.

Della was not sure to whom she should go first. Steve solved the dilemma when he looked up. “Perry, Della, Paul, Mr. Burger,” he greeted. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Steve. How badly is Sergeant Brice hurt?” Perry asked.

Steve shook his head. “We’re not sure he should be moved again right now,” he said. “But if his condition doesn’t improve we’ll have to get him to a hospital.”

Mignon nodded in complete agreement. “The bleeding doesn’t stop,” she said, her voice grave. “I’ve bandaged the wound, but the blood has been seeping through.”

Della noticed the blue candle burning on a table near the bed. In Mignon’s vodun religion the blue candle was for healing, if Della remembered right. She added her own prayer to Mignon’s.

“That isn’t encouraging,” Perry had to admit. “If we have to move him, we will.” He walked to Andy, resting his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Andy, you can’t blame yourself.”

Andy looked up, his blue eyes filled with a pain and anguish Della had never seen from him before. “I wanted to check that warehouse in case they were keeping prisoners in there,” he said. “I thought maybe we’d even find Lieutenant Tragg. And then we were ambushed. . . .” He shook his head. “Sergeant Brice yelled a warning at me and dragged me to the pier. The bullet caught him instead of me.” His voice cracked.

This was another nail in the coffin. He was a strong-willed man, but he had been teetering ever closer to breaking since Tragg’s disappearance. Suddenly Della was afraid for him. If anything else happened, especially Brice or someone else dying, he might not be able to take it.

Perry’s grip tightened. “He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Andy threw his hands in the air. “I know we’re taught not to take it personally, that it happens in the line of duty, but . . .” He struggled to say what was on his mind. “It’s . . . it’s so easy to say that without trying to live it.”

“You’re a good man, Andy,” Perry said. “And a good police officer. If you didn’t take this at least somewhat to heart, you wouldn’t be fit for the job.”

Andy managed a half-smile. “That’s what Lieutenant Tragg would tell me.”

Perry nodded in approval. “Then keep it in mind.”

Della decided to help Mignon with Sergeant Brice. Silently she marveled at every one of these people. They were all amazing. They each possessed a firmly and deeply rooted strength that enabled them to face what was coming at them due to Florence’s regime. And Perry always knew the right thing to say.

Of course, Perry was not immovable. He was becoming increasingly shaken by what was happening to his friends. Della bit her lip, setting her purse on the table beside the candle. She also prayed that he would be able to handle it, no matter what.

For if anything happened that eliminated Perry’s self-restraint, his anger against Florence would be an unconquerable force. Unless it conquered him as well as Florence.

And above all, that was what Della could never bear to see.