Day 14: All caught up

As he pulled the handle and opened the door, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Don looking at him, eyes bubbling over with confusion and worry, but it was Megan who spoke.

“Jack… What do you think you’re going to do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

The words stung. They were so matter of fact. I would expect that from a child, Megan, not you, they said with their tone. You should know.

“That doesn’t mean it’s right, Jack.”

Zach, now, joining in to keep him from making what they saw as a mistake. Could they see it any other way? He wondered. What if they were in the same position?

“Jack. Dawn would never forgive me. I could never forgive me.”

Back, full circle, to Don. Uncertainty in his mind for the first time, tumbling through his memories of the past week, the trials he – no, they – had been through and, after all of that, they wanted him to experience more hardship? More loss?

No. Not this time. He brushed Don’s hand from his shoulder and burst from the car, only to gag and fall backward as the hand caught the neck of his shirt and dragged him down. He slipped from it and started around the car, only to feel his stomach lurch forward as he was turned and slammed against the side of the van, neck held by his much larger elder. What had before been confusion had resolved into anger – furious, righteous anger.

“The hell, boy! You think it’ll do us any good to lose you, too? She’s gone and it hurts, and it should hurt! That’s how you know you still care, but charging in, thinking you’re invincible… When you get a break like this once, it doesn’t come again. Throwing it away, Jack? Really? That’s how you want this to end?”

Even with one arm, the man far outweighed him and, besides that, simply overpowered him. He could barely breathe, much less speak, but he grunted in protest. Eventually, when he started to physically scrabble at his neck in desperation, Don eased up enough for him to talk.

“She’s my mom and you… You’re dating her! You’re a heartless fuck is what you are! You think you’re tough, but most of all you think you’re smart, think you’re smart enough to take what you’re given when you’re given it, but that’s now how it works, Don!

“We all saw that when the bombs hit, that we have to take what we’re given and run with it until we get more, or else we’re just going to end where we started, but you’re going to throw her and me and Zach and Megan away! One day we’re going to be the ones who are too dangerous to help.”

They were both breathing hard, as though their scuffle had been physical, but the fire had siphoned from Don’s eyes and, it seemed if you looked at him, into Jack’s. The van tilted back to rest, centered on its frame, as Don backed off and Jack stood up. He was still wary of his elder, lids narrow around blue eyes.

“Are you gonna try to stop me again?”

Don shook his head. Jack turned back to the car, peeked in through the driver-side window.

“How ‘bout you two?”

Same.

“All right. Good.”

He pulled the pistol from his belt and checked the cartridge, made sure it was solidly in the handle of the gun and flicked off the safety.

“If I’m not back in five minutes, odds are I’m not coming back out. If that’s what happens… Follow Don’s lead. He’ll decide what you do.”

“You don’t want our help?”

He looked at her over his shoulder, then down at the ground.

“No. This is mine to do.”

He left before any of them could respond, ducked low beneath the window-frames and disappeared into the house.

They counted first the seconds, then the minutes as the house remained silent and stationary. Two passed, then three and four. It had soon been five minutes, but the three of them continued to sit in the van, watching the door. Cold sweat flooded their skin, pushing it out, making it clammy and soft. They didn’t have to wait for long.

Three flashes, punctuated by an equal number of loud cracks and a scream preceded Dawn, dashing from the house with Jack fast on her heels. One side of her face was covered in red and Jack’s shirt was stained with what could only be blood. Don threw open the passenger’s door as Megan and Zach opened the back and welcomed Dawn in, ushering her across them as Jack jumped into shotgun and fired two more shots at the doorway, bullets cracking the frame and scaring the suit back inside, only his hand and the gun therein peeking out.

“What’re you waiting for? Drive!”

Don hit the gas, launching the car from its standstill as inertia threw them back. They turned the corner as a black Lincoln burst from behind their row house, charging after them as they sought the highway.

The back door was unlocked. This should have been a blaring danger klaxon, but Jack went in regardless, gun at the ready out in front as he turned a corner into the kitchen. Two men in monkey suits stood alongside his mother, one on either side of the kitchen chair within which she sat. She was not tied down and they were facing away from him, but one of them had a gun to her head and both were watching the front door, waiting for someone to come in that way. He tightened his grip on the pistol and, just as he started to go in, whipped it around as he spun, bottom of the handle coming just short of a third agent’s chin, the man’s head snapping back. He fell into the wall and grunted, whistled sharply just as Jack swung again, but he ducked and came up behind the young man, caught his extended arm and pulled it out to the side, pushed on the joint of his shoulder and rolled it forward, spinning him around and slamming him into the floor.

He could feel footsteps vibrating through the hardwood, knew they were coming from the kitchen, and only hoped that the distance was short enough; he jerked his head up, driving the back of it into the base of the agent’s chin. He rolled the suddenly-limp form off of his back and stood up, rubbing the back of his head for the second time that day.

He came through the entryway while Jack was still picking up his gun. His leg moved quickly, and it was all Jack could do to throw himself out of the way as the ball of the agent’s foot arced in and grazed his cheek, rough sole scratching his flesh and spinning him to the ground. He held onto the gun, though, and had it aimed as he caught himself with his free hand and kept himself upright. The suit didn’t stop; he jerked to the side and pushed off from the wall, driving his momentum down at Jack away from the gun, but Jack never fired. He swiped to his side with the weapon, bringing it down on the back of the man’s head as he came in for the kill. Blood shot from a burst blood vessel on the back of his bald skull and the man fell unconscious. Or dead. Either way, Jack didn’t have much sympathy left for him.

He went around to the front of the kitchen quickly but quietly, catching the third agent with his back turned. The look on his mother’s face as he raised the pistol, fired into the suit’s head… He didn’t have time to worry about whether she approved, what she thought of him. The agent’s body fell without any manner of decorum, tumbling freely to the ground with only the external input of the kitchen table and the momentum imparted by the bullet to guide it. His mother stared at him, blood coating half of her face crimson awful, mouth open, scream silent in her throat. They would have heard the shot, they’d be coming through the front door in just a moment whywasshestillsittingthere!

“Go!”

She responded immediately, standing and running from the kitchen with him behind her, firing two wild shots at the men who came through the door after them, forcing them aside. The light greeted them harshly – outside felt so exposed as they made their mad dash to the car.

And now she was screaming. She was screaming and she wouldn’t stop and he couldn’t tell her to do it, his voice as hung as hers had been earlier. He wanted to yell it, “Quiet! Quiet! Shut up I was only doing what I had to do!” but he wasn’t sure it was true and… God, was he really? No, he did was he had to do to ensure her survival, to make sure she wouldn’t be used against him and… And he did love her. She was his mother; of course he loved her.

“Mom! Mom! Mom!”

He hadn’t meant to say the words so harshly, but his voice was hoarse, barely escaping his tongue and his lips, a desperate croak, but it cut her off for just a moment.

“Mom, I… I did what I had to do, okay? He had a gun to your head!”

She wasn’t shouting anymore, just breathing heavily as he cried, as he dropped his gun to the car floor and pressed his face into the headrest, gripped the shoulders of his seat as though they were all that anchored him to his world. He sobbed loudly, audibly, not understanding why it had happened, why she’d had to confront him why she’d seen him like… Like…

A monster! She had looked at him like he was a monster!