Jack's Back: Meltdown (3) (300 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by EhyehAsherEhyeh (View user info) at 2006-11-28 08:58:39 EST
Part 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/95497
Part 2: http://www.ubersite.com/m/95791
Previous series: http://www.ubersite.com/m/64199
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The night hugged us warm and familiar as we walked. With no moon overhead, the dark came in black and velvet. Streetlamps and porch lights provided the only light.
At first, I didn't know how to act with Mary walking beside me. These walks were usually just for me, nightly searches for violence. I would look for someone willing to attack me, and then I would be at least somewhat justified in retaliating. Or at least, that's how I thought of it back then. In those days, I had to rationalize everything.
But Mary's presence brought a whole new angle to the stroll. Now all thoughts of violence were cast aside, or almost all. I knew that there was brutality out here just waiting behind some corner, slobbering and rough-knuckled. I had seen it, I sought it, and now I had to steer my Mary clear of it. God help anything that threatened her, and God help me if she ever saw that bloody part of me that would protect her.
And so I found myself at a loss for words, possibly for the first time since I had met her. I picked up a long stick from the gutter and swung it as I walked, used it to whack an empty can in the street. Once in a while Mary would look over at me, smiling, and I'd smile, and we'd walk on.
But, finally, we came to that long, jasmine-covered fence that I loved. At its corner I stopped as I always did, and took a deep inhale. There were no new buds on the vines, and these would be the last of the season's flowers. In a few more days the thick, sweet scent would be gone for almost another year.
Mary laughed while I sniffed the air.
"You really love that smell, don't you?"
"Well, yes I do. Why?"
She blushed a little. "I'll tell you a secret- I have some jasmine-scented body spray. Every time I wear it, you get... frisky. It always gets you in the mood, every time."
It was my turn to laugh. "Well, as long as we're telling secrets, here's mine. I noticed right away that I got lucky every time you wore that stuff. If I smell jasmine, it's going to be a good night."
She winked and kissed me, then whispered in my ear. "I guess I should wear it more often, then. Maybe when we get home, we can hop in the shower and I'll put some on when we get out?"
That moment was the one I held on to in the coming weeks. We were standing there safe in the middle of a warm night, with Mary whispering and the scent of the flowers. Life was excellent at that moment, and it was easy to think about silly things like flowers and sex.
The trouble came only a few blocks after that idyllic moment. As we walked, flowers and maintained lawns gave way to weedy lots and overgrown yards. Even the sidewalk was cracked and in disrepair in this part of the neighborhood. A stop sign had been shot several times, so long ago that rust ran down from the holes like old blood.
We were walking on the sidewalk along a low chain fence. A bushy palmetto sprung through and over the fence, its large thorns forcing us into the street.
I smelled the dog before I could see it.
A sick dog smells putrid and sour. This one smelled like microwaved death.
It came out from under the palmetto crouched low, every movement loaded with intent, letting out a growling hiss. The thing was tall and long, but looked like it barely weighed fifty pounds. It was obviously starving. Its cloudy eyes pinned themselves on Mary, who was to my left and a step ahead of me.
All three of us froze.
The only sound was that gurgle of a growl. The dog took a step toward Mary. It was maybe two quick paces from being on her.
I placed my left hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly. "I want you to take three steps directly backward, as slowly as you can. Once you're behind me, run as fast as you can to the car parked behind us. Get up on top of it."
When I tugged her arm she began to slowly lean back, barely shifting her weight to take a small step. The growl became sharper, wheezing like a smoker's cough. The dog came toward us again, slowly but straight toward Mary.
Even the meanest dogs can be dealt with, you just have to speak their language. I growled back at the dog, baring my teeth. It looked at me, and stopped where it was.
I took the advantage and wedged myself between Mary and the sick-crazy mongrel.
"Run," I said, and she did. So did the dog. It leapt as though I weren't even there, jumping like it would go right through me. I grabbed at what looked like an old but thick collar on the dog's neck. It came away in my hands, and felt slick. Warm. Wet. The stench was horrendous.
Mary, bless her, never turned to look. She only ran, and, hearing the dog behind her, jumped onto the hood of a nearby sedan. The dog snapped inches behind her heels, but backed away when the car's alarm went off.
Confused, the dog circled the car. I ran over and stationed myself at the car's hood, and waited for it to come back around. As it approached, I could see what was wrong with the dog. In the flashing headlights, I could see what I had mistaken for a collar was actually a ring of scab and scar. Impossible amounts of pus came from the area I had pulled away. A piece of thick wire protruded from out of the mess of flesh.
Someone had tied this poor dog up with a wire a long time ago, and never let it loose. The wire had tightened or the dog had grown, and it cut into the flesh. The putrid wound had taken months to get that deep, that infected. It couldn't eat, could barely breathe. No wonder the dog hated us. Its only contact with humans had been torture and neglect, and now it was insane with infection.
Mindless, wheezing, choking, the dog lunged for me. I responded the most natural way I could. My right leg swung around low and fast, bent at first but straightening as it came around to meet the dog's head.
Maybe the dog died because it was already so close to death, but maybe it died because I am so very good at killing. My leg struck its head, its head struck the car's bumper, and then the dog was on the ground. I still feel bad for killing it.
Just as quickly as the fracas started, it was over. The dog hit the ground, and there was a sudden *beep-beep* as the car alarm shut off and the lights stopped flashing.
A voice called from the darkness, "What the FUCK are y'all doin' out there? Who the fuck is on my car?"
"I'm sorry man," my voice was calm. "This dog here just attacked my girl and me. She got up on the car to get away from it. You know whose dog this is?"
A man wearing only denim shorts walked out of the darkness of his yard, and toward us. His car keys dangled in his hand.
"Oh, you fucked up," the man said as he scratched his head with his keys. "That looks like one a' Buck's dogs. One he bought last year. You better be glad Buck's outta town right now. If I got him over here right now, you'd both be hurtin'."
That made me angry, but I managed to keep my cool.
"Look, that dog attacked us. It was out of its yard, no leash, and it came after us because it was sick. Look at its neck. Is that healthy? If your friend Buck took care of his animal, it wouldn't have come after me."
"Well, if you ever meet Buck, you just go ahead an' tell him that. I bet it'll calm him right down. Now, I think you better get the fuck out of here, 'fore you get in some kinda trouble you can't handle."
Any other night, this would have been what I was looking for. This man and I would fight, I would destroy him and maybe his friend Buck, and I would skip home feeling like sunshine.
But tonight I had my Mary to worry about. Wordlessly, I helped her down from the asshole's car. The man and I stared daggers at each other until finally we were out of sight of each other.
As we walked I made sure that Mary was all right, and I hugged her close. We went directly home and spoke very little.
As we began to near our house, though, I noticed a car. It never passed directly by us, but the same car kept crossing our path a block or two ahead. It looked like the asshole's gray sedan, but it never stopped or bothered us. I almost said something about it to Mary, but I didn't want to worry her.
At first I was nervous that the asshole had followed us home, but days passed and then a week went by with no incident. I didn't see the man or his gray car again. I quit going on my walks, because I could tell that Mary was upset about them. I found that I didn't mind too much. Most of my craving for violence had been dampened by the possibility of Mary's being hurt.
I kept going to the gym, and I kept up my garden of exotic plants, and I stayed up until all hours of the night.
But one day, I arrived home from work to find the house empty. A note sat on the kitchen counter.
"Jack- I'm going biking for a few hours, hopefully I won't be home too late after you get back from work. I'm not on call at the hospital tonight, so I thought maybe we could watch a movie when I get back. If you get hungry before that... I don't know what to tell you. Leftovers, maybe?"
Underneath was a little scribbled heart, and a lipsticked kiss. She wouldn't wear makeup to go biking, so she had put it on just to sign this note for me. What a gal.
I had just opened the refrigerator to hunt up some supper when the phone rang. Distracted, I picked the phone up but forgot to answer, holding it pressed to my ear as I walked back across the kitchen and began to scan the contents of the fridge. Eventually the caller gave a furtive greeting.
"Hello? Jack, are you there?"
I recognized the voice right away. It was Jessica, one of Mary's friends from the hospital. We'd had her over for dinner more than a few times, including last Christmas. She was slowly becoming one of the only real friends I'd ever had—everyone else before Mary had been mere acquaintances. But, inspired by my new outlook on life, I found it natural to talk and connect with Jess. I was becoming comfortable making actual friends, and could care about someone other than myself and Mary.
"Hey, Jess. Mary's out biking right now, but I can have her call you back if you want. She should be back soon. She said she's not on call tonight, so you'd better not be calling her in to work. I get her all to myself until tomorrow."
Jess paused for a moment.
"Jack, I know she's not working tonight. I called for you. Mary's here at the hospital."
I knew exactly what she meant, but I tried to pretend for a second that I didn't. Maybe hoping hard enough could make it go away. I tried not to think that Mary would be the one calling me if she had had to go to work.
"Oh, was there an emergency? Like that bus crash last year? Did you call her in?" I tried to hide the panic in my voice, but it came through with a vicious tension.
"No, Jack. She's in ICU. You can't see her yet, at least not until tomorrow, but I knew you'd want to be here. She..."
I cut her off. "What room?"
"Look, you know that you can't see her if she's under 'No Visitors' orders. You can't just..."
"What room?" My voice left no room for Jessica to evade the question.
"Two-thirteen. But you can't..."
213. 213. My Mary was in room 213 of the ICU. 213.
I don't remember whether I even bothered to hang up the phone. The drive to Mound Park Hospital was the fastest I've ever driven. Now that I have time to think about it, I feel sorry for everyone else on the road that night. They were merely roadblocks, obstacles between myself and my Mary. And that is not a good thing to be.
Heart pounding, I ran in the wide double doors to the ER, mashed the button to the elevator, and waited about two seconds for the doors to open. When they didn't, I flung myself through the door to the stairway and bolted up to the second floor. The main desk for the ICU wing faced me.
The head nurse on duty was reading from a clipboard and directing an orderly as I approached.
"All right, John. You've got about a half-hour left on your shift? Before I let you out, I'll need you to go drain the chest catheter in room 221. But first, there's a female detective waiting in 213. I need you to drop off a rape kit. Be fast."
Rape kit. 213.
My Mary.
User Reviews
Submitted by homer42 (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:39:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
For the love of christ, please write more of these!
Submitted by homer42 (user info) at 2007-01-08 18:11:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Post some more of these. They're fucking good!
Submitted by homer42 (user info) at 2006-11-28 10:33:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome!
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-11-28 10:05:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That was fucking ood
Submitted by august_sobriquet (user info) at 2006-11-28 09:22:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2006-11-28 09:17:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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