Jack pulled his son's shirt down. "Okay, you're not scared of him are you?" Jordan shook his head. "Alright you know about Charles Darwin? Well he says it's survival of the fittest. That means only the strong will survive. So you have to assert your authority. He thinks he is in charge, well you are going to have to prove that you are higher on the food chain then he is."
Jordan was listening intently. "Well how am I supposed to do that?"
"Okay, this is what you do, and don't tell any teacher that I told you to do this okay?" Jordan nodded. "When you get to school you find that kid. That should be the first thing you do, I don't care if you're late to class. When you find him you hit him in the face as hard as you can and you don't stop until someone pulls you off. After that he will either leave you alone or you will have a few more battles."
Jordan sighed. "Okay, if that's what it takes."
Jack smiled. He thought it was amusing that Jordan was frustrated that he still had to deal with the kid instead of having a fear of fighting him and possibly being suspended from school. This reminded Jack. "Don’t worry about the trouble you will get in at school, I'll talk to your mom." Jack left the room and his son to finish getting ready for school.
Outside Michael had already been waiting in Jack's Oldsmobile. Michael’s thick forearm hung over the side of the door clutching a half burnt cigarette. Jack came through the front door closely followed by Marilyn who was clutching a plate of food in a plastic container with a Snap- On lid.
"Be careful on the trails and stay away from Michael’s guns." Marilyn looked Jack in the eye and although he was laughing the comment off he knew she was serious. She glared at his dark blonde hair wondering why it was so messy and then looked back at his eyes.
"Babe, I’ll be as careful as I was when I was dropped behind enemy lines." He always told her that. He hadn't been that careful since he actually was behind enemy lines. As long as Jack made that comment Marilyn felt a sense of comfort. Then he brushed his hair with his hand because he saw Marilyn looking at it in disapproval.
Marilyn smiled. "This is for Michael. I know Anne leaves early in the morning and he is too lazy to make anything himself." She handed the plate of food to Jack.
Jack gave her a kiss and then preceded to the Oldsmobile. "'Bout time," Michael smiled and reached across to honk the horn. A mellow honk came from within the machine and Marilyn looked up. "Thanks for the food!" Michael hung his head out of the window.
Marilyn laughed and waved as she retreated back into the house. "Who said it was for you?" Jack, with a straight face opened the container and took a slice of bacon.
Michael reached over and grabbed the container. "Yeah right, give it here before I tell your wife." Then he snatched the bacon out of Jack’s fingertips just before he could eat it.
Jack laughed as he started the engine. The old Oldsmobile slowly backed out of the driveway. Michael was slamming down the food Marilyn had made for him. They slowly weaved in and out of their suburban neighborhood until they came to the highway. Jack turned left heading deeper into Kentucky towards the large campground at which they worked providing their expertise to the park. They drove a few miles away from town, stopped at their usual gas station and tipped Pete, the old man who had worked sixty hours a week at that station for the last fifty years. Jack and Michael usually didn't go a day without giving at least a wave as they drove by. The store was always packed with repeat customers. They would each come back at the same time of day and Pete would know which customer was coming at every hour and he had a strong relationship with everyone.
"You know this is the second day we have taken my car to work." Jack stated as they got back into the car.
"Yeah that’s because I’m doing you a favor."
"Oh yeah? How you figure that?"
Michael swallowed a bite of food, "Because I’m having you drive this piece of shit into the ground. You need a new one." He laughed and they pulled out of the parking lot and back on the road after a quick fill up.
"Hey, I’ve had this car since college." Jack defended himself.
"Exactly my point." Michael snickered as he hung his haired forearm out of the window feeling the brisk morning air as they traveled the miles down the road.
"You know this is still a good car and let me tell you how much I’ve saved since-" Jack was interrupted by the force of Michael’s hand slapping him in the chest and clutching his shirt pulling Jack in his direction in an urgent distress.
Jack looked away from the road to ask what his problem was and he saw his best friend glaring out the window. His finger pointed at something. Jack moved his head forward a little and then he saw it too. A large cloud rising from the ground. The mushroom like cloud had a fiery red tinge topped off with a cauliflower-like white smoke. It loomed high even though it seemed so far away. Jack guessed it was as far away as Louisville. Maybe it was Louisville. He couldn't believe his eyes. How could there be no warning? What did this mean? What should they do?
Michael looked at Jack. His eyes were wild. A moment passed between them where they both understood what they had just seen. Finally Jack looked back at the road only to slam into the front of an oncoming Station Wagon in the opposite lane whose driver happened to be perplexed by the same ominous cloud. The front of the Oldsmobile crumbled against the Station Wagon as both vehicles went spinning. The sound was thundering and the impact was too sudden leaving no time for someone to embrace themselves. Jack's face hit hard on the steering wheel and then his head snapped back and shattered the glass of the driver door window once the car went spinning. Michael had seen his best friend take the first blow to the face before his own face plowed into the dashboard. Both men lay slumped and unconscious. The Station Wagon lay upside down in the roadside ditch. Its front end was crumbled like a tin can.
Chapter Eight
No Time To Mourn
Michael regained consciousness first. He rose from the dash. His face felt sticky and slightly swollen. A river of blood ran from his right eyebrow into his eye. He cupped his hand over his eyebrow to stop the blood from stinging his eye and looked over to check on Jack. Jack lay slumped over his window with broken glass scattered down his back. Tinges of blood darkened his friends forest green work shirt.
Michael ripped the sleeve off his green park uniform and bandaged his eyebrow like a bandana so he could better tend to his friend. His forehead had a slight gash but nothing to be concerned about. The headache was intense but he was alive. He pulled Jack off the window and laid him back against the seat. The glass chimed almost inaudibly as it fell from his friend and onto the floor. He checked Jack's pulse. He was alive but it didn't look like he would come-to anytime soon. Jack had small bloody cuts around his neck but mainly on his shoulders. Michael could see pieces of glass sticking out his chest. Luckily for Jack they were small shards. While his friend was unconscious Michael pulled four pieces glass about a half inch long out of his friend's chest. He knew from his training he should tend to his partner’s health making him well so they can aid and benefit each other in situations such as the wreck. Michael's friend was going to be fine. There were minor cuts around his face which will ache due to the impact of the window but Jack will live. He pulled his shirt off and tied it around Jack's upper chest. The bleeding should stop soon.
Michael sat back and gave a deep sigh. A pale milky swirl lay in the distant atmosphere overshadowing the landscape. The sky seemed a bit darker. His mind was twirling with worry. That cloud was significantly smaller than his thumb, so if that cloud is what Michael thinks it is, than they are mostly out of harm's way. So many things had to be happening back in town. His best friend was unconscious, the car was beyond repair, and he had to stare at the horrific cloud while wondering where his daughter could be. There was a certain amount of trust he had for Jenna. She knew to go home in case of any dire situation in which the two were separated. Nonetheless he worried and it consumed his mind. The air seemed warmer. They were far from the blast area. The fallo
ut wouldn’t reach their little town and that was a good thing. Michael wondered how long they had been unconscious. That threat wasn’t as pressing as being stuck in the middle of the highway. Michael forced himself to think about his situation at hand and that was figuring out if there were any other survivors of the crash. Michael opened the door and stepped out of the car. He studied his wounds and decided the cuts he sustained were minor. His right knee hurt when he put all his weight on it but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He once again looked in the direction of the explosion, grey smoke still lingered in the shape of the initial blast.
The station wagon had smoke rising from its hood.The middle aged former army ranger hurried over to the ditch side and peered down at the crumbled mess. He hopped into the ditch and when he came to where the front end should have been all he could see was the front seat and then the hood folded around the engine. He wiped the sweat from his shaven head and climbed on top of the mangled front end. He could then see that two middle aged people in the front seat were dead. Glass protruded and covered the entire face of the woman in the driver seat. In the dashboard was a light imprint of the passenger’s face. The passenger himself received a crushed face. The poor soul's face was mangled hamburger meat. Michael left the crushed car feeling disappointed that there was nothing he could do now. If he hadn't had pulled Jack's line of sight from the road these people would have lived. Michael cursed himself for being caught off guard and so careless. What if his own daughter had been in the car. He had to force a rage of emotions down and keep them bottled tight. It was obvious to Michael that so many years at home and not at war has softened him. He wouldn’t stand for this. He can’t afford to make mistakes. He needed to concentrate and focused on his next task.
He climbed out of the ditch and got back into the car and attempted to wake Jack. “Jack,” He slapped his face lightly. “Wake up man.” There was nothing.
“Jack!” Michael grabbed him by the shoulders avoiding his wounds and shook him hard. Jack moved his arms. Then he slowly opened his eyes halfway then gave a half-hearted nod.
“Listen Jack, you need to wake up and get aware.” Michael stated firmly. Jack could see the seriousness in his eyes.
Jack leaned forward and put his hand on his head. His head was murky as the distant sky. Michael could tell he was in pain. Slowly Jack remembered what he saw and quickly looked through the window at the sky. He then grabbed his neck and felt blood and then was aware of his makeshift bandage around his chest.
“Damn my head hurts,” Jack leaned back and grabbed his head once more trying to ignore the pain and think about their current situation. “What about the other car?”
“They didn’t make it. The car crumpled up like a tin can,” Michael readjusted the makeshift bandage around his forehead. “We’re lucky we didn’t end up in worse condition ourselves because of that atrocious crash. Your car isn't in the greatest of conditions either.”
“Do you think that was Louisville?” Jack questioned as he reached underneath his seat to grab his Colt .45 revolver pistol, he checked his bullets seeing that the chamber was full and then laid it on the dash. Even in the midst of his preparations his heart ached for the commuters in the other car but he had a feeling there would be more heartache to come.
“Well the distance is spot on with Louisville and you know it’s the right direction so it has to be. The only thing I’ve been worried about is if this was an accident or not. There are no significant nuclear power plants that could have blown the city so it has to be on a larger scale.” Michael responded checking to see if his own firearm was still intact in his boot. Which he cursed himself again for not checking as soon as he regained consciousness.
“Which means other cities could have been hit. I hope not. Was it a terrorist attack? This will be bigger than 9/11.” Jack had remembered the newscast from earlier that morning. Just the thought running through his mind of North Korea doing something like dropping nuclear bombs on that large of a scale and that quick without the United States knowing or preventing it made Jack feel uneasy and as if the U.S. had no control at all. He threw that thought out of his mind, it was almost hilarious. It had to be a terror plot. Marilyn and Jordan were back at home. People are probably going crazy back in town. Jack had a new mission. He wasn't going to be separated from his family. The thought of losing them would be unimaginable. Anything could be happening right now. That small town jumps as soon as any authority says so. He hope they hadn’t told any civilians to move for fear of fallout radiation.
"I hope that isn’t true," Michael looked at Jack. "We need to get moving. Something tells me the car isn't going to work."
Jack laughed. "I guess you got your wish, I've finally drove this piece of shit into the ground."
"About time." Jack grabbed his gun and his keys and his flashlight out of his glove compartment, a black pocketed bag where he keeps his emergency provisions and then stepped out of the car. "Well I guess we go home and re-assess our situation?"
"Not much else we can do. We have to stay as far away from the city as possible. The fallout will reach out miles further than the city limits. So the quicker we travel the miles home in the opposite direction the better." Michael suggested.
"Agreed." So they began walking. Jack noticed that Michael was limping. "Did you hit your knee in the crash?"
"Yes, pretty hard but I’m not sure when. I'll be alright." He had been hardened to look past the pain and towards the objective at hand, which Michael thought could be the reason why Jack hadn’t complained about the cuts around his shoulders.
They continued. They walked about a mile. Michael kept tending to his knee as he walked, making sure to apply his weight carefully on his knee with each step. Jack was pulling tiny shards of glass out of his skin. Both of them were wincing every few seconds.
They scanned the tree line looking for any people at all. No cars had come down the road. About a quarter mile from the wreck with the desolation still looming high behind them, three planes had flown overhead. They appeared just high enough to be unidentifiable. No way of telling if they were military or not. The gravity of what has happened started to creep in on them. Neither of them spoke of it. For them it was business as usual. Flashbacks of war felt oddly familiar. Both men were unsure of what town would be like or what had become of their families. They had a habit of preparing for the worse. No need to talk about it they just had to get home and answer their own questions. Their defenseless families needed to be protected and dulling the senses to remind each other of the horror they faced was counter productive. The pain of the unknown was printed on the men’s forehead.
They kept a steady stride and eventually they came along to Pete's gas station. There was no one around the store front. And there were a couple cars parked close to the store. No one appeared to be inside. From the situation they had undergone they were on high alert and almost defensive in their demeanor of approaching the store. The silence was eerie. The gas station was just too empty for the two to be casual. There was no sign of Pete or his usual humble laughter. Has enough time past for there to be riots? This was the edge of town so maybe the looting is further in.
The store itself seemed depressed as if all the life and hope had been dashed from its spirit. Once a hub of gossip and dependable service had wasted away to a shallow, unrecognizable and abandoned structure. They approached slowly. Michael had his hand on his gun which he had placed in his back pocket. Jack had his gun behind him between his belt and the small of his back. Jack led the way. He put his hand on the door but then remembered the bell at the top of the door. Jack reached his hand up as he opened the door about a half foot and he grasped the bell. Their entrance secured and the entry was silent so they proceeded. The little store looked normal. The cashier's counter on the left lined with cigarette packs, candies, and lottery ticket machines. The left of the store consisted of one hundred square feet of shelves crammed together packed full with merchandise. Still it seemed way too qui
et. They advanced slowly. The only sound in the room is their thudding footsteps. A light flickered on the right side of the ceiling. They walked closer to the back of the store where there was a door (that was usually wide open so Pete could talk to his customers and watch the T.V. in the corner of the room at the same time) to the tiny employee break room. Jack looked Michael in the eyes then at the door and then back at Michael.
Michael understood and stayed behind Jack as they reached the wooden door. Jack suddenly stopped advancing for the door and held a finger up to his lips indicating for Michael to listen. There was a faint sound coming from within the room. It was muffled and hard to make out. Jack reached out his hand for the door right when it came bursting open. Michael drew his pistol and Jack was knocked to the floor by the door. A short man came out swinging a shotgun holding the barrel and wildly flailing the firearm back and forth. Jack saw grey in the man's face and then saw Michael aiming to fire. Jack sprang from the floor and tackled the man to the ground. The shotgun tumbled away. Michael fired and if not for Jack tackling the man a moment before he would have shot the man right between his eyes. He stepped back confused.
Jack stood up and helps the shotgun swinger up to his feet. Both men stood side by side and Michael finally recognized who the old man was. Standing next to Jack was Pete. He was shaken from his rough encounter with the tile floor. He walked over and picked up his pump-action shotgun.
"I'm sorry Pete, if I knew it was you..." Michael looked down like he had been scolded. Pete gave his humble chuckle. "Don't worry about it. I completely understand. But I'll tell ya', Jack sure does have one mean tackle. I’m not as young as I used to be ya' know?"
"I do apologize Pete. I hope you understand my position." Jack laughed along with the other two.
"Y'all scared me. I thought someone was coming back to rob me blind." Pete walked over to the counter and pulled a pack of cigarettes off the counter and with shaky fingers he tore the package open and lit one. He took a large draw and coughed the cloud from his lungs.
No Time To Mourn Page 8
