Jack exploded through the door to see Michael stomping a bald man. The man had a little weight to him and was curled in the corner of the room taking Michael's blows with blood running from his nose. Michael stepped back and the man rolled over to all fours coughing. Michael planted his boot into the ribs of the heaving man draining any air or energy the person could've had. The man rolled in pain.
"Calm down Michael. We will find out who this squatter is and why he is here." Jack grabbed Michael's shoulder and pulled him back.
Michael straightened his loosely hanging dark hair. "I opened the closet and he lunged at me." Michael's breathing started to settle.
Jack stood the man up and laid him on the bed. "Is this true? Why are you here?"
"I didn't lunge...," The man gasped for air. "I'm staying here... until I heal. He just started beating me."
"He is a goddamn liar!" Michael lunged for the man grabbing him by the collar and yanking him from the bed to the floor. He hit the man in the face over and over again.
"Did you Kill Scott?" Michael looked him in the face. The man responded with a garbled message of slurred sound. Michael then proceeded to drag the bloodied man out of the wooden doorframe and down the steps.
Jack stood in awe of Michael's reaction. The conversation moments ago at the overlook was fresh in both their minds. Jack didn't understand where this anger was coming from. The old Michael had just been a flash in the pan here recently but Jack had dismissed the rage flashes because of their current state. Jack thought his friend had contained himself very well until this point. Where this monster had come from was a mystery. Jack can see that the change Michael was undergoing had already happened. This started to become scar, almost horrifying. If there was one person in this world Jack would have a hard time going toe to toe with it would be Michael. Jack didn’t think that he could stop Michael’s rampages. In the war days it was usually an order so jack just joined in but this was different. They were on the homefront with no clear enemy to fight at this point.
The tattered shirt hung loosely around the man while he kneeled in the dirt. The man stood and wiped his bearded face. Snot, mucus, and bloody covered his hand and he slung the liquid onto the ground. He limped a couple steps until Michael kicked the man's already patched leg. Everything seemed to slow down and it all became surreal. Jack looked at Michael's victim. His face was familiar and his limp gave him away. The longer Jack looked the more positive he became. The man Michael was tormenting was the same man who had stolen his bag of guns on the first night just before he saved Pete's family.
"Michael stop!" Jack came out of the house and down the steps.
Michael was distracted and the limping man took the opportunity to push from his good leg and then rammed into Michael’s gut causing him to go to a knee as the healing wounds reverberated with agony. The wounded man started to limp in the direction of the vine ridden, foliage covered path.
"Michael I know who he is? Just wait a second."
Michael had caught his breath, stood and advanced for his target. Michael eyes were white hot with rage. Michael had urges and they needed to be satiated. The tiger stalked his crippled prey and snagged his victim back to gun point. The man was just too exhausted to fight back. "How do you know him?"
"I saved him from the convicts and then he stole my bag of guns only to get hit by a car. He was in a rush to get somewhere. Michael just slow down." Jack was urging his friend to come to his senses. What was he thinking.
"He stole your guns. He killed that boy. Who else would slow down Jack?" Michael began backing into the trail and up towards the cliff.
"He could have but let's at least decide what to do rationally."
"Pl-please... You can't kill me," The man gasped for air and wedged his finger between his neck and his captors forearm. "I need to tell them what else the bombs will do."
"What is your name? Michael you need to stop brother. What has gotten into you?"
"William." Was all the man could squeak out before Michael tightened his arm almost closing off the man's airways.
"They are fucking lies Jack. He lied about lunging at me," Michael was ascending the incline trail at a swift pace. "He stole your guns and you act like we should trust him!" Michael had exited the partially enclosed pathway with Jack only feet away.
"He killed him. Didn't you William? You know Jack we trusted Rob to and he sold us out and had been working for the convicts the whole time. You are right. This is war and we can't trust nobody but ourselves." Michael sneered. Michael backed toward the edge. Michael would make sure this guy took the blame for Scott's death. Whoever this guy is.
"Look man just calm down and question him and see-"
"I'm not calming down until he tells the truth about what he did. He was the only person around here Jack. The convicts have no clue where we are."
Michael was slowly backing away into his growing excitement. Subconsciously he needed to put distance between himself and Jack. Jack drew closer hoping grab the man away from his deranged friend.
"Face it Jack this is who I am now. This is who we are from now on. This is how we have to be in order to survive. If we don't take charge and solve the hard problems then someone else will come along and solve the problem. We might be on the receiving in." Michael finished and kept his eye locked beyond Jack at an individual who had witnessed the last few moments. Michael saw his daughter watching the event unfold. The fire in his eyes vanished and was replaced by worry. He didn't want his daughter to see him this way.
"He could be guilty but let's-," Jack stopped short once he seen Michael loose his footing.
Michael stood on the edge of the cliff staring at his daughter staring back at him. Michael’s weight caused the edge to crack and crumble and Michael's foot slipped over the edge. Jack watched the excitement grow on his friend's face as he fell backward. Jack leapt forward after Michael with both hands outstretched as the two men disappeared over the edge. Jack heard a scream from an unknown presence behind him as his chest landed with a thud on the stone ground. Jack busted his face against the hardened dirt as he outstretched his hand over the side of the cliff. He felt a hand clasp ahold of his own hand making Jack strain against the encumbering dead weight. He had grabbed someone! He grabbed ahold with his free hand and pulled. He only held on to one person. Someone had fallen the entire way. With some force he was able to heave up the man. Slowly the mass crawled back onto the cliff face. A rescued William lay before Jack. Michael had slipped over the side. The pit of his Jack’s stomach dropped. His best friend was gone forever. The fall from up here was sure death. Tears came to the man's eyes. What in the hell had just happened? Jack was losing his mind. What had just transpired? If Michael would have just listened to reason. If he would have just...
Jack looked over to see Jenna crying uncontrollably. Her eyes were red and her face was wet from two rivers of tears. "Why?," The girl screamed and sobbed. "My dad didn't mean to kill Scott." The girl wailed and pounded her fist against a nearby tree. “Why did you let him die?”
What had she just said? Jack couldn't process what was going on. He was in shock. The weight of the situation had taken its toll. His friend had fallen over the side. His best friend. A fall from this cliff is unsurvivable. Climbers are killed climbing this cliff every other year.They had been through so much together. From overseas to the same psychologist. From settling back in at home and finding a job to surviving these damn bombs. Jack suppressed tears as he stood. What had just happened. Everything looked so peaceful but the scene was chaotic. Jack was having trouble processing thoughts clearly.
"Scott took me and and did things to me. My dad saved me. Why did you let him die?" The girl turned in a teary rage and ran away. Her shoulder brushed against someone who had just emerged from the dense forest trail. Jenna kept running. So the dark had enveloped her.
Jack stared awkwardly at the horizon.
"Jack," David Mercer was out of breath and breathing heavily. "I ran all the way
here. They took her. I was my turn to walk the edge of camp and those convicts were shoving her into a van. Its Marilyn, she is gone Jack."
Jack dropped to his knees and sobbed. The pain was too much. Everything thing had come down around him. His best friend is dead and his wife is gone. He didn't know what would happen to Marilyn. The weight on his shoulders had broken Jack down. A shell of a man with no path to take. Hell was on his doorstep when the will to endure had just faded. His vision became foggy and his mind clouded with horrific images of Michael’s lifeless body laying at the bottom of the cliff. Everything felt numb. He could hardly concentrate on his son. Jack couldn’t focus on a single thought. His wife… His best friend… were gone. Jack slowly drifted into unconsciousness.
The End,
For Now
...
A passage from the next installment of No Time To Mourn…
About one week later…
Shrieks and wails echoed through the halls. The anguished cries and thuds of women being thrown against the adjacent wall made her jump spasmodically. Laying in a fetal position among the shadows the frail figure could hear the cracking of whips which lead to another yelp of pain and the sound of rattling chains chimed as the tortured soul fell limp from exhaustion. Constantly the pleasured moans of rapists would mix with the cries of their victims. The sounds alone are enough to drive anyone crazy and the prisoner has no choice but to lay there and endure the sounds until it was their turn to endure the suffering. The woman lay upon the cement floor. Her oversized prison jumpsuit was in tatters. Bruises, scrapes, and cuts riddled her body. Bleeding, injured flesh was exposed everywhere. She clutched her knees to stay warm. The captive couldn't lay on her back due to large bruises that covered it. Her midsection was on fire from repeated abuse. A small ray of light protruded from a small window in the corner illuminating the door. When that door opens bad things happen. She shuddered at the thought of the next encounter. She wasn't sure how much she could take. No one had come to rescue her yet. She silently sobbed.
As if they could read her thoughts, she could now hear the sound of approaching men. There were knots in her stomach. She repeated to herself, not this cell... not this cell... the footsteps grew louder. The voices became stronger. She went from cold to sweating. The footsteps stopped at her door. Her mind was frantic. No not now, please... The voices chuckled outside the door. The very sound of their voices made her sick. Please keep going... The lock clicked and the door swung open. The hall light spilled into the room showing a beaten and battered woman crumpled upon the floor, quivering in fear. Her hair was matted with blood. She squinted as she looked up into the harsh light.
Thank You,
Shawn Pinkston
No Time To Mourn Page 24
