Hawk

by Abigail Graham

  “I’ll call the police,” Katie said.

  “Call ‘em.” Elliot’s eyes never left the gun. “Go right-a-fucking-head, Katie. See what happens.”

  “I’m warning you,” Jennifer said.

  Elliot’s kept his eyes on the gun and laughed. “What are you going to do, Jenny? Do you know what’ll happen to you if you shoot me?

  “I know what’ll happen to you.”

  Elliot didn’t move.

  “Get away from me,” Jennifer hissed. “Get away from my house and don’t come near me again or I’ll kill you. I swear to God I will. Don’t you dare go near my sister, either.”

  Elliot nodded slowly, and got halfway to his parked Charger before looking back.

  “Now you’ve made me mad,” he said, calmly. “Be seeing you, Jenny. You too, Katie.”

  He backed away, never taking his eyes off the barrel of the gun, until he pivoted on his heel and slowly walked over to the Charger. When he dropped into the driver’s seat, Jennifer let the gun hang in front of her, dangling from her two hands.

  The car’s obnoxious exhaust rumbled down the street. When he was out of sight, Katie carefully peeled the revolver out of Jennifer’s grip. Jennifer caught her breath and took it back from her sister to make sure the hammer was down. The gun hung in her hand as they moved back into the house. Katie bolted the door.

  “Jesus,” Katie said. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

  “I should have,” Jennifer whispered. “It’s my fault--“

  “It’s not your fault,” Katie said. “Jennifer, this has got to stop. He’s fucking crazy.”

  Jennifer sank into the couch and looked up at her sister. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “What did he want?”

  “You know what he wants,” Jennifer said.

  Katie sat down and pulled Jennifer’s head onto her shoulder. “You don’t need to live like this. It’s time to go.”

  “I can’t,” Jennifer said. “I can’t. This is our house.”

  Katie sighed, and went upstairs. She came back down and brushed out Jennifer’s hair. It soothed her, and she finally managed to set the revolver down on the couch. After her hair was brushed out, Katie braided it for her.

  “Go get dressed. We’ll get out of here for a while.”

  Jennifer nodded and went upstairs to change. Katie stood at the bottom of the stairs when she returned, looking over the pictures on the wall.

  “I remember this,” she said. “The time we went to Six Flags with Dad on the school trip.”

  Jennifer examined the faded picture taken when she was sixteen, Katie fourteen. Jennifer was taller than her father, drawn out and lanky. Katie was already beautiful.

  She’d grown into a striking woman, full figured with red hair that was rich and silky while Jennifer’s was dry and refused to behave itself. Jennifer looked through the picture, not seeing the happy smiles, just patterns, like the swirls of a soap bubble. Jennifer tugged Katie’s arm.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she croaked. “He’s never come to the house before. I mean he never tried to get in.”

  “Let’s get out of here for a while.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere but here. Do you have that gun?”

  “I’ll put it in my purse.” Jennifer kept her voice low, as if Elliot could still hear. “I have a permit. I can’t take it with me to school, that’s all.”

  Katie shook her head as Jennifer got in the Beetle, pushing the seat back with her legs so she could stretch out. She took one last glance at the house as Katie pulled away, and sighed.

  9.

  A ball of ice swelled in Jacob’s stomach. He swayed and leaned against the refrigerator door, then pinched the bridge of his nose. Jennifer’s abandoned helmet sat on the kitchen table.

  He looked at his hands, and flexed his fingers. The warmth of her lips lingered enough to still taste her. She tasted like cinnamon. Thinking about it gave him the shakes, so he sat and held his head in his hands. What did he do to drive her away?

  She touched the scar on his shoulder, felt it through his shirt. The bullet punched clean through the meat of his shoulder, and he healed clean with barely a twinge when he moved his arm. The puckered crater was the ugliest scar of them all.

  He dragged himself down to the basement. What was he thinking? He was hideous. His chest and stomach were an alien landscape, and his back was just as bad. It was only luck that he had a single scar on his face. His captors had not yet begun to work on that when the bombs fell.

  He loaded up the bars himself, and choked the steel until his hands burned. It was easy to fall into routine, squats and presses and dips and pull-ups, until he fell on the mat in utter exhaustion and laid there in a pool of his own sweat, trying desperately to think about something else.

  His back ached. His shoulder worried at him while his left hand throbbed. Pain was an anchor.

  Pain proves that we are real. He thought about Master Kittinger. The owner and head instructor of Paradise Fall’s only martial arts school was probably dead by now. He was never more than an average teacher, but his lessons were the foundations of Jacob’s real education.

  The pain in his shoulder, back, and hand was simply information, his body warning him that it was damaged. Everything passed through him; pain, heat, cold, and discomfort until he became a figure of wood that felt no pain. The figure of wood can’t be hurt.

  The fluorescent lights overhead stung his eyes. His muscles burned, and he stretched. Finally he pulled his legs under himself and folded into the lotus position and closed his eyes. Focus.

  It was for the best, he realized now. Jennifer suffered enough. The best thing he could do was find a way to get her to move out of town, but that was a dead end and he knew it. If everything she endured so far wouldn’t push her out of that decrepit house, then nothing would.

  The next best thing would be to see she was taken care of. Watched. He would simply leave her alone.

  Jacob always had a gift for meditation. Emptying his mind was usually easy, but not now. The look of raw terror in her eyes was like a knife slipping into his chest.

  The idea of frightening her hurt. Not just emotionally, physically. It made him want to die.

  I am a monster.

  He called Faisal.

  “Sir? Did you need something? How is your date going?”

  “Date’s over,” Jacob said, flatly. “New orders. I want a tail on Jennifer twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Reports every two hours. Make sure they have my direct line. If there’s an emergency I want to be notified immediately.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Faisal. “I’ll have two of our people begin the observation at once. What else?”

  “I want a wake up call in…” he glanced at the clock on his screen saver. “Six hours.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is the car ready?”

  “The Aston Martin?”

  “No. The other car.”

  “Not yet. The modifications should be finished within the week, at the latest.”

  Jacob sighed. “Alright. The Dodge, then. Don’t forget my wakeup call.”

  He hung up the phone, wearily walked up the grand staircase to the bedroom. The richly appointed upper part of the house was unused and kept like a museum. After a shower and a soak in the tub, he collapsed into the bed.

  One ring sprang him awake immediately. Another skill he acquired, Jacob could go from a stone sleep to fully awake in seconds. The wake up call was early. He put the phone to his ear.

  “Sir,” said Faisal. “There’s been a problem at Miss Katzenberg’s house.”

  “A problem?” said Jacob. “What problem?”

  “Her brother-in-law.”

  “Is here there now?”

  “He left. Miss Katzenberg left with another woman a few minutes later. Her sister, we think. I have a tail on them.”

  Jacob leapt out of bed and rushed to the basement.

&nb
sp; “Sir,” Faisal said. “Don’t do anything rash. Remember the plan.”

  “I remember the plan,” he said. Jacob pulled on his undershirt before slipping into his lightweight vest. He checked the ceramic plates, then pulled the Kevlar sleeves over his arms. Gloves lined with a Kevlar-Nomex weave, a nylon web harness with gear.

  Jacob gathered up the last thing he needed: a black balaclava. After taking the stairs two at a time, he ran to the carriage house. Faisal pulled up in his hatchback as Jacob stepped in through the side door and threw the switch to open the main one. He walked past the Aston Marin to a 1989 Dodge Reliant K with Georgia plates, snatched the key from the locker, and dropped inside. From the outside the car looked like any old junker from wilds of Pennsylvania. The anemic four cylinder the car was born with had been pulled and replaced with a more efficient six cylinder, along with a few other modifications.

  He slipped his bluetooth in his ear and pulled the mask down over his face. “Give me a twenty on Elliot.”

  “Heading over the bridge now. Same car, the black Charger.”

  “Noted,” Jacob said before ending the call. He pulled out of the carriage house.

  He would need a better place to store the extra vehicles and other equipment, but the work down there wasn’t finished. His hands choked the wheel as he coasted down the hill.

  High pressure sodium lamps came on when the sun went behind the clouds, and the red beacons on top of the towers never stopped flashing. The bridge disappeared from sight as he neared the bottom of Hill Road.

  Jacob waited until Elliot’s car passed. Jacob pulled out and tromped on the pedal.

  Elliot blasted through a stop sign while cradling his cell phone to his ear.

  A town cop parked in one of the gas stations, but of course they let Elliot just roll on by. The slow pursuit went on through the newer section of town before the highway narrowed into the country. The shoulders went to soft gravel, and the cornfields swept up to the edge of the road.

  Where the hell was he going?

  Elliot rounded a curve and turned into some kind of biker hangout. Except for a few gleaming bikes parked under a canopy by the front door and enormous, late-seventies Chrysler Continental with ugly, blotchy green paint, the place was deserted.

  Jacob continued to the truck stop maybe two hundred yards down the road, and kept a close eye on Elliot.

  Elliot got out of his car, jogged up to the front door, and banged on it with his fist. The door opened and Elliot barged in, shouting something Jacob couldn’t quite understand.

  Rain drummed on the roof, and Jacob’s fingers drummed on the wheel. Less than ten minutes later, Elliot stormed out loudly.

  He had a decision to make. Take the information he’d gathered -Elliot was meeting with someone out here- or have a civil conversation with him.

  As Elliot pulled out, Jacob’s foot grew heavy. He licked his lips, pulled his mask down over his face, and pushed the throttle. The car sprinted forward, crossed the oncoming lane until parallel to Elliot, then nosed into him.

  The Charger’s tires screeched as Elliot whipped the wheel in a panic, sliding halfway off the road. The heavy car threatened to twist out of control when its tires hit the soft shoulder. Elliot slammed on the brakes, forcing his car to spin out and slide to a stop in the middle of the highway across the faded yellow lines.

  Jacob got out of the Reliant and shoved the door closed before walking over to the Charger. Elliot shoved his door open and stormed out in a fury.

  “What the fuck!”

  Jacob cut him off with a jab to his chin. The blow could’ve killed him if Jacob hit hard enough, especially with the gloves, but he just gave Elliot a little tap on the jaw that knocked him backwards.

  Completely confused, Elliot sputtered and scrambled to the side of his car leaned on the side of the car for a second before standing.

  “Do you have any idea who you’re fucking with?”

  “Like saying that, don’t you?” Jacob said.

  Elliot lunged to the driver’s side. Jacob grabbed him by his belt and dragged him out, then tossed him on his ass. Elliot skidded backward and crab-walked away until he found his footing.

  “Who are you?”

  Jacob surged forward and backhanded him. The gloves split Elliot’s lip enough to send blood dripping down his chin. Elliot wailed and threw a clumsy punch.

  Jacob could’ve ducked it but he was a figure of wood, letting Elliot punch him right in the jaw. He turned his head to soften the blow a little. Elliot followed up with a punch to his stomach, and then pulled both of his clutched hands back. Blood dripped from the knuckles on his left hand. The ceramic plate could take an assault rifle round.

  “I can hurt you,” Jacob said. “But you can’t hurt me.”

  “Wanna bet?” Elliot said.

  Jacob didn’t reply.

  “I will fuck you up,” Elliot whined as he rubbed his lip. “I will fucking end you. Your life won’t be worth-“

  Jacob cut him off by taking his skinny little throat in his hand, fighting off the overwhelming urge to choke him. Elliot flailed around, trying to slap or kick his way free. Jacob spun him to pin him to the Charger’s side.

  “Listen to me very carefully. You were at Jennifer Katzenberg’s house tonight.”

  “I know who you are, now,” Elliot wheezed. “You simple fuck. Just because that whore…”

  That was it.

  Jacob face twisted in fury under the mask, and he pulled Elliot back and drove his face into the car’s fender. Elliot slumped back, clutching at his bleeding nose.

  Jacob took him by the throat again.

  “All I have to do is squeeze.”

  Elliot tried to talk. Jacob tightened his grip.

  “I’m not interested in what you have to say. I want you understand something.”

  Jacob’s other hand patted Elliot down until he pulled out his wallet. He managed to remove Elliot’s driver’s license one handed. Jacob examined it before tucking it in Elliot’s pocket.

  “Is that you? Is that where you live?”

  Elliot nodded.

  “If you bother her again, somebody is going to pay you a visit.”

  Jacob loosened his grip.

  “Try it, motherfucker.” Elliot hollow threat didn’t phase him.

  Jacob sighed softly, and squeezed again. “No. Not me. Someone you’ve never seen before. Understand?”

  Elliot’s gaze filled with hatred while tears ran down his cheeks. He nodded, and Jacob let go.

  Elliot sank to the ground.

  “You can’t do this,” he whined. “My Dad will…”

  That was it. Jacob had to leave now, or he’d kill him.

  He slipped into the Reliant and pulled away, leaving Elliot panting and slump to the pavement.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Jacob retrieved his phone.

  Faisal answered. “Sir?”

  “Faisal, meet me at drop number two. I need a ride, and this car is burnt, get rid of it. Scrub it first.”

  “Yes, sir,” Faisal said. “I’ll meet you there presently.”

  Jacob didn’t stop until he reached the drop, a gas station outside of town. He calmly stepped out of the car and walked over to sit in the back of Faisal’s hatchback while two of his men drove the old Dodge away.

  “What did you do?” Faisal peered into the rearview mirror.

  “The plan has changed,” Jacob said.

  “If he accosts her again?”

  “I want to be notified right away. I’ll kill him.”

  “Sir-“

  “You’ll be taken care of. All of you will. I wouldn’t abandon you like that. If someone has to do it, it will be me. I have nothing to lose.”

  “Are you certain of that?” Faisal asked.

  Jacob folded his arms across his chest. He hated it when Faisal was right about something, but said nothing more until they returned to the house. After he secured his gear and showered once more, he collapsed into the bed and r
ubbed at his eyes. He still had homework to grade.

  He managed to get a few more hours of sleep before Faisal came knocking at the door.

  “What is it this time?” Jacob said, snapping awake.

  10.

  “I’m not hungry,” Jennifer insisted.

  Katie ignored her and pulled into the parking lot of Whamburger. Jennifer waited while Katie went inside to order. A few bolted down tables with beach umbrellas sat in front of the walk-up window, with no place to sit inside. They would eat in the Beetle.

  Katie dropped a greasy paper bag on Jennifer’s lap.

  “A fish sandwich?”

  “They don’t really have vegetarian stuff,” Katie said. “Come on, just eat it.”

  At least it wasn’t a burger. She was sixteen years old the last time she ate a burger at the Wham. Her mother glared at her the entire time, mouthing fat every time Jennifer dared to eat a French fry.

  Katie tucked a napkin into her shirt collar to ward off the grease from her oversized triple with cheese. Jennifer pressed her legs together and felt the reassuring weight of her purse between her ankles. Katie eyed her.

  “Just eat it, Jen. It’s not going to bite you.”

  “I’m a vegetarian.”

  Katie rolled her eyes. “You’re starving yourself. I can see your ribs.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “I think you should come with me.”

  “Katie, I have work on Monday. How am I supposed to go to work if I’m in Philadelphia?”

  “You’re not. Call a substitute. Shit, you should just quit. You could get another job.”

  “I don’t want another job. I like the one I have.”

  “Do you?” said Katie. She twisted in the seat to face Jennifer. “Do you like it? Jen, I don’t want to see you living like this. Franklin wouldn’t, either.”

  “Don’t tell me what he would want.”

  “You were only supposed to be living in that house until he finished law school. You were going to move. He told me he was trying to talk you into quitting work after he got a job so you two could have a baby.”

  Jennifer choked, grabbed Katie’s extra-large Coke and gulped some down to clear her throat. A rush of syrupy sugar coated her tongue instead of the tang of artificial sweetener. Damn it.