Grim Judgment

by Jennifer Reinfried

  The man smiled, and they shook. “Give me a few weeks. I know how to find them, know where they’re going, some place in Salt Lake City. Let me get reinforcements first. Once I have Vance in my custody and take the time stopper out, I can call you in. Do you have a phone?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Let’s stay in touch. I will keep you updated as I track them.” He stepped back and regarded Jaxon. “It’s damn good to see you again.”

  “Thanks. I foresee this turning out well, mister...?”

  “Reed. Charlie Reed.”

  —-

  The most uncomfortable silence dragged on for nearly an hour as Aaron drove them. Isaac spent the time alternating between resting his head against Emma’s, his eyes closed, mind too exhausted to worry about the others in the vehicle harming them, and murmuring quietly to her.

  “The hell are you saying up there?” Mari demanded. Before Isaac could speak, Aaron intervened.

  “The sappiest shit I’ve heard in my entire life,” he said.

  Isaac glared at his eyes in the mirror, which were sparkling, but refused to meet his gaze.

  Emma slid an arm behind him and his irritation melted away. He held her close, never wanting to let her go again. The moment in the alley, when their future flashed in his mind before they were crushed, played out over and over. He felt a swell of emotion, of loss that truly hadn’t happened mixed with a fear of loving Emma so much that, should something happen to her, he would cease all cares of existence. He let his mind wander as he trailed a thumb along the back of her hand, thinking of their time in Boston, of how Emma felt beneath him, what the experience of making love with her had been like.

  “Whoa, hey, easy there,” Aaron said from the front, pulling Isaac from his memories.

  “What?” Mari asked sharply. Emma glanced around in confusion.

  Aaron was glancing in the mirror. Isaac flushed as they made eye contact. “Nothing, it’s fine,” the man said. “Just...realized I was speeding.”

  “Try not to talk to yourself,” Mari replied. “We’re all on edge. I don’t want to waste energy on a sudden freeze because you freaked out over the laws of the road.”

  Aaron grunted, then fell silent, gaze forward once more.

  Isaac looked at Emma, who was staring up at him from where her head rested on his shoulder, face close to his, and he grinned. “What were you thinking about?” he whispered. She winked slyly, and he laughed. He couldn’t help himself.

  Shawn spoke up from the back. “We’re safe now. We need to call Duncan.”

  “On it.” Mari fished a cell phone from her front pocket. Isaac heard soft beeps as she began tapping at its screen.

  There was a short silence while her phone rang. Isaac turned his gaze out the window at the sparse trees whipping by, the autumn hues of golden yellows, light browns and deep greens flashing in a blur of color. By then it was past noon. He looked to the sky and its thin wisps of white clouds and found himself wondering if Vance was worried about him. Why do I care? He protected me, sure, but only because I’m family. He wouldn’t have protected Emma. He would have killed her. I know it. I ran because I had to.

  “Shit, Duncan, slow down,” Mari said suddenly. “Yes, we’re fine,” she said. “We’re all fine.” A pause. “I just said we were fine!”

  Isaac turned around in time to see her shoot a helpless glance at Shawn, who shrugged and shook his head.

  “Duncan, what the hell’s the matter?” Concern decorated her face. “No, we’re not.” There was a hesitation, and then, “Oh, my God...”

  Mari’s eyes glazed over, and her phone slipped from her fingers, landing on the bench seat next to Shawn. He glanced at her, then picked it up gingerly. Aaron’s eyes were wide in the rearview mirror as he alternated between looking at Mari and watching the road.

  “Duncan?” Shawn said into the cell. “Yes, I know. Yes, I’m fine, we all are, just like Mari said. Duncan. Duncan, listen to me.” He paused. “Jaxon attacked Boston while we were there. Listen. He’s unstable, completely gone. I thought he—” A long silence. “What do you mean?” He, too, fell silent, but this time, Aaron let out a cry and jerked the wheel to the side of the road.

  “What the hell?” Isaac cried out. Emma’s fingers dug into his arm, her knuckles white, eyes mirroring his own confusion.

  The van came to a halt.

  Mari buried her face in her hands.

  “The hell is going on?” Isaac twisted around to look behind him.

  “Jaxon killed Naomi...” Shawn’s gaze was unfocused, his hand still gripping Mari’s phone. Isaac could hear Duncan’s voice, small and tinny, through its speakers, but no one answered him. They all sat in stunned silence, shattered only when Mari let out a sharp wail.

  Aaron unbuckled his seatbelt and shoved open his door. Without a word, he stalked away from the van and toward a nearby treeline, stomping through tall grass.

  Isaac stared at Emma, who looked back at him, helpless.

  Finally, Shawn spoke into the phone. “Duncan. I...I’m so sorry. We didn’t know...” Shawn listened for a moment. “I know. I will...God, I’m so sorry. Please, I...okay...okay...see you there, Duncan.” He hung up and puffed out a long breath, and silence enveloped them once more.

  “What did he say?” Mari’s voice was weak, shaky.

  Shawn frowned, looking out the window. Isaac followed his gaze. Aaron was crouched in the grass, hands twisted in his blond hair, head down.

  “There’s nothing we can do right now,” Shawn said quietly. “He wants us to get to Salt Lake City. They aren’t there yet. They had to...” His voice caught, and he swallowed. “They had to bury Naomi first. He said if we got to his cabin first to, and I quote, ‘not fucking move from that spot unless your life utterly depends on it.’”

  Isaac blinked. Jesus...I don’t even know what to think right now. He glanced at Aaron again. Or what to do. Do I comfort these people, who barely trust me as it is? That I barely trust? He tightened his hold on Emma, who still hadn’t said a word, and closed his eyes. By going with them, have I doomed us both?

  Chapter Twenty One

  THEN

  2015

  I stood in the grocery store, staring at frozen vegetables through a glass door. My reflection distracted me, and I lost focus for a moment. I had gotten so old. Fifty fucking four. Taking beta blockers for a heart issue. Needing glasses because my eyesight was failing. Pain in my hands from arthritis. My beautiful brown hair had gone completely white, and I had wrinkles around my eyes and mouth. I still looked good, don’t get me wrong. I just never dreamed I’d be this old.

  Working for Vance for the past twelve years had been a piece of delicious cake. I knew that technically, he was what the comic books called a bad guy, but, once I had proved myself honest and loyal, the man treated me like royalty. Well, okay, maybe not that well, but still treated me as a close, personal friend. He took care of me, made sure I was happy, that Jax and Shawn were provided for, regardless of what they needed. All I had to do was my job, which I excelled at, mainly because of my transfer ability. No, I never had to kill or threaten anyone, thankfully, but there were times I had to rat someone out for lying or stealing, and I used my Evo gift to obtain the proof Vance needed in those situations.

  I’d also been perfecting my transferring ability outside of work, even though it was now more out of boredom than necessity, as Vance paid me very, very well. Hell, just in the beginning, I had so much money tucked away, I had to pretend it was a settlement for June’s death. I squirreled half of it over to an account for Shawn, telling him it was his own settlement for the death of his parents, that they had worked with June and an accident had taken their lives. Yes, I felt bad lying to the boys, but there was no way I was going to tell them what truly had happened. They were happy, safe, and alive, and I was going to keep them that way for as long as I possibly could.

  Now I was simply trying to figure out what to buy for our big Thanksgiving meal later that night
.

  After buying way too much food, I arrived at Shawn’s house and was buzzed in. Jaxon opened the door moments before I reached it, and I beamed at my son. His black hair was in the same style it always was, cut carefully and parted to the left. He hadn’t changed since the last I’d seen him.

  “Hey, Dad.” He looked tired, but was smiling.

  “Hey, kid.” I let my son reach forward and take the bags of food, much to the relief of my old man hands.

  Once Jaxon moved out of the doorway, I peered inside to see my other son grinning at me. “Shawn!” I smiled again, heart swelling even more, and stepped off the stoop and into his home. Moving forward, pulled him into a hug. “Good to see you again, son.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Bruce.” Shawn’s voice was strained, but sounded happy. When I pulled back, I noticed the circles under his eyes, which were more glazed than they normally were, and the sickly pallor that twinged his face. I frowned, concerned.

  “Whoa, you look awful. You feelin’ okay?”

  “Yeah. Well, no. I mean, I’m feeling better than before.”

  “Are you sick, or is this a self-induced illness?” I turned and winked at my son as he finished unloading the bags onto the kitchen counter and moved back toward me. Only then did I notice he looked as bad as Shawn. “Jaxon, you too?” I shook my head. “You look like worse shit than Shawn.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I grinned. “Come on, I’ll cook. First one to puke gets a shot of tequila.” Jaxon winced and Shawn groaned. Laughing, I started toward the kitchen when a slightly sour waft of sweat, old vomit, and booze slammed into me. I grimaced. “No, wait. For the love of God, please go shower first. Both of you.” I pointed at the stairs. “I can’t even find words to describe what you smell like right now.”

  They groaned again, but obeyed. I began to whistle a nameless tune as I started to prep dinner.

  —-

  The day passed quickly, too quickly, as it always did when I was enjoying time with my sons. After showering and changing, they returned, smelling much better. Jaxon and I continued to prepare the food while Shawn sat on a stool, off to one side. We chatted about everything: Jaxon’s job at VirTek, Redborough’s best high-tech company, new games they played, a recent trip I’d taken to Chicago.

  Once the food was cooked and the table set, we feasted; plates were piled high with slices of warm turkey, cranberries, fluffy stuffing, mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy, creamed corn, and rolls fresh from the oven. It was way too much food, but at least the boys would have home-cooked leftovers for days.

  We talked and talked, conversation flowing easily between the three of us until, suddenly, tension rose. I held a cold beer in one hand, its condensation wetting my fingers, as Shawn poked fun at my “dull” lifestyle.

  I leaned back in my chair and swallowed a mouthful of delicious, crisp lager. “At least in Chicago I didn’t have to deal with Redborough’s crazy vigilante. I worry about you two, with that masked lunatic prowling the streets.” Everyone who kept up with the times had heard about the rumors that turned fact about some guy calling himself Grim who ran around in a costume, attacking and killing people.

  “I’m pretty sure we’re safe.” Jaxon cleared his throat. Shawn’s eyes stared off, pointing somewhere over my shoulder, but I noticed his eyebrows move down slightly, and how his fork began to twist in his fingers, something he always did unconsciously when agitated. Great, he’s a Grim supporter.

  “He slaughters people,” I said. “He calls himself a superhero, but what kind of hero kills anyone who gets in his way?”

  “I don’t think Grim kills just anyone.” Jaxon was speaking quicker, his voice a little higher. “His victims are always criminals.”

  “I heard he was behind that massacre at the warehouse a few weeks ago.” I leaned forward and set my beer bottle on the table. What? I didn’t know Shawn actually was Grim at the time. Neither son replied, so I continued, “At least, that’s what the news reports said.”

  “Yeah, real reliable,” Jaxon muttered, his eyes intent on the plate smeared with gravy in front of him.

  “Huh?”

  “Dad, the media loves to make shit up.”

  Shawn spoke up. “Dad,” he said, his voice slightly strained in an attempt to sound nonchalant. “Do you need another beer?”

  Okay, I want to say right here that I caught how quickly my son changed the subject. And how Shawn had even called me Dad, which he never, ever did. I mean, it wasn’t enough to make me go, “Oh, hey, Shawn is Grim!” on the spot, but it told me that Jaxon, too, supported the masked vigilante, and that Shawn took great offense to anyone who bashed Grim’s name or cause. Which, in turn, made me think of his ability, and I began to wonder.

  I told Jaxon I preferred a martini instead, trying to get him out of the room for a bit so Shawn and I could chat. Grim didn’t come up again, though, so instead I tried to pry out of him if he’d been seeing anyone. The conversation was distant, though, as I started to worry. I mean, what if? What if Shawn had found a way to see again? Would he use that sight to be the superhero he always dreamed of being while growing up? Could he? Shawn was blind, yes, but tenacious as hell. My mind drifted back to the conversation we’d had years ago, how I had told him not to use his strength on anyone and he had asked, “but what if they hurt me first?”

  A shiver moved its way down my back, and I allowed doubt to enter my thoughts. Sure, if he was using his abilities to help people, he might beat others up like they did in the comics he loved. But my son was no killer. Right?

  “Shawn?” Jaxon said in a loud voice, interrupting our conversation and my toiling thoughts.

  “What?”

  “Do you have any olives?”

  “I have no idea. Check the fridge, dude.” Unfortunately, Jaxon’s interruption had clearly pulled Shawn out of the mood to humor my fatherly concerns, and he pushed away from the table.

  “Let’s go see what’s on TV,” he said. “Jax and I will clear the table after we’ve digested for a bit.”

  I couldn’t be annoyed. I knew being a shut in was a touchy subject for Shawn. True, he kept his emotions to himself, but his sadness at his shitty vision was written all over his face every time I saw him, hidden behind his smiles, his goofy jokes, his positive demeanor. I saw it clearly, and it broke my heart to be unable to help him, even though, technically, I could. I could have called Duncan at any point. I still had his old number. I didn’t know where he was, or if he was even alive, much less willing to remove Shawn’s implants, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try to contact him. But then I’d lose the normal, happy life we’d maintained, and I couldn’t. I refused to.

  Following Shawn into the living room, we plopped onto his couch, Jaxon still attempting to make my martini.

  When the television came to life, I lazily jumped from channel to channel, not finding anything of interest until a news report made me still my thumb on the remote. Before I could comprehend more of what I was seeing, a loud crash sounded behind us, and we leapt back up on our feet.

  “Jaxon? What happened?” Shawn asked, concern for his brother in his voice.

  I saw my son, shaker on the ground with my martini covering the floor and his feet, staring out the window in front of the bar cart, eyes wide.

  “Jeez, kid,” I said, but Jaxon didn’t turn. “He just dropped the shaker,” I told Shawn. “Do you need help, Jax?”

  “N...no. I’ll get it.” He continued to stare out the window, and my heart skidded into my ribcage. Oh, please, no. “You sure you’re okay?” I started around the couch, toward him, when he finally moved.

  “I’m fine, Dad,” he said, finally looking over to me. “Just sit down, I’ve got it.”

  My mind was already made up at this point. I casually shrugged and sat back on the couch. Before even settling, I transferred into Jaxon.

  To my horror, we stared at a single, barely noticeable wraith, which hovered right beyond the glass of the window. Fuck. The w
raith shot past my son, going through the wall as if it wasn’t even there, then flew to the left past Shawn. I quickly jumped into Shawn and saw the blur of the wraith pass him, his eyes following the fast shape. So he knows, too. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

  I jumped back into my body and saw the television once again. “Holy shit. Look at that,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Seems like your so-called superhero has a calling card.” My fingers began to tremble, and I couldn’t control how fast my heart had become. Duncan and I had been wrong. The wipe hadn’t been enough, and now Jaxon was discovering his power again. I swallowed, the frustration and despair threatening to come out of me in a cry of rage. I focused on the news report, knowing I’d have to pop an extra beta blocker for my heart before the night was over.

  —-

  I lay awake in bed, calmer than I had been before. Over an hour had passed since we’d all gone to bed, and I had been wrestling with my own inner demons the entire time.

  At first, I didn’t know what to do. I considered confronting Jaxon, but I had no idea how powerful he was yet. To anger him could mean releasing his wrath. He could hurt me, and Shawn, even himself. However, the fact that they were both in one piece still, as was the city, told me he couldn’t have progressed very far in the discovery of his powers. Unless he was keeping it all to himself. But he had looked so shocked when staring out of that window, so maybe he was just seeing his first wraith now? How had he called the wraith without knowing how to, though? I closed my eyes and rubbed them with my fingers, frustrated. I flung back the covers, not even the least bit tired, and sat on the edge of the bed in one of Shawn’s guest bedrooms.

  Jaxon is my son, and I love and adore him. That alone was enough to make up my mind.

  Standing, I reached for my cell phone and began to pace the room. I pulled up memories of Shawn and Jaxon, of the wonderful, carefree times we’d all spent together as a family since escaping the horrors of Lab 14. I moved to the window and stared up at the stars, perfect pinpricks of white against a deep, dark sky. I was stalling, I know. Wouldn’t you if what you were about to do could be something that took the only family you had left?