by Mike Duke
Brad could feel the sincerity in Jack’s voice as well as the point of a blade pricking his left nipple that had appeared like a rabbit from a magic hat.
He nodded.
Jack cut the zip ties and exited the vehicle without another word. Shut the door and tossed the keys a good 30 yards away in the dark. He turned and walked toward the road. Once out of sight he picked up the pace to a jog until he got back to his car, the only one left in the lot at the Crazy Horse, and drove home.
*****
April wouldn’t answer Jack’s calls for the next week. She ignored messages telling her everything was ok and encouraging her to press charges against Brad. She even walked away in shame if Jack got within 50 yards of her. It was tearing his heart apart. April had wanted him and right or wrong Jack had rejected her advance in that moment, rejected his deepest desire for the last 7 years. So fucking close to happiness and now it seemed it was all ruined. He struggled for days but finally resolved to embrace patience once more. She shared an apartment with a friend and would be starting Veterinary School next semester. She wasn’t going anywhere.
The silent guardian once more, when not working or training at the local MMA gym he kept tabs on Brad to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. A couple weeks passed and one night while watching Brad at the Crazy Horse again he saw April go inside with some guy. Jack walked up on the outside deck to get a better look. Brad happened to glance his way and locked eyes. He dropped the pool stick on the table and beat feet out the door and straight to his car, never looking at Jack again.
Jack chuckled until he saw who April was with.
“What the fuck?” he mumbled out loud, a gasket somewhere nearly blowing.
It was Eddie Mann. One of her old boyfriends from freshman year. A piece of shit who bullied her around and kept her on a tight leash.
Jack's brain ached with confusion. “Why?” he asked himself over and over. But he already knew the answer to that question. Four years majoring in Psychology and minoring in Philosophy had answered that question. Hell, basic Physics could answer this one.
Inertia. An object in motion will stay in motion until acted on by another force. Victims of abuse at a young age tend to continue to be victims of abuse as they get older. Vicious cycle, Entropy, inescapable order of the universe. It was comfortable, normal, didn’t take any effort to maintain because it would all go downhill just fine on its own.
It was right then Jack had an epiphany. He realized the Titan strength of April's enslavement and just what it would take to change her. The White Knight role he had played over and over just never worked. It would take a Black Knight to bring about change. A harsh, stoic, merciless man, wholly Utilitarian. Someone who didn’t care about her feelings, or how she would feel about him ever again, just results, a lasting change that would keep her from choosing abuse ever again.
It would take a brutal intervention, Jack concluded, then she would have no choice but to change.
A girl approached Jack right then, pretty, sexy and looking for a good time. It was exactly what he needed to begin disconnecting emotionally from April - casual, meaningless sex. Jack bought the girl a beer and they danced till closing before going back to her place where they nearly shook the rickety bed frame apart before dawn.
*****
It took weeks to get everything in order. He located a remote farm that was no longer in use but had a working barn. He arranged to rent it for two months for a “school research project” over the summer. He told the old man that he and a female student, his research partner, would be staying in the barn 24/7. Jack was going to bring a fridge and freezer in and stock it with food. He had camping gear for cooking.
“What exactly are y’all gonna be doing out there?” the farmer asked, genuinely curious.
“Oh, we’re going to test out a hypothesis on what the modern human being can endure. You know, unplugging from internet, phones, TV…all of it. No contact with the outside world at all. See if we go crazy or love it.” Jack winked at the man good naturedly.
“Oh. I see.” The old farmer sniggered. “Trust me. It’s not so bad.”
"You won't need to come out here and check on us will you sir?" Jack asked. "If so, we can't see or talk to you or it compromises the experiment parameters."
"Oh. I suppose it would, wouldn't it then? No worries, son. I won't have any need to come out here this summer.
He patted Jack on the shoulder kindly then took his money and gave him the keys before getting in his truck to leave.
*****
Jack created a fake email account and name then sent a message to April along with a bunch of other non-existent email addresses soliciting for one male and one female research assistant to take part in an “off the grid” experiment for two months over the summer. It was grant funded and promised school credit as well as cash compensation. $200 upon signing an agreement to participate then $500 on the first day and every week thereafter. Lodging and all meals would be provided. Jack even paid for a phone line and voicemail along with creating a bank account and an R and D entity called Mere Humanity Research Group.
It took a couple of times sending the email out, some fast talking back and forth by message as well as a visit to Eddie Mann to “convince” him to stop seeing April, but finally she bit on it and signed the electronic agreement. Once the money hit her account any doubts April had simply vanished.
As an added bonus, this plan would require her to tell friends and family what she would be doing, since she would be unreachable, which meant nobody was going to go looking for her during the time she was gone.
Jack did some research on building a sound proof room. It took some time but, once built, tested out very nicely. He zip tied an air horn down and tossed it in and shut the door. Barely a peep.
Additionally, the college had replaced its wrestling mats two years prior and Jack, being a star on the team, had managed to get one section and stored it. Now he brought it into the barn and laid it out. It was a good 15 ft. wide and about 30 ft. long. More than enough. There were some bales of hay in one corner that hadn’t been used. Jack stacked them up against one side of the barn and slid the mat up to it. They would make a good wall for working techniques when people jammed you up against something.
Looking out over it, satisfied, he thought “This is where I will teach April to fight.”
Food was the final thing he needed and a way to store it. It was going to take a good chunk of money. Money he didn’t have.
And no legal way to get it.
*****
Jack was no stranger to the seedier side of life. During high school he had spent time running the streets with a drug dealer friend. Jack was a tall, wiry, tough son of a bitch who trained martial arts and wrestled. Duane was a skinny ass drug dealer who needed some muscle when he was out dealing and Duane put money in his pocket every time Jack accompanied him, whether hanging at the house till a buyer or a mule stopped by or walking the back streets and projects looking to sell. They had been tight but Jack hadn’t seen him in over a year. But Duane knew the local players, knew who had money and when and where they would be.
Jack had driven the hour and a half to the rough side of his home town and located Duane at the Hi-Lo gas station and convenience store, hanging in the lot. Pulling up in his old Dodge Dakota 4D, Duane immediately recognized it from the leprous, peeled paint look and walked over to the driver window.
“What’s up, Jack?!?” he exclaimed, happy to see him.
“What’s up, Duane?” Jack opened the door and stepped out, clasping hands and giving a bro hug with a big shoulder pat.
“Good to see you, man! What’s my college boy doing back here?”
“Missing you man! What else?”
“You silly, nigga!”
Duane punched him lightly in the upper arm and they both laughed.
“So, really. What you need man? I can tell you need something. I always could.” Duane grinned big.
“Wel
l…” Jack wasn’t one for beating around the bush but this was a big favor to ask.
“Spit it out, man!” Duane said, circling his hand impatiently to encourage an expeditious delivery.
“Let’s take a ride, Duane. I can’t talk out here.”
Duane cocked his head and squinted, staring at Jack for several seconds before answering.
“Alright, Jack. Let’s go.”
They hopped in and drove off. Jack explained that he needed a couple of thousand dollars to pay off a debt but told Duane he didn’t want to say what exactly it was or who he owed it to.
“That’s a lot of money Jack. I’m not sure I can spare that much, even for you.”
“I’m not asking for a handout D. I have a plan.”
“A plan? What kind of plan?” Duane cut a sideways look, curious but not entirely sure about the prospects.
“Well…you know all the players. You know which ones got money and which ones don’t. You know when their shipments come in and where they keep it to cut it up. You know who’s got heavy security and who doesn’t….”
“You’re suggesting a home invasion? That we rob some niggas, Jack?”
Jack paused briefly and then spit it out.
“Yes. Exactly. I’ll keep the money and you can keep the dope. Win, win.”
Jack allowed a slight smile to creep up one corner of his mouth.
“Damn, Jack. You need that money bad, huh?”
“Yeah…I do.” Jack’s eyes didn’t exactly plead with Duane, but they did ask real nicely.
Duane looked at those eyes for what felt like an eternity to Jack before giving him a nod and an “Awright.”
“I’ll get the dates and times figured out, Jack. You got any heat of your own?”
“I got a pump shotgun.”
“Good enough. I got my Glock. We can do this. Your number still the same?”
“Yup.”
“Awright. Drop me off on this corner. I’ll be in touch.”
Jack pulled to a stop. They clasped right hands and Duane patted the back of Jack’s then stepped out and walked off.
*****
A week later, the day after graduation, Duane called Jack and told him it was a go for that night. Meet him at 9 pm at the Food Lion parking lot. Jack called in sick for work, grabbed the Ithaca pump shotgun, loaded up with the smaller home defense rounds so it could hold more and brought some extra. He strapped his bowie knife on his right thigh and slid a rubber mallet into the leather loop he had made for it, attached to his belt. Lastly, he stuffed the pullover Call of Duty skull mask he bought at a gaming store into his long black leather coat.
At 9 pm he was already standing by. Duane was driving a beat up car that wouldn’t be traced back to either one of them. Jack jumped in and they drove a couple of miles then down some side streets and parked, killing the lights.
“My boy is inside. Says the dope is in the house. There’s three of them, but only one’s armed, the smaller guy in the bunch. The other two are big boys, but not packing. Dogs are locked up. When my boy walks out we start moving, hit the door and mob those fuckers. You do all the talking though. They might recognize my voice.”
He paused and looked at Jack, waiting for some acknowledgement. Jack’s mind was moving a hundred miles a minute. He had never done anything like this before. What ifs and worst case scenarios were playing out in his mind’s eye.
Duane snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s face a few times rapid fire.
“Jack. Calling Jack. Wake the fuck up Jack. You copy what I said or not?”
Jack snapped out of it.
“Yeah. I copied. I know what to do. I’m just ready to do it. The waiting is the worst part.”
Jack held up his left hand. It was trembling from adrenaline pouring into a body that was not allowed to act yet.
“It’s all good brother. Any time now….Speak of the devil. There he is. Let’s go!”
Both men pulled masks over their head. Jack with the skull mask and Duane with a spider man pullover mask. They carried their guns, barrel down and close to their bodies in low ready and quickly made their way through the shadows to the door, never stopping once their feet hit the porch. Jack front kicked the door, nearly knocking it off the hinges as it flew open and he moved quickly into the house, gun brandished, and yelling.
“Get the fuck on the ground! On the ground, now!”
All three men were sitting around the dining room table, counting money and divvying up the dope they had cut and packaged thus far. Surprise showed clearly on their faces. Jack didn’t want to have to shoot someone unless he absolutely had to. It would draw immediate attention and inspire a murder investigation. On the other hand, if no one died, drug dealers being robbed wasn’t something that would top the to-do list for the cops, if the piece of shits reported it at all.
Jack bee-lined for the left side of the table, raising the shotgun up to face level on the little guy who might be armed.
“Put your hands up motherfucker!! Put ‘em up, now!
The guy tried to look hard and act hard, staring at Jack and keeping his hands flat on the table. Duane had the other two covered with his Glock, their hands creeping up in the air.
“Fuck this motherfucker!” Jack thought, letting go of the shotgun grip with his right hand long enough to reach under his coat and retrieve the rubber mallet. It whispered through the air, catching the guy right on the chin and laying him out cold on the floor, his jaw dislocated from the mandible joint.
Jack dropped the handle back into its loop on his hip and re-gripped the shotgun, finger resting just above the trigger guard.
“Do I need to repeat myself again, motherfuckers?!?” He gave added emphasis by pointing the shotgun at the nearest one’s face so he could stare down the barrel.
The guy shook his head back and forth slowly.
“Good!” Jack quieted down some. “Now. What you’re going to so kindly do for me and my partner here, is put all this money in this bag here,” he threw a bag to the near guy who appeared to be handling the money. “And you,” he said indicating the other guy taking care of the dope, “you’re gonna put all the dope in this bag. Now, does everyone understand their school assignments?”
The two big boys nodded their head up and down, pissed off at their pending loss but not wanting to get fucked up like their boy or worse yet, killed by this crazy white guy. While they filled the bags and Jack covered them, Duane retrieved the little guy’s gun and fished through his pockets.
“Now,” Jack began, as the big boys finished their task. “Empty your pockets.”
They both looked at one another then slowly reached into their pockets and pulled out a large wad of cash each, rolled up and rubber banded, then tossed it in the bag.
“Cell phones too. Pull the batteries and stick ‘em in there.”
They both complied.
“Alright fellas. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Ta Ta.”
Jack butt stroked the nearest guy in the back of the skull, his head dropping to the table like a bowling ball. He stared at the last guy.
“Don’t even fucking think about following us.”
Jack and Duane ran out of the house and hit the shadows immediately, sprinting to their car and driving off with no headlights for a block till they were out of sight. By the time they returned to the Food Lion parking lot Jack had already counted the money.
“Damn Duane! There’s almost $7,000 here in cash. Do you want some?” Jack had never held so much cash at once in all his life.
Duane smiled and shook his head.
“Jack. There’s over $10,000 there in dope once its cut and sold on the street. I’m good. You keep the cash brother.”
Jack leaned over and gave him a hug, looked him in the eye for a moment then grabbed the money bag and got out.
He drove the speed limit all the way back to his apartment.
*****
Over the next week Jack purchased a used fridge and chest f
reezer, a generator, a 55 gallon barrel full of gas with a hand crank pump attachment, a grill, charcoal, tea kettle, camping gear, flashlights and lots of batteries along with some other survival stuff. He also picked up plenty of medical supplies, including antibiotics from the local Feed and Seed, to add to his existing EMT bag full of ice packs, ace bandages, band aids, new skin, super glue, tourniquets, and combat gauze.
Once he had moved everything into the barn it was time to bring in the food, prepackaged and….not prepackaged. He purchased a slew of instant oatmeal, wheat bread, honey and peanut butter, along with protein bars and powder. He filled several large tucker totes with canned vegetables and condiments as well. Lastly, he bought a couple of dozen small pigs from work, 50-150 lbs. each, built a large pen and another containment area out of heavy fencing wire and some 4x4 posts and hauled them in there a few at the time.
He emailed April and the fake male candidate a rendezvous point - the university library parking lot. On a Friday night after graduation at 9 pm, there wouldn’t be anybody there, most likely. There he would wait. There he would spring the trap and kidnap April.
And in that moment he would force her onto a path that would change her life forever.
*****
Jack was alone in the library, seated with a view of the front door so he could spot the headlights of any vehicle pulling in to park. It was 8:55 pm. Any minute she should arrive.
He felt significantly more calm now than he had the week prior, waiting to launch a home invasion. Not as many variables to calculate. Not as much physical risk. Though, ultimately, the stakes were higher here. Getting close enough to incapacitate April would be easy. He just had to act the script he had practiced.
“Planning. Planning was the key to all great endeavors. Along with Improvisation, because you should always expect something to go wrong,” he thought.
