by S. G Mark
There was no war to fight. He was not a murderer. He was not the most wanted man in the country. He was just Jack; pathetic and ground down by life in which he strove to make a difference to his friends around him whilst drinking too much and pretending that it was all going to be alright in the end.
The last time he’d walked down this road during daylight it was the day after Scar had been taken. The day that changed everything. That feeling of loss, more poignant than had she been simply arrested. It was her disappearance that had changed something within him. Even then he knew it wasn’t right.
Relugas Road. Jack sauntered round the back towards the alleyway he’d creeped along the following night. Safely hidden from his neighbours, he peered over the gate and saw the kitchen light on. Eliza was sitting down on the chair, facing the back door and staring into the distance. Her arms were resting on her bump. Another reminder that he should never have left.
The gate creaked open and he walked across the lawn, shedding his insecurities and doubts like pollen. Eliza abruptly woke from her reverie and unlocked the back door. Her breath formed clouds in the air.
“You’re early,” she said.
With nothing to say, he simply stood and smiled at her. It wasn’t that he had nothing to say, more that there was too much.
Stepping aside, she invited him in. The door closed behind him and she immediately switched the lights off.
“What are you doing?” he asked, seeing a match ignite furiously in front of him.
Eliza lit several candles on the kitchen table.
“I don’t want anyone to see us,” she said.
Jack nodded, “I understand.”
“Take a seat,” Eliza dragged out a chair from underneath the table. “I have tea, wine?”
“I’ll take the wine,” he said sharply, “I think I’m going to need it.”
Eliza poured him a glass of red and slid it across the table to him.
“You never used to drink red,” she said.
“I’m a desperate man, I’ll take anything that goes right now,” he said, trying to sway the tension with an easy tone.
Eliza glared at him from across the table; her eyes twinkling with hurt.
“How is your mum?” he asked, trying to gently establish conversation.
“Good,” Eliza revealed, “She has been travelling with John for a few months.”
“That’s great,” Jack said, “I’m glad she finally decided to move on.”
Eliza shot him an odd glance, both curious and angry. Instantly knowing that she felt he had no right to make such assumptions, he forced his eyes down to the ground. Silence followed in which he sipped some of his wine and pretended that he hadn’t left two years ago.
“I’m sorry,” he eventually said, instantly knowing it was not enough. Nothing could take back the hurt she’d suffered.
“Why did you come back?” she asked.
“Honestly? I had no choice,” he said, “I needed to leave London. You must have seen on the news?”
She shook her head, “No.”
“My life was in danger…”
“No,” she said, more forcefully this time, “It wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“How long were you… how long were part of that… the group?” she asked, her face contorted with disgust.
“Never under this house,” he said, taking a few moments before braving the inevitable, “But I wish I had. They aren’t who you think they are. They don’t stand for what you think they do.”
“Then what do they stand for - because all I’ve seen on the television over the past six months is you staring back at me?”
“I don’t know how to tell you,” he began, “I don’t know if I even can.”
“If you have any respect for me, you’ll try,” she said, gently wiping away a single tear.
“Eliza, please,” his voice was choked with emotion, “I never meant for any of this.”
They stared at each other for a number of seconds. Emotion smouldering between them. Jack wanted to touch her, to comfort her. He knew he couldn’t.
“I need to know the truth,” she said, “No matter how difficult it is. I need to know.”
Jack sighed. Telling the truth was not what troubled him. Making her believe it was.
“Alex isn’t dead,” he said, “I spoke to him two days ago. That night… I followed him into the woods nearby and… and the next thing I remember, I was waking up in a dark place. It was Alex. He took me - far from here. He told me… things. Things that I didn’t want to hear. Things that I now have to tell you.”
Worry spread across her face and Jack felt disgusted in himself that he must be the one to burst her little ignorant bubble. He wished above all else that they could return to normal. The smell of the house overwhelmed him. Nostalgia infested his lungs and he might have returned to happier times; before the bloodshed, before he knew too much.
“It’s not real, any of this,” he muttered, “I won’t pretend to understand it all because I don’t. But this country we live in? It’s not the same one you were born into. You’ve been lied to. We both have.”
“I told you not to lie to me, Jack,” she said, “I want honesty.”
“I am being honest. I would never lie to you,” he looked deeply at her from across the table.
“But you already have.”
Jack looked at the ground, clasping his glass of red in his hand. A fool’s hope, he’d thought the hurt he had caused had been buried. It seems that it hadn’t ever died.
He wanted to tell her everything, every little detail of the last two years. He wanted her to believe him; to trust in his word. But what hope did he have when it had taken him three months to believe? Even now he still suffered the affliction of societal doubt.
“What do you think is going on here, Eliza?” he asked, the anger simmering underneath, “Do you really think that I’m this powerful leader, this terrorist? Do you really believe in everything you hear?”
“I have no reason to doubt it,” she said, defiantly.
“None at all?” he said, “What about Scar? What about my friend, Simon or our neighbours across the road? How many others have disappeared in the time that we’ve known each other? You think the CRU are your safety net against criminals and terrorists? What do you want to know because I can tell you, Eliza, I can tell you anything you want to know. They are not your friend. The media has no agenda to be kind to you. It has no agenda to be frank with you. Why would it be? It serves only to protect what it’s been told to. I am a terrorist not because you fear me, Eliza, but because you’ve been told to.”
Eliza was clutching on to the table, her eyes glazed over.
“Alex took me that night,” he said, “Because he saw something in me that I didn’t see until a few months ago.”
“What was it?”
“I thought it might be because I’m a good liar,” he said, “And yes I am. But they don’t think I’m leader because I’m a liar. They think I’m leader because I’m strong. Because I get things done.”
“Did you kill him?” she asked, “That guy, Quentin - the Home Secretary?”
Jack nodded, “Alex is alive because I killed him. I’ve killed more, Eliza. You wanted honesty? You have it. I’ve killed. I’ve hurt. I’ve lied. But don’t think for a second it wasn’t all for you.”
“For me?!” she yelled, “You killed for me?”
“For you, for us, for everyone!” he shouted, “But it’s not what you think. Eliza, please, you have to listen to me.”
“Get out,” she said, “Get out before I call the CRU.”
Jack fell to his knees at her feet; grasping her hands, “Eliza, please. I’d never lie to you. I’d never hurt you. I love you.”
“No you don’t,” she shook her hands free and turned away. “How can you love someone you don’t even know?”
Jack’s hands fell to his thighs.
“Are you sick? Do you need help?” she ask
ed.
Falling backwards against the kitchen cupboard, Jack sighed, “You want to know something that only a few people in the country know?”
Eliza turned her head slightly.
“I might be on their fucking wanted posters,” he said, “But I’m not the leader. That title is appointed to your brother. So you want someone to blame, blame him. You want someone to hate, then hate him. But he will never hate you for not believing. I know that. I know him. He asked me never to come back. That was the deal. I join and you’d be safe so long as I never returned. And now I finally understand that it was never about protecting you that I shouldn’t return. It was about protecting him. He couldn’t bear the thought of you knowing about him, about what he’d done - and going through what might happen if he were in my position right now. Eliza, I can’t walk down the street anymore. I can’t openly travel. My face, it’s a commodity for people to betray. I have no life. My own father has condemned me. You think I want this? Most wanted man in the country. The most dangerous terrorist? Leader of The Resistance? You think that’s me? You think that I want this? I don’t. But I know the truth now, Eliza, and I can’t walk away from that. I can’t abandon this because it doesn’t make sense or it doesn’t fit in your agenda. I didn’t come back to see you, fuck it, I came back because I had to leave London or I would die. I’d be arrested, locked up and tortured for the rest of my pitiful life. And the worst thing is I think you already know that. You just don't want to believe you do.”
Eliza looked at him defiantly in the darkness. The candlelight flickered. The red wine in his belly curdled.
“It isn’t right and you know it. Think, Eliza, think.”
She reached for his hand; he seized hers, the blood rushing to the tips of their fingers.
“Jack,” she said, “Please, don’t mess with me.”
“I’ve loved you every second we’ve been apart.”
“Then why haven’t you been here!” she shouted. “You left! You left and you never came back! My brother was dead. You were fucking gone. I was fucking lost. You loved me but you fucking left! And now I’m here, pregnant at twenty years old and I’m scared. I’m scared to fucking death. And it’s all because you weren’t there. You left me. For these fantasies.”
She was trembling with rage and sorrow. Tears were streaming down Jack’s cheeks.
“Alex told me to leave you alone,” he said, “I wanted to leave. I tried to leave. But in the end… I realised what was going on. There were too many signs to ignore, Eliza. The CRU. The Curfew. The Martial Law. Nightstalkers. The media, controlling every situation.”
“I don’t believe you,” she sighed.
“I don’t care,” he said, “I don’t care if you never believe a word I say again, so long as what I am doing will keep you safe.”
Still clutching on to each other’s hands, Eliza eventually found the strength to look him in the eye. Years of longing overpowered him.
“Eliza,” he said, “I can’t prove Alex is alive, not yet. I can’t promise you that I’ll succeed against these bastards. I can’t promise you that this will ever end. But I can promise you that you will realise what is happening. And you need to accept it. There are people dying out there. You were brought up to expect a future, Eliza. Ask yourself why you don’t have one?”
“I do,” she snapped, stroking her belly, “I do.”
Jack placed a hand on her stomach and felt the hard impression against his palm.
“You know, yesterday,” he said, “For a split second of madness, as if I had been transported back in time, I thought I might be the father…”
Eliza didn’t respond verbally, but brushed his hands from her body.
“It was foolish of me,” he said, rising to his feet, “All this time I figured you’d wait. I never imagined returning to this.”
He looked away from her, tears silently running down face. It was an insurmountable loss. A future stolen from him.
Suddenly he felt a hand within his own.
“If there was a way,” she began, “Of proving if Alex was alive… would you do it?”
Jack tightly held her hand in his, “In a heartbeat.”
“Tell me everything you need to tell me tonight and I will believe everything, everything you say, if you can do one thing for me.”
“Anything,” he said.
“Ask him… ask him what he was most scared of as a child,” she said, “When you have an answer, you tell me. Until then, you need to tell me everything.”
Jack looked at her, “Are you sure?”
“It’s all just stories until I know his response.”
Slinking back into his chair, Jack took another sip of his red wine as he contemplated where to begin. There was so much information to process. He’d learned it over months, years of information and speculation. Evidence was out of reach. He’d only just managed to convince himself, what chance did he stand to convince her?
He put down his glass of red, his third of the evening. Eliza was staring at him just as she had been all evening. Carefully and without censor, Jack had described every movement he’d made in The Resistance. He knew the risks he was taking just recounting his journey through the ranks. But it was important. He needed to offer her complete transparency before he could even entertain the idea that she could trust him again, even care about him. The look of disdain in her eyes was painful. For two years he’d been awaiting her compassionate eyes, her loving heart; and that evening he found neither.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.
Eliza straightened up and stared even harder into his eyes. He could no longer stand it. The judgement. The hatred.
“Like what?” she said, though nothing from her tone suggested she was confused on the matter.
“Don’t you remember?” he said, “Don’t you remember how we used to look at each other?”
Jack reached out a hand to her knee. She brushed it away.
“I remember how you took advantage of me,” she said.
“You know that’s not what I did,” he snapped, “It was real. What we felt about each other was real, don’t you dare try and deny that. It’s been the only thing keeping me going these past few years!”
“At least you had something to keep you going!” she yelled, “My brother was dead. My mum was destroyed. I had no one to turn to because the one person I thought I could rely on for everything was supposedly a murderer - but how wrong were we all! He’s just a dirty fucking terrorist.”
“If I’d have known…”
“What difference could have made, Jack?” she cut him off, “You’ve sat here and in theory you’ve resurrected my brother from the dead, but the lies? They are still there. You’re still that man on the television, from the wanted posters; you’re still the man that killed that politician.”
“I would have been there for you.”
“You could have been there for me all this time, Jack. You just chose not to,” she said, “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just report you to the CRU.”
Jack slipped to his knees and begged at her feet; clutching her hands in his own, he could smell her moisturiser.
“Because I remember a girl who wanted to rule the world. To travel, to experience life. She didn’t want to be stuck at home. This girl wanted to do something worthwhile with her time on this planet and anyone would be damned if they were going to step in her way,” he paused, Jack’s heart pummelling as Eliza’s irises pierced his own. “I remember you. I remember all those hopes and dreams. I remember how you used to feel about your father - a remote grief that you couldn’t possibly share with Alex or your mum. You felt isolated, trapped for most of your childhood. I remember Eliza Reader - and I remember that she would never have wanted to end up like this.”
She clutched her rotund belly and for a second her expression seemed to soften. But it was quickly wiped away.
“That girl grew up,” she said, “And how dare you even suggest what I want.”
“Maybe I don’t know what you want now,” he said, “But I did know what you wanted, once. Just ask yourself - what stopped you? Why aren’t you at university? Why are you still on Rations? Why have you never lived out of home? And you can sit here and complain about circumstances, but what if I told you it was all by design? They don’t want you to do well. They don’t want you to go out into the streets and feel safe. You fear me because they’ve told you to fear me. They told you that I’d killed your brother. They told you that I was Leader of The Resistance. You invited me into your home - you can’t fear me that much. You know who I am. You know the worst of me.”
Eliza reached out a hand and caressed his chin. He smiled, endearingly and her lips returned a sombre twinkle. Her mouth opened to say something, but stopped; fragmented in thought.
In the distance the sound of keys jingling rattled their ears. The crunch of the front door opening thundered through the house seconds before it slammed back into place. Eliza stood up immediately, panic flooding her.
“It’s Jonathan,” she said, “You have to go.”
“The man from yesterday?” he said, rising to his feet, “Who is -”
The kitchen door burst open. Jonathan’s frame filled the vicinity. Rage burst from his temples, his eyes alight with fury.
“Get away from her,” he launched himself forward, raising an arm between Eliza and Jack.
Stumbling backwards, Eliza screamed as Jonathan grabbed Jack by the collar and shoved him up against the sink.
“If you’ve harmed her or my baby in anyway, I will fucking kill you myself!” he yelled in Jack’s face.
“I haven’t, tell him Eliza!”
Jonathan slammed a punch into Jack’s cheek, “Call Daniel from my phone, Liz.”
“Jonathan, you can’t!”
“This man is a fucking terrorist. You persuaded me not to call him last night, but I can’t ignore him again,” he punched a struggling Jack hard in the stomach.
“Please!” she yelled, “For me! Please, for me!”
Jonathan’s grip loosened but was still tight around Jack’s neck. He turned his head around slightly and there was a moment between the two of them that Jack felt quite jealous of.
