All Them Things That Could Get You Killed
Ennis and Jack one-shot.
It was on the mountain that twenty years of hurt and betrayal had exploded, finally. But, nevertheless, Jack had been left by Ennis, alone, and watched him drive away, feeling both an inexplicably strong wave of sadness and violent anger bubbling up inside of him.
But, wasn't that how it had been for twenty years, now? He'd been there, stayed there with Ennis, and comforted him every damn time he'd needed it, but in the end, Ennis always left him, tossed him aside like a used rag.
As Jack drove home, the radio blaring in the background of his thoughts, he made up his mind to call Randall.
"Hello? Malone residence, this is Lashawn speaking," the woman's voice at the other end said, and Jack knew he had to say something soon, or Lashawn would just keep speaking, and speaking.
"Yes, ma'am, this is Jack Twist. I'd like to speak to Randall."
It was about time he gave him an answer about the little cabin he'd offered.
"Oh, Jack Twist! You're the handsome young man I had the pleasure of dancing with at the benefit. Well, how are you?"
"I'm good enough, ma'am ... if you could get your husband on the line."
A second later, Randall took the receiver. "Jack Twist?"
"That's me," Jack replied, tense.
"You thought about the little cabin I told you about? What do ya say?" Randall asked, in a low voice.
Jack stayed silent for a moment, thinking about Ennis, and about Mexico, and about what Ennis had said about Mexico …
"Alright. I'll be down next week."
They met at the cabin that week; Randall was already inside, impatient, ready for action. Their night together was loveless, lustful in an animalistic, crude sort of way, and left Jack feeling colder than he'd been at the mountain.
He thought about Randall's touches and the way they meant nothing to him, and he thought about Ennis, and how a single smile from him filled him with warmth. He thought long about this as he showered, aware that Randall was quickly getting dressed and hurrying to leave the cabin.
He got out of the shower, dressed quickly, as well, and found Randall fooling with one of the pictures that were framed on the cabin. Jack saw it was missing a brass tack, so was a bit lopsided.
"Well, then," Randall began. "I guess I'll see you some time."
"I guess so," Jack replied, not meeting his eyes. He stood in the same place in the cabin long after Randall had left and closed the door behind him.
'Yes,' he thought. 'November's alright.'
He planned to send a postcard to Ennis saying just that, once he got home.
But, his plans to drive home as fast as he could were cut short few miles down the road, when he noticed one of his tires had gone flat.
"Shit," he cursed, and drove down a back road to change it.
He slammed his car door as he got out, angry at having to take the time to change a tire that had been perfectly fine the day before, and angry because he'd been anxious to get to the post office as soon as he could and contact Ennis.
He examined his tire and found a brass tack in it.
He recalled the lopsided picture in the cabin ... heard crunching gravel, and turned to find Randall looking down at him.
"Hello there, Twist," he said, a cruel smile on his lips. Then he turned to two other guys, both large and buff, and said with a nod of his head towards Jack, "This is the queer, boys."
Jack's eyes widened when the two beefy guys took hold of his arms and began dragging him away from his truck.
"Get the fuck off me, you assholes!" He struggled mightily, twisted and pulled, and tried to kick them, but they held fast. He'd never been much the fighter after all.
Randall walked behind him, mocking him, laughing. They threw him down onto the grass and kicked him, beat him, laughing.
"Little queer, fight back, dammit, if you're such a man!" they taunted.
Jack could do nothing but thrash, and yell. He felt them slashing at his body and realized with horror it was a tire iron. He remembered the story Ennis had told him about the two tough cowboys that had lived together ... he looked up at the sky, the sun blinding him and clenched his teeth as he thought of Ennis. He'd never get to see him again ... or to ever tell him, "I love you," like he should have done a long, long time ago.
Randall blocked his view of the blinding sun, his laughing face bright against the blue of the sky. Jack felt blood in his mouth, gagging him, choking him ... the pain in his side was unbearable.
Randall was saying something. "Gotta get rid of all the evidence, Jackie."
But, Jack saw Ennis, above him, telling him, "All them things that I don't know could get you killed …"
It was sad and it was funny, Jack thought as he closed his eyes because his vision was getting blurred and was going black, and laughed, swallowing and choking on his own blood. Ennis had been right, he was getting killed for all these things, and it was Jack's own fault for taking the bait. He thought, as he lied there, in a huge puddle of his own blood, the guys beating the hell out of him, of Lureen, and Bobby, whom he would never see grow up, and he thought of Ennis, for when did he not think of Ennis, nowadays?
But, he saw Ennis as he had been long, long ago in Brokeback Mountain, young and laughing at some stupid joke Jack had made.
"I'm sorry, Ennis," he managed to choke out though the blood.
Even his thoughts were blurring and fading, and the last things he felt were Ennis' arms closing around him, like they had that time on the mountain, the only time he'd ever held him so tenderly, and Ennis whisper in his ear:
"Gotta go, cowboy."
And he was gone.
Thank you for reading, and please review. "smile"
Brokeback Mountain and its characters are the property of Annie Proulx / Focus Features, not mine.