Chapter 12: Collision
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The fight was over quickly.
Before he desperately lunged at the thug, Jackson had gone over their options - to comply or to fight - and the decision had been fairly easy one to make. He could not let himself to be tied to a tree, and most certainly he could not let Mel get hurt. It was as simple as that, and so, fight! it was. Of course, it did not mean that Jackson believed for a second that he could actually beat the man.
Jackson was a realist. He had been in his share of fights, usually just standing up to himself, but also sometimes initiating them; he knew how to pack a punch. However, even if he hadn't been half dead with cold and exhaustion and shock already, he still couldn't have won this one. The man was just too big, too strong, and obviously had way more experience in beating people into bloody pulps than he did.
So he had no great expectations about the outcome. His aim was to distract the man, to get the gun away from him, and to buy enough time for Melissa to get as far away from them as she possibly could (preferably off this island and to the other side of the globe - but he could settle anywhere that was not here).
Between the decision to fight and the act itself, there was no time to think, and as Melissa looked at him, he stared back, his heart hammering wildly, and he was wishing that she would somehow know - and perhaps she did, for she hesitated and stopped. Time did not pause, in fact it rushed forward, and Jackson could not let himself think what he was going to do, how much it was going to hurt, how everything would go so wrong, but concentrated on the man, on Melissa, on the gun; seeing and hearing as the man shifted and pointed the gun at her and said something -
And he knew now was the right moment.
Jackson crashed into the man with his whole weight, his hands striking against the man's hold of the gun, and then the black object was flying in the air and disappearing from his vision and his mind, for they went down, and he pulled and punched desperately, trying to stay on top, trying to pummel the man deeper into the sand.
His fist collided with the man's cheek, and he had a brief moment of gleeful satisfaction until he found himself on his back with the man looming on top of him, and his head spun and there was a sharp pain in his gut, and his chest exploded as more punches rained upon him in quick succession.
Feeble kicks did him no good, and his arms couldn't push the man away, his fists couldn't even get a grip on the man's hair, and he was losing too quick, he couldn't get away and the man was yelling something, but there was a roar in his ears drowning everything else but his heartbeat bounding -
"- shit! You little shit!"
He bent his knees and pushed his legs with force against the man's chest, and he must have hit something pretty vital, for a moment the man halted and -
"Fuck! I'll show you -"
He had no time to move, no time to think anything but have to get away, and then the pain erupted everywhere at once and he couldn't breathe - why couldn't he breathe? - and his panic and fear gave him strength to push and hit, but the man was a rock and Jackson couldn't breathe and the man's large hands were crushing his throat, and there were bright spots dancing in front of him, and he knew this is dying -
The fight was over quickly.
One moment Jackson was suffocating, lying in the sand helplessly while the man strangled him, and in the next moment the pressure from his neck was gone and although it hurt to draw breath, he finally could, and as everything was spinning he drew breath after breath not knowing what had happened and not really caring, because he could breathe and he wasn't dying anymore.
All too soon reality crashed in, as he realised that something was weighting him down, pressing his legs and half his chest to the ground, and he found that he couldn't really move as everything hurt and there was something, someone?, holding him down.
"Jackson?!" He knew her voice. "Oh God, Jackson -"
Melissa. It's her voice.
He had been fighting and then he had been dying, and it was the man who was pinning him down, but the man was a dead weight and did not move or try to strangle him anymore. And what the hell was she doing here still?
"Jackson!" She sounded more scared and panicked than he had ever heard her, and they really had to get away now. He tried to move and something sharp cut through his lungs, but they had no time for this, and he pushed and shifted and half crawled out under the man's crushing weight.
There was a sick pile in his stomach, but Melissa was calling his name again and he struggled to get some words out, and he really had gotten his ass kicked, hadn't he? And why was he not dead?
"Okay, I - yeah - I'm okay, I'm good -" And as he tried to reassure both her and himself, Jackson twisted around, still on all fours, and the man lay - God, not a meter away - lifeless, something dark smearing the man's whole forehead, running over his closed eyes and across his cheeks.
"I -" There was a peculiar note of astonishment in that one word she uttered, before falling silent again. He dragged his gaze away from the man, and turned his eyes on her and couldn't help but flinch -
Melissa stood rooted in her spot, her eyes wild and her hands tightly clasping a wooden oar. Her gaze darted to the man and then to Jackson, returning almost immediately to the man again. She hit him with the oar. His realization was strangely just a statement, a matter of fact, and he felt too much to feel anything.
"We need to get away from here." Willing his pain and everything else away, but his overwhelming need to be somewhere else, he pushed himself up and with shaking legs took a step towards her. "We have to go now." His voice was urgent, and she heard him and threw the oar away, and it sank with a thud to the sand, right next to the man.
He reached for her hand, without sparing a glance to the body.
"We have to go."
And his urgency took hold of her, and she grabbed his hand and was moving away, dragging him along, and although everything hurt and ached he followed, not looking at the man. She started to run and he ran with her.
They were getting away.
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She couldn't go with them, so she found a nice place the settle herself in, far enough to be hidden, but close enough to the camp to be not lost.
Taylor was not stupid. Before leaving the camp, she had took her sleeping bag, her warmest sweater, a water bottle and the rest of the fruits from the food container with her. Who knew how long she would have to hide, and she was already cold and hungry. Why not make herself as comfortable as she could?
So the sleeping bag and the sweater were tightly drawn around her, she was munching a banana, and the water bottle was half empty already. She was comfortable. She was okay. And if her shivers wouldn't stop no matter how warm she got, or if her heart bounded faster with each small rustle from the surrounding jungle, and if she hated the darkness more with each passing moment, none of it could hurt her anymore. She was far away from the men, from the camp, from everything. She was okay and she was alone.
The others - they were somewhere out there in the darkness. Nathan and Daley were heading to the clearing, where Eric and Lex probably still were being held hostage, and Jackson and Melissa were somewhere hiding. Only Taylor was alone, curled up into a ball beneath the thick canopy of dark leaves. They hid her from the world, and they hid everything from her. She could not see the sky.
Her thoughts were jumbled; a mix of fragmented memories and heartfelt wishes and sharp nightmarish visions of what was to come, all cutting deep. She had wanted to go with Daley to get Lex, she had wanted to follow them, but in the end, she had not wanted it too much. She just - couldn't.
They didn't need her there; she would only be in their way. What could she do against the men? What use was she? They didn't need her support or anything else from her. It was better, if she was here, hidden and safe. Nathan and Daley would rescue Lex and Eric, and they would come back to the camp, and everything would be as it was just a day ago. Everything would be fine.
So, any minute now, she should reign in the hysteric sobs that made her chest ache. Stop the tears that made her sniffle, made her nose run, her vision blur, and smudged her face with wetness and snot.
She couldn't.
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Finally.
The boy had dug the wet soil with both hands, and just as Cole had been getting impatient (the little kid's dark eyes, huge and scared, were staring at him), the boy had pulled the familiar plastic bag from the hole. His money.
The whole situation looked suddenly a lot better, and Cole couldn't help but grin. He was back on track again, he had his money and soon he would have his drugs, and in no time, he would be off this island and sailing into the metaphorical sunset.
"Here it is. I - what do you want -" The boy was now standing with the bag in his hands, looking as unsure as he sounded.
"Give it to me." Cole's voice was more sharp than he intended, but his patience was running short with the boy, and he really wanted to have his money fucking right now.
The boy walked to him, managing to cover the ground between him and Cole briskly, but at the same time succeeding to look as hesitant and reluctant as one being held at gun point only could. Cole felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards. The boy definitely had some skill. He had lied to Cole with a straight face, had managed to withhold the knowledge about the money even when Cole had questioned the kids, and had only spilled the beans because of the threat to shoot the little kid's brains out. The boy had obviously withheld the money also from the other kids. The boy had potential; Cole was sure that in a minute the boy would be trying every trick he knew to persuade Cole to let them go.
He was right. As soon as the bag was in Cole's hands and he had looked in it, carefully calculating its weight and content, coming into the conclusion that all of the money was still there - the boy had assured he had not touched the bills, as if Cole would believe a word he said - and the begging started. Cole had always really hated this part of the gig.
"So…I did as you said and - and you have the money…" The boy began, backing off from Cole, towards the small kid, who had watched all that had happened, silent and still, with those damned scared eyes.
"You can just leave us here and I swear we will not get in your way, we'll stay here or if you want we can go somewhere else…" The boy was standing right in front of the little kid now, and Cole would have been amused at this futile attempt at protection, if he hadn't been so glad he couldn't see the kid's eyes anymore.
"I don't know if I really should." The words were meant to be taunting, but as he spoke them, Cole realized that he didn't really know what to do with the boys. Or any of the kids for that matter.
"But you promised to let us go free." The boy sounded offended, as if Cole had just hurt his feelings. It irked him.
"No, I didn't. I only said that the kid would get back to his sister." In his lifetime, Cole had promised a lot he had never intended to keep, but not to these kids.
"What - what are you going to do to us?"
Ain't that the question.
Cole had never enjoyed pulling the trigger. He could do it - he had done it - but he didn't get any particular pleasure from it, not like Larry. Leaving the kids here at the island would save his bullets and he would have five less bodies to look back on. The option had its merits - and pitfalls. If the kids were ever found, they could expose Cole to the authorities, and even if he was long gone by then, his face would be printed in numerous papers and databases; a thing he really wanted to avoid.
Your taking care of things better involve putting a bullet to their heads. Larry's opinion on the matter was clear, and although Cole didn't consult Larry - or anyone - on how to run his gig, he knew he would have trouble with the man if he would just let the kids go. And further trouble I could do without.
He didn't need the little bastards anymore. Maybe it was time to start safeguarding his back. For if Larry was right about something, it was about not taking any chances of getting caught again. He couldn't afford it.
"Drop the gun." Jin's voice was quiet, but it cut through the darkness like a knife, unexpected and sudden.
Cole froze. You little betraying bastard. The Asian was standing in the right side of the clearing, half way between Cole and the boys. His gun was pointed at Cole, his hands unwavering and face impassive.
"Drop the gun. I'm not going to ask again."
Cole hesitated, going through different options, but knowing he really didn't have any other choice but to comply; Jin was a professional and would shoot him the minute he even twitched the wrong way. Cole dropped the gun.
"Kick it away."
Cole kicked the gun and it slid a view meters away from him. He recognized the all consuming rage that ignited and intensified inside of him. No one would take his money. No one.
"Boy!" Jin addressed the older kid, but didn't take his eyes off from Cole for one second. "Go take the money from him and bring it to me."
As the boy started once again to move hesitantly towards Cole, the two men locked gazes, one showing he was in charge and the other promising bloody retribution.
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We are nearing the end! Only three more chapters to go - so things are really unravelling. In the next chapter, a shot is heard in the night…
I want to wish very warm and peaceful Christmas to you all, and also happy New Year!
