Sad Things, Made Bright
By Rey
Chapter 13: A Frightening Flashback
21st December 1988
31.
The pleasantly cool interior of the car – no, jeep, Dad had said yesterday afternoon, when they'd been discussing about it – was as silent as what Kad imagined a graveyard at night would be. There were only the sounds of the car's operation – the pedals, the gear-stick, the wheels beneath them – and nothing else.
Unlike several times before, even in the aftermath of the not-so-pleasant meeting with the bobbies from… huh, had it been two days ago?… Well, unlike that time, however tense Dad had been then, now was times and times worse.
Seated in his modified car-seat on the front passenger seat beside Dad, Kad daren't even move, or breathe freely, or let out any other sound, or steal too many glances at Dad, as they sped away through streets and roads, sometimes accompanied by just a few other cars or even none. Dad seemed quite tense, and not because of the blue-grey-white metal plates and helmet and weapons he's still wearing.
Kad himself felt quite uncomfortable with what had happened, with how they had parted with Privet Drive number four: with Dudley's wailing and trying to grab him, with the encounter with the third intruder – who'd vanished afterwards – and Dad's violent response to it, with the scorched marks everywhere – even on the walls of the fence and façade of the home across the street. But, as it had also been his lot while living with the Dursleys, he suffered through it in stoic silence, as his hands restlessly toyed with the winter coat he'd shed before tucking himself into the car-seat.
Still, nobody – not even he – could put a hold on the questions and wonderings of his mind. His only consolation was that the said fretful thoughts were safe and undetected within the confines of his head. And with that firmly in mind, he let the last moments of his life in Privet Drive number four played again and again before his mind's eye, distorting the view of the deserted,, snow-powdered car lanes beyond the windshield.
Dudley's wretched please, more genuine than most of his demands for treats and gifts from his parents, were still ringing in his ears, as was the physical sensation of the pudgy hands wrapped round his bony winter-cloak-covered arm, not to hurt but to hold him back.
Like cousins.
Like proper cousins.
Sad, that this peculiar – and peculiarly cherished – memory was tainted with what had transpired afterwards, as Dad's hand had tugged at his other arm gently, and they'd come out to the alarming scene of an unknown man in black robe dusting himself off on the driveway on the frontyard. Dudley'd even gone silent, when, without any warning to the intruder and with all alacrity, Dad had hefted up a bulky gun from his various arsenal hanging about him and fired.
It'd been the most ruthless action yet that Kad had ever seen from Jango Fett, who had been his father for just nearly three days. There had been a vicious ferocity in that unprompted attack, a sense of assurance – of intent – for somebody else's demise, and it had settled on his tongue like the vinegar he'd been forced to mouth and swallow as punishment by Aunt Tuney several months ago for what she'd accused as badmouthing her.
Even Dudley, who'd often shown pleasure in malicious pranks and harmful pastimes like throwing stones at people's car windows, had shrunk away in total fright, as the horizontal rain of red beams had spewed forth from the two big guns Kad's father had drawn by then. The view had been mostly blocked by the bulky hunk of the armour-clad, weapon-laden figure, as the two boys had cowered behind him in the hallway that also contained Kad's cupboard; but still, the outline of the black-robed man's desperate feats of gymnastics on the driveway, trying to evade jabs of those scorching lights, had been as starkly horrifying as the brief glimpse Kad had seen from the Animal Planet channel Dudley had watched one afternoon, when a bunch of coyotes had eaten a struggling, screaming deer alive.
But now, the prey had been a human, and so had the predator.
And the human predator had been – was – kad's own father.
Not even Dudley had managed to generate avid interest for this particular scene, as that cousin of his had mustered for that snippet of animal cruelty that afternoon.
And then, when all the light beams had suddenly splashed onto an invisible barrier before the black-robed man, and the black-robed man himself had vanished into thin air with a deafening cracking sound, Jango Fett had brusquely shrugged the larger pack on his back behind the vaguely-cylindrical thing that he'd explained to Kad yesterday was for flying. After tucking one of his big guns back at his side, he'd hoisted Kad into his arms, the smaller pack – bulging with loot, it seemed – and all, and the front door of Privet Drive Number Four had closed with a final-sounding thump in front of Dudley's wide-eyed, palid countenance.
Kad supposed he ought to have felt quite safe and cherished, riding in his father's arms after such awesome display of strength, intention and capability; and even then, Dad had still been guarding him jealously and fearsomely, with the remaining big gun set parallel to his body, quite easily within his reach should he have wished to touch it.
But he hadn't felt so, nor did he now.
Because he had no doubt, that, should any – or, if worse came to worst, all – the scorching beams have reached the black-robed man and killed the said man on his feet, Jango Fett would have left the remaining charred husk just so on the driveway, as if he'd only splatted an annoying fly against the wall.
And he was supposed to be Kad's father.
What would he do, then, should Kad somehow incite that level of annoyance in him?
Kad daren't imagine; not now that the subject of rumination was barely an arms length away, also when the incident that had sparked the morbid thoughts had passed just less than fifteen minutes ago.
And then, his body betrayed him.
The gurgling grumble of his stomach was very, very loud in the tense silence surrounding the pair.
He cringed, barely holding back a squeak – something that would definitely make his new guardian angry, he suspected. He'd been trying not to attract attention on himself, and now–!
And true to his expectation, right afterwards, though there's no peep whatsoever from the direction of the impassive helmet to his right, one gauntleted, weapon-laden large hand belonging to his scary guardian reached towards the latter's belt – where many, many things, most of them being undoubtably weapons – hung, and…
…Kad gawked. The thing, if it was a weapon, wasn't thrown at him, nor did it let out any sound Kad associated with weapons that he knew thus far, when Dad manoeuvred his hands, doing something with it without letting go of the steering wheel.
In fact, it sounded suspiciously like food wrapper being manipulated.
The silhouette of the same smallish, rectangular, thinnish thing proffered to him afterwards reminded him very much of a half-peeled bar of chocolate that he automatically reached out a trembling hand and brought the puzzling, unlooked-for gift to his mouth.
But no, the thing didn't taste like a weapon of any sort – too bland, too soft, too chewy. Unlike other kinds of food, though, two bites already served to fill his stomach to full capacity. And as if Dad knew it – or maybe Dad did know it – the same large hand returned for the weird food bar after Kad had finished chewing for some time without taking more bites.
Kad hadn't eaten since afternoon, Dad too, and now he did… Did this mean Dad wouldn't harm him when Dad's annoyed, next time? After all, Dad was mightily annoyed right now, wasn't he? And Kad got some kind of dried food instead of a slap?
The boy looked up at the face of the helmet from beneath his uneven fringes, wishing he could see his father's true face hiding behind it. A second later his stolen gaze dropped onto his father's lap, as sleepiness began to permeate his being, slowly but surely, after the fulfilling simple meal and the indirect reassurance that the man wasn't going to harm him like he'd done the others.
How surprised he was, that, just as he was thinking about the best position to nap, the same food-bearing hand, now empty, unstrapped him from his car-seat and ushered him onto the broad, armour-clad lap he'd subconsciously coveted. He hadn't said anything about this! Had Dad read his mind? But the man hadn't shown any sign of it before….
Kad snuggled in his new perch as comfily as possible, watching avidly as Dad moved the steering wheel with one hand, manipulated the gear-stick with the other, and stepped on the pedals with either foot, all with confidence, although the tense set of the posture seemed to belie the man's little familiarity with it. Armour plates, weapon tips and sides and large powerful hands flickered and glowed briefly from the reflection of roadlights, the lamps of the few passing vehicles, and their own front-lamps reflected on the frozen surface of the road; and to Kad, they contained a harsh, alien beauty of their own.
He could not deny the warm pleasure, too, that, seated there within the protection of Dad's powerful arms and the latter's highly efficient and effective weapons, he felt like a cherished king; maybe like Dudley when with his parents, or maybe even more, seeing that he had no wish to stoop as low as Dudley with the latter's whiny demands and idle approach to life.
Dad might be a hungry or vengeful beast when roused, but the man was Kad's; and for better or for worse Kad was dad's, too, as the memory of his adoption flitted past his mind once more.
An adoptive parent could not sever the bond. Only the adoptive child could.
Kad could sever the bond, then; but the notion was as loathsome to his meagre experience as the idea of being left alone and lonely in the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive number four forever.
Well, then, he just needed to do the best he could to accept his new father as the latter was, right? Nobody could choose his or her family; his relatives had often grumbled about that within his hearing, whether in full or eavesdropped. But at least, he could choose to love whatever family he had now with no reservation, now that the Dursleys had severed ties with him, right?
He was tired of being afraid of his own guardian, anyway.
Well, with his fears banished for a time and with his belly full, the prospect seemed so bright.