Jhondie
I walked into the middle of a conversation Irene and Charles were having about me. It wasn't the best way to end the evening after being propositioned and ogled several times today. I have a nice body, but it doesn't mean I want every male looking at me weird. Even Justin was acting strange today. Maybe it was in the air. Maybe it was just me.
"You would think that girl would have some sense of decency and responsibility," Irene was babbling. "Ashley considers her to be a daughter, and Jack referred to her as his daughter." There was a little moue of disgust on her face. "She should be here, but since he wasn't her real father, she can go running around with any pretty-boy that takes her fancy."
Oh, boy, this again. Because I didn't trace my bloodline back two hundred years, I must be undisciplined, and ill mannered. Since I was adopted, my real mother must be promiscuous, lazy, and have no sense of responsibility, more traits that were of course passed on to me. I wanted to tell them that genetically I was related to everyone important who's DNA sample could be obtained. Maybe one day I would. It wouldn't be a security breach. She'd have a heart attack and die the minute I did.
"Katherine would never have run off when her mother needed her the most," Irene continued wistfully. That was it for me.
"No," I said from the doorway. "She would just die again or something." Crude, I know, and I wish I didn't say it, but I was so sick of being the bad guy.
Irene whipped around, and gaped at me. "How dare you!" she cried. "You…you…you have no right to say things like that. I couldn't expect any more I suppose. Only someone rude enough to eavesdrop would say something like that!"
I shrugged. "If you are going to say something you wouldn't want to be said in front of the subject of the statement, perhaps you should rethink making the statement at all," I quoted. "That's what Miss. Manners said in the etiquette book you sent to me for my birthday." Every now and then I love having a photographic memory.
Her mouth opened and then closed. She looked like a stupid fish. I didn't say anything else, just ran up to my room. Kayla was sitting on my bed, holding the teddy bear dad won for her in a carnival when she was seven. She looked at me angrily. Ah, Irene strikes again. Irene wouldn't out and out say I was adopted, but she would tell Kayla how terrible I was for not being there for my family. In her mind, hints don't count as telling. Maybe she was part Manticore too.
"Have fun?" Kayla said rather bitterly. Yep, suspicions confirmed.
I sat down on the bed and looked at my young sister. She would be turning thirteen in July. I would be eighteen in September. Even with five years difference, we'd been close. There was always sibling rivalry, but I never forgot that it was her that led me to my family. She couldn't remember it, but I would never forget it.
"Kay," I said softly. "I wasn't out partying with Justin. We weren't running around blowing a Saturday like Grandma said."
I could see a few cracks in her anger. Kayla knew me better. "Grandma said if you really cared, you would be here."
"Grandma also says children should be seen and not heard," I replied. That got a small smile from her.
"Why doesn't Grandma think you care that daddy…daddy," she broke off, sniffing. I hugged her.
"Grandma doesn't think any teenager cares about anyone but themselves," I said, knowing she would believe that. "But I do care. I was out today…" now I broke off, the tears threatening. Should I tell her?
She looked at me expectantly. Sisters sometimes confide in each other things they would never tell their parents. It's a strange relationship that can have two people fighting bitterly, yet at the same time have a united front against everyone else. They support each other when it comes to the outside, no matter what. Kayla always knew I would be there to back her. This was something she needed to know.
"You can't tell anyone," I said firmly. She knew that meant seriously. We never discussed it, but once one of use started something with that phrase, it was between us and that was it. "But Justin was helping me look for the person that shot Dad." Kayla's eyes got huge. "We were talking to some people, and we think we might have a lead, but you can't say anything because I don't want Mom to get her hopes up that we're going to find him and then we don't."
"I won't," she said breathlessly. "You don't think the police will find him?"
I shrugged. "They might. But I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he gets caught and spends the rest of his life in prison. That's a promise." She hugged me. I felt better. Irene thought she could poison Kayla, but there was only so much she could do from Georgia. Kayla got off of my bed and went to the door, pausing before she left.
"Grandma really doesn't like you a lot," she said thoughtfully. "Shouldn't she like her oldest grandchild the best?" Sometimes it bites having an intelligent sibling.
"I don't care how old the family is, or who my ancestors are," I answered truthfully. "The only family I care about lives in this house." She smiled, and nodded before leaving.
I lay flat on my bed assimilating everything that had taken place that day. I could use a good dose of violent physical activity right now. It would take the edge off of everything. If Zack was here we could spar for a while. He was better than me, but I might have a chance with the way I was feeling. I wished I could sleep. I wanted to get started tonight, but Justin did require sleep, and I should spend some time at home with the family. It was easier to push all of the pain aside when I was gone though. I sighed.
I knew I wasn't going to wait until the morning. Everyone else was going to sleep eventually. Justin wanted to get evidence against the shooter. I didn't need evidence. I just needed some of his blood.
I waited around until everyone went to bed. Mom checked in on me, but I didn't want to talk. I knew Irene had been at her about what a horrible person I was, but I really didn't care. With the way I was feeling, Irene was going to get a dose of what I was trained to do very quickly. I hate feeling like this. Like a killing machine. But, that is what I am supposed to be. I might as well use it.
When Mom went to bed, I snuck into her room and went into their closet. On the top shelf was my Dad's gun. Mom didn't know I knew where it was, but I had known Dad didn't turn it in like he was supposed to after the Pulse. He'd tried to explain to me that a gun was a very dangerous thing when I found it, and I just kept looking at him with a grin until he caught the irony of what he was saying. I showed him the proper way to break it down and clean it, and told him about some of the other weapons I'd handled. I had to swear never to tell Mom that I knew about it.
I took it out, checked the clip, and then slipped back out of the room. It had a hip holster that I attached to my jeans, and covered it with my jacket. It would do. Unless someone pulled back my jacket they wouldn't notice. I wasn't planning on being noticed anyways. I knew from Cheryl's boyfriend a bar where a lot of gang members hung out. It was a neutral ground kind of place. The place where a little braggart might go for a couple of beers and to tell the world how he killed a doctor. I'd seen his picture. I'd know him.
I drove to a point about a mile away, and gave a kid ten bucks to keep an eye on the car. You get to know certain looks in areas. There are kids that work for the crime bosses. You give them a tip; they make sure your car is safe. It's just capitalism in a post-Pulse world. I hiked the rest of the way, and scoped out the area. The bar was at the end of a dead-end street. There were several buildings close by that were being used by squatters. One was a two-story place about 100 yards from the bar.
I climbed to the roof. I didn't have a rifle, so this was going to be much more tricky, but it was doable. We were designed so that we wouldn't need a riflescope to get the distance shots. I wasn't as good of a shot as Zack or Zane, but I was good enough. I settled down and waited. It was funny that I didn't get bored in the slightest. I kept watching the crowd, and waiting. The kid was still trying to prove himself. He'd be here eventually to brag some more.
After a couple of hours I saw him stagger out with his arm around some girl. She deposited him on the ground, and went back into the bar. She looked like a body builder. Must be the bouncer. There were a few other people around, and it made me have to wait for another minute. He had to be a little separated just in case I missed. I didn't want to hurt anyone except for the person that hurt me.
He staggered a few steps, and then turned to yell a few obscenities at the bar and the bouncer. There he was. I put him in my sights; safety was off, my finger touching the trigger, ready to do it…
I couldn't. Somewhere a small voice spoke up in my head. It almost sounded like Justin. What if you're wrong, it whispered. What if the kid is just bragging about something to get respect? What if he didn't do it at all? Everyone's guilty of something, another voice fired back. That one was easy to place. Lydecker. My finger fell away. Who did I want to be? Jhondie Harris or 223960005182? Was I willing to take a life on a suspicion? Could I resist? He was still there staggering down the street. Alone. Easy mark. I crouched there, just as I'd been taught, and watched my mark.
Justin
I was getting used to Jhondie sneaking into my room at night. I had started to make sure I wore pajama bottoms when I went to bed. She'd find something really hot on a story, and pop in. So, when woke up to hearing my window open, I didn't exactly wake instantly on a rush of adrenaline and leap out of bed. She was standing there, looking, well, downright pitiful. She was dressed in all black, even gloves, her hair pulled back, and tucked up. For her to be out with that barcode exposed, she obviously had no intentions of anyone seeing her. What had she done?
"What happened?" I asked, trying to wake up. It wasn't fair that she could be going strong at three in the morning.
She handed me a box. "Can you keep this for me?" she asked in a quavering voice. "I shouldn't have it anywhere near me."
I opened it, my mouth bone dry with dread. There was a gun inside. My immediate response is best left unrecorded. I looked at her, wondering if she could see the horror I felt.
"What did you do?" I asked, not sure if I really wanted the answer. Could I hide a murder weapon for her? Even if the cause was just, could I do it?
"I couldn't," she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I wanted to. He was right there. Easy mark. But it might not have been him. Could be wrong all around. I just don't want to be tempted again until I know for sure." She put her hands over her face, and started to cry silently.
There are no words to describe the relief that I felt. She hadn't done it. I put down the box, and put my arms around her. She accepted the embrace, and we stood there for a while, not sure what to say. I wanted to tell her that it would be OK, but I wasn't sure that it would be. She was designed to be an assassin. That was scary. I mean, real scary to think that she could do it. It was a side of her that she kept down real hard, but wanted to come back.
"I kept hearing Lydecker tell me to do it," she whispered. "Everything he said, everything he taught said that you take your mark no matter what, and I wanted to." I knew who Lydecker was. I hoped that one day I'd meet him. I'd love to deck him. "I just didn't know for certain. I could be wrong. He might not be the one," she continued.
I didn't need to say anything. She had said before that she always felt like she was still fighting Manticore. It's training, thoughts; controls were always trying to get the upper hand. Jhondie had won this round. Won big time.