EYES OF THE BEHOLDER
CHAPTER TWO: THE GRAND ILLUSION, Part one
Welcoming Committee:
"Damn," Chris breathed as he scanned the old neighborhood with eyes shaded underneath amber sunglasses. "Guess some things just never do change." He pulled a pack of Marlboro cigarettes out of his coat pocket along with a windproof lighter. He jutted one of the cancer-sticks in his mouth, and lit it, taking a big puff of it in. He sighed, and removed it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.
"I thought you were going to quit?" I inquired, trying to maintain control of the small sedan on the icy road.
"That was three years ago," he said, in between puffs. "This is now." I felt the back end of the car start sliding, and I quickly thrust the wheel the other way. The car began to spin, until I saw Chris' strong hand grip and cut the wheel opposite the way I had turned it. The car straightened, but in fear, I stopped the car on the side of the road and turned it off. I leaned back in my seat, breathing heavily. Chris sat back also, and a whispering chuckle came out.
"What's so damn funny?" I asked, angrily.
"Hard to believe that an ex-Delta can't even remember that you're supposed to turn the car in the direction of the slide," he laughed. "And you call me stupid."
"Not funny," I muttered. "So not funny."
"Relax, Jill," he said, taking another hit off of the cigarette. "I'm just joking with you. You ought to know that."
"Still," I told him. "This isn't as easy as it looks. If you want to try, then be my guest."
"No thank you," he replied. "I find it more entertaining to see you try." I really felt the urge to spit in his face, but then...well, what would he think of me then?
"Well then, sit back and shut up," I told him. "'Cause this is going to be one hell of a ride." I turned the key, and the engine began cranking...and nothing more. The radio was on when I turned the car off...and now it wasn't.
"Oh, no," I breathed, trying to start the vehicle again. Houston, we have a problem.
"The damn battery is dead," I shouted. "The mother fucking battery is DEAD!"
"Jesus Christ, Jill," Chris said. "It's not the end of the world. Just calm down."
"How can I be calm?!" I shouted. "We're still miles from the house! There's a damn blizzard outside. What the hell am I going to do now?"
"Uh, Jill," he stammered.
"What?!" He flashed his goofy grin as he pulled a small, worn leather pouch out of his jacket. I immediately recognized it as a cell phone carrier.
"Now where the hell did you get that?" I asked, genuinely intrigued.
"Don't you remember?" he asked, that smile still playing across his lips. "Alpha Squad Christmas Party, 1997? That's what you got me, I believe?"
"I bought the carrier, I thought you already had a phone," I replied. "Turned out you didn't, so I thought you got rid of it."
"Actually, I went after I got off of vacation and bought one," he stated. "Never know when it might come in handy. Kind of like...right now?"
"You're always full of surprises," I told him. "So call them."
"You're insane, woman," he said, thrusting his phone into my hand. "I'm going to try to keep this as a surprise. So don't ruin it for me." I sighed deeply, and I opened the carrier to reveal a small cellular phone.
"Do I have to dial the area code or something?" I asked, turning the power on.
"Nope," he said. "Just make sure it still works. I don't know if my last payment got through." I quickly dialed Leon's number, and I heard a ringer.
"Well, I'm getting through..."
Meanwhile...
"Hey sleepyhead, you going to get that?" Huh? Did I fall asleep? "You know that you're supposed to answer the phone when it rings."
"Let the machine get it," I moaned groggily. Claire playfully slapped my head as she picked up the phone.
"Hello?" She began. "Kennedy residence..."
"Oh shit," Jill breathed as she cupped her hand around the mouthpiece of the phone. "It's your sister."
"Oh great," Chris said. "Just ask for Leon. Tell her you're from the station or something."
"OK..."
"Hello?" Claire asked again. This time I could hear pure annoyance in her voice. Really, I thought that it was just another prank caller, but obviously someone answered. "Leon? Oh, he's right here. Who's calling? Captain Allen's secretary? I didn't know that Gray had a secretary. Oh well, here he is." She tapped the back of my head with the phone, and tiredly I took it.
"This is Leon Kennedy," I groaned.
"I'm pretty sure you know who this is," a familiar voice came over. "But don't say a word to Claire."
"OK," I said, the voice really not registering in my head. "But I really don't know who this is."
"Come on, Leon," the voice repeated. "Can't even recognize me?"
I finally got it. It was Jill.
"OK, that's right," I stammered. "You're that new intern that's working for Captain Allen. What do you need?"
"To tell you that you're about to give your wife the best Christmas present she's ever gotten."
"What do you mean?" I asked. Now she was really throwing me for a trip.
"Find out for yourself." I heard a shuffling noise which I guessed was a phone being passed. Now, a little light was being shed. If the recipient of the phone was who I thought it was, then Jill was absolutely right.
"Been a while, huh?" the rough voice boomed through the receiver.
"Uh...." I groaned, trying to figure out how to keep my utter surprise a secret. "Yes, it has been awhile since our last contact, Captain. How may I help you?"
"Well, first you get Claire out of your way. I don't care what you have to do or say, just do it. Have her go to your store or something."
"That may be kind of hard, because the storage rooms are under lockdown until after the New Year's inventory," I replied, hoping he'd pick up the drift.
"The store's closed?!"
"Yes sir, the storage rooms are closed for New Year's inventory," I repeated.
"OK," he said, taking a deep breath. "Listen to me. The car's dead...we're still a couple of miles from the house. Jill thinks it's the battery, but I'm not for sure."
"OK, Gray. I think I can get up there," I said. "I've got a toolbox in the back of my truck. I probably could grab an extra battery out of the garage. I;m not sure how well a cruiser would jump in this weather."
"Awesome," he replied. "You'll be able to see us pretty easy...it's a red Ford Escort."
"Yes, sir. I'll be right in. Thanks." I pushed the off button on the phone, and rose to grab my coat. As I moved towards the doorway, Claire slid in and separated myself from the door as she clasped her arms around my waist.
"And just where do you think you're going, mister?" she asked, sarcastically.
"Gray's having vehicular problems. So guess who he calls?" I answered, drawing her near to me.
"So why don't I grab my coat and go with you?" she asked. Uh-oh. How was I going to worm my way out of this one?
"Well," I tried. "All I have to do is run a spare battery up to Gray Allen. Anyways, I really don't to get you out in this mess, should something happen." She gave me a quizzical look, and I could tell that she wasn't buying it. But still, she didn't ask again. She let go of me, and walked over to the couch.
"All right," she said. "Just be careful." I grinned as I walked over and kissed her forehead.
"Don't worry," I told her. "I'll be fine." I put on my heavy bomber jacket with the Valin Heights S.R.U. logo on, and stepped out the door. I gingerly made my way across the ice to the garage door, and I opened it, revealing my brand-new Dodge Ram. It was a powerhouse: V-10, 4WD, all the works. Next to it sat my pet project: A 1967 cherry-red Chevelle with a 402 V-8 and four speed transmission. Seeing the conditions, I decided on taking the black Ram, making sure that I had found a spare 12-volt battery and dumping it in the back. I climbed into the massive cab, and stirred the beast to life. It started with a massive roar, and I put the selector lever into reverse, backing out of the garage. I kicked it into four-wheel drive, and heard the auto-locking hubs engage. I carefully treaded across the ice and snow, preparing to find the biggest surprise I had seen in years. But trust me...things were preparing to get a lot more complicated.
"Do you think he's coming?" Jill asked,
"That's simply a stupid question," I pointed out. "He'd never leave us like that."
"Well, it's been five minutes..." she said, the concern highly detectible in her voice.
"I'm sure he's coming," I told her. Somehow, I finally seemed to pacify her. She just sat back, and crossed her arms over her chest. I put an arm around her shoulder and she looked at me, surprised.
"Don't worry," I told her. "He's probably gotten himself interrogated by my sister. But he'll be here." I removed my arm, and stuck the leather pouch with my cell phone in it back in my coat. I put out the cigarette, and stepped out of the car. I glanced back through the passenger's side glass, and saw Jill fumbling with her seatbelt, trying to get out. I leaned up against the car, and looked at the ever-so-cloudy sky, with a little bit slower snowdrift falling. The temperature had to be about twenty, and frankly, I hated it. Winter in Illinois is definitely something I didn't enjoy. Jill finally got out of the car, and stood there beside me in awkward silence for a few minutes, soon to be broken by the roaring of a black Dodge Ram slowly treading towards us. When it got to about one-hundred yards from us, I could begin to recognize the driver: medium-long red hair, still parted down the middle like always, a comical face, dressed in a black bomber jacket and a white shirt, but no doubt had a pair of blue dungarees on. A black pair of sunglasses covered his blue eyes, but I still knew him.
"Told you, Jill," I said, prodding her side with my forefinger. "There he is." The Ram slid to a halt to the right of us, and the tall, lanky driver jumped out of the truck.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, letting down the tailgate. "Look what the fucking cat just drug in."
"Nice to see you too, Leon." He grabbed a 12-volt car battery out of the truck bed, and set it down on the ground. He then vaulted himself into the back of the four wheel drive pickup, and opened a steel truck-box attached right behind the extended cab. He grabbed a crescent wrench, and tossed it down by the battery.
"Pop the hood," he told Jill. She ran back around and the dark red hood popped up. Leon released the safety latch, and rose the hood. He took the wrench, and unconnected the battery. He rather quickly replaced it, and slammed the hood down.
"Try starting it," he said, and Jill hit the key. The small four-cylinder somewhat choked to life, and I heard Jill release a large sigh of relief. Leon threw the old battery and wrench in the back of the truck, and turned back towards me.
"Not that I'm not glad to see you guys," he began. "Because I really am. But Claire's still at home. We need to come up with some kind of a plan."
"I'm fresh out of ideas, bro," I replied. "What about you, Jill?"
"Simple subterfuge," she stated, stepping out of the car. "I'll go in, get Claire and Sherry out of the house, and let you two buffoons in to figure out the best way to give them a heart attack." Leon let out a hearty laugh, and clasped a strong hand on my shoulder.
"Buffoons, eh?" he laughed. "Wait 'till you see what I have in mind."
"That's what scares me, you jackass," I replied.
"No, no, no," he said. "Listen to me. Jill, you'll ride with me back to the house. Chris, on the other hand, will circle the block for a couple of minutes, until you can get Claire out. Then Chris comes inside, and when Claire returns, there he'll be, plopped down on the couch." It was a pretty impressive idea.
"I like it," I said. "It's a good plan."
"I can deal with that," Jill replied, obviously pondering the situation.
"OK then," he said. "Jill, let's get going." He opened the passenger's door on the large truck, and Jill stepped on the running board and climbed into the truck.
"Just one question, Leon!" I shouted as he slammed the tailgate and turned to the truck.
"What?" he shouted back.
"Where the hell did you get a hillbilly-looking rig like that?" I laughed.
"Wouldn't you like to know!"
And in Michigan
"Bad night?" She looked at me with her emerald eyes as I entered the door. I took off my unbuttoned uniform shirt, leaving me in my dark gray uniform pants and a white undershirt. I threw the ball cap off of my head, and plopped down on the couch beside her.
"Don't ask," I replied. She leaned her head on my shoulder, and shifted her body to where she sat in the crook of my arm. Her eyes could tell me anything...and right now, they were telling me that she was extremely worried about something.
"How much longer are you going to keep this up?" she asked. "How much longer are you going to be at all hours of the night, wearing yourself out just to make money that we don't even need?" Here it comes. The nightly discussion on how she can support me.
"Why can't you understand?" I replied. "I don't want your money, Beck."
"Once again, on the grand macho trip," she replied, standing up. "You're gone all the time, either at school or at work. I never see you, and I can tell that you're not getting enough rest."
"I'm all right," I replied. "Never been better." An exasperated look crossed her face, and she folded her arms over her chest.
"Oh you are?" she stated. "Sure could've fooled me."
"I don't know why this has to be a big issue," I replied, slipping my leather work boots off of my feet.
"Exactly!" she shouted. "Why does this have to be such a big issue? You need to worry about school, and not so much on this little facade you've set out on."
"I'm doing fine," I stated, kicking my bare feet up on the couch.
"Jesus Christ, Seth!" she shouted. "You're not fine! When you're not in class, you're either sleeping or you're working! You can't go on forever ignoring this!"
"Ignore what? This is something that I have to do," I replied. "So just don't worry about me."
"You can't get it, can you?" she asked. "You don't have to do this. You could actually let me help you, instead of busting your ass all night, and trying to go to class all day."
"Like I said, I don't need your help," I replied.
"If you could only see," she said, now almost crying. "If you could only see what this is doing to you. You don't look like yourself anymore. You're starting to look like an old man."
"That's real comforting," I answered.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to say, Seth," she replied. "We've all aged beyond our years. But still, there's no reason for you to do this. There's no reason. We've got all ends met, plus more."
"I just have to," I replied. "It's all I know."
"Why?" she sat there, prodding me. "Why do you do this?"
"You wouldn't understand," I said. "You've always had everything going for you. You just can't see where I'm coming from." I stood up, and moved past her, and headed into the kitchen. She stood there for a minute just staring at me, a look of pain on her face.
"You're right," she said softly, the hurt evident in her soft voice. "I can't understand. Because you won't let me. Tell me. Make me understand."
"You want to know?" I asked, a flooding tide of memories of a life that had been so full of weariness flowing through my insides. "All right, fine." I stormed out of the kitchen, and caught vision of the picture of my father, Stephen Marcus Hartford, that hung on the wall. "Dad...he always told me..." I couldn't hardly choke the words out. "He always told me that a man wasn't worth anything if he didn't work hard...that if I didn't work hard, I would be a failure."
"Oh, Seth," she whispered.
"He always told me that I had to prove myself to himself and everyone else that I could take care of myself. That I had to prove that I wasn't a failure. That's why I do this. He's been dead for five years, yet I still have to prove to him that I'm not a failure. Guess I proved him wrong."
"You think you're a failure?" she asked, tears budding from her eyes. "Look at what you have accomplished. At what we've accomplished. We've saved countless lives. We've rid the world of an evil man. And you call yourself a failure?"
"But I couldn't save them," I replied. "My aunt, my sister, my father. I failed all of them."
"Oh, Seth," she said, and I felt her face on my back. "You had no control over that. It wasn't your fault. Birkin ordered that."
"But I just can't stop thinking about them," I replied.
"You never will," she told me. "You couldn't if you wanted to. But you haven't failed anyone. Anyone."
I couldn't answer.
Back in Illinois:
"Wow," Chris gaped, staring through the doorway. "Place has really changed." He slowly entered the house, taking time to admire the wall hangings, such as family photos, and even my Captain's accommodation. He made his way into the living room, and plopped down on the sofa, his eyes still gazing around the small room. His jaw dropped to the floor when he saw the 61' big-screen sitting in the corner.
"Christ, man," he said. "You must be making some pretty good money."
"Just relax, Chris," I said, hanging my coat on the hanger in hall. "You may need some real energy for the real show."
"Real show?" he asked, bemused at the fact that he'd have the jump on Claire. "Extravagant bloodbath is more like it."
"Bloodbath, no," I said, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. I held up the can where Chris could see it. "You want one?"
"Yeah, sure," he said. "Alcohol on my breath would only make things worse." I shrugged, and tossed him one anyway. I kicked my boots off in the kitchen, and made my way across the white carpeting in the living room, and I plopped down in the recliner next to the sofa. I opened the can of Budweiser, and saw Chris had done the same, except he was chugging it.
"What's the problem?" I asked.
"Let's just say I want a buzz before Claire gets here," he said in between gulps. "It will help numb the pain."
"She's not going to do anything horrible or detestable to you, Chris," I replied. "Just calm down." He sighed, and kicked up his feet on the sofa. "I'm not really worried about that. It's just that I'm just really nervous, Leon. I haven't seen you guys in a long time, and I understand that's my fault. I just don't know how she's going to react."
"She'll be ecstatic," I assured him. "It'll be cool, man. You got my word on that one."
"If you say..." his words were broken by the abrupt opening of the door, and in stepped Sherry, bundled in a coat. She threw it in the floor of the hall, and kicked her snow boots off in the same manner. We then heard her careful steps into the living room, and she peeked her head around the corner.
"Hey, Leon, I'm..." she began, her eyes suddenly bulging out to the size of silver dollars. "Holy shit!" she shouted.
"Hey, watch your mouth, kid," Chris grumbled. Sherry let out a squeal of delight, and ran over to Chris, throwing her arms around his neck.
"Chris!" she shouted triumphantly. "What are you doing here?"
"Jesus, relax," he said, untangling her arms from his neck. He sat there, staring at the fifteen year old young lady that was still somewhat short for her age, but nevertheless still growing. "Sherry, you've shot up like a weed, kiddo," he admired. Her face turned red with embarrassment, and she slightly turned her head. She looked over at me, and plopped down in the floor in front of the sofa.
"Same old Sherry," Chris said, laughing. But amidst of the joyful reunion, I was still confused as to why Sherry was home so early.
"Did Ashleigh kick you out or something?" I asked. "Because I thought you were going to stay the night over there."
"Nah," she said, looking at me. "Mrs. Canton decided that I should probably come home, because of the ice. She said that it wasn't smart for you or Claire to get out on the ice."
"Yet she let you walk home," Chris laughed. "Hmm....a real dilemma."
"Shut up," she said, hurling a small pillow, nailing Chris right in the head with it.
"Man, she's got a mouth on her," Chris said, tucking the pillow under his arm. "And one hell of an arm, too."
"All-Conference softball squad A," Sherry beamed. "Year before and last year."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Highest strikeout percentage in the state." Chris played a smile of admiration on his face, and nodded.
"Yep," he said. "But high school is going to get a lot tougher. Competition gets stronger."
"She's a sophomore, Chris," I corrected. His smile turned to a gaze of surprise.
"What?" he said. "Sophomore at fifteen?"
"Just because you were a sixteen year old freshman doesn't mean everyone else is," Sherry joked.
"Sixteen?" he said. "No thank you, I believe I was fifteen. Top ten percent all the way through."
"Yeah, of the lower half of the class," I smirked. He grabbed the pillow, but froze at the sound of a roaring Dodge entering the drive way.
"Oh shit," he said. "She's home."
"So you lost him, huh?" she asked as she pulled the truck up the drive into the garage, next to a red Chevrolet.
"Haven't seen him since I left Indy," I replied, shakily. She gave me a quizzical look as she turned the key off, and unbuckled her seatbelt.
"That's just Chris," she said. "After Dad died, he basically didn't go outside for a year. School and football, but that was it. When we found out Mom had cancer, he ran out and joined the Air Force and he split out for Saudi. They let him go in '92, and Mom died two years later. The only times I saw him from 1991 to 1994 was at the hospital when she died, and at the funeral."
"Then he got the job in Raccoon in '97..." I completed. Claire nodded, and wiped her eye.
"Hell, Jill," she said. "I was only fifteen when Mom died. I moved to Crown Heights after she died, and I graduated there. Then Chris got the S.T.A.R.S. deal, and he used up his savings just getting me into the University of Illinois. Then he sent me half of his goddamn paycheck every month, but I really never saw him too often." She really couldn't finish, and began to cry.
"Claire, relax," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He loves you, you know that. He just has a hard time showing it. He had to grow up too early. But I'm sure he'll come around one of these days." Claire rose from her slouched position, opened the door, and climbed out of the truck.
"Come on," she said. "Leon probably thinks I have a boyfriend." I let out a small chuckle, and I got out of the truck as she pulled the vibrantly amazing Martin Scott Kennedy from his car seat. He fought and struggled, but as always, his mother won. He conceded defeat rather calmly, however, and soon was relaxed and comforted in her arm. She pulled the key ring out of the ignition with her free hand, and slammed the door shut with her foot. We traced our way through the garage, and up two steps and through a door that led into the kitchen.
"I'm home, Leon!" I heard Claire's voice resonate through the kitchen, and the three of us panicked. Chris literally leapt up, and ducked behind the couch. Sherry shot straight up onto the couch, and I jumped up from my seat and rushed quickly into the kitchen. Claire stood there, her head cocked to the side eyeing me suspiciously, and Jill stood there behind her, trying not to laugh.
"What's all the commotion?" Claire asked, allowing me to take my son from her arms.
"Uhh..." I stuttered. "Nothing at all..." She raised her left eyebrow and looked at me curiously.
"Yeah, right," she said. "So what's going on?" Jill couldn't hold it anymore, and stifled a laugh.
"I think Leon has something to show you," she chuckled. Claire's face grew even more curious, and she brushed past me.
"Oh really?" she said, running into the living room. "What is it? Where is it?" She paced across the living room, looking on the walls, up and down, just all over the place. With a quick and subtle motion, I signaled for Chris to stand up right as Claire had her back to him. He swiftly and softly jumped over the couch, and grasped both of Claire's shoulders with his hands.
"Right behind you, sis," he said sternly. Claire's eyes grew wide, and she pivoted around and looked Chris square in the eye. She stood there for the longest amount of time, and finally realized that it was true. She jumped up, and slung her arms around his shoulders.
"Chris!" she shouted. "God, where have you been?" He let out a small laugh, and dropped her.
"Still the same, still the same," he joked. "Glad to see you too." And with that said, Claire let off a kick that hit Chris square in the...well, let's just say that it was a pretty important piece of equipment.
"Christ!" he choked, bending over and grabbing his groin. "What did I tell you, Leon? She's stark-raving mad!" I looked at my wife with a surprised look, and she turned her attention back towards Chris.
"What the hell were you thinking?" she shouted. "You had me worried up one wall and down the other!" Marty started laughing, and wriggling to get out of my arms.
"Sure kicked his ass in a hurry," Jill laughed. Marty caught use of that word, and started laughing more.
"Ass!" he shouted. "Assassassassass!" I sighed, and let him go, turning towards Jill.
"Thanks a lot," I said. "You've got my kid talking like a sailor."
"Ailor!" Marty shouted. "Ailor ass!" And he kept shouting that as he crawled his way up the stairs.
Well, it seems that old friends and allies are starting to regroup, but something is lurking in the shadows...something that will touch the very souls of the survivors. What's going to happen? I guess you'll just have to wait until chapter three shows up. P.S.: I know that it's been a long wait. Computer troubles (I've had to run a recovery disk seven times in the past two months!!) and the fact that I've revised this five times since I started this chapter in July:). Anyways, school and work get in the way, so it will probably be a while before I post another chapter in this saga, and anyways, I still have my other incomplete fic to worry about. But don't worry, I still haven't forgotten you!