Chapter Nine: Devastation
Even without the blindfold, Lisa did not know where she was. The truck pulled out with a low grumble, and Lisa watched the warehouse fade away. It was simply one of dozens of nondescript warehouses on a seaside wharf. No one could have asked her to pick it out of a line up. It just blended in, just as she was doing. She caught Collins's eye before the truck turned a corner. He had been staring back a the warehouse as well, the windows of his eyes allowing Lisa to peer, if only for a moment, into his tortured soul. She never told anyone what she saw there, in Collins's eyes. The truck turned a corner, and the warehouse was gone.
I'm never going to see it again, Lisa thought. It was a strange emotion, to miss the dark, dank, musty building with nothing but murderers and conspirators for her company. But as the warehouse disappeared from view, her heart sank. Collins saw this, and spoke directly to her for the first time.
"You have the look of someone that goes to their death," he said in a low, stoic tone. Lisa gazed, astonished, at the man, then bit her lower lip slightly. "I have seen my share of men that know their death is near. Mr. Rippner knows the look all too well, I think."
She caught his shuttered gaze, and all she could do was nod.
They drove through the country for only a precious five minutes before they reached the outskirts of a picturesque little town. She didn't catch the name. The town looked like any other anonymous Southern hamlet, decorated as if time had stopped in the middle of the Civil War. The only kink in the perfect picture of the 1840's were the blue jeans that bedecked the meandering teenagers, listening to their headphones as they browsed across the nearly vacant streets. Even the large courthouse, a central figure in the town, looked as if Stonewall Jackson himself might have made a rousing speech there.
Jackson made an unexpected sharp turn, and Lisa's hands slipped on the bar she had been gripping onto. The firm grasp of Collins's hand grabbed her just above the elbow before she could tumble into the street.
"Thank you," she said quietly. Her arm stung from where Collins's crushing fingers had grabbed her flesh. He simply nodded in return.
The truck had turned onto a secluded street shaded by lush green leaves of century-old trees. The brakes squealed to a halt before an old, whitewashed house. So it had begun. After a nod from Collins, Lisa hopped off the back of the truck, legs like nervous jelly under her. She spotted the garbage cans perched loyal as dogs at the curb. They weren't piled around the mailbox. This wasn't Christian's house. She grunted as she lifted the garbage bags into the main compartment of the truck, and Collins quickly activated the lever. The garbage had disappeared into the innards of the truck. Once the grinding had stopped, Jackson removed the brake and rolled forward to the next house.
So it continued for another seven houses on that side of the long, empty street. Lisa did the dirty work, Collins pulled the lever, and Jackson drove smugly on in the air-conditioned cab. She thought of the workout this must be giving her, then was shaken from her line of thought as Jackson pulled up to the next house. The black garbage bags were piled neatly around the mailbox, just as they should be. Lisa glanced nervously as Collins, who only gave her an encouraging nod. She hopped from the back of the truck.
The walk to the mailbox was longer than a trek through the Alaskan wilderness. She wondered blindly what would happen if she bolted for the nearest hedge. Collins would shoot her, that's what. Jackson had said the man was a dead shot. And Jackson never lied. But she knew she couldn't have run even if Collins didn't know the first thing about shooting a gun. Jackson's eyes were on her. She was powerless before those eyes.
So she walked on.
The bags were at her feet, and, as nonchalantly as she could manage, she bent down to pick up the bags full of two million dollars. She nearly cried out at their weight. She turned on heel toward the truck, heart leaping at the thought that they had almost pulled this off.
That was when the shooting started.
"Get down!" Collins's voice rang loudly, and he shoved her violently to the ground, covering her with himself. He cocked his gun and fired toward the house. Three shots and one deadly thud. Then Lisa heard a single shot from a car parked just behind the garbage truck, and a rain of hot blood splashed before her. Collins fell across her, dead from a bullet through his neck.
The next bang wasn't a bullet. It was the door to the truck. There was almost dead silence until Jackson's voice shattered the stillness.
"Lisa!"
More shots, this time coming from the front of the truck. Jackson was suddenly beside her pulling her to her feet. They stared frantically into each other's eyes for only one flighty instant before he blocked her from view of the nearby car and the house by using himself as a shield, sandwiching her between himself and the back of the truck. The money lay forgotten at their feet, slowly soaking up Collins's cooling blood.
The next bullet took out part of Jackson's shoulder, coating the back of the truck with his dark red blood. He stumbled forward, clutching the wound but unable to cry out. He pulled himself back to full height and began firing at the shooter that had killed Collins.
One shot. The windshield of the car was shattered into a spider web of crystal. Two shots and it was knocked completely out of its frame. Three shots and the driver fell dead over the steering wheel, blood flowing freely from the bullet hole in his forehead.
The engine of the truck bellowed to life, and Lisa clasped onto Jackson's uninjured shoulder. Jackson whirled just in time to see the garbage truck careen away down the street.
"ROBBINS!" He roared after it, though not daring to move and expose Lisa. He was cut off when a bullet from the house made him buckle at the knees. Lisa moved to catch him like a child falling from a bicycle.
"Jackso--" The bullet to her chest ended her cry. There was silence again as the blood spilled out over her hands and onto Jackson's as he tried frantically to stop her bleeding.
"Stop firing!" called a voice from another planet. "That's the hostage!"
"Lisa--" Jackson's agonized voice seemed separate from his body, hands still trying to stop the blood from her chest. The world waxed to black, and her last vision was of Jackson's blue eyes.
Vivid, frightened blue eyes.
She didn't remember how long the darkness had lasted. Glancing at her watch later, she would find that she had been in a light coma for ten days, and in-and-out of it for another three. She woke to the sound of a heart monitor. It was steady and slow. It took her nearly a full minute for her to realize that it was hers. Her vision was hazy, and she couldn't lift her arms to rub her eyes. She felt weak all over, but couldn't move to stretch herself. Finally, her vision focused.
Lisa was in a hospital. The smells of her visit to Jackson so long ago were back. The cleanness, the sterile-ness, all of them surrounded her. Then the smell of flowers.
She turned her head slowly and was assaulted by color in the white hospital room. Flowers and balloons decorated the room gaily. Even from her spot on the bed, she could read who they were from.
Lilies from her father. He knew they were her favorites. A stuffed bear with an embroidered heart was tied to the vase, along with colorful balloons that reached the ceiling. Next were the carnations from Cynthia. Both were very ironic, Lisa realized-- Lilies for chastity and carnations for mother's love. But she could forgive the carnations, for Cynthia most likely did not research flower meanings and was simply trying to be charitable.
Next were roses.
Red, white and pink roses in three vases were sitting directly beside her. No note, no card. But she knew who they were from. He was sitting right beside them.
His eyes were on hers, hands folded neatly in his lap, and legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. Both were unblinking, even as he was silhouetted against the morning sun outside the window.
"She was my little sister," he said in a low voice. He moved a wisp of hair from his eyes and continued. "Her name was Vivian, but I called her Vivi. I was the only one allowed to call her Vivi." He paused for a moment, as if collecting himself. "She was six years younger than I was. And I was the over-protective older brother you might expect me to be." A ghost of a smile on his lips, then they fell again. "When she was six, and I was twelve, we lived on a farm."
Lisa almost smiled. She would never have imagined Jackson living on a farm. He didn't see her smile and continued.
"On her sixth birthday, I took her into the city to buy her something that would just knock her socks off. She'd never been to the city." A long pause again. Footsteps echoed in the hall. "I didn't know the city well enough, and we got lost. Before we knew it, it was dark and we were in the bad part of the city." He looked her dead in the eye, and her heart froze. "A drive-by shooter was aiming for the house behind us. Vivi was shot three times, I was hit once. Right here." He pointed to his upper thigh. His voice was suddenly thin and lifeless. "She bled to death in my arms. My name was her last word."
With that, Jackson pushed himself out of the chair and turned his back to Lisa, staring out the window.
"So, my answer is yes, Lisa," he said to the window. "I do know what it's like to lose someone I care about. And I think I know a little bit more about it than you do. Who did you lose? Grandma Henrietta?" He whirled on her, and she was surprised to find that his eyes were soft on hers. "I lost my sister and my best friend. If I had never taken her out on her birthday--" He cut himself off and plopped down into the seat next to her. "If I hadn't made you make the pick-up--"
"Jackson," Lisa said suddenly, her voice a low rasp.
His head shot up. "What?" He asked. She allowed a pause.
"Shut-up."
There was a silence that wrapped the entire room, then one corner of his lips tugged up into a smile.
"What happened?" Lisa asked at last. Jackson untied the stuffed bear from the vase her father had given her.
"The idiot woman told the police about us. They found the warehouse and therefore Christian." He caught Lisa's concerned gaze, then added, "Don't worry, Leese, I have more than one hideout under my belt. You were taken to the nearest hospital and me to the nearest jail cell. But Jackson Rippner never stays in prison for long."
"Friends in high places," Lisa said quietly.
"Precisely," he confirmed. "Collins is dead, and they found Robbins, as well as the totaled garbage truck, in a burning heap on the freeway. You were in a coma for ten days." He ran a hand from her temple to her chin, then withdrew slightly.
"What?" Lisa asked.
He said nothing, only stared.
"I'm working on another job. Since the Christian Kenning fiasco, everything's been running smoothly at the company again."
"Kenning?" Lisa asked, the name suddenly striking a bell. "Christian Kenning is Audrey Kenning's brother? You kidnapped the Ohio Senator's brother?" If she'd had the strength enough to sit up in astonishment, she would have. Jackson nodded.
"I've done worse," he said casually. He gave the woman a short grin before standing again. "I have important business to attend to. Personal visits aren't really part of my contract."
"I'll see you again, won't I?" She asked, already knowing the answer.
"Lisa," he said lowly, "you'll find it hard to keep me away from you." He walked to the foot of her bed where her chart was clipped. He picked it up shortly and inspected it. Lisa was surprised to see his face go pale.
"What is it?" Lisa asked. Jackson glanced up from the clipboard without a word, then headed to the window. "Jackson," she urged, "what's wrong?" He was practically hanging out the window before he tossed the clipboard back at her feet.
"You're pregnant," he said just before lowering himself out of sight.
Lisa stared into the blankness the man had previously occupied, staring with uncomprehending eyes at where he should have been. Footsteps drew closer to her door, and before long, her father was walking through the door to meet her wide, tear-brimmed eyes. He nearly jumped from his skin.
"Lisa!" He was suddenly at her side.
"Dad," she managed at last.
She fell into his wide embrace and cried.
AN: Well... Yeah. Another late update. I should be flayed alive for this, I know. But yeah, at least it was a good chapter, right? Right? -sigh- Well, one reason it was late is because I had a harsh breakup recently and all creativity left me. But now I'm back! There's one more chapter after this one, maybe more if I can be persuaded. But the main action is already over, so more story might need a sequel. But there's definitely an epilogue next, so don't worry guys and gals. And now, some special announcements!
hilby: I never really thought of Jackson/Cillian as Kirk-esque. I'll have to watch Red Eye again at the bargain cinema to check it out. -bwahaha- As for who Collins is, I kinda see him as a Hugh Laurie type of guy. Charismatic, although not attractive to everyone (but he sure is attractive to me!) If you don't know who he is, you can look him up on www . imdb . com . Great site. And as for all the crazy things that aren't s'posed to be hot, I'll let you know I totally thought the jumpsuits were hot. "Jeezum crow, you're like my most favorite in life ever." Not only did you use my fave exclaimation ever (jeezum crow) but I am a favorite! Yaay! I lerv you! Here is some lovely e-radishes for you! Much love!
Ashley: I love the way Jackson reacts along with what he says, because so much of who he is is in his body language. And, hey, wouldn't you be gettin' it on every chance you could if Jackson was there to be gotten on with? Oh, and I hope you like my take on some of Jackson's past here. I had an idea before I went to sleep one night and just ran with it. And it is coming to a close, but after the epilogue, I might be able to be pushed into a sequel if anyone wants it. Have an e-radish! LERV!
Ayumi Omoide: AGH! Don't kill me! I lerv you! -coaxes you into placidness with an e-radish- I'm loving possessive!Jackson and poor unsure!Lisa. It is very much fun for me to write. As for being one of the best, I'm still not so sure. I mean, I like it, but I'm a bit biased. And I can't help but be kind to those who are so kind to me. So don't think I'll suddenly be un-nice as long as others aren't un-nice to me. Here, this e-radish will make you un-e-fat. And as for Cillian's new movie... All I can say is... He makes a pretty girl. Much much love from me and Jackson plushie!
Shadow in Darkness: I just adore forehead love. It's one of the best and most simple displays of affection I think there is. So I need it. Lots of it. Bwahaha. Don't kill yourself! I'm here! It has been updated! And the promise of more to come! Have an e-radish and stay for a while!
Scorching Reality: About the love/hate... I think some of the hate melted away when they realized that they really couldn't live without each other. But I'm planning on having more tension in the epilogue, so yeah. I hope your day is made yet again, because I finally updated! Yaay! I hope this chappie is up to snuff!
signs fan: I'm glad you like my version of Jackson, and I hope I haven't messed him up in this chapter. I kinda made him a little mushy here, but hopefully I'll be able to pick up the threads later. Thank you so much for your reviews, all of them, even if I haven't had a chance to give you a shout-out yet. Have an e-radish and party, my friend!
That's it as shout-outs go, and I hope I didn't kill anyone with the wait. I'm hoping of having the last chappie up relatively soon, but I can, unfortunately, make no promises. Love and e-radishes to everyone who reviewed, even if I don't give you a shout-out. Peace to everyone and happy reading!