Chapter Four: The Plane
The minivan was bedecked with surveillance equipment that was mostly far beyond Lisa's comprehension. Programming her VCR was a triumph, so the deciphering of the dials, switches and screens was better left for someone more acquainted with the job. She did, however, see one speaker on the dash labeled with the name "Reisert", along with a few others with the names "Robertson," "Weis," and "Coltraine." She was calmed slightly by the fact that she wasn't the only one with a bugged car these jerks had been following. Jackson followed her gaze, taking his eyes from the back road they were on.
"You can switch those off," he said quietly. Lisa glanced up. "There's a button beneath the speaker--" Lisa cut him off by pressing the remaining three buttons. Jackson stared at her profile for a moment more before turning away with a sharp, annoyed breath.
"I have to feed Vivi," Lisa said a moment or more later. Jackson didn't look back from the road.
"Well," he said at last, "feed her." Lisa stared him down.
"She's one-year-old, Jackson. She needs food now." She crossed her arms over her chest. "And with my apartment being gunned down, I didn't have much time to grab anything for her." Jackson cracked his neck.
"Fine," he said, pulling suddenly and violently from the back road onto a larger road with a quick twist of the steering wheel. Lisa grabbed onto the dash in front of her to keep from falling over, instantly switching the three speakers on again. One blasted a family-sung song complete with five-year-old dissonance and a crackling old female's voice. Vivian, surprised by the sudden noise, began to cry. Fat tears rolled down her fat baby cheeks as the family on the other end of the system launched into their third iteration of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." Lisa gave Jackson a glare of death before unbuckling her seatbelt, switching off the singers, and climbing into the backseat. Jackson cursed lowly, eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror to check on the two of them. Lisa had buckled herself in beside her daughter and was trying desperately to shush her gently. Her eyes flashed to the reflection of his in the mirror.
"You don't know anything about caring for anyone, do you?"
"Obviously, I don't," he retorted, searching the road signs for somewhere to grab something for his daughter. He waited a long moment before asking in an almost timid voice, "Does she like french-fries?" He purposely avoided Lisa's probing stare from the mirror before returning to comforting Vivian.
"Only Wendy's," Lisa answered, tucking the girl's dark hair behind her ear. So much like her father. Just like her father.
"Right," Jackson said as he pulled onto an exit ramp labeled with the preferred fast food restaurant.
There was relative silence as Jackson ordered the food for all three of them-- a bacon-cheddar mushroom melt for Lisa, a spicy chicken for himself and a large fry just for Vivi-- and as he pulled out a twenty to cover the bill. Lisa took care of feeding Vivian while Jackson drove with one hand and ate with the other. Lisa knew that he was glancing back at them at ever-increasing intervals. Vivian cooed with delight every time she spied her father's eyes in the mirror, giggled every time she made him smile.
Lisa had fallen asleep beside her child, the wrapper from her much-enjoyed lunch discarded by her feet. Vivian held tight onto Lisa's finger, holding it on an equal level with the beloved giraffe as she slept. Jackson rubbed his eyes as the dusk crept across the sky and the street lamps began to switch on. He downed the remainder of his caffeinated drink with a smack of his lips. He looked to the illuminated green signs, searching for the one he needed. In one hand was the steering wheel, the other holding the atlas that Lisa had previously held. At last, his finger traced the route he had been looking for and, with a sidelong backward glance at his woman and his little girl.
The road became less and less occupied as the night seized the sky. Jackson pulled into a gas station to fill up the van and grab a large coffee. The only other occupants of the filling station were truckers and a sleeping family of five on a road trip. He leaned casually against the side of the van, sipping on the coffee with as much restraint as to the taste showing on his face as possible.
He recognized one of the truckers-- a man he had employed once, just as he had employed Lisa. This man happened to be shipping something a little more valuable than slabs of ribs in the back of his refrigerated truck that night. Jackson had made sure that the man's wife was secure back at their ranch-style house in Tallahassee, taken care of by his former associate Robbins. The trucker, James T. Booker if Jackson's memory was correct, had delivered the shipment of weapons to the drop-off point and returned home safely to his wife Darla, who was completely unharmed. He never saw Jackson again. Until now, Jackson thought as he grimaced at the taste of the cheap coffee in his mouth.
He watched his former pawn with interest. He had gained weight since the incident two years ago. His beard was fuller and less scraggly, but his head was missing more of the bright red hair that had stood on end every moment that Jackson sat beside him in that truck. The assassin wondered vaguely if the interior of James T. Booker's truck still smelled of greasy burgers and cheap booze. The man was walking about amicably, talking animatedly with the other trucker in the lot. He was waving his arms, perhaps relating an anecdote. And the haunting idea struck Jackson suddenly: what if Lisa would end up just like James T. Booker two years after their incident? Would Lisa forget everything that had happened, forget him?
He looked through the tinted window of the stolen green minivan at the sleeping pair in the backseat. One with an unbreakable soul, determination that was only accented by her good looks and know-how. The other fragile, new in this world and untainted by all of the evil that Jackson had been exposed to. Yet both were so like him.
The gas had filled the tank. Jackson went inside to pay-- in cash again. He grabbed another cup of coffee, orange juice for Lisa upon her waking (she never went a morning without orange juice) and a small half-gallon of milk for Vivian. He turned from the cash register to the door, looking up from his purchases to meet James T. Booker straight in the eye. The man didn't recognize him immediately, but when Jackson's face had been given time to settle in his mind the man's splotchy face turned pale. Jackson pulled his lips back into a smile.
"Hello," Jackson said quietly. "You look familiar. Have we met?"
The trucker's eyes darted from Jackson to the cashier to Jackson's mundane purchases. Was this the man he thought he was?
"N-No," James T. Booker said with shifty eyes. "I think I'd remember a feller like you."
"Mm," Jackson said with a noncommittal attitude, "I've been wrong before. Have a nice night." He was almost past the man before he said in a low growl of a whisper: "Give my best to Darla, James."
The walk to the van was brisk, following the shouts of fright from the trucker inside the glass doors. Jackson was smiling smugly to himself. Without so much as a glance over his shoulder, Jackson started the car and drove off.
It was nearly dawn before Jackson thought it was a good time to switch vehicles again. He pulled over on the shoulder of the small highway, flicking on the hazard lights. He considered many different ways of letting Lisa know that her naptime was up. He drummed his fingers on the armrest in thought then unbuckled himself. The tall man knelt beside the backseat where Lisa was sprawled alongside her daughter's car seat. Jackson brushed aside the limp brown curls from her face and placed a kiss on her brow. Lisa's eyes opened slowly, staring concernedly into the familiar ice of his eyes.
"Jackson," her voice creaked.
"Lisa," he answered, handing her the small jug of orange juice with a cocked smile. She pulled herself into a sitting position, taking the offering gently in her hands. He smiled up at her from his position on the floor, and she stared complacently at him-- almost questioningly. He pulled out a baby bottle with fresh milk sloshing inside. "This is for Vivi when she wakes up." Lisa took it as well, setting it beside the car seat with a small smile. "What?" Jackson asked at the change in demeanor.
"You," she said honestly. "I don't understand you." Her hand was on his cheek.
"I don't think anyone ever has," he said with only a hint of sadness. "So if you figure me out someday, tell me so I can mark it in my calendar."
He fell quiet against the feel of Lisa's fingers through his hair. He had never told her how much it calmed him, how he could forget everything just because of her touch. This time, she was the one that initiated the kiss, soft and passionate, close and longing. Caught by surprise, Jackson felt that all he could do was allow Lisa press into him.
"Because I gave you orange juice?" He asked, taking his chance when Lisa pulled back to take a breath. She sighed, pressing her forehead against his, not realizing that she had ended up practically straddling him on the floor of the back seat.
"Yes, Jackson, because you gave me orange juice," she said sarcastically against her breath. Jackson was suddenly in control, he pressing her back, his knees pinning her down.
"I should remember that," he said as he took a short kiss from her, lingering near her, breath mingling. Vivian stirred above them. Jackson gave a low sigh, closing his eyes as he seized Lisa's lips again, longer this time. "Just when the party was about to get started." He heaved himself off of her and sat beside the waking child in the car seat. Lisa remained on the floor for only a moment before opening the side door of the van and levering her feet out.
"Why are we stopped?" She asked, looking out at the nearly empty stretch of rural two-lane highway. She looked back to find Jackson holding the milk-filled bottle for Vivian, her own chubby hands trying to hold it on her own. Lisa smiled as Jackson practically beamed down at the little girl. He glanced up minutely.
"We need to change vehicles again," he said simply. "I might have met someone I know while I was filling the gas tank." Lisa looked up sharply. "Don't worry," he added quickly. "No one dangerous. An old target. Unless he's grown a backbone I don't know about, he won't act on it. But, just in case..." He trailed off, staring down at Vivian. Lisa shook her head while watching him.
"Howdo you do it?" She asked. Jackson eyed her strangely.
"I shell out 89 cents for a half-gallon of milk, screw open the top of the bottle--"
"No," she interrupted him, "I mean that look you give her. You get fired and suddenly you don't care about anything else but her." She looked to his eyes to see that they were locked seriously on hers. Like he wanted so badly to say something, but the words lodged in his throat and wouldn't come through.
The sound of a car slowing on the stretch of road interrupted the intense silence, and Jackson's head shot up. He indicated for Lisa to take his place feeding Vivian. She did, and he exited the van with a practiced leap. He mussed up his hair purposely, waving one arm in the air to grab the attention of the already slowing driver. It was a small silver sedan, but luckily a four-seater, Jackson noticed. He put on his best helpless smile.
A single woman climbed out of the car, looking official and business-like. She adjusted her glasses as she looked from Jackson to the minivan to the image of Lisa feeding Vivian through the tinted glass.
"Is everything all right?" The woman asked. Jackson rolled up his shirtsleeves and made a long, sad sigh.
"I think something busted," he said, putting on a slight rural accent. Lisa bit her lip. It didn't suit him at all. "Me, my wife and my little girl have been waiting all day for someone to come along and help us out."
"Oh, you poor things," the woman said, looking again through the smoky glass for a glimpse at Lisa and Vivian. Lisa gave a half-hearted wave.
"I'm not much of a mechanic," Jackson lied. "I was hoping that someone might give us a ride into town for a tow-truck." The woman bit her lower lip. It was obvious she wasn't used to carting around strangers in her car, no matter how good-looking the stranger was.
"Well," she began, beginning to fidget. "I don't suppose it's too far to the next town."
"Great!" Jackson exclaimed, jogging back to the open side door of the van. He leaned close to Lisa. "When we get into the car--"
"Jackson," Lisa hushed him quickly. "We don't have to kill her, or steal her car or any of that." He gave her a strange look. "We can use one of the cars at the mechanic's place."
He gave her a long stare.
"Well, sure, do things the easy way."
It didn't take long to get into town, just as the woman had suggested. Jackson looked rather miffed about not getting to steal the silver sedan. It still had the whiff of new-car-smell to it. He really would have liked to have stolen the car. The woman dropped them off at the mechanic's garage, where they proceeded to inform the tow-truck men where the green minivan was and as to whether they could rent one of their old cars. Of course. They were given an old '91 Buick, blocky and gray but still in perfect working order.
By the time the tow-truck returned with the van, the couple with the cute baby had disappeared with the car. No one in town could remember seeing them or the car.
Jackson was driving again, having to adjust the seat back to accommodate his long legs. Lisa sat in the back to entertain and feed Vivian. Lisa didn't know their destination until it was too late to turn back.
"We're here," Jackson announced, pulling into the parking garage. Lisa looked up, confused. When had they been in a parking garage? Jackson threw the gray Buick into park and opened the door for Lisa to exit. She pulled Vivian with her, looking to Jackson for answers.
She knew as soon as she heard that familiar, heart-stopping sound.
Jet engines.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Jackson turned, ceasing his long strides.
"What?" He asked. Lisa turned wide, wet eyes on him.
"No," she said simply.
She closed her eyes, and she was back on the red eye. She was sitting beside Jackson, that smiling face turned to a demon's carapace in a fraction of an instant. Those frightening, chilling blue eyes fixed heavily on hers. Kill Keefe or kill her dad. The sadistic choice. The sadistic stare of the assassin sitting beside her on the commercial Fresh Air flight. She shivered, hugging Vivian close to her.
"Leese," he called, an edge in the otherwise gentle voice.
"No," she said again. "I'm--" She broke, tears flooding her face. "I'm not ready. Not yet." She sobbed silently into her daughter's shoulder. "Not yet, Jackson."
He had seized her before she could turn away. His hands held her arms just above the elbows, firm but not harsh. He stared her down, pressing but not menacing.
"You got over the fact I tried to kill you, Leese. Why can't you sit next to me on a plane?" She averted her eyes, and he took her chin in his hand to direct her eyes back to his. "This is the safest place I could think of for us. Vore said that if I can keep you hidden for three days, that's it. He won't be after you anymore. It's one day down, Lisa, and if I can keep you safe for just two more days--" He broke off, this time he being forced to look away. He gathered his nerves and faced her again. "If I can keep you somewhere for two more days, you won't have to worry anymore."
Lisa searched his face, finding more and more humanity every time she did.
"What about you?" She asked softly. "You don't have the three-day rule on your head do you?" He looked away again.
"That doesn't--"
She forced him to look at her, one hand cupping his chin.
"It matters to me," she said plainly, the tears gone.
"Vore made it pretty clear that I'm going to end up dead either way," Jackson said quickly, heavily. Lisa bit her lip, fighting back anything and everything inside of her that wanted to burst forward. Instead, she simply leaned forward into Jackson and rested her head softly on his chest.
She followed him into the airport terminal. He was carrying Vivian, the giraffe cradled in her arms like she was in his. Lisa's arm was hooked with his free arm, both of them oddly silent. Jackson bought tickets for all of them to an airport unfamiliar with Lisa. They were booked under the names Allen and Olivia Donovan-- "One of my many alias," he would tell her later. First class. Only the best.
Lisa watched all of the normal people that milled about them as they waited at their assigned gate. Children playing videogames, adults with cell phones not looking where they were trod. Suitcases were being pulled on wheels behind many travelers. It had taken Lisa this long to realize that neither of them had any luggage. One less thing to worry about. A soft feminine voice came over the loud speakers.
"Flight 112 to Cincinnati now boarding in Gate 24."
"That's us," Jackson prompted.
He handed Vivian to Lisa, who cried for a short time afterwards. A young boy was kind enough to give Lisa the rest of his sandwich to feed to her child. Jackson handed the stewardess their boarding passes. Lisa took one long last look at the only home she knew before grabbing Jackson's hand with her own and stepping across the border and onto the plane.
AN: Ahh! This is like the longest chapter ever! Weird. I never write long chapters. And it's not even that long. I'm really pleasedwith the way this one turned out. I love messing with Jackson, making him evil, then making him sweet, then making him confuzzled... Very very fun. Thanks everyone for reviewing! Someone loves me! Huzzah! Please, everyone, feel free to say you don't like something if it needs fixing, because I will go back and change it just for you. SHOUT OUTS!
DiscordMarie: Sowwee aboot not making them go to Disney World. I've only been there once and that was when I was seven, so I wouldn't be able to write it too well. It would make a good story, but I've got a little something of my own planned for these kiddos. I hope what I have in store isn't disappointing. Have a happy Thanksgiving-- have an e-turkey!
steph88NYC: I'm glad the action is action-y enough for you. Not so much action in this chappie, but what can ya do? I saw Harry Potter at midnight between Thurs and Fri... So excellent! You gotta see it as soon as you can! You are sooo lucky to even SEE Rupert and Emma and whatnot! I would give my left ear to see Rupert! He's just so cute! You are lucky lucky lucky. I went to the premiere with a handmade signs saying "Support Cedric Diggory." Fun stuff. I hope you love the movie and enjoy the e-turkey!
DaiKatana: OMG Harry Potter was awesome! Go see! Oh yeah, shout-out... AHEM! I loved writing that monologue for Jackson. He has something of another monologue here, but I really enjoyed that line you quoted as well. I think that's Jackson, pure and all that good stuff. I dunno. I don't wanna sound like I'm praising myself... Thanks so much for the review and I hope you enjoy your e-turkey!
SpadesJade: One of the best? Really? Sweet! It's the orange lady. That's gotta be it. Old lady selling oranges and hitting on Jackson. Oh yeah. I personally really like this chapter a lot more than the last one, which felt rushed to me. Oh well, what can ya do? Thanks much for the review, friend, and here's an e-turkey for e-Thanksgiving!
As for everyone else... Thanks so much! I love all the reviews and reviewers! They all touch my heart. Sorry I can't shout-out to everyone. I love all of you! I hope this chappy makes the grade, and I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving break! Happy reading!